Progressive Dinner Deadly: Myrtle #2

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen 

Puddin was half-heartedly vacuuming Myrtle's living room carpet when the phone rang. A look of relief passed over her face when Myrtle put a finger up to her lips and grabbed the phone. Instead of moving on to some other housework, Myrtle noticed that Puddin plopped down on the sofa to listen in. 

It was Blanche on the line. "Since you've been involved recently with the United Methodist Women," said Blanche (did Myrtle imagine the faint emphasis on 'recently'?), "I wonder if you would be available to help out today." 

Myrtle hemmed and hawed. Had it come to this, then? Was she going to be stuck doing good works all over Bradley? "Well..." she started in a doubtful way. 

"It's to help out Libba. Libba Caulfield?" 

"What's wrong with Libba Caulfield? Her cancer hasn't come back for sure, has it?" asked Myrtle. Puddin leaned forward on the edge of the sofa. 

Blanche answered with her usual restraint and understatement. "I'm not sure about the cancer. I'm hoping she's still in remission, since she's been doing so well the last few years. But she's been doing poorly since Cullen's death. The United Methodist Women thought it would be helpful for us to stop by for a visit." 

Puddin rolled her eyes and muttered loudly to herself in the background. Myrtle waved a hand at her, repressively. "I'd be happy to visit Libba, Blanche. Five o'clock? See you then." She replaced the phone receiver and glared at Puddin. 

"What was all that muttering about, Puddin? You're supposed to be worrying about my floors." 

Puddin bobbed her head sagely. "But that was Blanche? Calling about Miz Caulfield going all wacky, I guess." 

"And what do you know about it?" asked Myrtle. Although, she thought, Puddin should be well qualified to recognize wackiness. 

"She thinks the family is cursed," said Puddin. "And the curse has stricken her." Puddin gave a vindictive nod. 

"Are you sure, Puddin?" Myrtle squinted her eyes suspiciously. "Blanche just hinted that Libba was under the weather." 

"Under the weather?" Puddin snorted. "Not just under it. Struck down by it!" 

Puddin was getting on a roll. Sensing Puddin had a heretofore unknown melodramatic flair, Myrtle shrugged and started going off to do her business. 

Puddin stopped her. "I go there to clean, you know. Well, I did a couple of times, when Libba Caulfield was sick. Then they had Jill over to clean for a while, I guess because she was family. Then they had me come back after Jill was dead."  

Puddin sounded grimly satisfied. Myrtle was beginning to wonder if she should add Puddin to the list of suspects. Her work load had certainly improved since Jill's death. 

Myrtle found it hard to believe that Simon Caulfield would put up with Puddin's foolishness. 

"And Miz Caulfield's gone off the deep end. She's nuttier than a fruitcake." 

"And why is that?" 

"The Caulfields are cursed, ain't they?" Puddin gave a vindictive nod. 

"Well, Jill and Cullen maybe. I don't think there's an evil spirit that's annihilating the whole family or anything." 

Puddin mulled over the "annihilate." Then she shrugged. "Miz Caulfield seems to think so. Rumor has it (Myrtle had a strong feeling that Puddin was behind this particular rumor) that she's a step away from puttin' herself out of her misery." 

"Sure she is." 

"It's a fact!" Puddin took a deep breath and added, "Besides, they're in awful shape, you know. Mr. Caulfield had to let me go that very day. Said they couldn't afford to have me clean for them anymore. They never did seem to pay me on time, but I was happy to go over there and help them out, even though they didn't really pay." Puddin adopted an angelic stance. The Selfless Puddin. "And I know they have trouble paying their bill at the grocery store, too, because that's where my cousin Bitsy works." Puddin had various and sundry cousins all over Bradley and they all gossiped voraciously.