Pretty is as Pretty Dies (A Myrtle Clover Mystery) (21 page)

Kitty's husband Tiny answered the phone. "Nope. Haven't seen
her," he said.

"Haven't seen her since when? I'm-ah-trying to find out
about the United Methodist Women meeting coming up."

There was an irritated sigh on the other end of the line. "Don't
really know, Miss Myrtle. She left this morning when I was getting
ready for work. A long day at work. Kitty was going to see a movie
tonight with Lucia Hall"

"I believe she was late getting over there."

"She was not."

"I beg your pardon-you've heard from her? She ended up
making it over to Lucia's house?"

"I've not heard a word. But Kitty would never be late. Not
ever.

Myrtle decided not to fill him in on Kitty's absence. He'd probably just snap at her. She thanked him, and he'd hung up before
she'd said goodbye.

"Well, that went nowhere," she told Miles.

"He obviously doesn't think she's missing."

"No, Tiny thinks she's at a movie with Lucia." Myrtle tapped
her wine glass on the table and Miles winced as the sloshing red
wine dripped onto her white tablecloth. "Let's suppose she really is
missing. It's not an unreasonable idea, considering what we know
about her." Myrtle took a long sip of her wine.

"Okay," said Miles. "So she's missing. Why would she be missing?"

"Maybe she knows something," mused Myrtle. "In fact, we
know she knew something because she told me about it. She knew
that Tippy Chambers was out driving around instead of at home,
as she'd claimed. Kitty knew that neither Benton's nor Tippy's alibi
was legitimate."

Miles considered it. "Even so, it seems like a mighty flimsy reason for killing someone. You're saying that she confronted Tippy
or Benton with her information and that one of them did her in?"

"Why not? One of them had murdered once already. They would
need to shut Kitty up if they had any hope of getting away with the
crime. Let's say Kitty was really worried about what she knew. She
arranged to meet with Tippy or Benton to talk about it."

Miles squinted doubtfully. "I don't know, Myrtle. Seems like
she would just pick up the phone and make a call. Why all the
cloak and dagger stuff?"

Stumped, Myrtle tapped her wine glass again. Then she perked
up and said, "Maybe she wanted to blackmail them!" Miles snorted and Myrtle said, "No, really! Think about it-she's stuck at home
with Tiny, who doesn't even care whether she's missing or not. She's
never had any money of her own, never worked. No independence.
Her son is finally out of the house-maybe she's ready to spread her
wings and have a little freedom. The Chamberses have plenty of
money-and enough at stake to make a good mark for her."

Miles sipped his wine. "Could be. So you're thinking she arranged to meet them somewhere and instead of paying out, they did
her in?"

Myrtle looked solemn. "Poor Kitty."

"We don't even know that she's dead yet, Myrtle. Where do you
think she'd have set up this little rendezvous? Where are all the
deserted places?"

"The rural highway near Crazy Dan, the old quarry, the playground on the other side of town (depending on the time of
day) ... maybe the cemetery." Myrtle mulled it over. "I don't see Kitty
getting too far away. She hasn't left town a day in her life, I don't
think. No, she'd want to stay in familiar territory. She has a family
plot at Rose Hill." She reached over and grabbed Miles' sleeve, nearly
causing him to spill his wine, too. "Let's go there."

He gaped at her. "To the cemetery?" It was nearly nine o'clock.

"You've got a car. It won't take long to just drive through
there."

"And what are we going to tell Red if we find anything?"

"We'll just make it up as we go along, Miles. `Nice night for a
drive through the cemetery' or something like that. Come on, let's
go!"

Miles looked wistfully at the huge bowl of salad (even though
the lettuce leaves were wilting under the large amount of Italian
dressing poured on top), and followed Myrtle out the door.

The cemetery was about a ten-minute drive from the center of
town. It had been Bradley's premier burial spot for the past one
hundred and fifty years with old, moss-covered tombstones next to
brand-new markers. There were old fences with gates surrounding
ancient family plots, rows of cement crosses, and old white oak trees
towering over the graves as if watching the proceedings. Kudzu had
recently taken a stranglehold over an older section of the cemetery
and engulfed many trees, making them look like green, leafy ghosts.

"Don't you think," Miles asked slowly, "that this is an odd place
for a person to arrange to meet a murderer? After all, Parke's grave
is here."

"Well, I don't think the murderer really has too many compunctions about that. He was able to murder Parke in cold blood,
after all. Probably not the superstitious type."

They drove in silence for a minute. The narrow, paved road
wound through the graves. When they reached an older part of the
cemetery with tilting, mossy gravestones and heavier tree cover,
Myrtle suddenly cried out. "What's that up ahead?"

There was a dark lump on a grave that looked people-sized.
Miles moved his car so that the headlights shone on the figure.
"It's a body," he said grimly.

KITTY'S COMPACT CAR WAS parked nearby. Myrtle moved to open
the door and Miles shot out an arm and stopped her. "We need to
call Red on this one. The murderer still could be lurking around.
And who knows what kind of clues we could be tampering with if
we trample in there."

"I don't plan on trampling, Miles. But I do think we have a responsibility to see if Kitty-or whoever it is-is breathing. We
could help her. I'll get right back in the car. Lord, no one's going to
attack me with your headlights shining like a spotlight. They'd be
nuts."

"They must be nuts, Myrtle. Okay, just..."

"I'll tread softly."

Myrtle grasped her cane and moved cautiously forward. She
wanted to see clues herself and had no intention of destroying
anything. The ground was uneven and rocky, which caused her to
move even more carefully. When Myrtle got within several feet of
the figure, she saw that it was Kitty Kirk, and that there was no question that she was dead, apparently from a blow to the head, as
a cement cross that broke off a tombstone lay next to her. Standing
very still, Myrtle also noticed, in the glare of the headlights, something out of the corner of her eye. Leaning forward on her cane,
she peered at the object on the ground, then walked to the car
where Miles was already talking on his cell phone. She opened her
mouth to speak and Miles held up a hand.

"That's right, Red." He winced a little and held the phone away
from his ear. "No, you didn't misunderstand me. Right. No, she's
right here in the car with me. I'll see you in a minute."

"Sounds like someone wasn't a happy camper."

Miles leaned back onto the headrest. "You could say that. I
don't think he was excited to have another murdered body on his
watch and he was especially disturbed at having his mother discover the body-again."

"At least we're helping him out. An extra set of eyes."

Miles was about to answer that he didn't think Red viewed it
that way when Myrtle waved him quiet. "Let me tell you what I
found, Miles. Uh-besides poor Kitty, of course. I also saw a
checkbook on the ground... Cecil Stockard's checkbook." Her
voice was high with excitement.

"Cecil?"

Myrtle nodded impatiently. "Yes, we were all wrong, Miles, all
wrong. We should have been thinking about Cecil all along. He
was the one who gambled, who used and sold drugs. He was the
one who needed money and probably thought his mom's death
would solve all his financial problems."

Miles frowned. "But wouldn't he know the way the will was set
up? That his sister and charities would be getting the bulk of her
money?"

"Why would he? He had every right to assume that his mother
would remember him in her will."

"But you told me that, when you talked with Cecil at the funeral, that he claimed he knew that his mother planned to basically write him out of her will. And that she was a lot more useful
to him alive than dead."

"Well, maybe he was just saying that. To throw me off track. The
fact is, his checkbook is close by the scene of a crime. I guess we were
right-Kitty did have some information and intended to blackmail
the murderer to get some money. And Kitty didn't have any love for
Cecil anyway-he was the one who introduced her son to drugs,
remember. So she would really have wanted to stick it to him. Rattle
his cage a little. He probably figured she'd be holding it over him her
whole life-and decided to end it prematurely."

Miles nodded his head slowly. "It does make sense. But Cecil
wouldn't have been able to pay Kitty anything: he was broke."

"But Kitty wouldn't have known that. She didn't exactly call up
Cecil for social chats. She'd have thought he had a big chunk of
Parke's fortune and that he owed it to her to share. And Cecil
would have almost had to have killed Kitty-he knew he couldn't
possibly pay her demands either now or over time."

Headlights were now visible as a white police car snaked
through the winding road. The car came to a stop and Red and
Detective Lieutenant Perkins stepped out. Perkins, flashlight in
hand, walked over to the body on the grave and Red walked over to Miles' car. Miles noticed that Myrtle had adopted a demure expression. Or as demure as a tall, big-boned lady could appear.

Red opened the passenger side door and stood looking at his
mother with his eyebrows up questioningly. "Are you a professional victim-finder now, Mama?"

Myrtle coughed delicately. "Miles and I thought it would be a
nice night to go out for a drive. You know, a full stomach, looking
for something relaxing to do"

"Stop right there. I can already tell you're fibbing. There's no
way you could possibly have a full stomach after tonight's culinary
disaster unless you raided your pantry for cereal and Pop Tarts.
And a nice night for a drive through the cemetery? Do I need to
drive a stake through your heart?"

"At least I'm doing you a favor by finding Kitty Kirk before too
much time has gone by. Maybe you can get some forensic information easier than you would have been able to tomorrow or
whenever she would have been found." She gestured over to where
Perkins was canvassing the ground with his high-beam flashlight.
"I can also tell you that he's about to discover Cecil Stockard's
checkbook not too far from Kitty's body," said Myrtle, her voice
rising victoriously. "Looks like she was trying to blackmail him for
killing his mother. He came equipped with his checkbook, then
decided to kill Kitty instead of paying out to her for years. Case
solved."

Red shook his salt and red-pepper head. "Case unsolved. Cecil
Stockard has been incarcerated all day in Bradley's friendly neighborhood jail cell for drunk driving."

Myrtle's face fell. "All day?"

Red nodded. "Since five this morning when he was driving
home totally smashed."

Miles said thoughtfully, "So that means that somebody set him
up. Not knowing he would have an iron-clad alibi." Myrtle bobbed
her head in excitement.

"Or else," Red said dryly, "he just dropped his checkbook when
he was in the cemetery for his mother's funeral."

Myrtle grated, "His mother's plot is clear on the other side of
the cemetery. I doubt he wanders through the graveyard for his
health"

"But he might meet up with business associates here for drug
deals. Could be a very simple explanation."

There was something still bothering Myrtle, niggling in the
back of her mind. Something about Cecil. She searched her memory, then gave up. Maybe it would come to her later.

Red shut Myrtle's door soundly and joined Perkins. Myrtle saw
Red scan the ground, then point out the checkbook to Perkins and
gesture toward his mother. "I still think somebody tried to incriminate Cecil for Kitty's murder. Which means this murder was carefully planned. Kitty would have called the murderer up, threatening exposure or blackmail. The murderer arranged to meet her
here sometime today-it wouldn't have even had to be dark because the cemetery is usually deserted. He picks up part of a broken tombstone, clobbers Kitty over the head, and plants evidence
to implicate Cecil Stockard. It seems pretty well throughout.
Someone was desperate not to be discovered."

Miles' stomach growled and he glanced at his watch. It was 9:45
and still no sign of a meal. He glumly watched as Red and Perkins trained their flashlights on some tire tracks. "I guess they'll want to
ask us some questions?" he asked gloomily.

"I'm sure they will. After all, our deductions led to the discovery of Kitty's body." Myrtle sighed sadly. "I do feel bad about Kitty.
She really hasn't had a very easy life between her mediocre marriage and her son's drug problems. Blackmailing a murderer was a
very stupid thing to do, but I guess she saw it as a way to get a little
money of her own and improve her life. She didn't deserve this."