A Body at Book Club (Myrtle Clover Mysteries) (16 page)

Claudia reddened. “Tomorrow, actually.”

“
Tomorrow
?”

“I kept forgetting to tell you,” said Claudia miserably.

“But you told everyone else?”

“Yes. Well, I sent them an email.”

“You didn’t send
me
an email?”  Myrtle narrowed her eyes.

“Well, no. I figured you didn’t have a computer.” Claudia was actually wringing her hands. Myrtle didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone who really did that. Wasn’t that something only done in books?

Myrtle stepped back and waved her arm with a flourish to reveal her desk with her very nice computer and printer. “I blog, Claudia. For the newspaper. I promise you I’m quite adept at the computer.”

“Oh. I just thought…with your age and everything—you know.” Claudia blinked at the computer and printer.

“I am most certainly very old. But I haven’t lost my marbles. And I enjoy learning new things. So please include me on your email list.” Myrtle turned, jotted down her email address on a sticky note and handed it to Claudia. “It’s all right—you wouldn’t have known,” said Myrtle with more kindness than she actually felt.

Claudia was recovering somewhat. “I sure will, Miss Myrtle. Wow. Blogging. I think you might be better on a computer than I am.”

“Before you go, Claudia, I did have one more thing that I wanted to ask you about. I know you told me during our conversation yesterday that you hadn’t seen Rose since book club, but I spoke with someone this morning who mentioned seeing you talking to Rose on the morning she died.” Myrtle said this in what she considered a very non-accusatory voice. The last thing she wanted was for Claudia to crumble in front of her like she did before.

Claudia still fell apart. Apparently, she was more fragile than Myrtle had imagined.

Her eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, Miss Myrtle. I was so worried about what people might say. I didn’t want to be a suspect in Rose’s death like I was for Naomi’s. I knew the police were thinking I might have had something to do with Naomi and if I told you or them that I saw Rose that morning—what might they think?”

They might think she did it
. Myrtle’s mind was going in that direction, herself. “But it’s foolish to lie, Claudia. Lies are so easy to get found out—especially in small towns like Bradley. Everybody knows everybody. Everybody knows everyone’s routines. So you used to talk to Rose when she was out getting her paper, right? That’s when you’d take a little walk?”

Claudia nodded and looked down at the floor. “The doctor told me that I should try to exercise in the mornings before it got hot outside. That had been my excuse, you know—that it was too hot to walk and that was the only exercise I liked to do.”

“Did Rose say anything to you when you were talking to her?” asked Myrtle intently.

Claudia knit her brows in confusion. “She talked, yes. It would have been rude for her not to.”

Myrtle took a deep breath. “I mean—did she say anything important? Did she mention that she was expecting company that morning, for instance? Or that she was worried about anything?”

“I don’t think Rose was ever worried about anything. She fussed about things, she didn’t worry about them.”

Fair enough. And probably very true.

“I think,” said Myrtle in her very best Stern Schoolteacher Voice, “that we are dealing with someone very dangerous here. I wonder if the person responsible for murdering Naomi and Rose is afraid—and is trying to cover her tracks by considering killing others. I had someone try to break into my home the other night and I believe it’s because I’m asking questions.”

Claudia’s eyes were huge behind her cat eye glasses.

“Can you think of
anything
at the garden club luncheon that was odd? Did you see anyone replacing food on Naomi Pelter’s plate?” asked Myrtle.

Claudia frowned in thought for a moment, and then shook her head reluctantly.

“Can you remember who sat next to Naomi at the luncheon?”

Claudia looked a bit panicked. “My memory is so awful. I have to sit down to think.”

Myrtle realized she’d never offered Claudia a seat. “I’m sorry—of course you should sit down.”

Claudia plopped down abruptly into an armchair and pressed her fingers hard into her temples as if to force out the memories. The look on her face resembled someone with a fatal migraine. Then her face brightened. “I do! I do remember who sat next to Naomi.”

“Who?”

“It was Erma!  You know—Erma Sherman.” Claudia looked like a puppy waiting eagerly for positive reinforcement in the form of a treat.

“Good job, Claudia,” said Myrtle. Erma? She was an abhorrent neighbor, an abysmal gardener, a repulsive conversationalist. She drove too fast, laughed too loud, and had bad breath. But Erma was no murderer. Of that, Myrtle was convinced.

“Thinking back, Claudia—since you did such a good job remembering that seating arrangement—can you think who might have been on Naomi’s
other
side?” 

Claudia’s face clouded. “Her other side?”

“Yes. Wasn’t there someone sitting on the other side of Naomi?”

“I—don’t remember.” Now Claudia was dejected again.

“No worries!  No worries, Claudia. I’m sure I can find out who might have sat there.” From Erma. Shoot. After weeks of avoiding Erma like a particularly contagious and undesirable disease, now she’d be chasing her down to figure out what she might know.

“Well, thanks for letting me know about book club. And do add me to your email list,” said Myrtle. Claudia still sat, looking at her. Myrtle cleared her throat. “Don’t let me keep you, my dear. I know you’re very busy. Doing…?” She raised her eyebrows, inviting Claudia to fill in the blanks.

“Oh! Yes. What time is it? I’ve got to work on the book selection auction for tomorrow. I’d better run. Thanks, Miss Myrtle.” Claudia hurriedly stood up and rushed to the door.

Myrtle noticed as she walked back to watch the rest of her soap that Claudia had forgotten the piece of paper with Myrtle’s email address on it. Pooh.

Chapter Sixteen

“Miles, how much money do you have?” asked Myrtle. She’d called him up just as soon as her soap was over. In fact, she’d found her mind wandering a bit during the soap opera, planning her next move.

“How much
money
do I have? Now that’s a pretty personal question, isn’t it, Myrtle?”  Miles’s voice was slightly indignant.

“No, no, I mean how much money can you
spare
? If I asked you to sponsor me in something?” asked Myrtle.

“Sponsor you? For what? Myrtle, you’re not planning on signing up for that marathon I was reading about, are you?”

“Marathon? For heaven’s sake, Miles. Have you been drinking? I’m in my eighties. The only time you’re going to catch me running is if something really scary is chasing me. Even then, I’ll probably just give in.”

“Oh. Then this might have something to do with the book club meeting tomorrow, right?”  Miles sounded wary now. “The auction?”

“Yes. How did you find out about it, by the way? Did Claudia tell you about it?” asked Myrtle. Was she the
only
one who didn’t get an email?

“Tell me about it? Well, she emailed me, of course.”

Myrtle gritted her teeth. But considering that she needed Miles, she decided that this time she was going to just shrug off her irritation. “Okay. Yes, it’s about the auction. You know how we’ve been trying to take over book club for ages? A coup to convert the group to literary fiction or classical literature?”

“I know that
you’ve
been trying to take over book club with a coup,” corrected Miles, with heavy emphasis on the replacement pronoun.

“I thought this might be just as good of a means to an end. So we’ll be the highest bidder for the opportunity to pick the selection. You know this is the only way, Miles. Every meeting, book club selections are proposed. I always suggest an amazing title. Then we put it up to a vote with a show of hands. And my picks are never chosen. Never!” Myrtle spat the words out into the phone.

“Won’t the bidding go super-high if they see that you’re putting in a selection, Myrtle? I’m not sure how much money I want to devote to this scheme. What book are you planning to propose?”

Myrtle smiled to herself. This was the
pièce de résistance
. She knew that Miles was really going to come onboard as soon as he heard this particular author and title. “Oh, I thought I’d choose some good old Southern literature. From our friend William Faulkner.
The Sound and the Fury
.”

She heard the indrawn breath on the other end of the phone and smiled again.

“Well, at least you’ve picked something I can stand behind. All right, I’m in. But I don’t want to lose my shirt in this auction, Myrtle. I know the proceeds go to charity, but I
am
on a fixed income, you know.”

Myrtle rolled her eyes. Miles may be on a retirement income, but she had the strong impression that he had plenty in the bank to draw on. “It’s a silent auction, Miles. And the bidding
won’t
go high because they won’t see me filling out a card—they’ll only see
you
filling out an auction card.  That’s the real beauty of the plan. And I’m sure, once they read a little Faulkner, that he will have a transforming effect on our club. We’ll finally be able to ditch all those books with titles like
Jennifer’s Promise
and end up reading some real books.”

“All right,” said Miles shortly. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the book club then. And I’ll take care of the book selection.”

“You’ll
see
me there, but don’t hang out with me, all right? People might get suspicious that you and I are planning together. Besides, I’m going to be talking with Erma Sherman at the book club meeting.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then Miles said suspiciously, “Myrtle, have you had a small stroke?”

Myrtle snorted. “As if. I know it sounds strange, but I need to talk to Erma about the case. Claudia told me that Erma was sitting next to Naomi at the garden club luncheon.”

“You don’t think
Erma
killed Naomi Pelter? Because if that’s where you’re going with this, I couldn’t agree less. Erma is very annoying, of course, but ….”

“Yes, I know. She’s annoying but she doesn’t kill people. She might kill them with boredom, but not in a literal sense. The thing about Erma, though, is that she has an excellent memory. It’s the one remarkable thing about her. And she has no discretion at all—she’ll be happy to spill the beans on whatever she saw at the garden club luncheon the day that Naomi ended up with poisonous mushrooms on her plate. The only problem will be sifting through all the garbage that Erma will spew out for the actual helpful information.” Myrtle’s head started throbbing on cue as she considered this issue.

“But why ask Erma at book club? She lives right next door. Just hop over right now.”

Myrtle shuddered. “No. If I visit Erma now, I’ll get trapped over there and will never get away. She’ll start talking about her bunions and the odd mole she had taken off the side of her nose. If I talk to her at book club, it will be more of a controlled environment and I can get away from her. You can help with that, as a matter of fact. If you see me looking desperate, you can rescue me from Erma.”

“You always look desperate when you’re talking with Erma, though. How will I know if it’s time to interrupt or not?” asked Miles.

“How about if I scratch my head? That can be our signal. Then you can come over with some sort of manufactured excuse and help me make my escape. As long as it’s after the silent auction!  I can’t be seen colluding with you before it.”

There was a deep sigh on Miles’s side of the phone.

Book club was actually being hosted by Maxine this time and everyone was asked to bring a covered dish. Elaine dropped Myrtle off and then left to run errands. Myrtle wielded a large dip and chip container in one hand and her cane in the other. Maxine hastily relieved Myrtle of the serving dish and greeted Myrtle with a smile. “Are you ready for our little auction, Miss Myrtle? Knowing you, I thought you might be itching to get at the table with the bidding cards.”

Myrtle was dismayed to feel her cheeks color. “Oh. No, Maxine, I figured I’d let the young people have at it this time. You know. Let them take a stab at picking the book. I’m on a fixed income.  A retired teacher. Can’t be flinging money into something like this.”

Maxine gave her an amused smile. “Miss Myrtle, it would give me great joy to sponsor you. I don’t have a lot of extra income either, but it’d be worth it to see the look on the others’ faces when we end up having to read
The Pilgrim’s Progress
or something.”

As tempting as it sounded, Myrtle resisted the urge to collaborate with Maxine on the auction. Who knew if Maxine could even keep a secret? Besides, if anyone saw her even approaching the table to make a bid, she bet the amounts of the bids would grow by fifty percent or more just to try to shut Myrtle down.

“No, it’s all right. Really. Thanks, though.”

Maxine lifted a well-shaped eyebrow in surprise at Myrtle’s meek tone. “All right, then. Whichever way you want it. Oh, and I decided to inject book club with a little pizazz today, since we’re doing something different with the auction and all. I’ve put out some specialty drinks. Some tea.”

Myrtle leveled a look at her. “Tea. Mm-hm. We have tea every single book club meeting and have done since the 1920s, according to the book club’s original bylaws. So what’s in this tea that makes it a specialty drink?”

“Technically, it’s a Long Island Iced Tea.” Maxine smiled as Myrtle showed recognition of the drink. “So you’re not just a sherry drinker, then?”

“I’m not much of a drinker, although I have tasted that particular drink before. I believe I was told it had vodka, gin, tequila, and rum in it, along with a mixer. As I recall, it was incredibly potent, but didn’t taste as if it had alcohol in it at all.” Myrtle thoughtfully gazed at Maxine.

“This one has a little triple-sec in it, too. And therein lies the fun,” said Maxine smugly. “I figured book club could use some lightening up.”

“So I’m guessing you didn’t inform your victims of the contents of the tea?”  Myrtle gave her a stern, schoolteacher look.

“Only a couple of choice candidates. Like yourself. I’m not planning on drinking, myself, so I’ll drive everyone home who needs a ride. Shoot, Miss Myrtle, most of the members can walk home in less than a couple of minutes.” Maxine gave a rueful sigh. “Why do I feel as if you’re going to give me after-school detention?”

“It’s really not any of my business what you choose to do at your party,” said Myrtle. “I just hope your carpets or car won’t need cleaning after the meeting. I foresee some book club members might toss their cookies.”

Book club did indeed seem rather lively as Myrtle entered Maxine’s house. There seemed to be a lot more laughter than there usually was. Loud laughter. She spotted Miles right away and noted that, sure enough, he did have a glass in his hand and had consumed most of what was in the glass. Unlike the other guests, however, he wasn’t being raucous or laughing loudly. He was very solemnly sitting in a corner of the room. Apparently, alcohol must have made him reflective.

Erma tottered over to Myrtle right away. Unfortunately, it appeared that she became even more obnoxious when she drank. “Myrtle, you’ve got to have some of this tea. Isss delishus!”  She mangled the word
delicious
and thrust her cup out for Myrtle to taste the tea.

Myrtle put a hand out to block the glass. “No thanks, Erma. I’m not very thirsty right now.”

Erma swayed a bit on her feet and took another sip herself. “Are you going to put in a bid for the silent auction?” she asked. “We all guessed that you were going to write down
War and Peace
or something. We were going to put in big bids, if you did!”

Which was exactly why Myrtle wasn’t going anywhere near that table. She glanced over thoughtfully at Miles who looked a little bleary. He gave her a small thumbs-up sign, which she took to mean that he’d already sneaked in a bid for
The Sound and the Fury
.

Several other book club members joined them, including Maxine, who smirked at Myrtle as she observed her handiwork in the swaying members. Maxine was going to have to rent a van to get all these folks home.

“No,” said Myrtle with a gracious smile, “I’m not planning on putting in a bid for the book selection. Not that I don’t think animal rights is a good cause.”

Claudia Brown hiccupped near her elbow. “Not animal rights. No. It’s….” She looked around to the others for help.

Erma stepped in again. “The bird society. Right? Audubon?”

Claudia shrugged. “Something like that.”

Myrtle said, “Nothing against Audubon, then. But I’m a retired schoolteacher, you know.” She drew herself up to her full height with great dignity and gazed down at Claudia from six feet up. “On a fixed income. There are many things that I have to cut back on and charitable giving is, sadly, one of those. I’m practically worthy of a charity, myself.” She looked as pitiful as she could manage.

“Well of
course
you can’t place a bid!” cried Claudia, punctuating her sentence with another hiccup. “And who can blame you?”

Tippy Chambers, weaving a bit on her heels (she was always a snappy dresser), agreed with Claudia. “We only thought that you cared so much for classical literature that you’d be sure to enter a selection.”

Myrtle said graciously, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever pick wins the auction. And, if it’s a beach book, I’ll simply imagine myself on a beach as I’m reading it.”

The club members all beamed at her.

Tippy said, “I think I’m going to have more of that delicious tea.”

Claudia quickly said, “I’ll join you.”

The small group moved toward the refreshment table, but Myrtle reached out and caught Erma’s arm before she could move away. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute, Erma.”

Erma’s ego was such that she would never question this statement, even though Myrtle had never shown any interest in talking with her, for a minute or otherwise, before. “Okay,” she said, giving her sneering smile. Then she squinted, staring across the room. “Why is Miles looking at us like that? He’s giving me the creeps.”

Miles was still sitting quietly in the corner. He gazed solemnly at the two women, and then lifted one hand in greeting. He was smashed. Myrtle certainly hoped he had already put in a bid for the book...with any luck, before he started drinking that tea.