A Body at Bunco : Myrtle Clover #8

Chapter Seven

 "Good job, Miles," muttered Myrtle as they slowly walked back toward Myrtle's house. "You frightened her off."

"I wasn't trying to frighten her off!" protested Miles. "I thought you were frightening her off, so I was trying to bring the tension down a little by asking her if other people had grudges against Luella. How would I know that it would be a trigger for her?"

"What I'd like to know is, why was it a trigger? Does Alma know something about last night? Is she trying to protect someone there?"

They thought about this as they walked past Miles's house and on to Myrtle's. Miles said, "I want to say that I've seen Alma and Mimsy together in town sometimes. Maybe they're friends."

"That makes for an unusual friendship. Mimsy seems very outgoing and cheerful and pleasant to be around. She has a nice house and a nice husband and is just...nice," finished Myrtle with a shrug. "But why shouldn't she be nice? It appears she's had a very easy life so far."

"Well, maybe opposites attract in friendship, too," said Miles, giving Myrtle a meaningful look. "Some would say that you and I aren't very much alike."

"Only because I'm assertive and you're passive, Miles. But we can fix that."

Miles seemed displeased by this pronouncement.

They paused on the sidewalk in front of Myrtle's house. Myrtle said, "Okay. So I have to whip out this story for the Bugle and email it to Sloan. You come on in and make yourself a sandwich and then we can catch Tomorrow's Promise together. After that, maybe we can pop by and see Florence. I'm curious about her issues with Luella."

Miles squinted at Myrtle's house. "You already have a visitor, Myrtle."

Myrtle turned to see Mimsy on her front porch. Mimsy gave her a cheerful wave. "Well, speak of the devil," muttered Myrtle.

"So to speak," said Miles. "I thought we just decided she was a paragon of virtue. Friend to the friendless."

"Not necessarily," said Myrtle. "I think we just determined that she's been blessed." Myrtle waved back to Mimsy. "What's she holding?"

"It appears to be a casserole," said Miles.

"Am I sick?" asked Myrtle with surprise as they walked toward Mimsy.

Mimsy was calling out to them in her lilting voice, "Miss Myrtle, I just feel so terrible about what happened to you that I simply had to come by with food. Here you were, doing a good turn for the Bunco group by hosting and subbing and you end up with a tragedy right in your backyard! You poor thing."

Myrtle smiled at her and unlocked the front door, motioning them all in. "That's very kind of you, Mimsy. But shouldn't I be the one bringing you a casserole? After all, it was quite a blow, losing Luella. You appeared to be very close."

Miles winced at the mention of Myrtle preparing food. Myrtle glared at him. Miles seemed to be under the impression that Myrtle couldn't cook. One botched batch of cookies did not mean someone was a poor cook.

Mimsy gave Myrtle a fond smile in return. "Aren't you sweet? No, cooking relaxes and distracts me so it was my pleasure to cook this for you. And believe me, I've got plenty of casseroles from caring friends in Bradley, so you needn't trouble yourself."

Miles gave a small sigh. Myrtle assumed it was a relieved one and this time she stepped very slightly on his foot. He quickly removed it and Myrtle said innocently, "Did I tread on you, Miles? Here, why don't we all sit down? Miles, could you stick the casserole in the fridge for me?"