Pretty is as Pretty Dies (A Myrtle Clover Mystery) (25 page)

Miles raised his eyebrows. "That's hardly likely, is it? You're
talking about a city with eight million people in it."

"True. But they were both journalists."

"If a society columnist is a journalist," said Miles.

"So they could have known each other before moving to Bradley."

Miles squinted doubtfully. "They wouldn't have been running
around in the same circles, surely? From all accounts, Parke was
this glamorous beauty and josh..."

"Was nobody's pretty child. I know. But journalists frequently
get thrown together for work. I'll call Cecil." She glanced at her
watch. "If he's awake."

"Awake? It's 1:00 in the afternoon!"

"He's something of a late-riser."

Cecil answered the phone after almost ten rings. "Hello?" he
said in an annoyed voice.

"Cecil? It's Myrtle Clover. I know you're busy," Miles rolled his
eyes and Myrtle bit back a laugh, "so I'll make it quick. I was just
wondering if your mom knew Josh Tucker back in New York."

Now Cecil's voice had that snidely amused tone. "Doing some
more nosing around, Miss Myrtle? Sure, they knew each other
there. He covered lots of political candidates who went to the same
parties that Mother wrote about for her column. I don't know anything more than that-I was in and out of rehab the last year we
were there," he added sardonically.

"Do you think Josh Tucker might have wanted to kill your
mother for some reason?"

"Nothing that I know about. But half the town wanted to murder Mother." He paused. "There was one thing. He blamed Mother
for his uncle's heart attack-he really let me have it one day."

"Thanks, Cecil," said Myrtle. "You've been very helpful," she
added in a surprised voice.

Myrtle opened the car door. "Thanks for the ride. Looks like
they did know each other. I'll ask Althea a little more about her
nephew."

Miles squinted at Althea's yard behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
"I wouldn't have placed Althea at this particular house. It's got a
kind of Great Expectations look about it."

Myrtle hadn't even taken a look at the yard, she was so wrapped
up thinking about Cecil. "Good Lord. It does have that Satis House
look of decomposing gentility, doesn't it?"

"Maybe Althea hired your yard man. That would explain a lot."

"Funny, Miles. No, not even Dusty would let a yard go this long.
It would be too much work for him to cut the grass if he let it get
this tall. Maybe Althea will mention something about it." Myrtle
shut the passenger door firmly and waved to Miles with her cane as
he drove away.

Althea's yard, usually a show-stopper, was wildly overgrown. The
grass was long, the flower beds full of weeds. At least, Myrtle guessed
they were weeds. They were flowering, but didn't look like the usual
English garden weedy look that Althea went for. Japanese beetles
had invaded the trees. Myrtle frowned. This was not the usual gardening technique for a former president of the Bradley Garden
Club. Either Althea had let the yard man go, or else Tanner was the
gardener-in-chief and nothing was really getting done without him.
The yard had looked pretty bad when they'd visited before, but
Myrtle had just figured Althea hadn't gotten around to doing it yet.
Now she wondered if it was on Althea's to-do list at all.

Myrtle rang the doorbell and prayed fervently that Bambi
wouldn't plow the door down and gobble her up with one gulp. A
couple of minutes went by and Althea hadn't answered the door.
Myrtle frowned again and looked over in the driveway. Althea's
Cadillac was parked right there. Myrtle took an involuntary step
backward when Althea opened the door.

AT FIRST MYRTLE COULDN'T believe that the normally trim and
elegant Althea was the witchlike apparition who greeted her. The
hair that had always been neatly wound into a French twist lay in
disarray around her shoulders in clumps. Bambi sat forlornly next
to her, looking at his mistress with anxious eyes. Myrtle reached
forward and held Althea by the arm. "What has happened, Althea?
Has something awful happened?" She soon realized that something awful had happened. Althea said vaguely, "I'm sorry I took
so long. I couldn't find the door." She was dressed in a heavy flannel nightgown and thick robe and looked very hot.

Myrtle had the sudden sinking sensation that she knew the secret Althea had desperately tried to hide over the past couple of
weeks. She was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. Myrtle
wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed it earlier-the way Althea mysteriously showed up in the church sanctuary on the day of Parke
Stockard's murder when she was supposed to be in the dining hall.
The inappropriate clothes she wore to the book club meeting. The way she was avoiding the activities and people she usually enjoyed,
in order to conceal her condition. The overgrown state of her beloved yard. The minister must know-that was why Nathaniel had
so quickly changed the subject when Althea had materialized in
the sanctuary. And now here was Althea on what was obviously a
bad day for her-getting lost in her own home, apparently just
waking up at one p.m., and wearing dirty, out-of-season clothing.
Myrtle felt a wave of sadness come over her.

But Althea was leading Myrtle into the house. Myrtle wasn't
entirely sure that Althea knew who she was, but she seemed determined to get Myrtle inside. "I'm glad you came to help," she was
saying. "I can't find the iron anywhere."

Myrtle put out a hand and stopped Althea. "But I'm not here to
help with that, Althea. It's Myrtle. I was ... well, I was coming over
to talk with you about Parke Stockard's murder."

Althea knitted her brows together, a hint of awareness crossing
her features. "Parke Stockard" She made a face. Yes, she remembered, all right. "That woman!"

She seemed deep in thought and Myrtle worried she might not
be able to return from the fog, but Althea continued, "She was so
awful to him. So ugly for a pretty woman. She ruined his life." She
put her finger in front of her mouth. "But we don't need to tell
anyone.

Myrtle felt as confused as Althea. "She ruined Tanner's life? By
trying to get him to sell your property to her?"

Althea looked at Myrtle with blank eyes. "Tanner? No. She ruined josh's life. My nephew, Josh Tucker."

Myrtle heard a buzzing in her ears while her brain whirled,
processing the information. "She ruined josh's life?"

Althea looked a little vague. "Said he didn't really talk to the
people he wrote about in his articles. He got fired from his job. His
wife divorced him and he had to come back home."

"But ... why was this such a big secret? And how do you know
about it?"

"His parents were so proud of him. He didn't want them to
know. And I knew..." She thought hard for a moment. "What
were we talking about?"

Myrtle said, "How did you know about Parke getting josh fired
from his job?"

"Because ... I always took the New York Times. I was that proud
of him. I read a story about him being suspended from the paper
for problems with his stories." She looked sad, but then looked vacant again.

Myrtle mentally kicked herself for not making more out of the
New York connection. She'd known they'd both spent time in New
York and had recently moved to Bradley, but New York was such a
big place, she hadn't seen a link. But with both of them working
on newspapers in the same city... "Althea-I've got to go."

Althea nodded, still looking lost. The heavy nightgown and
robe seemed to overwhelm her frail body, weighing her down.
Myrtle looked around the once-neat and now very disorganized
library and said sadly, "I'll call your daughter to get you some
help."

Althea bobbed her head again. "Yes. That would be nice. I need
some help." Myrtle left Althea walking in an aimless fashion toward the kitchen. Myrtle's head was still spinning from what she'd
just learned. As she walked outside, her cell phone blared, "ARE
YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" She cursed, realizing she'd forgotten to ask Red to reprogram it back to a ring from a voicetone. "Sharper
than a serpent's tooth," Myrtle muttered.

It was Miles. "Listen, that search you did? Did you read all the
results under Josh Tucker's name?"

Myrtle admitted, "Not nearly as well as I should have done, no.
I stopped when I saw all that stuff about his award for the Bugle. I
guess there's something about Josh being fired from the Times?
Something to do with Parke Stockard?"

Miles sounded surprised. "Yes, actually. Did you find that out
from Althea?"

"I found out a lot at Althea's. More than I expected. But what
exactly did you read online?"

"Apparently, the Times discovered that Josh Tucker had been
fluffing up his articles with some fabricated details. Although it
wasn't anything too major, the Times doesn't exactly specialize in
fiction. They let him go, printed an apology to their readers, and
mentioned Parke Stockard as the informant. Sounds like a motive
for murder to me."

"Not only that, but Althea said that Josh's wife divorced him
over the fallout from his being fired. So he ended up with no job
and no wife. He came back home to Bradley, only to have Parke
Stockard end up in the same place."

"Seems like kind of a coincidence, doesn't it?" asked Miles.

"Not at all. If I remember correctly, either Parke or Cecilia or
someone mentioned that someone Parke knew kept talking about
Bradley and what a great place it was. What do you want to bet
that it was Josh or his ex-wife? Then Parke started looking for a
warm climate and a hot real estate market and did a little checking on Bradley. When she found it was just what she was looking for,
she moved down here."

Miles said, "I'm going to try to do a little more checking on the
computer. What are you doing? Do you need me to pick you up?"

"No, that's okay, Miles. I'm um ... just going to run a quick errand."

She wasn't ready to share with Miles what she knew and didn't
want to tell him that she was going over to the Bugle office to
search for evidence in josh's desk. A niggling voice in her head told
her she should let her new sidekick in on her information. Luckily,
Myrtle was good at ignoring little voices. She told herself that she'd
spent too much time on this case to share the glory.

But that didn't mean she was prepared to be stupid. She needed
to ensure that both Sloan and Josh Tucker were out of the office so
she could search it. Luckily, as a columnist, she had a key to the
newsroom. She dialed the number for the Bradley Bugle. Sloan answered. "Miss Myrtle. What can I help you with today?" Sloan's
voice told her he wasn't exactly happy to hear her voice.

"Look, I need to come right over there. Right now. I-really
need to talk to you about my column. You know how much everyone loves it and I think we need to expand it. Wonder Boy's articles
are just so trite. Can't you cut them down a bit to make some
room? I'll be right over there to talk to you about it."

Now Sloan sounded alarmed. "Okay. Right, Miss M. I'll be sure
to be here."

Myrtle smiled. She could tell by his voice she'd succeeded in
running him off. She'd get there and there'd be a note on the door
saying that Sloan had to leave unexpectedly for an interview or
something.

"Is josh there, Sloan? There was something I needed to tell him,
too."

Sloan handed off the phone in a hurry, eager to get off the line
with the militant Myrtle.

"Josh? Hi, it's Myrtle. Listen, I overheard Red talking the other
day and I have a lead for you on Kitty Kirk's murder. Yes, that's
right. You need to go way out, though-remember that house covered with hubcaps out the old highway-Crazy Dan's place? Yes,
he apparently has some information. You're welcome, josh."

Sloan gathered his things together while josh hung up the
newsroom phone. "Josh! I've got to get out of here. Myrtle Clover
is coming over and she's on the warpath about her damn column
again or something. Tell her anything-tell her I had an unexpected interview I had to do."

Josh stood up from his desk, his stooped shoulders looking even
more hunched than usual. "She said she needed to talk to you?"

"No, she said she had to talk to me. Which means I don't need
to be here." He headed for the door. "I'm grabbing some lunch, but
don't tell her that! Make some excuse. A good one!"

Myrtle's mind worked hard on the new information and the
walk to downtown seemed to go quickly. After an internal argument with herself, she decided it was time to share her findings
with the police. With any luck, she'd find the evidence they needed
in the next few minutes to add to her deductions. She dialed Red's
number and got his voice mail. "Red? I've got some information
about the case that you'll be interested in. Give me a call back when
you have a minute."

As she walked toward downtown, the air seemed charged with
electricity-and then actually was charged with electricity and a quickly corresponding boom! Myrtle glanced up at the sky, livid
with billowing black clouds. She tottered down the street a little
faster. These pop-up summer storms struck out of nowhere on
scorching hot days like this one.