Death at a Drop-In (3 page)

“Doesn’t Felix always look unhappy?” asked Miles.

“As a matter of fact, he does,” mused Myrtle. “Always looks like he’s suffering from a dire case of indigestion or something.”  The dour Felix was scanning the room as if looking for someone.  He appeared to have no interest in sticking close to Sybil.  He absently straightened his already-straight bow tie.

Myrtle and Miles nibbled poppy seed ham biscuits and watched as Sybil quickly came toward them and put down a plate of vegetables and dip in the dining room.  “Hi, Miss Myrtle and Miles!” she sang out loudly.  Myrtle had the distinct impression that Sybil might have had more than one glass of wine before coming here. She bestowed an exuberant kiss on Myrtle’s cheek, although she barely knew the woman.  “So good to see y’all.  What do you think of the new book club selection so far?  I
love
it!  I’m almost done reading.”  She grinned at them—white teeth showing in a tanned face.

Myrtle wasn’t sure she had it in her to summon up any kind words regarding the book club selection and her mother had always taught her that if she didn’t have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all.  It was a rule that she’d found very difficult to abide by (
impossible
to abide by most of the time), but now she bit her tongue and watched with relief as Miles chimed in to answer the question.

“
Penelope’s Problem
?” asked Miles. 

Myrtle was astounded that he was able to pull up that ridiculous title from the depths of his brain.  He must have a Rolodex in his head.

“Was that your book pick?” Miles delicately asked Sybil.

She beamed at him.  “It sure was.  Aren’t you absolutely loving it?”

Myrtle could tell by the faint color on Miles’ face both that he hadn’t read it and that he was about to fib.  “It’s good. Very good.  Yes, that Penelope really does have a problem.  It’s a problem all right.”

Myrtle toyed with the idea of not rescuing him, but then decided it made her feel too awkward to watch Miles stumble through his fake book review. “I’m sure it’s fine, Sybil, but I always hold out hope that our book club might start reading actual
literature
.  I’m not sure what Penelope’s problem is, but I’m sure it can’t compete with Oliver Twist’s, for instance.”

Sybil looked puzzled.  “Is Oliver in book club?  I’m trying to learn everybody’s name, since I’m sort of new in town still. I thought Miles was the only man in our club.”

Myrtle realized with dawning horror that Sybil didn’t recognize a Charles Dickens title when she heard one.  She started spluttering.

Miles smoothly stepped in, “Anyway, it’s nice to see you here, Sybil.  I don’t ever really get a chance to talk to you much in book club.”

Sybil gave him a sly look and giggled.  “That’s because you’re fending off all the widows.  Poor guy.  The only rooster in the hen house.”

 “Now you’re embarrassing him, Sybil,” said Myrtle.  “Miles always thinks he’s surrounded by book club members because of his expert analysis of each month’s book.”  She glanced around them, which was hard to do with the crowd of people.  “Speaking of surrounded, what happened to Felix?  I thought he came in with you.”

Sybil pouted.  “He did come in with me.  You’d think he’d try to stay with me, wouldn’t you?  As a couple?  Most of the couples I know talk to other guests together.”

She turned her head, searching the crowd.  “Where did Felix run off to?” she asked in a fretful tone.  “Usually he ends up somewhere close to the food.”

Cosette’s husband, Lucas, walked into the dining room looking distracted.  He picked up a wine glass and poured himself a large glass of chardonnay.  “Lucas,” asked Sybil, “have you seen Felix?”

He started at the question, sloshing his wine so that some spilled out onto his button-down shirt.  He dabbed at it, not meeting Sybil’s eyes.  “I believe I saw him in the kitchen,” he said.

Myrtle and Miles exchanged a look.

“Thanks,” said Sybil.  She started heading toward the kitchen, and then stopped.  “You know, I believe I’ll have a glass of wine, myself.”  She strode to the sideboard and poured herself a large glass of red wine, and then drank large gulps of it as she walked out of the room.

“I don’t think she needs any more wine,” said Miles, raising his eyebrows.

Lucas drank his chardonnay quickly, and then poured himself another as guests came up to greet him.

“Clearly, you haven’t read
Penelope’s Problem
,” said Myrtle.

“Of course not.  And don’t tell me that
you’ve
read it.  I won’t believe you.”

“I haven’t read it,” said Myrtle, shuddering.

“It’s not
that
bad.  I did start it.  Well, I started skimming it. It had some very interesting elements to it, actually.  It’s about a woman trying to discover who she really is during her midlife….”

“Oh please.  As if we haven’t read
that
plot before.  So she goes to Italy and meets a chef and eats fabulous food and discovers life’s meaning in the Tuscan sunshine.”  Myrtle made a raspberry to indicate what she thought of that plotline. She was tiring of the subject. “You know what I’d like, Miles? A glass of water.  But I believe I’ll have to go into the kitchen for that, since there are no water pitchers that I can see.”

Miles gave her a weary look.  “I may as well give in.  You want to see what’s going on between Felix, Cosette, and Sybil. There’s no use in fighting it, I suppose.”

“None at all,” said Myrtle, already heading toward the kitchen.

Chapter Three

They peered around the door and spotted Felix, Sybil, and Cosette staring silently at each other. The water was instantly forgotten and Myrtle and Miles hovered in the kitchen door, not entering the room.  What was playing out was as familiar to Myrtle as old storylines on her soap opera.

“I knew it!” Sybil was hissing, with the same over-the-top melodrama employed by Myrtle’s soap. 

Felix said coldly, “Get ahold of yourself, Sybil.  You’re misreading the whole situation.”

“No you’re not,” said Cosette quickly, with a smirk at Sybil. 

Sybil gave a half-sob.  “You’ll be sorry, Cosette,” she hollered as she bolted for the kitchen door, pushing past Myrtle and Miles on the way out.

Felix and Cosette suddenly noticed Miles and Myrtle standing there.  “Um.  Water?” asked Myrtle.

Felix muttered something that sounded suspiciously like
snoopy old woman
before striding out of the room. 

Miles glared at Myrtle and was just opening his mouth, probably to say something placating to Cosette, who seemed on the verge of explosion, when a toddler ran into the kitchen. 

“Noah!” said Cosette, frowning down at the child as if he’d grown horns.  Her daughter, Joan, came into the kitchen next.  Cosette proceeded to ignore Myrtle and Miles, and Joan did too.  “I didn’t tell you to bring the baby to the drop-in, Joan.  Whatever are you thinking?”

Joan said icily, “I’m thinking that I have no one to watch Noah for me and that you have no right throwing a guilt trip at me for not being here.  But since it’s so important to you, I’m here.  With Noah.”

“Well, Noah is an extremely advanced boy, but I don’t think even
he
belongs at a party for grownups.  We’ll bore him to tears.”  Cosette stood, staring at the baby as he took some pots and pans out of the cabinet and started banging on them with a spatula. “I know what we’ll do.  Constance Walker is here with her teenage daughter.  I’ll ask Ginny if she can take Noah into my bedroom to play.”

Without asking, she strode out.  Joan’s face was strained and splotched with red as she watched her mother leave with Noah firmly in tow.  She didn’t seem dressed for a party in any way.  She wore navy-blue sweatpants and a stained tee shirt and hadn’t even appeared to have brushed her mousy brown hair.

“I’ve had it with her,” she muttered to herself.  “I’m done.  Done!”

Joan barely glanced at Myrtle or Miles on the way out.

“I have to admit,” Myrtle said slowly, “that although I’ve heard the elderly are frequently treated as if they are invisible, I’ve never actually experienced it to this degree.”

“They were all too caught up in their drama to spare us a glance,” said Miles, looking green around the edges.

Myrtle studied him.  “I know you don’t like conflict, but try to buck up.  It’s all over now.  It was fairly eye-opening; although I’m not sure I understood all of what was going on.”

“Are you sure it’s over?” asked Miles doubtfully.  “It doesn’t seem that way to me.  It seems like they are just getting geared up.”

“I think we’ll find that everything will settle down now that Cosette’s grandson is on the scene.  Funny how a child can make adults act more mature,” said Myrtle.

“Except for the fact that she relegated him to her bedroom with a sitter.  It doesn’t sound like he’s going to have much of a chance to make the adults cool down.”

Myrtle said, “Let’s find out how things are going out there.” 

She turned to exit the kitchen and Miles stopped her.  “Let’s get you a glass of water, since that was your excuse for coming into the kitchen to start with.”

“I guess I should,” said Myrtle with a sigh.  “Although I still don’t think they were paying any attention to me or my excuse at all.”

With glass in hand, they walked back out to join the rest of the party.  “It seems to me that a few people have already left,” said Myrtle.   She raised her eyebrows.  “But Sybil is still here.”

“She probably thought that if she left too early, people might suspect a scene,” said Miles with a small shrug. “Do you think Felix left?” asked Miles.

“I doubt Felix cares if he makes a scene or not,” said Myrtle.  “I don’t see him.  Maybe he decided to leave.”

“Lucas seems to be stepping into the hosting duties,” said Miles thoughtfully. 

“I guess Cosette must have trained him well,” said Myrtle.  Lucas was busily clearing away empty plates and glasses and returning with a tray of mini quiches and pickled shrimp before disappearing again.  His limp seemed a bit more pronounced with all the activity.

“I don’t see Joan, do you?” asked Myrtle, peering around the crowded living room and dining room. 

“She’s probably making sure her child is all right,” said Miles with a snort.  “It didn’t sound like she’d even heard of the babysitter that Cosette was putting Noah with.”  He shifted restlessly.  “Did you get all your snooping out of your system?” he asked rather plaintively. “I’m ready to get out of here. I think Cosette registered my attendance, even as preoccupied as she was. Actually, I was ready to leave as soon as we arrived.”

“Oh, I suppose so.  You’re no fun, Miles.  What else do you have to do tonight?  Read
Penelope’s Promise?
”

“I’m sure I can think of something more entertaining than being here.  Folding laundry holds more appeal, as a matter of fact,” said Miles.

Myrtle heard a familiar voice behind her.  She turned to see Sloan Jones talking loudly to someone across from him. Sloan was the editor at the
Bradley Bugle
and Myrtle wrote a weekly helpful hints column for him, although she’d much rather be writing an investigative report or following a big story for the paper.   Sloan had his back to her.

“That’s right,” Sloan was saying loudly over the noise from the party.  “I felt like we needed a fresh voice in the newsroom.  I’ve been writing stories for the paper for forever, it seems like.  And poor Miss Myrtle…” He chuckled.  “She’s not exactly on the cutting edge of journalism.  So I’ve got this intern for a while.  We’ll see how she does.  I’m excited about it.”

Myrtle turned back at Miles who was looking sympathetically at her.  “All right, I’m ready to go now.  Let’s go that way so that you-know-who doesn’t realize I was listening to him.”

  “Let’s find Cosette and thank her and get out of here,” agreed Miles.

“You’re such a stickler for observing the proprieties,” murmured Myrtle.  “Let’s see.  I guess she’s back in the kitchen again.  I haven’t seen her out here or in the dining room and Lucas has taken over all the hosting duties.”

They walked back to the kitchen and looked inside.  Lucas was busily stirring another pitcher of sweet tea.  “Can I help you with anything?” he asked politely, perspiration dotting his forehead.

“No, we’re just looking for Cosette to thank her and tell her bye,” said Myrtle.

Miles quickly added, “But since we can’t seem to locate her, we’ll thank you, instead, for our very pleasant evening.”  He took Myrtle by the arm to pull her gently back to the kitchen door.

Lucas looked startled.  “You haven’t seen Cosette?  I mean, I haven’t seen her either, but I assumed she was deep in conversation with somebody at the party…that’s why I jumped in to help with the food.”  He absently put down the tea pitcher, nearly dropping it on the floor in the process. “Maybe we should look for her.”

Miles sighed and Myrtle said quickly, “I think we should.  Although she might very well be in your bedroom with Noah.  You saw that your grandson was here, didn’t you?”

This information seemed to be a surprise to Lucas, too.  “Noah?  How did he get here?  I haven’t seen Joan.”

“Joan is here somewhere—I think.  At any rate, we saw Joan arrive with Noah, but we haven’t seen her for a while.  Cosette found a teenager to look after Noah,” said Myrtle.  Lucas was truly looking puzzled and she said quickly, “Let’s look around for both of them.”

The first place they checked was the master bedroom.  A bored-looking teen gave them a quick smile as they entered.  Toddler Noah was playing with a coloring book—in theory, anyway.  He seemed to be tasting all the different colors of crayons. There was no sight of Cosette or Joan and the teenager hadn’t seen either one since she’d been asked by Cosette to watch Noah.

As they left the room, Myrtle muttered to Miles.  “Genius.  Right. He’s busy eating his crayons”

“Is that still bothering you?” said Miles.

“It is.  Jack is just as smart as little Noah and I don’t feel the need to go blabbing around town about his brilliance.  Cosette is so—”