Myrtle gave him a small jab with her elbow to get his attention. “Now, about Gabriel,” she said to Elaine.
Elaine’s eyes grew big. “Isn’t it awful, Myrtle? We just saw him, too. We were talking to him this morning and he was larger than life, like he usually is.”
Myrtle said, “What exactly happened? Is it a natural death or foul play?”
“Definitely foul play. Red is working it with the state police. One of Gabriel’s employees found him at the bottom of a steep flight of stairs,” said Elaine.
Miles cleared his throat, pulling his gaze away with some effort from the television show. “He couldn’t have simply fallen? Couldn’t it be an accident?”
“It was meant to look that way, but Gabriel was apparently hit on the top of the head with a tire iron, which caused him to fall down the stairs to begin with. The coroner immediately said that the original injury on his head wasn’t caused by a fall,” said Elaine.
Myrtle asked, “Since he was found by an employee, I’m guessing he was at the garage?”
“He was. The garage is on a steep hill and there are stairs leading down to the employee parking lot. I think those are the stairs Red was talking about,” said Elaine. She shrugged. “But why would someone do that? It has to be connected to Amos’s murder, doesn’t it?”
“I can’t imagine they’re unconnected,” said Myrtle. She gave Miles a little jab again as his attention drifted helplessly back to Jack’s show.
Miles said, “I’d practically convinced myself that Gabriel was responsible for Amos’s death, lovely eulogy or not. So I suppose I was wrong about that.”
“It does seem unlikely,” said Myrtle. She looked down. Jack had fallen sound asleep, still clutching his blanket.
“You have the magic touch today,” said Elaine dryly. “He wasn’t the same child before you walked in.”
Myrtle said, “I’m sure it was the fault of that horrid child at his playdate. He shouldn’t have made Jack overtired.”
Elaine turned off the television. Miles, having lost his diversion, switched his attention to Jack and Myrtle. “Will Myrtle need to stay like this for the next hour or so, or can Jack be moved?”
Elaine said, “He can go right into his bed and won’t even stir.” Proving it, she carefully scooped Jack up, blanket and all, and carried him into his room.
She came back a minute later. “He’ll feel like a new boy when he wakes up from his nap.”
Miles said wistfully, “I wish I could have the same experience.”
Myrtle said, “It probably helps that Jack is brand-new.”
Elaine said, “Myrtle, did Red take care of your chore for you? Wasn’t that why he was heading home with you from the funeral?”
Myrtle, without missing a beat, said smoothly, “Yes indeed. He fixed the clog in my kitchen sink.”
“Did he eat at all while he was with you?” asked Elaine.
“Red? No. No, he was in a massive hurry to get away, like he always is. Why do you ask?”
Miles stared at her, marveling at the way the lies spun off her tongue.
“It’s just sort of odd. I’ve been reading up on healthy diets and how they can really turn your life around. You remember the snack I showed you in the car?” asked Elaine.
Myrtle nodded, repressing a shudder at the unwanted memory of the proffered snack.
“I read how these diets can help you think clearly, prevent cancer, help with your sleep, and aid good digestion and decided that’s how I’d start preparing food in our house. But it’s the craziest thing ... this healthy diet seems to make Red gain weight.” Elaine shook her head. “I can’t figure it out.”
Miles’s eyes were full of mirth and he quickly averted them as Myrtle gave him a disapproving stare.
“Maybe he’s adding muscle. Muscle is heavier than fat,” suggested Myrtle helpfully. In her mind she darkly promised herself that Red would pay for putting her in this position.
Elaine considered this. “Maybe if he was going to the gym every day, but he’s been so busy that he hasn’t been going. You don’t think he’s not finding the food filling, do you? That he’s having to supplement what I’m feeding him? He didn’t mention anything to you about being hungry, did he?”
Myrtle decided to give Red a little feedback for all the times he inserted himself in her business. “Hm. You know, I believe his stomach growled while he was over, although he didn’t eat anything. Maybe if you added more roughage to the diet you’re giving him? Fiber should solve the problem.”
Miles wiped his eyes which were streaming in his efforts to hold back laughter. Finally he gave a garbled excuse and hurried off in the direction of the hall bathroom.
Elaine stared after him. Myrtle said quickly, “Miles isn’t quite over his migraine from this morning. I’m sure he’s going to splash his face. Migraines make his eyes water.”
“That’s interesting,” said Elaine slowly. “Is that a common reaction to migraines?”
“Only for Miles. He’s quite sensitive about it. Perhaps we shouldn’t look at him when he comes back,” said Myrtle.
Elaine studiously looked away as Miles returned.
“We should be going,” said Myrtle.
Elaine smiled at her. “You’re amazing, Myrtle. You help Jack fall asleep and then you courteously leave because you know I have things to do while he’s napping.”
“I hope one of the main things you have to do is to put your feet up,” said Myrtle.
“I’ll put it on the list.” Elaine hazarded a quick glance at Miles. “I hope you feel better soon, Miles.”
Miles said, “Thanks, Elaine.”
They walked out. Myrtle said grouchily, “I can’t think why you lost it in there.”
“Roughage,” said Miles. The corners of his eyes crinkled again. “Red’s culinary life will go downhill before it gets better.”
“Don’t worry about Red. He deserves every bit of it and more.” She squinted at her house across the street. “Tell me that isn’t Puddin at my house.”
“I told you that having Puddin go to book club was a bad idea,” said Miles.
But as they approached, Puddin didn’t seem to have the book in her hand, which was a good sign. She spun wildly around, eyes huge as Myrtle called her name as they strode up the walkway.
Puddin clutched at her chest and snarled, “Shouldn’t sneak up on people!”
“Who’s sneaking?” demanded Myrtle. “You should have been able to hear my cane thumping on the ground immediately.”
Puddin grabbed her arm. “Let’s go inside.” She glanced furtively around her as if worried there might be people spying on her from the bushes or behind the gnomes.
Myrtle unlocked the door and followed Puddin in. She rolled her eyes at Miles in anticipation of more nonsense.
Puddin said, “Red’s gonna arrest me! Me and maybe Dusty, too.”
Myrtle gave her a stern look. “Have you been reading 1984, Puddin? Because it sure sounds as if you’re paranoid about the authorities.”
Puddin shrugged. “You said I had to read fast. It’s scary.”
“Yes, but the book and our town have little in common. You’re perfectly safe here,” said Myrtle in a tone that was meant to sound soothing but somehow came out bossy.
“But Red is gonna arrest me! I done gone to the garage.” Puddin threw herself on Myrtle’s sofa, being sure to put her feet up in the process.
Miles said, “You mean Gabriel’s garage? Today?”
Myrtle said with a groan, “Say it isn’t so.”
“Today! ‘Cause Dusty’s truck done broke. I done told you that!” Puddin’s eyes were bloodshot in her pasty face, providing a startling contrast.
Myrtle took a deep breath. “You did tell me that. I am aware that Dusty’s transportation as well as, sometimes, his yard equipment can be unreliable in the best of times. But this is truly terrible timing, Puddin. Are you bound and determined to make yourself a suspect in this case? Now I have to defend yo
u once again to Red and he’s probably going to think that I’m only doing it because I desperately need you and Dusty to help me out around the house!”
Puddin glowered at her. “Didn’t know he was dead, did I? Had to git the truck fixed.”
“All right, so let’s hear your alibi. And I really hope it’s an ironclad one this time.” Myrtle put her hand up to her forehead and wondered if migraines were catching.
Puddin squinted suspiciously at her.
Miles helpfully rephrased the request. “What were you doing today? All day long. We need to tell the police so that they’ll know that you couldn’t have murdered Gabriel.”
Puddin thought about this. “Got up an’ took a shower.”
“Maybe in slightly less detail,” suggested Miles, again most helpfully.
Puddin winced as though the careful curation of the day’s events was painful. She apparently decided to skip eating and dressing and other things and finally said, “Dusty an’ I wuz watchin’ game shows.”
“This morning?” asked Myrtle.
“Yep.” Puddin gave her a defensive look.
“All of the cerebral game shows come on at night, you know. It’s only the silly ones in the morning,” said Myrtle.
Puddin glowered at her.
“Anyway, that’s what we wuz doin’, Dusty an’ me. Then Dusty says that we gotta get the truck fixed. I said I wanted to eat first. Then I made a peanut butter sandwich.”
Myrtle sighed. “Just the headlines, Puddin. I don’t need all this detail. And how did you make so much headway with the book if your day was filled with eating and game shows?”
“I read fast!” Puddin gave her a scornful look. “Tol’ you I was a reader.”
Miles shifted wearily in his chair.
“All right, point taken. So, to recap, you and Dusty head over to the garage. And you ... what? Found Gabriel dead? Your second dead body in a mere matter of days?” asked Myrtle.
Puddin said, “He were already found by somebody else! The cops was already there. Red looked real suspicious that I was there again. Dusty tol’ him about the truck.”
“To be honest, Puddin, he has a lot to be suspicious about. You haven’t been entirely truthful, especially concerning your altercation with Amos at the library,” said Myrtle.
Puddin frowned at altercation.
“You had an argument with Amos,” said Miles.
“And then you’ve been on the scene of two murders. No wonder you’re looking guilty,” said Myrtle.
Puddin fumed. “People say nasty things. If you can’t say nuthin’ nice, don’t say nuthin’. That’s what Mama said.”
It was likely a highly accurate quote from Puddin’s mother. At least, from what Myrtle remembered of the woman.
“Let’s move on. In fact, let’s say something unkind about someone else because finding out the truth is the only way that we’re going to be able to get you out of this mess,” said Myrtle.
“The truth will set you free,” observed Miles.
Myrtle gave him an aggravated look to remind him that the best sidekicks were silent sidekicks.
“So who do you think killed Gabriel? And why do you think they might have done it?” asked Myrtle.
“Josephine!” said Puddin. She lifted her chin, looking self-righteous. “I bet he knew she killed her dad and then she had to get rid of him.”
Miles embraced conscientious objection to being the silent sidekick. “You think Josephine killed her father and Gabriel knew about it.”
“He was always around the house. Coulda seen somethin’,” said Puddin.
Miles added, “And then Gabriel either blackmailed Josephine with the information or held it over her head.”
“He was a tease,” said Puddin. She flushed.
Myrtle sighed. If Gabriel had even flirted with Puddin, he truly had been a lost soul.
Puddin said, “And if the cops knew she killed her dad, she wouldn’t get no money.” Her eyes got big. “I better git my money from Josephine before she goes to jail. Can you drive me? Dusty has the car since the truck broke.” She glanced around Myrtle’s tidy house. “Do you have a baseball bat?” she asked.
Chapter Fifteen
“WE’RE not going to Josephine’s house to threaten her. Puddin, you don’t have any sense. It’s only going to make you look guiltier. Besides, Josephine wouldn’t even have that money yet and we all know she can barely scrape two cents together,” said Myrtle.
“Although it might be a good pretense for going over there and asking a few discreet questions,” said Miles. “And technically, Puddin is a creditor. The executor of the estate should be paying her out for her ... how much did Amos owe you?”
“Fifty dollars!” said Puddin as emphatically as if she’d substituted dollars for thousand.
“Perhaps even Josephine has fifty extra dollars,” said Myrtle. “At any rate, that’s an excellent point, Miles. But Puddin, you need to stay as quiet as you possibly can and let me or Miles represent you.”
“I’m going too? I’m not sure I feel comfortable about approaching the grieving daughter of a murder victim and shaking her down for cash,” said Miles. He looked slightly green at the thought.
“We need someone to drive us over there, Miles. Puddin has already said their truck is incapacitated and I don’t own a car,” said Myrtle as if explaining things to a very small child.
“Could I stay in the car then?” asked Miles. “I feel my migraine threatening to return.”
“I suppose it is a very small place. Perhaps it would be better if you did stay in the car. We wouldn’t want Josephine to feel threatened or get defensive with all of us there,” said Myrtle.
A few minutes later, Miles backed up out of Myrtle’s driveway with Myrtle in the passenger side and Puddin in the backseat like a rather wayward child.
“Better get my money,” she kept muttering to herself.
Miles said, looking in the rearview mirror as they drove down the street, “Looks like Red is going into your house, Myrtle.”
Myrtle swung around in her seat. “He has a key. I guess he’s hungry.”
Red spotted her and quickly pantomimed eating. Myrtle made a thumbs-up motion.
“I suppose he hasn’t started eating roughage yet,” said Miles, snickering.
“And I suppose Elaine must be taking a well-deserved nap now and that’s how he’s able to sneak over. I hope I have some food left when I get back home,” fretted Myrtle.
Miles drove until they reached Josephine’s apartment building. Myrtle and Puddin got out and Miles said, “Good luck. I’ll sit here in the parking lot and read for a while.”
“Your Sherlock Holmes book?” asked Myrtle.
“Finished,” Miles said with a happy sigh. “During the migraine. Returning it to the library is on my list of things to do today.”
“Glad that you won’t be a fugitive anymore,” said Myrtle with a smirk. “Just make sure you do return that book today. A visit with Philomena is in our future and I want my sidekick with me for that one.”
“I put the book in the car,” said Miles smugly.
Puddin was already making her way toward the apartment building, shoulders squared.
“You better wait for me or you’re going to be asking a complete stranger for money,” called Myrtle. “And I don’t think the police will look kindly on that.”
Puddin waited impatiently for Myrtle to catch up, hopping from one foot to the other like a child.
Myrtle said, “And remember! No being pushy. I’m here to make this process go civilly and smoothly.”
Myrtle walked up to Josephine’s apartment right when her front door opened. Josephine had dark circles under her eyes and wore her work uniform. “Oh, hello,” she said in a voice that tried and failed to be welcoming.
Myrtle said, “You’re on your way to work. Could Puddin and I take a couple of minutes of your time?”
Josephine gave a short laugh. “Sure. Usually I’d have to say no, but
work has been unexpectedly accommodating lately because of my father’s death. Is there something I can help you with?” She leveled a curious gaze on Puddin, who was watching them impatiently.
Myrtle gave Puddin a silencing look. “There may be. You probably didn’t know this, but your father was a wee bit behind in paying Puddin, his housekeeper. It’s been causing some consternation on her part and I told her that I’d help her reach out to you to see what could be done.”
Josephine gave Puddin a sympathetic look. “I know where you’re coming from. It’s no fun scraping money together to pay the bills and even worse when you’re owed money for work you’ve already done.”
Puddin nodded vigorously.
Josephine said, “And it certainly sounds like my father to be behind on paying you. Now that I know the truth about his finances, he’s the cheapest person I’ve ever met or even heard of.”
“Cheaper than dirt!” said Puddin viciously.
“But the truth is, and it hurts me to say it, that you need to bring up Puddin’s payment with Alice Porper,” said Josephine, an exhausted tinge to her voice.
Puddin squinted at her disbelievingly. Before she could open her mouth to accuse Josephine of anything, Myrtle said, “Your father left his estate to Alice?”
“According to Dad’s lawyer. He didn’t leave me a cent,” said Josephine bitterly.
“The house?” asked Myrtle.
“Also Alice’s,” said Josephine. “And I’m sure she’s going to love to rub it all in my face. She never did like me.” A stray tear trickled down her face and Josephine wiped it angrily away.
“Do you think this was an old will?” asked Myrtle. “Only because it seemed as though your father and Alice weren’t all that close recently.”
“You mean because Dad was dating Philomena? I’d agree. Dad made the will some years ago, probably after some sort of small spat with me, and then he either forgot or was too lazy to get it updated.” Josephine shrugged.
Puddin’s face was splotchy red and Myrtle leveled a calming look at her. Myrtle said, “You could probably contest it. It might be worthwhile.”
Cleaning is Murder Page 12
