Cleaning is Murder

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Myrtle and Miles walked out of the library with thoughtful expressions.

  Myrtle said, “How about that?”

  Miles said, “I know. Who’d have thought there could be new Sherlock Holmes stories?”

  Myrtle shot him an impatient look. “I was talking about what Philomena was telling us.”

  “So was I.” Miles unlocked his car with his key fob.

  Myrtle said, “My stomach is entirely too empty to put up with your nonsense, Miles. First your unmerited fretfulness over your library book. And now you’re obsessed with Sherlock again. We’re supposed to be reading 1984 for book club.”

  Miles shrugged. “I’ve read 1984 quite a few times over the years. I could probably give a lecture on the book. And you, as I recall your saying, taught the thing for at least twenty years. So it’s the last book we should read right now.”

  They climbed into the car. Miles took the Sherlock book from Myrtle and then reached into his center console. He pulled out a travel container of disinfecting wipes and carefully wiped down the plastic book cover for the library book.

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows as she watched him. “I had no idea your OCD behavior extended quite this far, Miles.”

  He didn’t even look up as he finished the front and spine of the book and moved on to the back cover. “You can’t be too careful. Who knows how many hands have handled this book?”

  “Not very many, from the looks of it. It appears to be practically new and yet it must be decades old,” said Myrtle.

  “Now it’s decades old and disinfected,” said Miles with satisfaction. He removed another wipe and wiped down his own hands before slowly backing out of the parking space.

  “We’re heading toward the grocery store, I suppose?” asked Miles.

  Myrtle made a face. “I don’t think I’m ready to face the crowd at the store, especially at lunchtime. Besides, I don’t even have a list. If I go to the store hungry without a list, I’m sure to blow my budget to smithereens. Let’s go to Bo’s Diner. I have a real hankering for a 99-cent pimento cheese dog and chili fries. Now that’s budget-friendly.”

  “That makes my stomach hurt, thinking about it,” said Miles as he drove quickly to the diner.

  “You can always get the veggie plate,” said Myrtle with a shrug.

  “It’s just as bad. Everything is fried,” said Miles.

  “How else are you supposed to eat okra?” demanded Myrtle.

  Chapter Seven

  MILES PULLED UP TO the diner moments later. Bo’s Diner had been a fixture in Bradley for at least forty years. The current owner was the original Bo’s grandson, since his father had recently retired from the job, and despite his youth, didn’t apparently dare to make any changes for fear of being haunted by the ghost of his grandfather. The floors were ancient linoleum, the high-backed vinyl booths faced Formica-topped tables, and the walls were dark laminate wood paneling. The decorations in the diner consisted of signs with sayings like ‘the language you use in church is good enough to use in here.’

  Their waitress, Pam, grinned at them and told them they could sit anywhere. Myrtle was glad that she didn’t call her sugar. There were waitresses in Bo’s Diner who were under the mistaken impression that Myrtle was six years old. Pam, fortunately, was not one of them.

  Myrtle plopped down in an ancient booth and didn’t even glance at the laminated menu. “I already know what I want.”

  Miles carefully studied the menu, both the front and the back. “I wish they would serve breakfast all day. I’m really more in the mood for breakfast.”

  “Ask them,” said Myrtle with a shrug. “This isn’t a white tablecloth dining experience. They’d probably be happy to give you an egg.”

  Pam came back with a grin. “I see that the menus are lying on the table. Y’all ready to order?”

  Miles hesitated and Myrtle said impatiently, “He’s too reluctant to cause any trouble, but is it possible to make him a few breakfast items, even if breakfast isn’t being served anymore?”

  Miles looked at Myrtle through narrowed eyes.

  “Why sure, ma’am. The kitchen doesn’t care. What’ll it be, hon?”

  Myrtle smiled. She liked that Miles got a hon, and that Myrtle got a ma’am. Pam was a smart woman.

  Miles carefully detailed his perfect breakfast while Pam just as carefully jotted down every thrilling detail on her order pad. While the two of them were engrossed in this activity, a large man in his early forties with curly blond hair strode up behind Pam and quickly kissed the back of her neck, revealed by a ponytail. Pam turned pink and whirled around.

  “Steven!” she remonstrated at him. “I’m working!”

  “Sorry, there’s no place to sit or room for me to stand!” he said, looking very un-sorry. “And I’m coming off a twelve-hour shift.” He wore an EMT uniform and looked tired.

  Myrtle glanced at the door. It had become swamped since they’d walked in and was indeed standing-room-only. But there definitely wasn’t even room to stand for a man this large. What was more, she had the sudden realization that this man must be Philomena’s brother, the one who had given Amos the black eye. Puddin had said he was dating a waitress here.

  “Why don’t you sit with us while you wait for a seat to open up?” asked Myrtle, putting a polite and innocuous smile on her face.

  Miles stared at her and then frowned in thought. He seemed to also realize that this was someone possibly connected with Amos. He scooted across the large seat to make room for the large man.

  “Now, that’s nice of you!” He sat down next to Miles and held out his hand in turn to both of them to introduce himself. “I’m Steven Fant.”

  “You must be exhausted if you’ve just come off a twelve-hour shift,” said Myrtle.

  Steven shrugged. “I am, but it’s not so bad. I like the people I work with and I enjoy helping others, so it could be a lot worse than it is. I’ll have a big meal and then go crash at home for eight hours.”

  The diner seemed to be clearing people out fairly quickly, so Myrtle felt as if she needed to get to the point before Steven disappeared.

  “I think I know who you are,” she said with a sweet, old-lady smile at him as though he were a favorite nephew. “You’re Philomena’s brother.”

  He raised his eyebrows and grinned back at her. “You’re so right. Although I’m not sure how you fitted those puzzle pieces together.”

  “Miles and I were just at the library. Miles has become fascinated with Sherlock Holmes and Philomena had the perfect book for him,” said Myrtle.

  Miles glowered at her. He apparently wasn’t a fan of having his reading selections shared.

  “Anyway, your sister mentioned that you were an EMT, and I noticed that you two favor each other,” said Myrtle.

  Miles snorted. And it was true that the statement was a stretch. Philomena was small and dainty and this man was a large bruiser.

  Steven laughed. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever been told that before, but okay. We’re both blond, I guess.”

  Myrtle’s expression suddenly switched to a sorrowful one. “You might want to check in with her later ... maybe before you head home to rest. She had a shock, after all.”

  “A shock?” asked Steven, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

  “I’m afraid so. It was the news about Amos Subers,” said Myrtle.

  Their food was suddenly delivered, the timing of which irritated Myrtle. She didn’t have the opportunity to see Steven’s expression with pimento cheese dogs and a breakfast plate passing before her eyes.

  When Pam had hurried away again, she saw that Steven’s face was wary. “You were saying something about Amos?”

  “Yes. He was found dead this morning—murdered.” Myrtle speared a couple of chili-covered French fries with her fork.

  Steven was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Well, I’m sorry for his family and what they must be going through, but I can’t say that I’m really torn up that the guy is dead.”
>
  Myrtle said, “What’s your opinion of him? I was just telling Miles before we came here that I felt as though I didn’t really know him at all—I’d taught him a long time ago, but people change from the time they’re teenagers.”

  Steven’s eyes were stormy. “I didn’t think much of Amos at all, despite the fact that my sister was in a relationship with him. He had a smart mouth, which I didn’t appreciate.” He hesitated and then continued, “I might as well admit it, since you’ll find out soon enough in a town this size. I popped Amos in the face about a week ago to let him know how much I didn’t appreciate him. I felt bad about hitting the old guy, but he was pretty fit, so I ended up not feeling as bad as I thought I would.”

  Miles, who’d eaten most of the food on his plate, put his fork down. “It must have been hard to deal with Amos if you didn’t like him. You must have been thrown into lots of situations where you had to spend time with him, considering your sister.”

  “I’d have thought that he and Philomena would have so much in common, too,” said Myrtle. “Considering their love of books. Such a pity that Amos was difficult.”

  Steven said carefully, “They did share a love of books. And they were both what I’d call intellectuals. Philomena is the smartest person I’ve ever known but Amos was sharp, himself. Just because I had issues with Amos doesn’t mean that Philomena had issues with him.” He frowned. “Before anybody in town jumps to the conclusion that I might have had something to do with Amos’s death, they should talk to my manager. Like I said, I was working a twelve-hour shift with a paramedic to give me an alibi. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Myrtle said, “I’m sure no one will think any differently.” Which was a complete and utter lie. “Who do you think might have been responsible? Since Amos was apparently so difficult, were there other people who had issues with him?”

  Pam came back at that moment with Myrtle and Miles’s check and a cheery smile for Steven. “Your table’s ready, hon. Right over there in the back corner.”

  Steven gave her an absent smile and then said to Myrtle, “I’d imagine Alice Porper could be mad enough at Amos to knock him off. That’s who I’d put my money on.”

  Then he got up and walked, arm-in-arm with Pam, to his booth.

  Myrtle watched him go for a second and then turned her attention back to Miles and her plate. “Goodness, Miles, you must have been starving. This is the first time you’ve cleaned your plate at Bo’s Diner. Or that you’ve finished before me.”

  There was not a morsel of food left remaining on Miles’s plate. “I was hungry. That’s what a frustrating game of Scrabble in addition to investigating a murder will do to you. Besides, you were the one doing most of the talking to Steven and you could hardly eat and talk at the same time.”

  Myrtle had polished off her chili fries but hadn’t yet had a hot dog. She amended that fact immediately. “So let me eat for a minute or two and tell me all of your impressions.”

  “My impressions?” Miles looked at if his impressions might have had more to do with the quality of the food he’d just eaten.

  “Yes. About Philomena and Steven. And Alice Porper, if you know anything at all about her.” Myrtle took a big, satisfying bite of her pimento cheese dog.

  Miles thoughtfully swished the ice cubes in his glass of sweet tea. He acted as though he was unaccustomed to the spotlight. “All right. Let’s see. Philomena seemed shocked over Amos’s death. Maybe she is responsible for it and was still in shock. It certainly didn’t seem to be much of a premeditated crime since someone used a handy bottle of cleaning solution as the weapon.”

  Myrtle finished chewing and said, “And Steven?”

  “He seemed overly protective of his older sister. There was quite the age gap there, wasn’t there? I found it hard to believe that he gave Amos a black eye because he had a smart mouth. It seems most likely that Amos was, in Steven’s eyes, somehow mistreating Philomena. Then he let Amos know in no uncertain terms that he was unhappy about that,” said Miles.

  Myrtle finished another bite of her food. “Yes, that’s what I thought, too. He wanted to create some distance between Philomena and his own actions and maybe some distance between his sister and Amos, too. He was quick to point the finger at Alice Porper. All I know about Alice is from the years she’s worked at the dress shop. Do you know her?”

  Miles said, “She’s the stereotypical ‘woman scorned’, apparently. Although I don’t think she was angry, just hurt. They were dating for ages.”

  “I had no idea that you were so up on local gossip. I’m glad to know I have another source that I can go to besides Puddin,” said Myrtle with a smile.

  Miles said, “It’s not gossip if it’s something you witness in plain sight. Those two have been together for years. They were at the diner together. They went shopping together. They were at the movies together. They even went to church together. They were clearly a couple. Puddin even recognized Alice at Amos’s house this morning.”

  “I must have missed the length of that relationship somehow,” said Myrtle with a frown. “But then, I never pay much attention to who’s dating whom unless there’s some sort of a problem. Like Sloan, for instance. If there’s a way that I can help, or if I’m interested in the people involved, then I suppose I look at it differently.”

  Miles said, “Anyway, that’s what the situation was. Judging from the way that Alice was talking about Amos, I surmise that he broke up with her to go out with Philomena. And Alice wasn’t happy about that at all.”

  Myrtle pulled out her own pocketbook and paid for her portion of the meal. “Makes sense. We should see Alice next, then.”

  Pam hurried over to grab their dirty plates and their money.

  Miles said, “How do you propose that we do that? Are we dropping by her house?”

  “No, because she wouldn’t be there. I might not know all the local gossip about Alice, but, as I mentioned, I do know where she works. She’s always over at the women’s dress shop in the strip mall in Centerville.” Myrtle picked up her cane and her pocketbook and maneuvered around waitresses, busboys, and milling customers to make her way to the door.

  “Lovely,” muttered Miles. “We’re making a trip to Centerville?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Miles, Centerville isn’t on Pluto. It’s a ten-minute drive from here. The next little town over.” She walked through the door that Miles held open for her and carefully walked down the few steps.

  “And what am I supposed to do while you’re shopping for dresses?”

  “They have a nice sitting area for men. It’s delightful. It even has outdoor magazines there,” said Myrtle. “Or, you can watch me shop and offer me advice.”

  “But you’re just going in order to ask Alice questions about Amos, right?” Miles unlocked his car.

  “Naturally, I want to ask Alice all about her relationship with Amos and where she was this morning. Puddin saw her at Amos’s house, remember? But I wouldn’t mind getting a dress while I’m there. My funeral dress is looking ragged. There are simply too many people kicking the bucket in Bradley,” said Myrtle, clucking as she climbed in the car.

  Fortunately for Miles, who didn’t appear to want to spend much more time in the car, ‘the other side of Bradley’ wasn’t all that far away, especially considering the size of the town. The brick edifice strip mall that the dress shop was housed in was an old one and also included a five and dime and an alterations shop. The dress shop’s window showcased a couple of elderly manikins wearing linen dresses and large accessories and ‘The Centerville Dress Shop’ was painted on the window in yellow lettering and on the burgundy awning that covered the front of the shop. The door gave a cheery chime as they walked in. The carpet was a spotless green.

  Alice Porper herself walked up to greet them with a smile. She was pretty, but an air of exhaustion seemed to hover around her, pinching her expression. Alice’s blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun. “May I help you two?” she asked. She wore
a nice dress herself, which was carefully accessorized with a turquoise necklace and earrings. Myrtle figured she probably received low pay but a good store discount.

  “We’re really not a two,” said Miles hurriedly. He was always mindful of Bradley gossip. “I’m simply Myrtle’s ride here.”

  Myrtle gave him an exasperated look and said, “You may help me, anyway. I’m needing a new funeral dress.”

  Alice blinked and said, “Oh dear. Anyone I know?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m afraid he is.” Myrtle suddenly realized that she was delivering bad news for the second time that day. Drat Red for being so slow in his investigating! She glanced around for the men’s sitting area and said, “Let’s have a seat for a second, shall we?” Myrtle gave an apologetic old lady smile as if she couldn’t bear her own weight for another minute.

  Alice knit her brows, but obediently followed Myrtle and Miles to a tidy-looking sitting area with a loveseat and two armchairs. There were indeed a stack of hunting and fishing magazines on a coffee table in between the seats. Myrtle and Miles sat down on the armchairs and Myrtle waited for Alice to do the same. Alice hesitated for a minute ... perhaps she wasn’t supposed to sit down unless she was on break. Then she quickly perched on the edge of the loveseat, smoothing her dress primly over her knees.

  Myrtle said with a deep breath, “I realize this may come as a shock, but Amos Subers was discovered this morning. He had ... er ... passed away.” She hazarded a glance at Alice to make sure that tears were not ensuing.

  But Alice appeared to be more stunned than anything else. She didn’t say a word, nor did she seem to be on the verge of crying. Alice continued staring blankly at Myrtle with those gray eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  ALICE’S SHOCKED STATE alarmed Miles. He blurted, “Are you all right? Should we call someone?”

  Alice shook her head and continued staring at Myrtle.

  Myrtle took this as a sign to continue. She said, “Unfortunately, it didn’t appear to be a natural death. I’m so sorry—I do know that you two were in a relationship for a long time.”