A Body at Bunco : Myrtle Clover #8

Chapter Nine

 "The very idea, Miles! As if I want a paramour! You shouldn't encourage him. Next thing, he'll be showing up at my door with a box of stale chocolates from the drugstore and flowers he picked from someone's yard on the way over. Is this revenge for some past, forgotten transgression I've made?"

Miles grinned at her and she scowled back.

Her mood was not improved when her least favorite waitress at the diner cooed at her, "Well hi there, sugar plum! How you doin', baby?"

Myrtle winced at the soppy condescension. "Tanya, I'm doing very well. But Miles here may have contracted some vile virus from a local psychic. It's only his cabin fever that drives him out of his house. Here's a helpful tip—seat us at a table where someone else can wait on us."

Tanya's eyes grew wide as she backed away slightly from Miles. "Thanks, darlin'. I'll just do that." And she hastily pointed out a booth on the far side of the diner.

"Nicely done," murmured Miles as they plopped down in the vinyl booth framing a Formica-topped table. Miles picked up a laminated menu and studied it with a furrowed brow.

"Surely you must have memorized the menu by now," chided Myrtle. "It really just comes down to what kind of hot dog you want. A pimento cheese dog, a slaw dog, a chili cheese and pimento cheese dog...."

Miles was turning slightly green and clutched the menu with determination. "I was actually thinking about a salad."

Myrtle frowned. "That's like ordering a hamburger at Red Lobster. Why order something that's not their specialty? It might go horribly wrong."

"Ordering a grease-packed chili cheese dog might go horribly wrong," muttered Miles.

Now Myrtle did study the menu. "What about this blackened catfish?"

"It has that Cajun mustard," said Miles miserably.

"Just tell them to leave it off! It's not that big of a deal. For heaven's sake." Myrtle was suddenly distracted as someone entered the diner. "What do you know? It's Poppy."

At that moment, though, a waitress named Cindy, who had a freshly-pressed apron and a good deal of blue eye makeup, arrived with a smile. "What can I get you two today?"

"Three pimento cheese dogs and a side of chili fries," said Myrtle promptly.

"And maybe an antacid," said Miles, still muttering and looking even greener.

"What's that, love?" asked Cindy, looking a bit concerned.

"Sorry. Nothing. Could I have the Cobb salad? With no dressing," said Miles.

Cindy's eyebrows shot up. "No dressing?"

Myrtle was sure that the few salads they sold at the diner came slathered in Ranch.

"Let's just put it on the side," said Miles. "I don't want to create a stir in the kitchen."

Cindy left and Myrtle said, "Let's try to catch Poppy's eye and motion her over to our booth."

"So we can grill her in the diner?"

"Diners are for grilling, Miles. Don't worry, I won't scare her off. Besides, it looks as if she's waiting for a take-out order and it's so crowded that there's no place for her to stand." Myrtle half-stood, gesturing wildly at Poppy who blinked in confusion before hesitantly heading in their direction.

Poppy's expression looked very solemn. She attempted what appeared to be a smile of greeting, but it didn't quite make it her eyes.

"Poppy looks as if she's heading to the firing squad," said Miles under his breath.