A Body in the Trunk

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Tippy said, “It’s very sad that none of us had the opportunity of getting closer to Neil and Clara. They were new neighbors and yet they didn’t seem very connected in the community. Although you might have had a different experience since you lived on their street.”

  “No, I didn’t really know them, either. Nor did Miles. I had the impression that they preferred it that way. Some people like keeping to themselves.”

  Tippy said, “I’d tried to invite Clara Albert to book club. I told her that it was a very lively, congenial group and that we had thoughtful discussions on literature.”

  In other words, Tippy flat-out lied to Clara. “Well, I’m sure she appreciated the invitation,” said Myrtle.

  “I also invited her to be part of the League, church circle, Women of the Church, garden club, and the patrons of the art museum,” added Tippy thoughtfully.

  So Tippy had tried dragging Clara kicking and screaming into Bradley society—such as it was. Clara had all the appearance of money and education, which would make her the perfect target for Tippy’s efforts to socialize her. Although sometimes Tippy chose more unusual targets.

  “Speaking of the church, I mentioned your name yesterday in a committee I was in. I thought you’d be marvelous as our Vacation Bible School chair for next summer. Especially with all your experience teaching,” said Tippy.

  Tippy was just about as bad as Red when it came to signing Myrtle up for things that she didn’t want to be signed up for. Myrtle gritted her teeth and responded as politely as she could, “Unfortunately, I must decline that invitation, Tippy. Much as I would love to, I don’t think that my health would permit it.”

  Miles, driving next to her, raised his eyebrows. He’d seen her do lots of lifting and carrying of Goodwill donations and he hadn’t seen any apparent signs of failing health.

  “Well, I am sorry to hear that, Myrtle. Should I put you on the prayer list?” asked Tippy.

  “No, no—that won’t be necessary. There’s nothing specific, you understand. Just a general malaise.”

  Here Miles rolled his eyes.

  Tippy said, “Let me know if you start feeling better. There’s nothing that’s better for one’s constitution than being a helpful hand to others. Which is why it makes me sad that I didn’t try harder to connect with the Alberts.”

  Tippy sounded genuinely nonplussed. Myrtle said, “You did more than enough, Tippy. Clara certainly knew who to call if she wanted more involvement in the town. And who knows—maybe, with Neil gone, she’ll finally be ready to take you up on your invitation.”

  Tippy’s voice was brighter on the other end of the line. “That’s true. Thank you, Myrtle. I just hate that the only time I saw Neil interacting in town was during an argument with another citizen. I feel that Bradley simply wasn’t welcoming enough for the Alberts.”

  Myrtle’s ears pricked up. “An argument?” She tried to sound more dismayed than nosy. “How absolutely dreadful. When was this?”

  “Goodness, it was only a week ago. Although it’s been so busy that it seems more like months. Neil was outside the bank when I was there running an errand. He was the manager there, I believe? Anyway, he and Tarleton Fleming were having a tremendous altercation. They were both so focused on yelling at each other that neither of them even noticed my walking into the bank. And that’s so unusual. I normally get such a warm welcome at the bank,” said Tippy.

  Wealthy people ordinarily did. Myrtle said, “What a pity. Did you happen to overhear any part of their argument? It’s so hard to imagine Tarleton quarreling with anyone. He’s usually so mild-mannered.”

  “Naturally, I wasn’t trying to listen in. I was merely passing by, on bank business. But they were yelling so loudly that I couldn’t help but overhear. Tarleton was very indignant that he had helped Neil find a job and that Neil ended up usurping his job,” said Tippy.

  “Did he? Isn’t Tarleton still working at the bank, maybe just in another capacity? As a lending officer, maybe?” asked Myrtle. This was, if it were true, a bit shocking. Tarleton Fleming was practically synonymous with the bank.

  “I don’t believe he is. It’s very sad.” Tippy added quickly, “I’d better run, Myrtle. See you at book club.”

  Myrtle hung up and put Miles’s phone into the cup holder between them.

  Miles said, “It sounds like a very productive conversation. You got some information and were able to successfully deflect Tippy from saddling you with a tremendous volunteer opportunity. What was she saying about Tarleton?”

  “She said that he and Neil were having a heated argument in front of the bank—to the degree that Tippy wasn’t even greeted. And we know that Tippy is usually gushed over wherever she goes in town, considering how much money she has,” said Myrtle thoughtfully.

  Miles pulled up into Myrtle’s driveway and they sat there.

  Myrtle asked, “Have you been in the bank recently?”

  “No. I usually just use the ATM or the drive-through window,” said Miles.

  “Tippy was saying that Tarleton no longer was the branch manager,” said Myrtle, frowning.

  Miles blinked at her. “Surely Tippy is wrong. Tarleton’s entire life is that bank. I can’t even think of the bank without thinking of him in there. He always comes over to have a word with me whenever I’m in there.”

  “Which doesn’t sound as if it’s very often,” said Myrtle. “I don’t go inside the bank often, either. Half the time I just give checks to Elaine to have cashed, since I don’t have a car.”

  “What would Tarleton and Neil have been arguing about? Tarleton hardly seems the type to be having some sort of tussle outside the bank,” said Miles.

  “Apparently, Tarleton helped Neil get his job at the bank and then Neil ended up taking over his position. At least, that’s what Tippy said she overheard. Who knows?” said Myrtle.

  “What’s our next move?” asked Miles. “It sounds as if we need to wait until later for the basketball game. And I’d be happy putting off the basketball game indefinitely. Should we run by Tarleton’s house?”

  “No, I think my first task is a little visit with Sloan,” said Myrtle darkly. “I want to know exactly what he means by trying to take over my story.”

  “You don’t know that. You’re simply going off what Wanda said,” said Miles.

  Myrtle said, “Miles, how many times has Wanda been wrong about anything?”

  Miles squinted in thought, searching his memory. He finally said slowly, “I suppose you’re right. She has an uncanny way of getting things right.”

  “Exactly. I need to give Sloan these horoscopes, anyway. While I’m there, I may as well establish my claim on my story.”

  “You’re going over there?” asked Miles. “In person?”

  “Naturally. You know how I have the ability to intimidate Sloan just by being in the same room with him,” said Myrtle.

  “That’s because you were his teacher decades ago,” said Miles.

  “Yes. His favorite teacher.”

  “I don’t somehow recall Sloan saying you were his favorite. He appears to be extraordinarily terrified of you whenever you’re around,” said Miles.

  “That’s just because he wasn’t the best student in the world. How he ended up being a newspaper editor, I’ve simply no idea. I take my red pen out sometimes and correct the paper and mail it to Sloan,” said Myrtle.

  “I’m sure he appreciates the feedback,” said Miles dryly.

  “Of course. Everyone wants to improve, don’t they?” asked Myrtle.

  “I suppose. All right, back to Sloan. Do you want me to drop you off over there instead of here? Save yourself the walk? We’ve already had a pretty vigorous workout with the Goodwill items,” said Miles.

  “Why don’t you come with me? We can go to Bo’s Diner afterward. Then we can plan our next move,” said Myrtle.

  “Bo’s Diner? But aren’t we going there with Lieutenant Perkins soon?” asked Miles with a frown as he pulled out of Myrtle’s dri
veway and headed to the newspaper office.

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t go there today. Who’s to stop us?”

  “My heart,” said Miles. “It’s not exactly health food over there. Remember Wanda saying that ‘stuff happened?’ I need to be careful.”

  “I don’t think that Wanda was referring to the hazards of fast food or bleacher-sitting I’ve been eating at Bo’s Diner for forty years and I can promise you that my heart is in the best condition it’s ever been in. I love their pimento cheese slaw dogs,” said Myrtle.

  Miles looked a little green.

  “There are always salads, Miles. You know this. Although I certainly don’t consider salads to be the specialty of the diner. Look—there’s a parking place right in the front of the newspaper! Pull in!”

  Miles, his set jaw indicating that he’d had enough of bossy passengers for the day, pulled into the spot. “I could wait for you in the car,” he said.

  “Oh, come on in. Sloan has always liked you. He’ll appreciate your saying hi,” said Myrtle, pulling herself out of the car.

  Miles followed her through the old, battered wooden door into the darkness of the newsroom. Myrtle waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. She heard Sloan’s startled voice and the pained squeak of his rolling chair. “Miss Myrtle! Am I glad to see you!”

  She saw a heavy man wearing a button-down shirt that fairly strained over his girth. His necktie was open at the top. His broad and ever-expanding forehead was dotted with sweat, whether from the still heat of the room or from Myrtle’s presence or a combination of both. Sloan glanced behind her and greeted Miles, too.

  This stopped Myrtle in her tracks. She’d seen plenty of reactions from Sloan in the past: joy and relief at seeing her was never among them. He even looked to be on the verge of giving Myrtle an enthusiastic hug, but she carefully sidestepped it. “Everything okay, Miss Myrtle?” he asked.

  “That was what I was actually here to ask you. I heard some talk that you were writing the story about Neil Albert’s murder.”

  Sloan’s broad face was now definitely perspiring. Added to that was a red flush that was creeping up from his neck.

  “Only for a short while, Miss Myrtle, did I even consider writing it. Of course, I hadn’t realized the close connection that you had with the story. An eyewitness account would be better than my slant on it, naturally,” he said.

  Myrtle said, “Hm. That’s certainly correct, but usually you don’t reach that conclusion by yourself. Not without a little persuading on my part. What’s different this time, Sloan?”

  Sloan shifted on his feet. “This time the difference is that I’m a little too close to the story. I’ve heard a rumor about Neil and Adelaide.”

  Miles said with a sigh, “I’ll never get used to living in a small town.”

  “You heard about them? From whom?” asked Myrtle with narrowed eyes.

  “Good question.” Sloan looked up at the ceiling as if the answer to Myrtle’s question might be written in its water-stained surface. “Let’s see. You know, I don’t think I did hear about it. I think I picked up on it, myself, with a little detective work. Adelaide works here now; I’m not sure whether you knew that or not, Miss Myrtle.”

  “I have seen the odd byline from her from time to time, yes.” Not that Adelaide was much of a writer, but then neither was Sloan.

  Myrtle watched in fascination as Sloan turned redder and redder. “I used to go to school with Adelaide. I guess you remember that, Miss Myrtle.”

  “Yes, considering that I taught you both.” Myrtle paused and then said impatiently, “Well, spit it out, Sloan! What is it that you’re trying to tell me? For heaven’s sake. Miles and I need to go to lunch.”

  Chapter Seven

  SLOAN SAID IN A FAST mumble, “I like Adelaide. I’d like to date her or something. I knew she needed some extra work because she was saying that teaching didn’t pay very well, so I offered her a small, paying job here. Asking her out while she was working for me isn’t appropriate, I know. I was trying to figure out what to do when I overheard her tell Forsythia Thomas that she was seeing someone. You know how nosy Forsythia is.”

  Miles said sympathetically, “That must have stung.”

  “It did,” said Sloan with a quick nod. “And then it stung more when I saw her out later in Neil Albert’s car.”

  “Well, I hope you’ve crossed her off your list of likely love interests. Anyone who dates married men isn’t a good candidate,” said Myrtle. She tilted her head to one side. “Although you bring up an interesting point. I could help find you a date.”

  Miles groaned and gave Sloan a sympathetic look.

  Sloan’s eyes opened wide. “No, Miss Myrtle. That is, I’m sure I’ll find someone nice to go out with. On my own, without help.”

  “Not at the rate you’re going, Sloan. In fact, this is the first time I’ve even heard you profess interest in dating for a long while,” said Myrtle with a frown.

  “There’s only so much rejection one guy can take before he needs a break from it,” said Sloan with a shrug.

  “What kind of person are you looking for?” asked Myrtle. “I hope you’re not lowering your standards.”

  Miles looked fervently at the door as if planning to bolt from the newsroom.

  “I don’t really know,” said Sloan. “Mostly? I think I just want a friend. Somebody to go to a baseball game with or to see a movie with. A friend.”

  “But a friend who’s a woman,” said Myrtle.

  “Exactly.” Now Sloan was looking wistfully at the door, too.

  Myrtle said, “Okay. Let me mull that over for a bit. Bradley has a limited number of possibilities, after all. Perhaps we need to widen the net to surrounding towns. But now, moving back to my newspaper article, I’m supposing that you want me to write it because it will look like revenge if you had to write about Adelaide killing Neil Albert?”

  Sloan’s red face now turned pale. “Gosh, you don’t think that Adelaide actually did it, do you? Why would she do that? She clearly liked the guy.”

  “Why wouldn’t she do it? Maybe she was upset that he wasn’t divorcing his wife to marry her. Maybe they had an argument and she lost control. Who knows why she might have done it? There are other people who might have done it, too, and it’s very early in the investigation. Be assured that I will write a careful, thoughtful, insightful piece, as I always do.”

  Sloan said in a rush, “Of course, Miss Myrtle. But if you could keep from telling Red about the story? You know how he hates it when you write crime-related articles.”

  “Believe me, I don’t tell Red everything I know. I know how to keep secrets,” said Myrtle. She was turning to leave, but then turned back around again. “Since you’re out and about a lot, have you heard anything about Tarleton Fleming?”

  “Like the fact that he’s out of a job?” asked Sloan, raising his eyebrows.

  “What do you know about that?” asked Myrtle.

  “Only that he was in the pub a few nights ago, spilling his guts out about how miserable his life was right now.” Sloan, apparently fearing that Myrtle’s delicate sensibilities might be offended said, “You know that sometimes I go to a pub after work. Just for one drink.”

  Myrtle knew that Sloan frequently went to the pub after work. For a lot more than one drink. She’d seen him walking the short walk from the pub to his house on numerous occasions. “Your pub habits aren’t my concern, Sloan. But I’m sorry to hear about Tarleton.”

  “Yes, he was upset about it. Spent his whole life at the bank, you know. He was furious,” said Sloan.

  “Did he mention who he was so upset with?” asked Miles.

  “Sure didn’t. Just was very steamed up,” said Sloan.

  Myrtle said, “Thanks for the information, Sloan. I’ll get back to you with the story later today. And, before I forget, I have Wanda’s horoscopes for you. You might be interested in one of them.”

  Sloan said eagerly, “I’m interested in all of
them. Her horoscopes are a hot commodity for the newspaper. My subscription rates have skyrocketed because of them.”

  He took the piece of paper from Myrtle and quickly scanned it. Once again, a flush spread up from his neck to his forehead.

  Myrtle knew he’d found Wanda’s message for him: Love is on its way.

  Miles drove the short distance to the diner. “What did the horoscope say? I must have been on the lookout for more chickens and not listening by that point in our visit.”

  “Love is on its way,” said Myrtle.

  “That doesn’t really sound like Wanda’s diction,” said Miles.

  “My whole job is to clean up Wanda’s diction,” said Myrtle. “Without changing the substance of her predictions. No, Wanda’s message was more like: look out fer love. There is always tidying to be done with Wanda’s column.”

  “And you’ve decided to insert yourself in Sloan’s love life,” said Miles.

  “How conniving you make me sound, Miles! I’m simply trying to help my former student. Which should be easy enough—he’s set the bar rather low, simply looking for a friend,” said Myrtle.

  Miles said, “He’s just being realistic. After all, Sloan isn’t exactly the local heartthrob.”

  “Perhaps. But he does have other good qualities,” said Myrtle. “I don’t think setting someone up with him would be that much of a hard sell.”

  Miles parked and they walked inside the crowded diner, past the old men in baseball caps who sat in front every morning drinking coffee and cutting up. An old bell jangled as they opened the door.

  “Oh good,” said Myrtle. “It’s crowded, but I don’t think we’ll have to wait to be seated. There’s a booth right over there.”

  Sure enough, a waitress with ‘Jen’ on her nametag hurried over to seat them. “Know what you want, hon?” she asked.

  It was a good guess, since Myrtle was such a regular that she had no need to study the menu. “A pimento cheese slaw dog, please. With fries.”

  Miles actually studied the menu thoughtfully. “A veggie plate, please.”