A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter Nineteen

Tarleton looked down at Myrtle and his eyes narrowed. "Something wrong, Miss Myrtle?" he asked lightly. His voice sounded strained.

Myrtle casually reached for her phone and typed a text to Red. Get over here. To Tarleton, she said, "No, I was just remembering something that I need from the store. I'll get Red to pick it up."

"But that's my job, remember, Miss Myrtle?" asked Tarleton. "Odd jobs and errands. No, I don't think that was it."

Although he seemed to be keeping his voice deliberately light, Myrtle could hear a raspy strain of stress in it. She could dash out the front door and run down to Miles. She could fling open his front door and announce to book club that Tarleton Fleming—who they'd all trusted at the bank for ages with their money—was Neil's and Lyle's killer. And they'd all think she'd lost her mind when she started explaining about hats. About Neil being dressy, Erma's mad mutterings about Miles's hats, and the way Lyle thought Neil was wearing a hat that day. She could do it, but she didn't have a bit of evidence. And Red would likely lock her away in Greener Pastures for good this time. He certainly didn't need any further encouragement.

"Who knows what goes through an old lady's head these days?" asked Myrtle with a laugh and a shrug. "How are those light bulbs going?"

Tarleton smiled back. "Oh, they're coming along. I replaced some of your bulbs with a kind that should last longer."

Myrtle asked, "Wouldn't it have been better to have replaced them with a kind that has to be replaced every month? From an employment standpoint, I mean?"

"Probably. But I've a feeling there will be plenty of things for me to do around here, anyway." He descended the ladder carefully and headed toward Myrtle and the front door. "I'll get the one on the front porch now."

Myrtle's phone chirped at her and she grabbed at it, knocking it to the floor in the process.

Tarleton swiped at it, picking it up and backing away from Myrtle. His face grew red with anger as he read the message on the phone. He typed on her phone. "I think I'll just tell Red that it was a false alarm—that you'd gotten confused about what day of the week it was and you thought you needed a ride somewhere," he said smoothly. "I think he'll believe your confusion, judging from what he's told me about your bill paying issues."

Myrtle fumed as he texted. She glanced at her cane. It was across the room. But she knew how to move quickly in her own living room. And she did.

Tarleton glanced up from the phone and threw it down. "Come back here!"

Myrtle didn't feel the slightest bit inclined to obey him. She made sure to knock over the ladder on the way to the kitchen. Her thought was that she could make it to the back door and slide out that way. Maybe Erma had returned from the book club meeting and could provide some semblance of help.

Tarleton cursed as he stumbled over the ladder. But he recovered from the fall quicker than Myrtle hoped. Soon he caught up with her in the kitchen, shoving her hard in her back until she slammed up against the counter, glowering at him.

"Don't be nice," she growled. "Wanda's advice. I shouldn't have given you work to do here."

Tarleton, quite out of breath, shook his head in exasperation. "Why'd you have to be so nosy? You're practically the matriarch of this town. Do you think I like having to get rid of you? I've known you my whole life."

Myrtle looked down her nose at him from her still formidable height. "I'm appalled at your lack of business acumen. Attacking an employer isn't a good way of getting repeat business, Tarleton."

"Never mind that! What was it that you figured out?" he hissed. "Who did you tell?"

Myrtle decided that it would be best to throw the entire book club under the bus instead of singling out Miles in her fabrication. After all, the chances that Tarleton would systematically eliminate every member of book club strained even Myrtle's imagination.

"I made an announcement today at book club," said Myrtle haughtily. "I reported that I had strong suspicions that you were involved and asked if anyone had any other thoughts on you as a suspect."

Tarleton said, "There's no way you'd have done something like that! That's libel!"

Myrtle shrugged and slowly turned her hips a bit against the counter so that Tarleton wouldn't notice the movement. "I'm old. I don't follow the rules anymore. So the book club could be stomping through here at any point, seeing your car out front. And, naturally, if you did anything to me, not only would they suspect you, but the chief of police himself would. Red asked you to come by here. Don't you think you'd be suspect number one if I were to be murdered?"

Tarleton said, "I'd simply say that I found your body when you didn't answer the door. That I'd replaced the outdoor light bulbs first and then got concerned when you didn't answer when I knocked." He sighed. "It doesn't feel right to do this, but let's face it: you've already lived a very long life. Cutting it a little bit short doesn't really alter anything." He moved closer to Myrtle, reaching out his hands to grip either side of her neck.

The back-door's handle rattled loudly. Tarleton grunted, twisting his head around as the door pushed open to reveal a very startled and guilty-looking Puddin.

"Yer supposed to be at book club!" Puddin said accusingly. Then Puddin noted Tarleton's hands around Myrtle's neck and her eyes grew huge.

As Tarleton gaped at Puddin, his hands still around Myrtle's throat, Myrtle pivoted, grabbing the fire extinguisher off the counter and swinging it as hard as she could at Tarleton. He crashed to the floor. Wanda was right—it paid to listen to Red. Fire extinguishers were useful.

Puddin had her hands up in the air as if Myrtle had gone wild and might use the fire extinguisher on her next.

Myrtle said, "Puddin! I never thought I'd be this happy to see you. Tarleton is the killer! Call Red for me."

"Don't have no cell phone," muttered Puddin, stepping back away from Tarleton's inert frame as if his murderous germs might be catching.

"Just use my house phone, for heaven's sake! I tried texting Red, but he didn't come. And help me keep an eye on him in case he regains consciousness," said Myrtle, panting a bit from the exertion of knocking Tarleton completely out.

"Him's out cold," observed Puddin. But she loped over to the phone and started dialing as Myrtle hovered over Tarleton with the fire extinguisher at the ready in case he came to.

Puddin shook her head a minute later. "Him's not answerin'," she said with a shrug.

"Yoo-hoo!" called a voice from Myrtle's living room.

"Erma! Erma, can you see if Red is home?" called Myrtle, stress dripping from her voice. "I need him here."

Now Erma's voice was farther away and more muffled as she looked out the window at the front of the house. "Um ... let's see. His car is there. Oh yes. He's outside, Myrtle. Looks to be doing yard work." Erma's voice came closer. "I left the book club meeting when you did and I found my paper! Remember the one I was telling you about? The one on the Insiders where I made the A!"

"Go get Red!" yelled Myrtle and Puddin in chorus.