Hushed Up

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Myrtle nodded and forced a smile. She reached out her hand and Jack slid his small one into hers and smiled up at her. “Are you ready for a snack? And a surprise?”

  His eyes grew wide and he nodded.

  Elaine said, “Oh, he hasn’t had a nap yet so feel free to turn on the TV after a while if he starts running down. I know you don’t usually do that, but he might run out of steam soon. I’ll try to hurry with my errands.”

  “Don’t hurry,” said Myrtle. “I’d like to visit with Jack for a while.” She said, “By the way, you’ve done a good job lately online with all the photos you’ve done for the paper.” It would be best to give her a compliment for something. And the photos hadn’t had as many pictures of Elaine’s thumbs in them as they usually did.

  Elaine smiled. “People love seeing pictures of themselves online. That’s most of it. It’s not much of a gig—you’d be amazed at the number of gardens I’m photographing. Someone always has a prize zucchini or something. Here, I’ll show you some.”

  She proceeded to take out her phone and flip through at least a dozen photos. There was Beulah Foster’s 100th birthday at Greener Pastures. There was a retirement party for someone who’d been working at the same business for 40 years. And there was a children’s birthday party with all the attendees lined up for a picture.

  “Jack’s in this one,” said Elaine, pointing him out proudly.

  “That’s a big party,” said Myrtle. “Birthday parties in my day were usually family only.”

  “Oh, they’re big deals now. This one was at night. Jack had so much sugar that he was wired and didn’t sleep a wink all night.”

  “He and Miles should hang out,” said Myrtle dryly.

  A minute later, Elaine hurried back out to run to the store. Myrtle and Jack sat down at the kitchen table and had their snack and lemonade while Jack regaled Myrtle with his tales from preschool. These were mostly about who was his favorite friend and who he liked to play with on the playground outside the church.

  Then Myrtle showed Jack his surprise and his eyes lit up. Myrtle said, “See? The doors really open and the lights really go when you move the switch.” She complimented herself on her generosity by making sure at the consignment shop that the ambulance either didn’t have a siren or that the siren was non-functioning. She hadn’t wanted to bother Red and Elaine . . . well, mostly Elaine. Although now she could see it might have been better to gift a loud toy that could potentially interrupt Elaine’s creative process.

  Jack and Myrtle played with the ambulance for a long time. They put toy superheroes in it and came up with scenarios where they had to go to the hospital, despite their special powers. Then Jack put toy cars in the ambulance to take them to the hospital. Jack provided the siren sounds for the missing ambulance siren, so that worked out well.

  After a while, Jack started getting sleepy, much as Elaine predicted. Myrtle found a low-key children’s show on TV and got Jack settled on the sofa with his favorite toy and a blanket. He rested his head sleepily on a cushy pillow.

  That’s when Myrtle’s phone rang, which was perfect timing. She saw it was Wanda and walked into the kitchen where she could still keep an eye on Jack. “Hi, Wanda.”

  Wanda grated, “Hi there. Sorry about not answerin’. Took a nap.”

  “A nap? Is everything all right, Wanda? I don’t remember your taking many naps during the day.” Myrtle frowned. “This isn’t still to do with Lillian’s death, is it?”

  Wanda sighed. The sigh graduated into a cough. She paused and then said, “Maybe. Kinda hard when bad things can’t be stopped.”

  Myrtle said, “You stop bad things all the time with your column. If there was one person who was silly enough not to listen to your warning, she got what she deserved.”

  Wanda gave a reluctant chuckle. “Don’t suffer fools lightly, do ya?”

  “Not by half,” agreed Myrtle. “And this is exactly why I called. I wanted to check in on you since you were so funny over Lillian’s murder. I have a lot on my plate right now and absolutely can-not handle if something were to happen to you on top of it all. Got that?”

  The grating chuckle again. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right, then. I’m glad that’s settled. Do you need me to come up there? Help out? Bring a meal?” asked Myrtle.

  “No, Dan’s been right thoughtful lately.”

  “Well, that’s amazing. I’m rather keeled over by that news, actually. Now onto something else, Wanda, while I have you on the phone,” said Myrtle.

  “Think the battery’s dyin’,” croaked Wanda.

  “I’ll be quick. For one, Sloan has agreed to give you a raise.”

  Wanda sounded pleased. “That’s good.”

  “And one other matter before I let you go. Have you had any other . . . insights? Anything at all that might be helpful with this case?” asked Myrtle.

  “Anger is powerful,” said Wanda in a tired voice.

  “Anger is. The only problem is everyone was angry at Lillian. Well, except for Rowan, perhaps. The caterer.”

  Wanda snorted. “Him’s angriest of all. But hides it.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “So should I speak with him again, then?”

  But the phone cut off, the waning battery finally dead.

  Myrtle walked back into the living room where Jack was completely asleep, one hand on the ambulance, in front of the TV. She carefully turned the volume of the children’s show down and settled into a chair with Elaine’s writings.

  Thirty minutes later, she called Miles. “It’s dreadful, Miles. Really dreadful.”

  “What is?” asked Miles in a sleepy voice.

  “Were you sleeping?” asked Myrtle suspiciously.

  “Just a tiny catnap.” Now he sounded wary.

  “Well, try to wake up for a minute.”

  Miles said, “Wait, it’s not time for supper, is it?”

  “No, no, this is about something else. Elaine’s newest hobby—her scribblings. Miles, they’re really, really awful. What am I supposed to do?” asked Myrtle.

  Miles said, “Tell her they’re the best thing since baked bread. Just gloss over it.”

  “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

  “Why don’t you just edit them for typos and poor grammar? Then it looks as if you’ve put time and thought into reading and you can leave out any actual criticism,” said Miles.

  Myrtle said, “Yes, but Elaine actually proofread fairly well. There aren’t any glaring errors. They’re just bad, that’s all.”

  Miles gave the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “I’m not sure, Myrtle. But I don’t think it’s your responsibility to be the gatekeeper. Let her send off some of her writing to publishers or contests and let them reject her. I’ll see you for supper.”

  And Miles, apparently eager to get back to his nap, hung up.

  Which is when Myrtle’s doorbell rang. She glared at the front door. Now Elaine would be here to get Jack and she’d want to know Myrtle’s opinion. Myrtle was used to giving only honest opinions and wasn’t sure she could provide anything else. She sighed as she walked to the door.

  When she opened it, she found Red there.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “H i, Mama,” he said in his booming voice.

  She frowned at him. “Shh. Jack’s asleep.”

  Red glanced over at the sofa. “Well, he’s going to have to wake up anyway to go back home. I offered to pick him up for Elaine since I was closer.” His gaze wandered to Myrtle’s kitchen table and Elaine’s folder. He grimaced. “It looks like you’ve been reading Elaine’s stories.”

  Myrtle gave a solemn nod. “Yes.”

  Red said, “What did you think?”

  Myrtle gave Red a look.

  “Yep. That’s about what I thought, too. I was hoping one of her hobbies would be something she’d have a little talent in. And she really likes t
his one,” said Red.

  Myrtle said, “Well, I can’t tell her they’re terrible. But I can’t tell her they’re great.”

  “You’re just too blunt.” Although there was a gleam of respect in his eyes when he said it.

  Myrtle sighed. “Too many years of teaching, I suppose. I’ll have to come up with something that will satisfy me to say and won’t completely upset Elaine.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to.” Red walked over and picked Jack up in one swoop. Jack didn’t even stir. He shook his head. “He’s really out. I thought for sure he’d wake up when I picked him up. I’ve got to get going since I have another stop to make tonight.”

  “Do you?” asked Myrtle, sounding innocent.

  “Just have to run by Tallulah Porter’s house. She wanted to see me about something,” said Red.

  “Something to do with the case?” asked Myrtle, remembering Tallulah’s desire to speak with Red at Lillian’s funeral.

  Red snorted. “Knowing Miz Porter, it’ll have something more to do with neighborhood kids trampling through her yard or a problem with one of the neighbors being too loud at night. She’s a complainer, that one.”

  “How’s the case going?” asked Myrtle in a very offhanded way.

  Red narrowed his eyes. “It’s going just fine. Keep out of it, Mama.”

  Myrtle blinked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Everywhere I’ve gone lately and everyone I’ve spoken with in conjunction with the case has said the same thing: ‘I’ve seen your mama today. She’s looking so good!’” He looked sternly at Myrtle.

  “Well, it’s certainly nice to be told I’m looking good,” said Myrtle complacently.

  “The point is that you’re very close to talking with all of the same people I’m talking to.”

  Myrtle said, “Only because Miles and I needed to deliver sympathy casseroles to Lillian’s family. We were in garden club together, Red.”

  “And Rowan Blaine?” Red knit his eyebrows.

  “Tippy wanted me to check on the catering for the garden club auction. You and Elaine have a conflict, correct? I haven’t had your RSVP yet.”

  Red ignored the attempt to sidetrack him. “And Bianca Lloyd?”

  “Someone had to make sure we were still getting our flower arrangements for the auction,” said Myrtle, looking displeased. “Really, Red, you do go on and on.”

  He briefly closed his eyes. Then he said, “Do you need me to do some yard work for you?”

  “I have Dusty for that.”

  “Yes, but clearly Dusty hasn’t been by. The grass is getting pretty tall, even though we haven’t had rain. And it’s supposed to rain tonight. What’s going on with Dusty?” asked Red.

  “The same thing that’s always going on with Dusty. Chronic laziness.”

  “I’ll give him a call,” said Red grimly. “I really don’t have time to stop chasing down a murderer to tinker in my mother’s yard. Especially around a large collection of gnomes.”

  Myrtle glared at him. “No, I’ll call him. It’s my yard. And if you didn’t bulldoze into my business, there wouldn’t be any gnomes out there.”

  Red shifted Jack and he again didn’t stir. “Well, let me know if he isn’t responsive. I need to get this little guy home . . . he’s getting heavier by the second.”

  “Wait—you need to take his toy ambulance back with you.”

  Red held out his hand and Myrtle gestured to the large ambulance. He pulled his hand back. “I thought you meant an ambulance I could hold in my palm. That thing is as big as Jack!”

  “It’s fun-sized,” said Myrtle, frowning. “Jack loves it. And the siren doesn’t work, so it’s a quiet toy.”

  “I’m sure he does love it, but I can’t cart it back home right now with my hands full. I’ll grab it later on in the week. Bye, Mama.” He pushed his way out the door.

  After Red left, Myrtle became engrossed in the book she was reading. So engrossed that she didn’t notice what time it was until Pasha leapt through the window to rub against her and inquire about food.

  “Heavens! It’s late.” She quickly put out cat food and called Miles on the phone.

  “Mmm?” he sleepily answered.

  “Miles! We’re supposed to go to supper. If we wait any longer, it’ll be breakfast time.”

  Miles grunted in alarm and there was commotion on the other end as he maneuvered himself to see a clock. Then he said dryly, “It’s only eight. I think we’re safe.”

  “Some of the places will close in an hour. I’m not in the mood to make myself something to eat at this point in the day,” said Myrtle.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Ten minutes later Miles was there, looking a bit rumpled and still half-asleep, but ready to go. He escorted Myrtle to the car.

  “Where are we heading?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway.

  “We’re not exactly spoiled for choice, are we? Maybe the diner?”

  Miles made a face. “Can we get something a little healthier?”

  “Chinese?”

  Miles glanced sideways at her.

  “What? You could get vegetables and brown rice. That’s not so bad,” said Myrtle. She paused. “There’s the fancy place that’s just opened. They’re sure to have healthy choices.”

  “Will they have fancy prices, though?” asked Miles. He knew Myrtle was on a budget.

  “I can always get a salad,” said Myrtle with a shrug. “And that’s probably just as well. I should eat healthy tonight, too. Could you take a slight detour? Go past Tallulah’s house?”

  Miles frowned. “Not exactly a slight detour.”

  “I know. Red came by this afternoon to pick Jack up and mentioned he’d be speaking with Tallulah. I’m just curious as to what transpired.”

  “What transpired?” asked Miles. “Wasn’t it just a conversation?”

  “It might have been. Or maybe Tallulah confessed. In which case, she wouldn’t have any lights on at her house and her car would be there. And she’d be at the police station and there’d likely be all sorts of state police cars at her house, gathering evidence to use against her,” said Myrtle thoughtfully.

  Miles made the detour.

  When he drove to Tallulah’s house, they couldn’t even get close. There were tons of police cars, forensic units, and people.

  They looked at each other.

  “I guess she confessed,” said Miles slowly.

  Myrtle frowned. “Something about this doesn’t make sense. Get a little closer.”

  “I can’t get closer, Myrtle. There are vehicles on both sides of the street.”

  “Pull into Lillian’s driveway. We know she’s not there.”

  Miles looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps her children are there.”

  “Martin has a mansion and is most likely choosing to hang out there instead of in Lillian’s modest house. And Annie was practically allergic to Lillian. I don’t think she’s there.”

  Miles crept forward until he got to Lillian’s driveway. He popped into it.

  Myrtle took off her seatbelt and sat forward on her seat. Her eyes narrowed at the forensics team going by. “Miles, I don’t think Tallulah confessed. I think Tallulah’s dead.”

  “Look, there’s Red.” Miles gestured at him. Then he grimaced. “He’s coming over.”

  Myrtle muttered, “Look at him. He’s had a rough night. He’s all sweaty and irritable-looking.”

  “He’s frequently irritable-looking.”

  “Yes, but this is worse. He’s very unsettled. This will be the best time to get information from him,” said Myrtle.

  Red walked up to the car and Miles reluctantly put the window down. Red said, “Mama, I’m not at all surprised to see you here. But Miles?”

  Miles reddened. “Your mother is very persuasive.”

  “Is the whole
town talking about this or is this a coincidence that you’re here?” asked Red.

  Myrtle said, “I haven’t heard a word about it. Miles and I were just taking the scenic route on our way to supper.” She paused. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Tallulah.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Red rubbed his eyes . “She sure is.”

  “She didn’t have the opportunity to speak with you, then?” asked Myrtle.

  “She did not.” Red looked very tired.

  It occurred to Myrtle that Red hadn’t discovered a single body in all the murders he’d investigated. Discovering this one seemed to have really shaken him up.

  Miles said, “Were you able to just walk in? Her door was unlocked?” He colored a little. “Sorry for the nosiness. It just reminded me of the way it was with Lillian when I found her.”

  Red nodded. “It was slightly ajar and Tallulah didn’t answer when I called her name. Sort of worried me since she’d been so eager to talk to me and I was punctual. So I walked inside.” He frowned. “Mama, did you know her at all?”

  “Just a bit.”

  “Was she a golfer?” asked Red.

  Myrtle nodded. “She certainly was. Apparently, quite a good one.” Her eyes narrowed. “Was Tallulah killed with a golf club?”

  Red sighed.

  Myrtle said, “Well, this murderer certainly seems to arrive at homes unprepared. He always seems to grab whatever is around as a weapon.”

  Red was quiet. Then he said, “I wish we could figure out what was behind all this.”

  Myrtle was pleased by his inclusive choice of pronoun. “Anger.”

  Red raised his eyebrows.

  “Anger is behind it.” Myrtle nodded her head sagely. She knew better than to tell Red where that little insight had come from. Red never seemed to take Wanda’s statements very seriously. To his detriment.

  “Unfortunately,” he said tiredly, “we have lots of angry people involved with this case.” He glanced over at the house where the state police were busily going in and out. “Mama, you don’t have any idea what Tallulah was so eager to speak to me about, do you?”