Progressive Dinner Deadly (11 page)

Myrtle tuned back into the conversation when she realized Elaine was trying to get her attention. “Maisy was wondering what you thought of Willow’s horoscopes, Myrtle.”

Myrtle looked at Elaine and Maisy blankly. “I haven’t read them. Sorry. I don’t have enough hours in my day to spend time dabbling in the occult.”

Elaine groaned and Maisy said eagerly, “Oh, it’s not the dark arts at all, Miss Myrtle. I know it seems like a whole lot of mystical stuff going on, but God created the stars, didn’t he? So he shouldn’t mind us reading the signs they’re giving us. Maybe they’re even signs from God himself!”

Now the conversation had shifted to other supernatural things like Ouija boards and “light as a feather, strong as a board” while Myrtle gloomily looked for an escape route. Maybe she could come up with an excuse to visit another table. At that moment, however, Maisy had gotten herself so wound up that she had a coughing fit. Since Maisy was the only person at the table without a drink, Myrtle pushed her own, untouched iced tea over.

Maisy took a few big gulps, stopped coughing…then started choking while her table watched in horror. Maisy seemed unable to breathe, grabbing at her throat with clawing hands, face turning purple. At first, everyone at the table sat in stunned silence. Then a woman from the next table, who was a nurse, lunged over yelling, “Call 911!”

It felt almost like a dream as the ambulance arrived and the medics rushed back out, carrying Maisy out on a stretcher before the ambulance raced off again.

On the way home, Elaine said, “That was horrible, Myrtle. Maisy looked like she was in such agony. Isn’t it odd it came over her so quickly? She’d been
fine
except for that coughing fit she was having.”

She was fine until she had my iced tea. But the idea seemed too paranoid to voice. Besides, she didn’t want Elaine to start wondering if she might be in danger. Then Red would be sure to stick to her like Super Glue.

“I guess sometimes these things hit you really fast,” said Myrtle in a doubtful voice as they reached her driveway.

Elaine reached under the seat and pulled out a plastic grocery bag. “Here’s a can of top-notch tuna, Myrtle. A cat’s dream come true. Surely this will tempt the cat and make her hang out in the trap for long enough to trip it. I’ll come back early tomorrow morning and take her to the vet.”

The next morning the tuna was gone and so was the cat.

M
yrtle spent much
of the night thinking about Maisy. She called Elaine as early as decently possible the next morning, broke the news that the cat had stolen the tuna, then started right in with some questions.

“Did Red find out what happened to Maisy? What does Red know about it? How is she feeling? Is she still in the hospital? Does she need someone to bring her a casserole?”

Elaine shuddered on the other end of the phone. She had a feeling that Maisy, who had just recently undergone horrific gastric distress, would
not
want a Myrtle Clover casserole.

“She’s still in the hospital, Myrtle. After all, she wasn’t in the strongest of conditions even
before
she got sick. And Red mentioned…” Elaine hesitated, but knew Myrtle would end up pulling it out of her. Red shouldn’t give her information about his cases! He knew she couldn’t keep a secret from Myrtle. “…he mentioned that Maisy was poisoned. I don’t know with what.”

“What?” asked Myrtle with a sinking sensation in her stomach.

“Which is
ridiculous
! I mean, like anyone would want to poison poor little Maisy! Did someone put something in her green bean casserole? Really!”

Myrtle suddenly felt something very large and hard in her throat that made it hard to talk around. Nobody would want to murder Maisy. No one. But Myrtle? Maybe. And it was Myrtle’s iced tea that Maisy had been drinking.

This was something that Elaine didn’t need to know. Because this was something that
Red
didn’t need to know. Apparently no one had noticed that it had been
Myrtle’s
drink that Maisy had drunk from. Red was keeping close enough tabs on her as it was. If she wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to stick one of those electronic surveillance ankle bracelets on her, she’d better just keep her trap shut.

There was a light tap on Myrtle’s door. She peeped out the window, saw Miles, and said, “Elaine, I’ve got to run. Miles is here.”

She opened the door. “Come on in, Miles,” she said.

Miles’ face looked oddly green. “There’s a mangled rabbit on your front porch.”

Myrtle leaned out the door and looked. She shrugged. “Just step over it for now. I’ll get the shovel in a little while.”

Miles skirted the small corpse, found a spot on Myrtle’s sofa and said, “Myrtle?
Why
is there a dead rabbit on your front porch?”

“The cat,” said Myrtle. She waved her hand impatiently at Miles’ questioning face. “You know, the feral cat. It’s just thanking me for feeding it.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” said Miles. He looked intently at Myrtle’s living room window. “I’m guessing that’s the culprit there?”

Myrtle craned her head and saw the scrawny, black cat staring at them through the window. “The very one.”

“Nobody’s pretty child, is it?”

Myrtle surprised herself by feeling affronted. “She’s had a hard life, Miles. You’d look the same if you poked around garbage cans looking for food.”

“Have you named it?” he asked. “I’m thinking ‘Fluffy’ won’t do.”

“Not unless I’m being ironic. No, I need something tough, steely. Maybe something Russian. Pasha.”

Miles nodded slowly. “Strong, yet feminine. And doesn’t Pasha mean ‘passion’ in Russian? She definitely has a passion for slaughtering and disemboweling small, furry creatures.”

Myrtle was cross. “How do you know so much trivia? How could you possibly know any Russian?”

“I read,” said Miles loftily. He shifted in his seat. “You know, Pasha is making me uncomfortable just glowering at me. Is there something she wants from you?”

“Oh, who knows? She probably wants to hear a few ‘good girls’ from me for the rabbit. And the cardinal earlier.” Myrtle looked thoughtfully at the cat and it opened its mouth for a silent meow. “I think I’ll bring Pasha inside for a couple of minutes. Just to tell her what her name is.”

Miles blinked. “You’re not looking for a pet, are you?”

Myrtle stood up in an abrupt motion. “Of course not. I’ve got enough going on without having a live-in companion. I’m just curious to see what would happen if I brought her inside.”

“Aren’t feral cats completely unadoptable? And unpredictable around people?”

“Okay,
Elaine
. I’m not inviting Pasha in for good, just for a couple of minutes. She did go out of her way to slaughter offerings for me, after all.” She turned the door knob, stuck her head outside, and called, “Here, kitty, kitty. Here, Pasha!”

There was the flash of black that was Pasha in motion. Myrtle turned to smile smugly at Miles for Pasha’s obedience and obvious intelligence (A feral cat coming when called? What an amazing animal!). The smile died when she saw that Pasha was hissing dementedly and had attached herself to Miles’ body like a clawed, fanged limpet.

Miles gave a high-pitched scream that Myrtle wouldn’t have believed he could make and frantically tried peeling Pasha off of him. But Pasha was a virago, and determined to punish Miles for some unknown crime.

“Bad kitty! Bad Pasha! No!” said Myrtle.

“Get it ooooofffff meee!” yelled Miles.

Myrtle grabbed her glass of ice water and threw it on Pasha’s back. And Miles’ leg, of course, since that’s where most of Pasha was. Pasha launched off of Miles, slinking to the corner of Myrtle’s living room, and staring sulkily at Myrtle before licking her wet fur with emphatic strokes of her tongue.

Miles stood up shakily, summoning as much dignity as he could muster after being attacked by a stray cat in a friend’s house. “I think I should go,” he said coldly.

Myrtle bit the inside of her lip. She couldn’t show any sign of the amusement that she was feeling over the whole situation or that would make him even angrier. “I’m sorry, Miles. I don’t know what got into her. Maybe she was abused by a man at some point?”

“But
not
,” said Miles, “by me. I’m sure Pasha can make the distinction between me and some cat abusing man.” He sounded quite offended that the cat could have made such an error when determining the direction of his moral compass.

“I’m sorry, Miles,” Myrtle repeated. “Uh…what did you come over here to tell me to begin with? Before being ambushed, I mean.”

Miles peered suspiciously at Myrtle, as if suspecting she might be laughing at him. “I wanted to let you know that I heard from the checkout lady at the grocery store that Willow and Jill had a huge argument in the store right before Jill was murdered.”

“And she had that huge fight with Jill the night of the supper club, too. Willow’s always been upset that Jill married Cullen and that she continued supporting him after he quit working. Was that the argument?”

Miles still looked pretty miffed. “If it was, it was the loudest, most animated argument about Cullen that they’ve had yet. That’s what the checkout lady said.”

Myrtle knit her brows. “I really want to find out some more information about Cullen. He seems to be at the very center of everything, but I really don’t know much about him. I taught him, of course, but that was…well, it was a while back. And Cullen doesn’t seem like he’s sober enough to hold an intelligent conversation. Maybe I could have a little chat with Simon, instead, and pick his brain about his brother. I wonder how I could make it seem like I’ve just casually run into him.”

Miles pushed his glasses up and thought. “Actually,
I
know where he goes three times a week and exactly the time of day he’s there.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s the gym. I just told off Red a couple of weeks ago for trying to boss me into going over there. I made the mistake of telling Elaine that my doctor recommended I work out and she felt
compelled
to share that tidbit with Red.”

“It’s the gym. He’s there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday during his lunch hour at noon. On the weight machines,” added Miles helpfully. “Of course, even if you make it look casual, I’m sure he’ll know why you’re asking about his brother. Front page news, remember? Octogenarian sleuth?”

Myrtle blew out a deep breath. “True. But it’s possible he doesn’t even subscribe to the paper. That’s why Sloan is feeling so desperate right now, after all. I guess I could go to the gym just the one time. For the sake of the case.”

“You’ll have to go over there more than once, Myrtle. The staff has to give you special training on using the machines so that you don’t hurt yourself. Or the machines. What is it that your doctor told you you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Building up bone mass,” said Myrtle gloomily. “He said I was in fantastic shape, then completely contradicted himself by telling me to do some gentle weight lifting. And then Elaine was a blabbermouth and told Red what the doctor said. If Red has his way, I’ll work out so much I’ll be an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike.”

“Not with the kind of workout you’d be doing, Myrtle. Besides, this gym isn’t some body-building hangout. It’s mostly middle-aged and older people trying to stay healthy. You might find that you really like it.”

Miles eyed Pasha with apprehension as she seemed to grow restless and swished her tail a few times. “I’m ready to go now. I don’t want to start round two with your new pet.”

After receiving training
on the equipment Thursday, Myrtle went into Fit Life shortly before noon on Friday. She scanned her membership card at the front desk and was surprised to see Sherry there. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Sherry was digging out some membership paperwork for a new member and gave Myrtle a quick smile and said, “You probably wouldn’t, unless you came here. I’ve seen Chief Clover here, of course.”

Myrtle made a face. “He’s been trying to get me here for weeks.”

Sherry opened her mouth to respond, then clamped it shut before mumbling, “Excuse me, Miss Myrtle,” and redirecting her attention to the new member. Myrtle turned around and saw Cullen Caulfield swaggering up to the desk. He worked out? Since when? He wasn’t exactly trying to take care of himself. He seemed to be in no hurry to scan a membership card. Was he there for some other reason? Maybe to talk to Sherry? She remembered again the way Sherry had looked out from Cullen’s window the morning after Jill’s murder.

Myrtle decided that a cup of coffee from the coffee station in the lobby would be perfect before her workout. And a perfect excuse to stand around and see what happened.

But nothing seemed to be going to happen. Sherry appeared determined to pretend that Cullen was not there. She made herself busy with the new member, then settled down to filing applications and inputting the data on a computer. All the time, Cullen loped around the lobby, watching Sherry all the tim. Finally he leaned across the membership desk and bellowed, “Sherry! You’re going to talk to me. I’m not going away.”

Myrtle squeezed her coffee cup, nearly crushing the Styrofoam.

Sherry pretended that she hadn’t heard anything and continued typing on the computer. Another employee walked out of the office, looking at Cullen curiously.

“Can I help you?” she asked, and Cullen shook his shaggy head, impatiently. “Are you a member here?” persisted the employee.

Just when Myrtle was sure Cullen was on the verge of being unceremoniously kicked out of the health club, things became even more interesting when Cullen’s brother, Simon Caulfield, came through the door. Unlike his brother, Simon was clearly outfitted for exercising, and carried a workout bag as well.

Cullen and Simon looked like twins, even though they were several years apart. They both had a wasted quality about them: Cullen…well, because he probably
was
wasted, and Simon because he looked like someone who wasn’t happy with what he was doing in life. They were both tall, thin, angular, and serious.

Simon, his body stiff and face furious, said something quietly to Cullen. Cullen clenched his fists and said something in return that Myrtle couldn’t catch. Myrtle crept closer to listen in. She was worried at first that they were going to find somewhere private to argue—but soon realized that they were angry enough to forget that anyone else was around.