Death Pays a Visit : Myrtle Clover #7

Chapter Ten

Ruby looked as happy as a child with her bowl of ice cream. "This was fun. I wish Greener Pastures had an ice cream party every week."

The heavy-set staff person behind the ice cream stand raised one eyebrow. "Ms. Sims, we do have an ice cream party every week."

Ruby was flustered. "Oh. Oh, that's right." She turned to Myrtle. "Did you have a nice time visiting with everyone?" They walked over to an area where there weren't any residents.

Myrtle said, "I did. Although I wasn't really visiting. I was more questioning people." Ruby looked foggy so Myrtle continued, "I'm trying to ask people questions so that I can find out what's happened to Mickey."

"Mickey's dead," said Ruby solemnly.

"Yes, I know," said Myrtle with a sigh.

"You know who you should ask?" said Ruby. After her forgetfulness a moment ago, she now seemed surprisingly lucid. "You should ask Mickey's daughter. That woman." She fumbled for a name, and then gave up with a shrug. "You know."

"Natalie," said Myrtle. "Yes, I do need to talk with her. But do you think that she might have some information on Mickey's death?"

"She was here then," said Ruby with wide eyes.

"When Mickey died? Where?" asked Myrtle.

"In her room," said Ruby.

"When? Around suppertime? Before eight p.m.?"

Ruby frowned in concentration. "Late. Very late. I heard her voice."

"Could you really hear Natalie's voice, Ruby? Because the walls seem fairly thick here—at least they're not super-flimsy—and Natalie has such a soft voice that I had a hard time hearing her sometimes. The woman swallows her words," said Myrtle. It was always vexing to be around young people who swallowed their words, especially when they knew they were around older people.

Ruby's mouth set stubbornly. "I know it was Mickey's daughter."

Myrtle said searchingly, "It wasn't Mickey on the phone? Or talking to anyone else?"

Ruby shook her head vehemently.

"Okay," said Myrtle. She'd somehow succeeded in getting Ruby's back up and she needed her to lower her guard again if Myrtle were to get anything else out of her. "Um—tell me about your children, Ruby. Boys, I think you said that you had."

Ruby's eyes glowed, her irritation quickly forgotten. "That's right—six sons. And nary a one in jail!" she said in a triumphant drawl.

"Certainly an accomplishment," said Myrtle once again. Really, she didn't know how to handle such a statement. She hesitated. "So do you see much of them?"

Ruby's face fell. "Not as much as I'd like. I don't have any money, just social security. If I had money, I'd give it to my boys so they could travel to see me."

"Ah. They moved from Bradley, did they?" asked Myrtle.

"That's right. They needed to make a living and Bradley didn't have any jobs for them. One of them is even sick right now and I can't get over to see him. They're smart boys—they can do all kinds of construction things. But they're far away building things, not close building things." Ruby looked as if she didn't have too much of a handle on where they actually were. Then she brightened. "Did you bring your cat? To visit? I love cats."

Myrtle rubbed the side of her forehead to try to combat the headache she felt developing there. "I didn't, no. I might have mentioned to you, Ruby, that Pasha—my cat—is not really a pet. She's a feral animal that chooses to spend time with me sometimes. I'd have to capture her and put her in a carrier to bring her here."