A Body at Book Club: Myrtle Clover #6

Chapter Seventeen

Then everyone turned to look at Myrtle.

"What is it?" asked Myrtle innocently.

"You put Miles up to that!" said Tippy Chambers, icily.

Myrtle decided it would be wise not to definitively answer any allegations or make any defense. "Miles simply has good taste. Faulkner is a classic," she said. "He's probably one of the most famous Southern writers we've got. I'm thrilled we're going to read him in book club."

Tippy looked as if her head hurt. "I read Mr. Faulkner in college," she said slowly. "I didn't understand a word. Didn't he write in...what was it? Unconsciousness?"

"Stream of consciousness. Yes, that's his narrative style in The Sound and the Fury." Several book club members glared at her. "I might have read it before," Myrtle said with a small shrug. "I'm a former English teacher, y'all. I will tell you that I think you'll enjoy the stream of consciousness. It's going to show the mental workings of a character who, like Winnie the Pooh, has very little brain. And who doesn't like Pooh?"

Miles, intoxicated though he was, furrowed his brow to indicate that Myrtle's analogy was something of a stretch. But Myrtle had the feeling that if she tried to hook the club members on the fact that the book's title came from a famous soliloquy in Shakespeare's Macbeth, she was going to get nowhere.

"So we're reading Pooh?" asked Claudia hopefully. "I like the idea of rereading books from my childhood."

Everyone stared at Claudia.

Tippy, struck a bit more sober by her horror of the book club selection, said, "Maxine? What exactly was in that iced tea?"

Maxine gave her a wolfish grin. "Whatever do you mean, Tippy?"

"You know what I mean! Look at how dippy everyone is acting. I think you spiked that tea." Tippy glowered at Maxine through narrowed eyes.

The members gave Tippy a somewhat irritated look at being called dippy.

Claudia started to howl. It was a ghastly sound, punctuated by hiccups as it was. "Oh! But I don't drink!"

Miles rubbed his temples as if he were trying to think it through. "So...we've all had quite a bit to drink."

Claudia cried louder and Myrtle rolled her eyes.

"Not everyone, no. But it appears as though everyone but Miss Myrtle and I have had too much."

"I thought it was the best punch ever," wailed Claudia.

"I think I know why you don't drink," said Maxine with a sigh. "Don't waste tears over something like this, Claudia. I'll get you safely home. And if you take an aspirin, drink a glass of water and have a little something to eat, then you'll be perfectly fine. I only thought to add a little pizazz to our special meeting," said Maxine innocently. "I made the teas Long Island Iced Teas in celebration."

A collective groan rose from the assembled.

"But not to worry! I will be driving home everyone who feels they need a ride. And then coming back to consume the remainder of the tea, myself." She gave a husky laugh. "Miss Myrtle doesn't appear to have drunk anything either, so she could drive some folks home in their car and then they could walk to her house later on to collect their vehicle."

There were no takers. You could hear crickets. Myrtle gritted her teeth. She was a good driver. And she never drove a hair over thirty-five. Discrimination against the elderly. Again.