A Body at Book Club: Myrtle Clover #6

Chapter Eleven

After leaving Claudia's house, Myrtle walked rather slowly in the direction of home, trying to organize her thoughts as she walked. Unfortunately, at one point she wasn't really watching where she was treading and stepped into some gravel on the sidewalk, that made her stumble. She was glaring at the gravel and kicking it to the side with her foot when she heard a car drive up behind her.

Myrtle turned quickly, thinking it must be Miles again, spying and seeing her walking with difficulty. But it was Maxine Tristan. She rolled her window down and called out, "You all right? Hop in. I'll drive you wherever you want to go."

Myrtle was irritated at being caught stumbling and almost refused the help...but then realized that this was a good way to do a quick follow-up with Maxine. She'd talked to Maxine only yesterday—but yesterday Rose Mayfield had been alive. And now there was the fact that Claudia had pointed a finger at Maxine. Plenty to talk over. She forced a smile on her face and said, "That's very kind of you, Maxine. I'll take you up on that. I'm heading back home."

Myrtle plopped down in Maxine's front seat. This was a difficult task because this was what would be considered a cute car. Cute cars had no backseats to speak of, not much of a front seat, were low to the ground, were oddly shaped, and were stick shift. Myrtle wondered if she might require a forklift to get back out of the front seat.

Plus, Maxine seemed to be smoking again. And in the small confines of this cute vehicle, Myrtle wouldn't be able to escape the fumes. She glared ferociously at the offending article and Maxine hastily stubbed it out. "Don't like cigarettes? Really? I thought everyone your age smoked or used to smoke, Miss Myrtle."

"I'm not everyone," said Myrtle.

"You're not. That's why I like you," said Maxine.

Myrtle hurried on, since the drive home would be a short one. "Thanks for the ride, Maxine. I guess I'm more decrepit than I ordinarily would be...since it's been such a trying day."

She peered sideways at Maxine, but Maxine was fiddling with her cell phone, which alarmed Myrtle even more than the cigarette had. Really, she needed to remove herself from this death trap of a vehicle as soon as possible. She coughed to try to capture Maxine's attention again.

Maxine finally put the phone down into a cup holder and glanced Myrtle's way. "What was that again? Sorry. Did you say you had a bad day? What's happened?"

What hadn't happened? But Myrtle, considering the shortness of the drive said, "I discovered Rose Mayfield's dead body this morning."

"What?" Maxine turned to look fully at Myrtle and turned the wheel of the cute car at the same time until they scraped the curb and Maxine corrected it. "Rose is dead? What happened?"

"Someone killed her in her own living room with her fireplace poker," said Myrtle in her best what-a-shame voice.

"What is going on here?" asked Maxine under her breath. "Surely Bradley isn't the setting for a serial killer of some kind. So, did Rose somehow know something about Naomi's death?"

"That's what I think," said Myrtle simply, glad that Maxine had connected the dots and that she didn't have to do it for her.

"Well, I suppose your son and those guys from the state police will be asking questions," said Maxine. "I think they've finally come to the conclusion that I need to be considered as a possible suspect, because they checked in with me late yesterday about Naomi. When was it that Rose died? Hopefully, I have an alibi. Although I sincerely doubt it, since I live alone."

"Same with me," said Myrtle. "And it looks as if she died sometime early this morning."

"Same with you?" Maxine turned to grin at Myrtle as they pulled up in her driveway. "Surely you aren't a suspect? Age has got to have some benefits, hasn't it?"