Cleaning is Murder : Myrtle Clover #13

Chapter Thirteen

Miles answered. He was pale and his eyes squinted as if the sunshine hurt him.

Myrtle pushed her way past him. "Lock the door!" she said. "Erma may still be lurking out there or might remember something she forgot to tell me or something else equally horrid."

Miles immediately locked the door.

Myrtle walked over to Miles's sofa and plopped down. "Erma is so nosy and loud that I simply can't figure out why on earth no one murders her. All of these perfectly respectable people end up murdered and somehow Erma is always left in the land of the living. The murderers in this town are exceptionally dimwitted."

Miles carefully sat down in his recliner and immediately put it in the reclining position. "It's unfortunate. Thanks for managing to shake her off before she ended up in here. I couldn't have handled an Erma encounter today."

"I do bring good news. Erma is not going to the book club meeting. She didn't read the book because she disliked the first few pages," said Myrtle with a sniff. "Typical Erma."

"That's excellent news." Miles gave a wan smile.

"But the bad news is that Puddin has decided that she's a reader and is determined to crash book club." Myrtle made a face.

"Didn't I hear Tippy invite her, though? At the end of the meeting last time?" asked Miles. "She can't crash it if she was invited."

"Tippy only said that to be nice. I'm sure the last thing she wants is an obnoxious Puddin there. But I did give Puddin my old classroom copy of the book. After all, maybe it will distract her from making any more self-incriminating comments around town. Erma took great delight in informing me that the entire town believes Puddin is responsible for Amos's death," said Myrtle. She frowned at Miles's pale complexion. "How is the headache?"

Miles sighed and pushed his hands against his temples as if trying to offer himself some counter pressure. "It's much better but still somewhere in the background. I'm glad I didn't try to go to the funeral. I spent the morning with an icy gel pack on my face, lying in a dark room. The sun at the funeral service wouldn't have helped. Did you find anything out there?"

"I found out that Gabriel Tharpe is rather flirtatious. He was even flirting with Elaine as if it was some sort of compulsive reflex he had," said Myrtle.

Miles said, "That's chancy, isn't it, flirting with the wife of the police chief? Especially if you're a murder suspect."

"Like I said, I don't think he's able to help himself. That's why I wondered if perhaps Amos was blackmailing Gabriel over an affair," said Myrtle.

"Blackmail? When did blackmail come into the picture?" asked Miles.

"When I tricked Red into disclosing that fact. We knew that Gabriel and Amos had been on the outs, but we really didn't know why. Gabriel gave some sort of lame excuse about being irritated with Amos because Amos was trying to make him pay up on a silly horse racing bet. But I wonder if Gabriel had bragged to Amos about an affair and then Amos decided to hold it over his head and make him pay out," said Myrtle.

"It seems like an odd thing for Amos to do," said Miles.

"Amos was rather odd. Let's face it. He had a lot of money but behaved as though he didn't have any. This definitely would have been a way to supplement his income and also stick it to Gabriel. Maybe he was mad at him for not paying up after the horse racing bet," said Myrtle.

"Anything else?" asked Miles.

"Gabriel gave a lovely eulogy, but I suspect he's the sort of person who's able to fake it. Aside from that, he said that he believed Philomena or her brother must be responsible for Amos's death. And when I had my horrid run-in with Erma on the way over here, she said that she'd seen Philomena crying at the library and had harassed her until she confessed that she was crying over Amos and that he'd gone back to Alice. There were definitely some bad feelings there," said Myrtle.

Her phone started ringing, and she frowned as she pulled it out of her purse. Myrtle rolled her eyes when she saw who it was.

"Puddin? Did you find the book?" asked Myrtle.

Puddin's voice was suspicious. "Are you sure this is the right book?"

"It is."

"Didn't think y'all read history books at this book club," said Puddin, sounding sullen.

"History? No, we're decidedly not a history-reading book club. What makes you think so?"

"Because 1984 was a long time ago," said Puddin.

"Yes, but it was supposed to be a long time in the future. So you have to read it as though it's written about a time that's coming in the next hundred years or so," said Myrtle.

"This book is falling apart and has a lot of writin' in it," continued Puddin.

"Then leave it, for heaven's sake!" snapped Myrtle. "But you're the one who was so bound and determined to come to book club. Good luck finding another copy of the book. Although I happen to know that Erma Sherman picked up a copy from the library. She's not likely to be the kind to return it promptly, even though she has no intention of reading it. You could run by there and ask to borrow her copy."

The grumblings on the other end of the line indicated that Puddin thought a visit with Erma Sherman was not exactly on Puddin's agenda. Then Puddin said ungraciously, "Suppose I'll read yours then. Even though you wrote in it."

Puddin hung up and Myrtle sighed as she put her phone away.

Miles intoned, "I foresee disaster."

"That's Tippy's problem. She shouldn't have encouraged Puddin," said Myrtle, making a face.

"It seems to me that part of the problem is your own making," said Miles. "You're the one who implied that Puddin doesn't read books."

"That's because Puddin doesn't read books! She watches game shows and soap operas. Which reminds me, our soap should be coming on soon," said Myrtle, glancing at the clock.

Miles flinched as he frequently did when Myrtle used the words our soap. He enjoyed Tomorrow's Promise as much as she did but would rather keep it under his hat. The last thing he wanted was for the entire town of Bradley to know about his television viewing habits.

Myrtle stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Let's end this headache. It's getting tiresome. Have you had anything to eat?"

Miles shook his head.

"Have you had an aspirin or ibuprofen or anything in the last four hours?"

Again he shook his head.

"All right. So I'll make us sandwiches, give you some medicine, and we'll watch Tomorrow's Promise." Myrtle bustled away.

Ten minutes later, they were watching the show. Carmine had a secret baby that was turning out not to be secret anymore because Tristan was blackmailing her over it and she was trying to decide whether she should just let the knowledge be public.

After it was over, Miles said, "There's nothing like a soap opera to make real life seem dull and manageable in comparison."

"Exactly. Even though it's apparently full of blackmailing, too." Myrtle turned to look at Miles. "How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm back to normal," said Miles in surprise.

"Good. It's about time." Myrtle's phone rang again, and she scowled. "Is it that Puddin again? I swear I'm going to let her have it this time."

But it wasn't Puddin. It was Elaine.

"Everything all right?" asked Myrtle.

"Everything is all right here, but I have some terrible news. At least, it was terrible for me and I'm thinking it will be terrible for you, too. After all, we were both just talking to him!" Elaine sounded breathless.

"Who?" demanded Myrtle.

"Gabriel. He's been found dead!"