Death of a Suitor #18

Chapter Nine

"For heaven's sake," Myrtle grated.

"Hellooo there!" Eloise said cheerily. "Fancy running into the two of you here. I was just thinking about you, Miles, and suddenly my thoughts manifested. It's a miracle."

Myrtle was fairly certain that there was nothing remotely miraculous about the fact that Eloise was stalking Miles. This wasn't the first time since Miles had broken up with Eloise that she'd suddenly appeared. Myrtle was convinced that Eloise suddenly found Miles irresistible because he was no longer available to her. She'd seen it happen all too often in her 80-something years.

Miles gave Eloise a small smile. "Hi there."

"Want to have lunch with me? Both of you are welcome, of course. I thought I'd go to the diner."

Myrtle decided to let Miles handle this all by himself.

Miles cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, we've already eaten. We're also about to run an errand for Myrtle. Hope you have a nice lunch."

He started hurrying away and Myrtle rushed to keep up with him, her cane thumping on the sidewalk as they scampered off. Myrtle couldn't resist a backward glance and spotted Eloise standing there, watching them go with her hands on her hips. Myrtle chuckled.

"Nicely dispatched, Miles."

Miles looked uncomfortable. "I think I've seen her more now that we're broken up than before."

"Well, even Eloise should get the hint at some point. You're definitely not interested. If she doesn't stop ambushing you like this, you can always call Red and report her as a stalker."

He gave her a wry look. "Thanks, but I think I can handle this."

"If you find that you can't, call him."

The Bradley Bugle office was dimly-lit, especially coming off the sunny street. They blinked as their eyes tried to adjust to the lack of light. There was a rustling of papers and a startled, "Miss Myrtle!" from the back of the room, indicating that Myrtle's editor, Sloan, was there. Sloan was a former student of hers and whenever she appeared, he suddenly reverted to being a ninth grader who hadn't completed his homework.

"Sloan?" she called out. Then, in a grumbling voice, "You need to turn on some lights in this place. You'll put your eyes out trying to read in the dark."

There was some crashing around and then, suddenly, light.

"Sorry, Miss Myrtle," said Sloan, looking abashed. "Hi, Miles. Is that better?"

"Somewhat," said Myrtle with a sniff. "I know how it could be even better though. Let me write a piece on Jax's death."

Sloan looked worried. "I've already spoken with Red today. He wanted to keep you out of this one. Said it could get vicious."

"What an extraordinary thing for Red to say! It's already gotten vicious, hasn't it? After all, a man is dead and endured a violent death. The circumstances aren't any different than from the other cases I've written about before."

Sloan looked rather miserable at being caught between a rock and a hard place. "I suppose so." He brightened. "Maybe you could do a feature on Jax. You always do wonderful human-interest stories. And it's about time for you to turn in a helpful hints column for me."

Myrtle leveled a stern look at him. "I'm certainly not going to write either one. Not while there's a major story to cover. You know I'm your best crime writer."

Sloan slumped in his chair. "You're my only crime writer. Fortunately, there's not that much crime to speak of."

"Nonsense! There's crime happening all the time. That's what keeps Red gainfully employed."