Murder on the Ballot

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Scotty nodded. “Sure is. Hey, let’s get you both seated and then I’ll have a second to talk. It’s quiet in here right now.”

  They followed him to a booth and Scotty handed them both laminated menus. They placed their order (Miles carefully choosing various vegetables) and Scotty gave it to the kitchen before coming back to the table.

  “Are you waiting tables, too?” asked Myrtle.

  Scotty said with a smile, “Oh, this time of day I do a little bit of everything but usually, I’m just stationed on the cash register.”

  Myrtle said, “You seem really cheerful, though, working here in any capacity. Do you like the people you work with?”

  Scotty’s smile widened. “I just like working, period! Don’t get me wrong—I miss my dad. What happened to him was awful and it wasn’t his time to go. Plus, his death has really wrecked my mom. But there were a few things that ended up working out well for me. Dad had his pride and he thought it would be beneath him to have a son who worked retail. Ridiculous, right? He was pushing for me to go back to college and get a business major. No matter what I said, he stood totally firm on it.”

  Myrtle nodded. “Now you’re able to be out of the house and making some money of your own. You have your independence and freedom. I completely understand that. My independence is one of the greatest things I treasure.”

  “I’m so much happier now and feel so much more satisfied with my life. When I was living with my parents and stuck at home, I was frustrated all the time. I mean—I went to several different universities. My grades were totally mediocre and the whole time I was there, I felt lost and kind of directionless. It made it worse that everyone around me seemed to know what they wanted to do and were focused on taking classes and studying to get a step closer every time. I felt like I was the only one on campus who didn’t have any kind of plan.”

  Myrtle said, “Well, I’m so glad that you have a fresh start now, regardless of the circumstances behind it.”

  Their food arrived and Scotty said, “Let me go grab your plates real quick.” He came back with a barbeque plate for Myrtle and Miles’s food.

  Myrtle took a big bite of her barbeque sandwich and washed it down with her tea. “Let’s see, where was I? Oh, I know. It’s good to hear you’re doing so well, Scotty, but you mentioned your mother isn’t? Is there something I can do for her? Does she need food?”

  Scotty quickly shook his head. “No, there’s actually plenty of food at the house. I think the ladies from the church keep coming by and bringing more. I have a lot in my freezer at my apartment, too. As far as Mom goes, she’s doing okay but not great. I mean, she’s eating a little bit and seems to be sleeping some. I went by the house last night after work to pick up some stuff that I’d forgot to pack. My shift ended late and I helped to clean up before they closed but I figured Mom would still be awake because she’d had such a tough time sleeping. But I was glad I used my key because she was out like a light. I could even hear her snoring as I went by her room to get the stuff I needed upstairs.”

  Miles was pushing his vegetables around on his plate instead of eating them which distracted Myrtle. She frowned at him for a moment, before remembering the point of why they were there. “I’m happy to hear that, Scotty. It’s been such a crazy time. Did you hear about Preston Cook?”

  Scotty said, “Somebody here at work was talking about it earlier. I didn’t know who he was. But it’s weird that he was murdered. Now when I’m locking up late here, I’m going to be keeping an eye on my back. Hope the police chief figures out who’s doing this soon.” He tilted his head to one side and looked at Myrtle. “You’re his mom, right? Do you know if he’s said anything about Foley Hardy? Remember how I was telling you about him? How he was always hanging around Dad?”

  Myrtle said, “The only thing I’ve heard is that he might have owed your dad some money.”

  Scotty sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dad was gambling again? He’d have torn into me if I’d been doing something like that, but for some reason, he thought it was fine for him to do it.”

  Miles crinkled his forehead. “What kind of gambling was he doing?” Miles apparently had visions of Vegas-style blackjack or roulette wheels rampaging through his head.

  Scotty shrugged. “Poker, mostly. At least he was good at it and won most of the time. So you’ve heard that Foley owed Dad money and that’s why he was following him around? Seems like Foley would have been trying to avoid him, instead.”

  Myrtle said, “Apparently, Foley was trying to convince your father to give him a break on paying him back his gambling debt. Does that sound like something your dad would do?”

  Scotty snorted. “No, it doesn’t. Like I’ve mentioned before, Dad wasn’t exactly this kindhearted person. Well, you saw that in action yourself, I’m sure. You saw him during the debate.”

  Miles said slowly, “But you weren’t at the debate, were you?”

  Scotty reddened a little. “I wasn’t there for very long. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to be the supportive son, or anything, especially since he hadn’t been the supportive dad. But I stuck my head in the door just long enough to hear him giving Erma Sherman a hard time. He didn’t look real good doing it.” Scotty smiled at Myrtle. “I liked the way that got you fired up.”

  Myrtle took a sip of her sweet tea. “Somebody has to stand up for Erma for time to time. So you were at the debate.”

  “Very briefly,” Scotty said quickly.

  “And then you went back home?”

  “I beat the weather back,” said Scotty. “Plus, like I said, I didn’t want Dad to see me there and think I was the proud son.” He paused. “Although maybe, considering the circumstances, I should have done that.”

  Myrtle shook her head and briskly said, “There’s no reason to feel guilty about that, Scotty. You didn’t know he was going to die.”

  Scotty nodded, and seemed to be taking her advice to heart. The bell on the restaurant door rang and he gave them a rueful look. “Good talking to both of you. I guess that’s my signal to stop running my mouth.” He walked over to seat the customer.

  Myrtle took the last couple of bites of her barbeque and said, “Miles, you really didn’t eat your vegetables.”

  Miles was still morosely pushing them around on his plate. “Somehow they still taste of barbeque sauce. I’m getting heartburn just in proximity to them.”

  “For heaven’s sake. I’ll get a to-go box and we’ll take them home to Wanda.”

  “Is Wanda a big vegetable eater?” asked Miles.

  “Wanda eats everything,” said Myrtle. “And quite a bit of it.”

  They got the to-go box and left as several other diners came in. “Back to your house?” asked Miles.

  “Yes. I think I may give Foley Hardy a quick call and have him meet us there.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “You’re not hiring Foley directly, are you? Won’t that make Dusty upset? He’ll think Foley is poaching on his territory.”

  “Pooh. He’ll be glad not to do the work. But I’ll have to call Dusty to get Foley’s phone number.” Myrtle climbed into Miles’s car and dialed Dusty’s number.

  He answered the phone, howling, “Too wet ter mow, Miz Myrtle!”

  “I thought you might say something like that, Dusty. That’s precisely why I need you to give me Foley’s phone number.” Myrtle gave Miles a smirk. Maybe Dusty would get a little jealous.

  Dusty paused. When he spoke again, his voice sounded suspicious. “What you need that fer?”

  “My event is over and I thought I may have Foley put a few of the gnomes back up. Not all of the gnomes, by any means, but some of them.”

  Dusty grunted. “Prob’ly a good idea. Them is killin’ the grass, especially that giant one.”

  “Right. So . . . the phone number?”

  Dusty gave it to her. Then, apparently trying to sell Myrtle on his own superior qualities as a yardman, he added, “You got ter go git him, you know. Pick him up. Car’s
broke.”

  Myrtle sighed. She had indeed forgotten about Foley’s car problem. “I’m presuming you know where he lives, since you’ve been picking him up.” She jotted down the address in her little notebook. “That’s fine. All right then, Dusty, I’ll talk to you later.”

  She could hear him still muttering as she hung up. She turned to Miles. “We’re going to have to make a detour to pick up Foley Hardy.”

  Miles said, “Ah. The car that doesn’t work.”

  “Exactly.” She gave Miles the directions to Foley’s house after putting it in her GPS.

  “That’s more than a detour,” groaned Miles. “He lives out in the country.”

  “It will be a scenic drive,” said Myrtle firmly. “We always say we want to get out more.”

  “Yes, but not out there. It’s not as if we live in a city and we’re yearning for clean air. We’re yearning for excitement.”

  Myrtle said impatiently, “And we’ll get it. Foley Hardy might be a two-time killer, for all we know. We get to ride in a vehicle with him.”

  “Lucky us,” muttered Miles.

  Foley’s house was indeed out in the country. It was, in fact, in the middle of nowhere in the country. There weren’t even any nearby farms or old gas stations or anything. He lived in an old house that still appeared to be carefully maintained. A dog of indeterminate heritage watched them suspiciously from the front yard.

  Miles said, “I don’t like the looks of that dog.”

  “We’ll give him a wide berth,” said Myrtle, already opening the car door. “He’s probably not used to having many visitors out here.”

  This was apparently the case because the dog leaped up and bounded toward Myrtle, barking ferociously. Myrtle slammed her car door shut again.

  Miles looked wryly at her.

  “I suppose we’ll just have to let Foley come to us.” Myrtle shrugged.

  “Do we even know Foley is home? Shouldn’t we have just called first?”

  Myrtle said, “But where else would he be? He doesn’t have a car. There isn’t exactly any public transportation out here in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think he took a walk for his health. Look, he’s coming out the door now.”

  Foley was. And he wasn’t alone—he had his trusty shotgun with him.

  “We need to leave, Myrtle.” Miles was now speaking in earnest as he started up the car again.

  But Foley was putting his hand up to shade his eyes in the bright sun. Then he was smiling and pointing the shotgun down.

  “See? He’s friendly enough,” said Myrtle.

  Miles began muttering under his breath again.

  “Miles, your muttering has really become a bad habit. Now, roll the windows down so we can have a conversation with Foley.”

  Foley looked quite cheerful now and eager to talk. It was obvious he didn’t get much company out here. But then, between the welcome provided by the dog who was still snapping his teeth at the car and his shotgun, still held tightly in his right hand, it was no wonder.

  “What are y’all doing out here?” asked Foley with a big grin. “This ain’t on the way to anywhere.”

  “We came out here specifically to see you,” said Myrtle loudly over the barking dog.

  “Down, King, down,” said Foley, in an attempt to get the big dog off of Miles’s sedan. The dog quieted down, looking sulkily at his owner. “King ain’t used to visitors.”

  “I can imagine. I’m sorry we didn’t call you first to let you know we were on our way. It was a sort of spur of the moment decision,” said Myrtle, quite truthfully. “I wanted to see if you could do a little gnome-moving in my yard.”

  Foley’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Them gnomes? The ones I pulled out a couple of days ago?”

  “That’s right. The event I had them out for is over and Dusty has stated that I’m killing my grass. There are days when I feel life might be easier if I did kill it all, but I suppose I’d have to hand in my garden club membership if I did.”

  “Not that that would be a bad thing,” pointed out Miles helpfully.

  “Just the same, I think I’ll keep my lawn alive for right now. I don’t want all the gnomes to be put up, just about fifteen percent of them.” She frowned and carefully searched Foley’s features to make sure that percentages registered in his brain.

  They appeared to. He nodded. “Got it.” He paused. “But won’t it make Dusty mad?”

  “It would make Dusty mad if you took over my yardwork. But Dusty doesn’t exactly enjoy lugging my gnomes around. He seemed fine with taking a break from it today.”

  “You’re okay to drive me there?” asked Foley.

  “Absolutely. We’ll give you a ride home, of course,” said Myrtle smoothly.

  Beside her, Miles groaned quietly.

  Foley said, “Thank you. But I’ll get my own ride home or crash with my buddy in town. There’s some card-playin’ goin’ on tonight.”

  Myrtle’s expression was severe. “Don’t you think you should perhaps consider abstaining from card games? In light of the recent events?”

  Foley squinted at her as if trying to follow along. “Oh, you’re talkin’ about Royce.”

  “I’m talking about losing money,” corrected Myrtle.

  Foley bobbed his head. “See, that’s what you wouldn’t get. It’s time for luck to run my way, Miz Myrtle. I’ve had a spell of bad luck and now it’s time for a good spell. If I have a good night, I can take a little money and make it into a lot more money. Pay fer my car repairs.”

  “Oh, conversely, you could lose the little bit of money.”

  Miles didn’t seem to like the fact that Myrtle was beginning to argue with a gun-toting man. “Myrtle, perhaps we should let Foley have a minute to get ready and then he can get in the car? We could continue the conversation then.”

  “I’m good to go now,” said Foley, reaching out a hand for the door handle.

  Myrtle said sternly, “Perhaps you should put your firearm away first. This is a weapon-free vehicle.”

  Foley looked sheepishly down at his gun. “Kinda forgot it was there.”

  A minute later, Foley got into the car and they set off.

  Chapter Twenty

  Myrtle decided to immediately launch into talking about Preston’s death. “Have you heard the news?”

  “Not much of a news watcher,” admitted Foley. “Also, the TV is broke.”

  Myrtle said, “You remember Preston Cook.”

  “Sure. His garage is where my car’s at.” Foley turned from looking out the window to look at Myrtle in the front seat.

  “He’s been murdered,” said Myrtle.

  “What? No way.”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Myrtle.

  Foley gave a low whistle. “Ain’t that the craziest thing? What am I goin’ to do now? I was thinking if I got a used car cheaper than repairin’ my old wreck then I’d run it by Preston’s place to have him check it out before I bought it.”

  Miles said, “There are a couple of other places in town, aren’t there? Maybe one of them could help.”

  Foley snorted. “Them? They ain’t no good. Preston was the only good one in Bradley. Them others is either bad mechanics or crooked. Maybe I can go out of town to find somebody.”

  “And you, of course, had nothing to do with Preston’s demise, I suppose?” asked Myrtle.

  Foley blinked at her and Myrtle added demurely, “It’s just that I’m quite particular about who moves my gnomes.”

  “No ma’am, I had nuthin’ to do with it. Like I said, I needed Preston around. Besides, Dusty has me so wore out that I go home and drop into bed. Don’t even have the energy to go out and get a drink or nuthin’.”

  Myrtle asked, “So you weren’t out last night then?”

  “Nope. Dusty ran me by the store to pick up some soup for supper and then drove me home.”

  “But you were on your way to see Royce the night he died. Did you speak with him?” Myrtle turned in her seat to get Foley’s ful
l reaction.

  Foley’s full reaction was to turn quite pale and get very still. “What?”

  “It’s just that there was a witness who places you at the town hall when Royce died. So you clearly didn’t go straight home from Preston’s garage after you spoke with him about the car.”

  Miles watched Foley in the rear-view mirror.

  Foley spread out his hands in supplication. “Look. I did nuthin’ to Royce. But I really needed that money. I did go over there, okay? Knew he was there and the guy was hard to get ahold of. I just asked him to give me more time to get him the money. Or just forgive the debt. Wasn’t like the man didn’t have no money.”

  “So when he turned you down, again, you didn’t kill him out of frustration?” asked Myrtle, raising her eyebrows.

  “No ma’am! I figured I just was flat out of luck again. Called Dusty and went home.” He frowned. “Who is it who has it in for me so bad? It’s that Scotty, ain’t it? He always seemed to show up whenever I was around his dad.”

  “Did you see him at the town hall?” asked Myrtle, practically turning all the way around.

  “Nope. But I saw him yesterday evenin’ when Dusty ran me by the store. Saw him leave that barbeque joint.”

  Myrtle glanced at Miles. Scotty had said that he’d worked late last night so why had Foley seen him out in the early evening?

  When they got back to Myrtle’s house, Foley set about hauling fifteen percent of the gnomes back to the storage shed while Myrtle and Miles joined Wanda inside. Wanda was playing solitaire.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  Myrtle shrugged. “Well, it seems that no one is inclined to tell us the truth, which isn’t very helpful.”

  Miles said, “Or we’re just getting conflicting accounts. You know how eyewitnesses can be. I keep reading in the newspaper how their accounts can be really inaccurate.”

  “It doesn’t help when people are lying. No, Miles, I appreciate your trying to be generous but I think it boils down to the fact that most of the folks we talk to are trying to obfuscate.”

  Wanda glanced out the window as Foley, looking rather red in the face, went by with a couple of gnomes. “See that Foley is back.”