Progressive Dinner Deadly: Myrtle #2

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

As much as Myrtle hated to admit it, she was ready to return to Fit Life. Her disturbing conversation with Georgia had gotten her thinking about coffins, a subject she didn't fancy. She'd suddenly gotten imbued with the foreign desire to exercise. This was coupled with an interest in talking with Sherry again and finding out Sherry's thoughts on Cullen's sudden death. 

This time Myrtle walked straight back to the exercise equipment after waving a "hello" to Sherry on the way in. Myrtle gently worked out her arms on the weight machines, making sure to take the prescribed breaks in between sets. She finished up her exercise session with twenty minutes on the treadmill. It surprised her that she felt energized instead of tired after her workout. 

It was a good time to catch up with Sherry. There was a lull in the gym and Sherry actually appeared not to be doing anything at the front desk. Myrtle was pleased when she called out to her. 

"Miss Myrtle, I wanted to thank you for going in with me to Cullen's house. It was so horrible finding him that way." Sherry swallowed, putting her hand to her throat as if she were helping along the swallowing process. "I didn't sleep most of the night last night. And then, when I did? I had the most awful nightmares ever. Were you the same way?"  

Myrtle shifted guiltily. She was up a lot last night, but she hadn't lost the sleep over Cullen's death. It was just her usual insomnia biting her in the rear end.  

"Yes. I...didn't sleep a wink last night," she said truthfully. 

Sherry rushed around the desk and gave Myrtle a tight hug. "You poor thing. I hate that I asked you to go in with me and we had to see...that. Him." She pulled a well-worn tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose on it. "I should have asked that stupid Tiny to go in with me. I should have known something was wrong, with Kojak so upset." 

Myrtle, who usually would have snapped someone's head off at being called a 'poor thing' resisted the impulse. "What really made me sad was Kojak being so devastated and upset at Cullen's death, and Cullen hadn't apparently given a flip about the dog." 

Sherry nodded. "Cullen wasn't an animal person. He wasn't a lot of things, actually," said Sherry with a short laugh. "Wasn't much of a worker. Wasn't much of a husband. But for some reason," she said, looking around her, "I really liked him. There wasn't any sense in it. But something about him drew me in." 

Although Myrtle found the idea of being drawn to Cullen Caulfield about as appealing as necking with a gorilla, she summoned up her best sympathetic face. 

"And Miss Myrtle?" Now Sherry was gripping Myrtle's arm tightly. "Somebody did him in. And it wasn't me!" She squeezed Myrtle's arm even tighter and Myrtle grunted.  

"Well of course you didn't do it," said Myrtle. She pulled her arm away from Sherry and rubbed it. "No one's saying you did, are they?" 

"Red is. Red thinks I did it-that I walked into Cullen's house, put the gun in his hand while he was drunk out of his mind, and pulled the trigger." She dug around for the tatty tissue and Myrtle offered her a clean one from her pocketbook. "But I didn't. You need to tell him. Tell him that I loved Cullen and would never have killed him." Her voice was a hoarse croak and Myrtle bit back some choice profanity as Sherry grasped her arm again. 

"Why on earth would Red suspect you? Nobody knew about you and Cullen, right?" Except for Erma. And Simon. And Myrtle and Miles. 

"That Georgia Simpson," said Sherry. "She told Red and that other cop that Cullen and I had an argument before he died. Arguments with murdered people really put a person on a cop's radar."