Murder on the Ballot

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  “An’ the horoscope,” said Wanda.

  “So we have lots to do.”

  “Will you need your campaign manager anymore today?” asked Miles. His tone indicated that he fervently hoped not.

  “Not unless you feel like writing horoscopes or doing laundry. But I do need you to send me the best of those pictures you took so I can edit them and send them along to Sloan.”

  When Miles pulled up to Myrtle’s house, he said, “Uh-oh.”

  Red was sitting on Myrtle’s front porch, arms crossed.

  “He looks combative,” said Miles.

  Wanda croaked, “Ain’t happy about you runnin’.”

  “Well, that was a given. Red should be pleased that his mother is so engaged in the community. Besides, having a family member in politics could be very useful for a small town’s police chief,” said Myrtle with a sniff.

  “All right. But just in case he isn’t delighted and grateful at your candidacy, this campaign manager is going to head back home,” said Miles.

  Myrtle hopped out of the car and Wanda slowly followed as Miles drove off.

  “Hi, Mama,” grated Red as Myrtle came up to the house and dug her keys out of her purse.

  “Well, hi there,” said Myrtle brightly. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Red held the door open and Myrtle sailed past him, thumping her cane emphatically as she went. Wanda hesitated until Red politely said, “Good to see you, Wanda.” She smiled and shuffled past him into Myrtle’s house.

  Wanda perched on the edge of Myrtle’s most uncomfortable chair and watched the proceedings. Red looked sternly at Myrtle.

  Myrtle pointed toward the kitchen. “Lemonade, Red? Crackers and cheese?”

  “You know very well I’m not here for a social visit.”

  Myrtle knitted her eyebrows. “Who was the tattletale? Was it Sloan?”

  “Mama, Greener Pastures called me. Said you’d been creating a ruckus at their facility.”

  Wanda bit her lip. Myrtle said sourly, “It was hardly a ruckus. It was a perfectly benign political event.”

  “They said hosting political events was not allowed on their premises.”

  Myrtle said, “Isn’t that so typical of Greener Pastures? Suppression of their inmates’ basic rights? The Constitution allows for freedom of assembly, you know.”

  Red sighed. “Mama, you’re missing my point. I’m not worried about what’s happening at the retirement home as long as no crimes have been committed.”

  “Well, whether a crime has been may be a matter of opinion. For all we know, Greener Pastures might be raking in money that’s supposed to go to their inmates’ care. I mean, canned vegetables in the dining hall? Absurd.”

  He continued, “I’m more concerned about what you’re doing running for political office. Do you think, at your age, that’s a wise thing to do?”

  “I think it’s a very wise thing to do. There needs to be more octogenarian leadership in this country. It’s not just a wise thing to do, it’s an important thing to do.”

  “Royce Rollins is a tough opponent.” Red shook his head. “I heard some buzz about a debate, too. He’ll eat your lunch.”

  “You don’t have to attend if you’ll find it upsetting,” said Myrtle crisply.

  Red put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He muttered something under his breath. Then he raised his head and looked at Wanda. “Have you pulled poor Wanda into your antics?”

  “Wanda is here as my guest. She’s spending a little time at the house with me and will act as one of my advisers.”

  Wanda gave Red a hesitant gap-toothed grin and Red planted his face in his hands again.

  “Now, if you’d be so kind, I’m ready to watch my soap opera. So unless you want to find out if Ginger and Morgan’s relationship will progress to the next level on Tomorrow’s Promise, I recommend that you head off back home.” Myrtle pointedly picked up the remote.

  “There’s just one more thing, Mama. You realize there’s a whole financial aspect to running a campaign, don’t you? Royce Rollins has a lot more money to play with.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. I have fundraising events planned. It’s all going to go just fine.”

  Wanda raised an eyebrow at this news of fundraising events.

  As the dulcet tones of the intro of Tomorrow’s Promise filtered through the small living room, Red hastily made his exit.

  Myrtle paused the show as soon as he left. “Sorry about that, Wanda. Red just can’t help himself for barging into my business.”

  “He cares about you,” said Wanda simply.

  “I suppose so. But it’s all very annoying, just the same.” She glanced over at Wanda. “I guess now I need to have a fundraising event planned. Something to really stand out. Something different.”

  “You got them gnomes,” said Wanda.

  Myrtle snapped her fingers. “You’re right. I could pull them all out and have a gnome petting zoo. Invite families to come out and take pictures for a small donation.”

  “Whatcha gonna do with that money when you quit?”

  Myrtle pursed her lips. “I’m going to have to think of a worthy charity to give it to. But until then, it’s all got to look like a real campaign.”

  The days leading up to the debate fell into a routine. Myrtle would get up quite a bit earlier than Wanda and would finish her crossword puzzle and the Sudoku by the time Wanda woke up. Then, because Wanda had really taken to the lake, she and Wanda would take cups of coffee and some store-bought muffins down to the rocking chairs on the dock and sit and watch the sun rise. Miles would come over at some point and they’d work on a puzzle together. Miles and Wanda were especially good at puzzles and could look at a puzzle piece and know exactly where it fit into the big picture. Myrtle, on the other hand, preferred to approach them another way—by picking up a piece and turning it a multitude of ways as she tried to fit it onto numerous pieces.

  Then there’d be a walk . . . frequently with Pasha the cat tagging along with them. Pasha was very fond of Wanda and stopped by often to spend quiet time with her. This had the additional positive effect of keeping Erma at bay, since Erma was allergic to Pasha and quite terrified of her.

  Myrtle also spent quite a bit of time on the phone with the current town council members, informing them of better ways for town council meetings to be conducted. She paid quite a few visits to town hall to talk about her views with whomever was in the building at the time. She appreciated how cowed they all seemed as she fussed at them about the council’s general and unacceptable behavior.

  As the debate got closer, however, Myrtle buckled down and came up with talking points she wanted to cover to ensure her agenda was loud and clear. When the evening of the debate arrived, Myrtle put on her funeral dress and practiced her short, memorized parts.

  Miles arrived to pick up Myrtle and Wanda and looked at Myrtle in surprise. “Your funeral dress?”

  “It’s a somber occasion, Miles. This is the most somber thing I own. This garment is full of gravitas, having attended so many funeral services.”

  They got into Miles’s car and he started driving toward town hall. Wanda gave Myrtle a grave look. “Stuff might go off tonight.”

  Myrtle was still absorbed in the stack of index cards with her notes on them. “What’s that?”

  Wanda shrugged her thin shoulders unhappily. “Stuff might go out of control.”

  Myrtle frowned. “Are you saying that because you’re trying to lower my expectations, or are you saying it because you’ve gotten some sort of vision?”

  “Not a real clear one. Jest be careful. An’ aware. An’ don’t be surprised.”

  Miles pulled into a parking spot near the front of town hall. There were already a good number of cars there. “Actually, that sounds like excellent standard advice before a debate. You’ve been putting a lot of time in practicing, Myrtle. It’s worth noting that things may not go according to plans. And I know you like structure.”

/>   Myrtle said tartly, “I’m well aware that debates hold surprises. I’m sure Royce will be making plenty of counterpoints to my points. The difference is that I’m certain Royce won’t be making them nearly as well. I have the advantage of having taught him English. He had great difficulty stringing coherent sentences together. Plus, I have the feeling Royce isn’t taking this very seriously, which is a good thing. I enjoy being underestimated.”

  They got out of the car and headed up the stairs and into the brick building. The downstairs of the building was the public library and the upstairs housed the town hall offices and meeting room. Royce was just finishing up a conversation with someone and smirked as Myrtle punched the elevator button to go upstairs.

  “Good to see you, Miss Myrtle,” he said sweetly. Myrtle thought he had a rather cocky look in his eyes.

  Myrtle greeted him coolly and walked into the elevator with Miles and Wanda. Miles politely held the door open.

  Royce gave them a condescending look. “Oh, I always take the stairs.”

  Myrtle gave him a tight smile. “See you in a few minutes, then.”

  The elevator doors closed, and Myrtle seethed. “Obviously, he’s planning on telling the audience I’m old and frail and shouldn’t be considered a contender. He’s very transparent, isn’t he?”

  Miles said, “So he likes taking the stairs. Maybe it’s just to stay in shape. Just forget about it.”

  But Myrtle didn’t. She carried that irritation with her as she walked into the large room where three lecterns were set up. She set her papers down and glanced around the room. There were a good number of people gathered there, perhaps out of interest in viewing a debate, or perhaps out of curiosity. Naturally, it being Bradley, she knew most of the people there.

  Tippy, president of her book club, came right over to say hi. That was just as well because Royce was already engaged in loud conversation with someone from his country club and Erma was currently torturing some poor soul by oversharing her medical trials and tribulations.

  Tippy, dressed elegantly in a black and white pattern as usual, said warmly, “Myrtle, I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you’ve chosen to run. I think it’s so important to have different voices and perspectives in a race.”

  “Yes, I do, too. So I’m guessing that means I have your vote?” asked Myrtle sweetly.

  Tippy gave a quick laugh. “Oh, I can’t talk about that, you know. I like to keep my vote private. Plus, it’s all a little sensitive since I’m friends with Jenny.”

  Of course she was. Jenny Rollins was involved in almost everything in Bradley, just like Tippy was. She was also something of a clotheshorse, just like Tippy. She certainly hoped Tippy wouldn’t think she had to vote for Royce just because of Jenny.

  The mayor stood up to convene the debate. She cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a rare treat for you tonight. We don’t ordinarily host debates here, as you know, but we have three candidates for the same seat and Miss Myrtle suggested this might be the best way to make sure everyone is aware of where they stand on the issues. I’m going to act as moderator tonight.”

  And so the debate commenced. Myrtle found the mayor’s questions were all rather insipid, so she smoothly expanded on them, incorporating the indignities at Greener Pastures, the potholes on main street, and general over-development of the town into her answers. She also found the opportunity to scold the current town councilors for their recent behavior and was pleased to see them look abashed. She was even more pleased to see that Sloan was taking pictures for the paper and recording it all.

  Then Royce got a question from the moderator and gave a smirking smile as he smoothly delivered a little speech about his business acumen and how well he was going to be able to manage all the details that arose with running a town. As if he would be the person running it. Myrtle glared at him.

  Finally, it was Erma’s turn to speak and Myrtle stifled a groan. She could only imagine the sort of drivel that Erma was going to spout. Sure enough, Erma quickly shifted over from talking about the traffic backups (of three or four cars) at five o’clock each day to other matters—matters unimportant to everyone but Erma.

  “So, the facts are that you need someone in government who’s multi-faceted and who’s experienced a lot of personal challenges.” Erma gave them all her biggest, most donkey-like grin. “I’ve experienced a lot of personal challenges.”

  Myrtle sighed. She could guess what was coming.

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve had a ton of health problems and it’s made me stronger in a lot of ways. Let me tell you about one of my biggest challenges—IBS, or irritable bowel syndrome.”

  Myrtle looked down at her notes and proceeded to prepare to zone out for a few minutes until Erma’s oration was complete. However, she jerked her head back up as Royce gave a snarky laugh.

  “All right, can you please spare us all, Erma? Seriously, this is a waste of my valuable time being here tonight. I think we all knew coming in the door who the best candidate is. My credentials really speak for themselves. What say we wrap up for the evening and head on out?” Royce gave Myrtle and Erma a patronizing smile. There was a smattering of applause from the back of the room.

  Myrtle’s eyes narrowed. Erma was bright red and she had a hurt expression on her face. Myrtle may not like Erma. She might avoid Erma at all costs. But Erma was her neighbor and Myrtle felt her blood boil at Royce’s dismissive treatment of her.

  Miles winced in the audience as if knowing what was coming. But then, he wasn’t fond of public eviscerations.

  Chapter Seven

  “First off,” said Myrtle coldly, “we are not all in agreement that you’re the best candidate, Royce. I for one have some real doubts about your morals.”

  Royce’s eyebrows flew up. “My morals?” He gave a snorting laugh.

  “Don’t interrupt. Yes, your morals. I well remember you as a former student. You were so focused on success and winning that you’d pay other students to do your work for you.”

  “I call that enterprising,” he said, giving the audience a simpering smile.

  “I call that cheating. It speaks volumes about your intellect and inability to complete complex assignments. It also indicates that you don’t think rules are meant for you. And you should apologize to Erma, who has certainly never done anything to you and deserves an apology for your rudeness.”

  Now there was more than just a smattering of applause as the rest of the room clapped for nearly a minute. There were also some snickers in the audience. Myrtle saw Red giving his mother a rueful but admiring look. She saw Sloan carefully taking notes for the newspaper.

  Royce’s face was about as flushed as Erma’s now, but it was anger lending it the color, not embarrassment. He gave Myrtle a resentful glare which Myrtle held coldly. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “Now, let’s hear Erma’s stance on various issues since we’ve both had our time,” said Myrtle forcefully.

  The rest of the debate finished in about five minutes since Erma had apparently not put a good deal of thought into her platform and eagerly just reiterated whatever Myrtle had previously said in a hurried ‘ditto.’

  The mayor rejoined them at the front of the room and closed out the event. Myrtle gathered up her purse and was about to head out when she was swarmed by a bunch of ladies from garden club and book club.

  Tippy beamed at her. “Well, I have to say I’m most impressed, Myrtle! I had no idea you were such an excellent speaker.”

  Myrtle smiled. “That comes from being in front of a classroom for decades.” She added, “On another topic, Tippy, you’re so wonderful at fundraising, I might have to give you a call about my own little efforts to raise money for my campaign.”

  “Just call me anytime, Myrtle. I’d love to talk with you about it.”

  Wanda was also surrounded by folks in the room. But then, she’d become something of a legend with her horoscope, as evidenced by the mob at Greener Pastures. She was a very recl
usive legend since she wasn’t ordinarily in town. Given the chance to meet and speak with her, there was a crowd gathered.

  After a few minutes, Myrtle glanced over and saw Wanda’s tired expression. “Thanks for your support!” she called out and then motioned to Wanda and Miles to follow her out. As she was heading for the door, she heard Royce make a crack about the elevator behind her. She kept moving, not deigning to spare a glance behind her.

  “Somebody should do something about that man,” she fumed as she walked out the door to wait for the elevator.

  “Hoping that won’t be you, Mama,” drawled a voice behind her.

  Myrtle whirled around to see Red there.

  “Maybe it will be. He needs to be taken down a notch,” said Myrtle.

  “I think you did take him down a notch, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, but he apparently knows how to grow notches pretty quickly,” muttered Myrtle. She got into the elevator with Miles and Wanda.

  As they reached the car, there was a crack of thunder.

  Miles grimly kept his eyes on the road as he slowly made his way back. “Let’s see if we can make it back before the rain rolls in.”

  Myrtle said rather viciously, “I hope Royce gets drenched on the way out the door.”

  Miles said, “It doesn’t really matter. What matters is how you effectively dominated the debate.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” said Myrtle smugly. “Royce doesn’t have the intellect or the focus to engage in a battle of wits with many people.”

  Miles got them back to Myrtle’s house as the thunder and lightning crashed around them.

  Myrtle said, “Miles, do you want to join us for a while?”

  He shook his head. “No thanks. That was enough activity for me for one day. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  Myrtle opened the door and Wanda followed her in. Myrtle said, “I’m going to put my pjs, robe, and slippers on. Then would you like a snack?”