A Body at Book Club: Myrtle Clover #6

Chapter Two

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty!" The shadows were getting longer now and Myrtle devoutly hoped that Pasha was simply hearing Myrtle's calls and not deigning to respond—that she was just being cat-like and not hurt...or worse.

She dropped the tuna can and made a face as it splattered all over Lula Franklin's driveway and Myrtle's sensible SAS shoes. "Shoot," muttered Myrtle. Then she called hopefully again, "Kitty, kitty?"

Unfortunately, the only response her call solicited was a gruff, "Hey, Mama."

She turned toward the street to see Red in his police cruiser. "No luck?" he asked, with a sigh.

Myrtle shook her head. She was furious at the tears pricking her eyes and gave a ferocious sniff.

"I was getting reports of a confused-looking elderly woman trespassing in yards and talking to herself. Figured I knew who it was," said Red.

Myrtle's tears instantly dried up. She glared at Red. "You made that up," she gritted out through her teeth. "Everyone in this town knows who I am...they would never have said elderly woman."

Red put the car in park and walked around to hold open the passenger side door. "You're right. They said, 'Red, your mama has lost her mind and is trampling my marigolds.'"

"There are no marigolds in this driveway," protested Myrtle. Then she caught sight of a bed of rather flattened marigolds a couple of yards away and bit her lip. She walked to the car and carefully stooped to climb in and muttered, "Silly Lula. Those are zinnias, not marigolds."

Red got back behind the wheel. "I bet you don't have your cell phone with you, either."

She frowned at him and he continued, "I tried calling you earlier. You know, I'd feel a whole lot better about you off-roading through people's yards if I knew you had a phone to call for help if you fell."

Myrtle fumed. Mainly because she knew he was right and she despised his being right. It was very hard to get into the habit of carrying a cell phone around, though. "I left the house in a hurry, you know."

"Did you even lock your door?" asked Red with a sigh. "Never mind. I bet you didn't. Even if you did, did you call Dusty to ask him to help you replace that deadbolt on your back door? It's not sliding in right. Half the time I think you've got the door unlocked...even at night."

"He's put me on his schedule," said Myrtle. This, actually, was a bald-faced lie. She hadn't gotten around to calling Dusty yet, but she'd figured she'd just grab him when he came around to cut her grass. Trouble was, he hadn't mowed lately either.

"All right," said Red dubiously. "If he doesn't fix it soon, let me know and I'll take care of it for you."

"I feel pretty safe anyway, Red. This is Bradley, North Carolina. Population fifteen-hundred. And you are the police chief."

"My job as chief fills me in on how unsafe the town is. It's mostly piddly stuff, but a break-in is a break-in," said Red. He looked over moodily at her as they approached her driveway. "I feel as if I'm not doing right by you, Mama. You're going to end up with a serious injury and I'm going to feel guilty."

This conversation seemed to be moving in a direction that Myrtle didn't want to head in. She hurriedly said, "I'll start carrying the phone, Red. You're absolutely right."

Red blinked in surprise at the unexpected agreement from his mother. "I bet Pasha will come back tonight or tomorrow for sure. The dogs are out of her way now and she'll see that she doesn't have to hide. You'll see."

That night, Myrtle put a can of tuna outside. In the morning, it was gone.

Myrtle was bringing in the empty can when she saw a donkey-like face staring at her over the top of the fence and she nearly dropped the can. "Erma!" she snapped at her neighbor. "What are you doing up there? You scared me half to death." Erma always seemed to have some sort of excuse to be peering up over the fence. It was, in fact, a privacy fence. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be affording her the privacy she most wanted.