Cleaning is Murder : Myrtle Clover #13

Chapter Ten

At ten o'clock on the dot, Myrtle and Miles were at the grocery store. Myrtle dubiously surveyed the quiches.

"Are we sure Josephine will want a croque monsieur?" she asked.

"Just call it a ham and cheese quiche," said Miles. "And I've eaten these before—they're delicious."

Myrtle said, "Let's pick up aluminum foil while we're here to cover the pie tin and replace the plastic cover. I want to make it look as if I made it myself."

"And then refrigerated it?" Miles pointed out.

"I could have made it last night and then kept it in the fridge until we left," said Myrtle.

Back in the car, she quickly arranged the aluminum foil over the quiche, accidentally dropping the quiche in the process.

Miles pointed out that some of the quiche transferred to Myrtle's lap in the process. She opened the car door and brushed it out.

Miles said dryly, "I suppose the fact that it's broken makes it look especially homemade now."

"Precisely!"

Josephine lived in a modest apartment building a short drive from Bradley. When they rang the doorbell, she answered with a suspicious expression which quickly became tearful when she saw Myrtle and Miles and the covered dish.

Myrtle said brusquely, "Here, have a tissue, dear."

Josephine wordlessly motioned them to come inside. The inside of her apartment was just as modest and unassuming as the exterior but neat as a pin. Like her father, she was also a reader, although her budget apparently ran to used paperbacks. Either that, or she read the books repeatedly. As Myrtle peered at a crowded bookshelf, she noticed the books were arranged in alphabetical order by author. Josephine was a bit of a librarian, herself.

Josephine gestured for them to have a seat and Myrtle sat on an impeccably clean, if elderly, sofa. Miles, who for once didn't seem to have any issues regarding the cleanliness of Josephine's place, perched in an armchair. Josephine quickly put the quiche in the fridge in her galley kitchen and then joined them. She appeared to have completely recovered her composure. Myrtle thought she looked even thinner and frailer than usual. Plus, she seemed completely exhausted. Clearly, Red and Lt. Perkins had spoken with her.

"It's kind of you to come by," she said, holding out her hands helplessly. "I'm afraid that I didn't even realize you were close to my father."

Miles, who always had a hard time prevaricating, said, "I wouldn't say that I was close, but I played bridge and even chess with him sometimes."

Josephine raised her eyebrows. "Chess? That was brave of you."

Miles chuckled. "I only made the mistake of playing chess with him once. I didn't realize that a chess game could end so quickly. Amos checkmated me ten minutes in. It's like playing Scrabble with Myrtle."

Myrtle said, "It's nothing like playing Scrabble with Myrtle. We're having a very competitive game."

Miles's expression indicated that perhaps the Scrabble board would suffer another catastrophic fall in the near future.

"We're both so sorry for your loss, Josephine. Honestly, I'm still in shock from it all," said Myrtle, trying out her frail-old-lady act to see if it would work with Josephine.

It seemed to. Josephine said softly, "It was quite a surprise, wasn't it? And I understand that you and Miles were on the scene very quickly. Before the police made it there, right? That must have been distressing for you."