A Body in the Backyard: #4

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Unfortunately, Erma was lying in wait for her. She must have had that long nose of hers pressed up against the window, watching for Myrtle to come out. Myrtle's cane was only halfway out Elaine's door when Erma came galloping out of her house. Myrtle groaned.  

For years, she'd come up with a range of polite excuses to be on her way instead of engaging in conversation with her next-door neighbor. She'd say that she had a pot boiling or that she was expecting an important phone call. Erma was one of those rare people who were completely oblivious to polite excuses. She kept right on bulldozing through a monologue of the confusing dream she'd had the night before or the rash she couldn't seem to get rid of. Erma wasn't the type who even picked up on rudeness.  

"Myrtle!" said Erma, grabbing her arm and pulling her along to her house. "Come with me and sit down for a while. You must be in shock from finding a body in your backyard. I was in shock one time. It does funny things to you. Makes you feel like you can't breathe, makes your chest hurt. Makes you go numb...." 

"Aren't those the symptoms of a heart attack?" asked Myrtle irritably. "If you're feeling any of those now, you should get over to the emergency room." 

"No, this was from a long time ago. When I won the sweepstakes. Not the really big prize, but it was a lot of money. A lot! And I was in shock, that's what the doctor said."  

Myrtle pulled her arm away. "I can't talk now, Erma-I've got to make some phone calls. To Puddin and Dusty, for one." 

"Those two! I don't know why you put up with them." Erma gawked in horror at Myrtle's yard, which admittedly did look pretty horrible with the half-mowed grass and the weeds sticking up around all the gnomes' heels. "If my yard looked like that, then I'd be firing my yardman right away. And Puddin...." Her voice trailed off as she became uncharacteristically speechless. 

Myrtle said, "Yes, well, if I got rid of them I wouldn't be able to find anyone else, would I? You know how Bradley is. The only other yardman around here is so booked up that he can only mow every other week at all of his customer's houses. Same with the housekeepers-all the good ones are booked solid. Puddin is a disgrace, but at least she's available to work." Most of the time. 

"Whatever. What I really wanted to tell you, Myrtle, is that I know who is behind this! I was awake last night around ten or eleven and kept hearing noises and seeing things. That awful cat of yours was making so much racket that I turned on my oscillating fan to drown out the sound so I could sleep. Now that I know about the murder, though, everything is clear to me." Erma smirked at Myrtle in a secretive, smug way. 

"Who's the killer then, Erma? Who did it?" asked Myrtle. 

Erma leaned close enough into Myrtle that she could smell the onions on her breath. She whispered, "It was Miles. I know it for a fact. Miles killed the man in your backyard. You should watch out for him-he's a very dangerous man. He lives close. The victim was related to him and reportedly wanted his money. And Pasha hates him. Yes, it was Miles. He's a killer." 

Myrtle snorted. "I'll take that under advisement, Erma." She walked away from her as quickly as she could, cane thumping on the ground as she went.  

"It's true," she yodeled from behind Myrtle. "I have clues! And I'm telling Red about them!" 

"You do that," hollered Myrtle as she hurried away. Madness. She was always surrounded by complete and utter madness.  

She closed the door behind her and locked it-not because Red had told her to, but because she was scared spitless that crazy Erma Sherman would come barreling through the door to tell her all her clues and theories about Miles being a killer. Miles. On the bright side, though, if she blabbed coyly to enough people that she knew who the murderer was and that she had clues, then she, herself might end up as a body in the backyard.