A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter One

Myrtle and her friend Miles sat quietly in Myrtle's living room. Their taped soap opera, Tomorrow's Promise, had just finished, but neither of them felt inclined to get up from their seats. And, certainly, there was no real need to get up. It was the end of the day and they'd just eaten popcorn and cheese and crackers for supper while watching their show. There was a pitcher of lemonade handy in case they got thirsty. And there was absolutely nothing pressing to do. Or, actually, anything to do at all.

Myrtle tilted her head to one side. "I hear a lawnmower. I wonder who's mowing his grass now."

Miles listened thoughtfully for a minute. "It sounds like someone at Jim's house."

"No, it wouldn't be Jim. Jim's grass was mowed a couple of days ago. Must be Perry or Tom," said Myrtle.

Pasha, her feral black cat, gave Myrtle an annoyed look, stretched, gave a tremendous and pointed yawn, and leapt out an open window.

"Even Pasha thinks we're boring," said Miles.

"We are boring! There's nothing to do in this town. And that makes me feel restless," said Myrtle.

Miles gave Myrtle a wary look. When Myrtle felt restless, disaster frequently followed.

"Maybe I should cook something for supper," said Myrtle.

Now Miles looked even more wary, as if this was the anticipated disaster. "We just ate a ton of popcorn. Besides, it's summer. It's not exactly the best time of year to turn on the oven. You've got some perfectly ripe tomatoes in your backyard. You should simply make a tomato sandwich for supper."

"I'm out of mayo," said Myrtle, looking dissatisfied. "It's no good eating a tomato sandwich without mayonnaise."

"I'll bring some over," said Miles quickly. The last thing that Miles wanted was for Myrtle to try to cook dinner and invite him to be her guest. Or, rather, victim.

Myrtle's eyes narrowed. "What kind of mayo do you have?"

"Hellman's. It's excellent with tomato sandwiches," said Miles.

Myrtle snorted. "Well, I can tell you lived in Atlanta for far too many years. You can't eat a tomato sandwich without Duke's Mayonnaise. For heaven's sake, everybody knows that."

"I didn't realize I was speaking with a tomato sandwich connoisseur," said Miles a bit coldly.

Myrtle ignored him. "You know, I have an idea for an activity tomorrow. We can go donate those old clothes and things that I'm giving away."

"Big thrills in Bradley, North Carolina," said Miles dryly. "A visit to Goodwill."

"There are worse ways to spend a day." Myrtle was sounding cross now. "Think about the soap opera we just watched with Edwardo stuck in a car trunk. That would be a rough day. Perhaps you should have stayed in Atlanta if you wanted entertainment."

"At least I'm adjusting to life in Bradley better than our new neighbor," said Miles. "He has this tortured look on his face whenever I see him."

"Hm. That's the one in the old Terry house, right? Is it just him, or his wife too?" asked Myrtle.

"His name is Neil. And yes, he is married. Let's see. What was her name?" asked Miles. Then his face brightened. "Clara."

"Hopefully he'll settle in as time goes on. Now, back to the Goodwill trip. I think we should go ahead and load the car now," said Myrtle.

"Since you don't own a car, I presume you mean that you want me to load my car," said Miles. "But since I didn't park here, I'd rather not do that until tomorrow."