A Body at Bunco : Myrtle Clover #8

Chapter Thirteen

As Myrtle carefully carried the hot tea down the street, she heard another voice calling her name. But this time there was only one person in the world it could be. "Mama!" called the voice again, this time a little impatiently.

"Hi Red," said Myrtle in a calm voice.

"Can I give you a ride?" he asked. He was leaning out of the window of his police cruiser. To be honest, although she'd always considered her son a handsome man, he had certainly looked better. The five o'clock shadow that he sometimes sported at the end of a day had entered into full-beard territory. His eyes were as red as his hair. And the smattering of wrinkles developing on his face were deep crevasses today. "And when I drop you off, maybe I can borrow your shower."

"Most definitely," said Myrtle, nose wrinkling a little. "But can you drop me by Miles's house first? This is tea for him." She got into the passenger seat of the cruiser and made sure to lean as far away from her son as possible.

Red seemed miles away and didn't take notice of the slight. "Miles. Well, that's very nice, Mama. Thinking of your friend like that."

"I'm trying to rehabilitate him. He has some sort of vile virus. As a matter of fact, I'm taking him to the doctor in a little while," said Myrtle.

Red drawled, "And he's a good friend to trust you with driving his car."

"Oh, his car is in the shop. Or should be in the shop. No, I'm borrowing Erma's car." She made a face as she said Erma's name. It tasted foul in her mouth.

Red's eyebrows shot up. "Miles really must be sick, if you're reaching out to Erma. Hope he's better soon."

Myrtle coughed delicately. "I was wondering how your morning went, Red. With the murder of poor Alma, I mean. I suppose it is murder." She added the last bit hastily, remembering that she really shouldn't know so many details of Alma's death.

He glanced at her sideways before directing his attention back on the road. "It is, yes. But nothing that concerns you."

Myrtle laughed lightly. "Why, I didn't say it concerned me. But it concerns me, in the other sense of the word. I'm worried about poor Alma and the rest of the ladies who were at my house the other night. Naturally..." she paused, "... did any of Alma's neighbors hear anything unusual?"

"Before you start badgering the poor people, I'll assure you they all slept like the dead last night," said Red as he pulled up into Miles's driveway.

Pooh. "Be right back out," said Myrtle quickly as she climbed out of the car. She was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly rang the doorbell. Remembering herself in time, she peered through the window and saw Miles in his usual spot. In his normal, slumped pose.

She fumbled in her pocketbook with her one free hand until she got her keys. Myrtle opened the door and strode quickly over to Miles. "Here is some herbal tea," she said briskly, making space on the end table next to Miles. There was no response from the slumped figure. "The tea should help settle your stomach." No response. "I secured a car." There might have been a brief fluttering of his closed eyelids. "We're borrowing Erma's car."