Edit to Death

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  There was trilling laughter at Miles’s newfound lack of fluency as he plopped down into a chair near Myrtle. Myrtle, who wasn’t interested in hearing all the assorted impressions of a bad book, leaned in closer to him. “Did you only drink that one drink?”

  Miles gave another small hiccup and gave Myrtle a sorrowful look. “Just the one you gave me.”

  Myrtle sighed. “Either you’re a real lightweight or else Georgia makes a really stiff drink. Just stay put and out of trouble until this meeting is over with.”

  Which, by the look of things, would take a while. It seemed to take forever for the tipsy book club members to collect their thoughts. When they finally did, their thoughts were not worth sharing. They rambled through their impressions of the book with no coherency at all until their little speeches shambled to a stop.

  Book club member Blanche at least seemed to realize her own limitations. She held up the book and said with a shrug, “I can’t discuss it, but it was a pretty good read.”

  Myrtle appreciated her honesty and brevity. So much so, in fact, that when it came to be her own time, she said, “I’ll admit that I didn’t read this book. I’ve been very busy lately and it sort of slipped my mind. That being said, it sounds like a decent story. However, there are so many stellar reads out there that I don’t see myself putting it on my to-be-read list.”

  There was a handful of applause after Myrtle spoke and a couple of the women looked admiringly at her for having gone to book club and not even opened the cover of the book being discussed.

  Miles leaned in. “Good point.”

  Myrtle shrugged. “Well, if I haven’t read Ulysses or The Sound and the Fury, I’m certainly not going to waste whatever time I have left on the pablum being peddled at this meeting.”

  Miles nodded. His eyes were half-closed.

  “For heaven’s sake, Miles! Pull yourself together,” snapped Myrtle. “You’re passing out at book club.”

  The words, so incongruous, made Miles recover somewhat. He sat up straight in his seat and blinked a few times.

  “Do you want me to close the meeting?” asked Myrtle in her stage whisper. There were only two women left to discuss the book.

  Miles nodded. “Might be best. We’re a team effort.”

  She understood what he was saying although the words were slurred. So after the discussion was through, she stood up to take care of the small bit of business that the book club meetings covered. “Thank you all for coming and for lending your thoughts on this month’s selection. Since Miles hosted, it’s his turn to select a book.”

  Miles glanced around the room. Erma was ignoring the business part of the meeting altogether and was having a very lively conversation with Georgia, who was hooting her laughter loudly, in response. Blanche, her own part of discussing the book now over, was pouring what looked like a stiff drink. Libby Holloway had attempted to make herself a plate of pizza, but had dropped it on the floor and was red-faced and making another.

  “I pick Lord of the Flies,” drawled Miles.

  Myrtle’s eyes twinkled. “Lord of the Flies, it is! An interesting tale of what happens when a group of civilized people end up going wild. And please—everyone take care on the way home. Many of you are in walking distance: and there’s nothing wrong with a little exercise.”

  Unfortunately, most of the book club members did not seem to get the cue that the meeting was now over. They all returned to the bar and refilled their drinks, laughing uproariously and now talking very loudly. Miles was holding his head as if it hurt from the noise.

  The door opened and Myrtle raised her eyebrows in surprise. Whoever was late to this book club meeting was very late. The members should be on their way to their cars. She raised her eyebrows even higher when she saw Elaine walk through the door with Jack in tow. Elaine looked around her in bemusement at the ordinarily decorous book club which now resembled a bacchanal. She had, Myrtle noted with amusement, a camera around her neck.

  Chapter Fourteen

  WHEN ELAINE SPOTTED Myrtle, she carefully led Jack over toward her. This was difficult because of the chairs in the way, and also because Margaret Goodner was swaying on her feet between them.

  When she finally reached Myrtle, Myrtle shook her head. “Sorry that you had to see this debauchery, Elaine. And poor Jack.”

  Jack, however, seemed focused solely on the pizza. There were still several boxes of it and he was eyeing it hungrily.

  “No, this is wonderful!” said Elaine. “I needed another photo for Sloan for the paper. He promised me I could put something else in as filler. I mean, I like putting photos up on the paper’s social media, but it seems much more authentic to have it in print. I thought everyone would be all stiff and polite and not want their pictures taken. But they’re so relaxed. This is perfect.”

  Myrtle looked doubtfully at the room. “Not my definition of perfect, but go right ahead. They certainly are relaxed.”

  And very happy. There was still a lot of raucous laughter. Unwisely, no one seemed to be alarmed or on alert about the fact that someone was taking pictures. Including Miles, who appeared to be taking a short nap.

  Georgia sidled up to Myrtle again. “Good meeting!” she bellowed. “Tippy should go out of town more often.”

  Tippy would be horrified when she returned from her trip and saw the pictures in the paper of her book club. Myrtle was ready to talk of other things.

  “I suppose so,” she said. “Listen, Georgia, I have a question for you. I can’t totally remember when you went to school, although I know I taught you. Are you roughly the same age as Pearl Epps’s kids?”

  Georgia’s face grew solemn. “Older. But my younger sister, Peggy, was their age. Such a mess about Pearl, isn’t it? What’s Red think about all of it?”

  Myrtle made a face. “As if Red would share what he thinks with me. You know him better than that. He’s just trying to pick through the evidence and talk to people and figure out what happened to Pearl and Nell.”

  Georgia shook her head. “Sure seems crazy. Peggy was pretty good friends with Rose back in the day. Course, she don’t live here anymore.” She saw the look on Myrtle’s face and hastily corrected herself. “Doesn’t live here anymore. Sorry. It’s the booze talking.”

  “Do you remember much about the time surrounding when Tara Blanton went missing?” asked Myrtle.

  Georgia said, “A little. Peggy talked a good deal about it at the time. She was real upset. Tara was a friend of hers, too, because Rose hung out with her all the time. And Boone was dating Tara.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “Boone was dating her? But I’d never heard anything about that.”

  “Tara’s parents weren’t real happy about their daughter dating Boone,” said Georgia. “But Boone talked about it all the time at school.”

  Myrtle frowned. It had been a long time. “I know he was very mischievous in class. Spitballs and passing notes and whatnot. Actually, he’s sort of mischievous even now. But I didn’t realize that he was all that bad that parents wouldn’t like him.”

  Georgia said, “Well, sometimes people act out at home where they don’t at school. Yeah, Boone was a kind of bad boy. He drank a lot, smoked, did all that kind of stuff. Was sort of disrespectful, too. I remember one day that Peggy was hanging out with Rose and Boone and invited them to come over to our house. Daddy wouldn’t let Boone in the door.”

  Myrtle said with a chuckle, “That must have been awkward.”

  “Oh, Peggy was very tearful over it, but Daddy was determined. Boone ended up leaving and Rose stayed for a while, but it was definitely weird after that.”

  Myrtle nodded. “So Tara wisely kept quiet about the fact that she and Boone were dating.”

  “A secret from Mom and Dad,” said Georgia, bobbing her head. “Because Tara was a good girl and wasn’t the sort to get into any trouble. And she didn’t want any trouble, either. Boone was pretty charismatic and was a big deal at the high school. They just kept their relation
ship on the down-low.”

  Myrtle said slowly, “But that would have been important for the police to know. Boone should probably have been considered a suspect.”

  Georgia shrugged. “Suspect in what? As far as the police were concerned, Tara Blanton ran away. That’s what they wanted to think, anyway. Sure made life easier for them that way. If there weren’t no crime . . . uh, wasn’t a crime, then you didn’t have to worry about suspects, did you?”

  Myrtle said, “But there was talk at the time that Tara had mentioned running away.”

  Georgia gave a short laugh. “Talk? From who? Not Tara. Somebody said that because they were trying to cover up what really happened.”

  “What did you and Peggy think when Tara just disappeared like that?”

  Georgia said, “That something bad had happened to her. Because Tara had a great life. Her grades were good, her parents loved her, and she had a popular boyfriend. There was absolutely nothing going on in her life that she should have wanted to run away from. Besides, there was that party. Something could have gone wrong during the party.”

  “What party?” Myrtle leaned in closer.

  “Oh, Boone and Rose’s folks were going out of town. You know what that means. Everybody knew that there would be a party at their house,” said Georgia with a snort.

  “I didn’t know that,” said Myrtle. She scowled. “Did Red go? Did you go?”

  Georgia gave her guffawing laugh. “Red? Is he really going to get into trouble when that party happened thirty years ago? As a matter of fact, I did go to the party, but I left before long. I thought it was kind of lame. And I don’t remember Red there at all.”

  “Why did you think the party was lame?” asked Myrtle.

  Georgia yawned, showing off her cavernous mouth and quite a few dental fillings in the process. Whether she was bored with the conversation or finally feeling the effects of the alcohol, Myrtle wasn’t sure.

  Georgia answered, “I dunno. I didn’t like the music they were playing and all the kids there were younger than me and immature. It just wasn’t my scene, so I left.”

  “And Tara was there?” asked Myrtle.

  Georgia looked briefly annoyed at repeating herself. “Yep. That’s where she was. I’d have told the cops, too, if anybody had cared to question me about it. But nobody did.”

  “Was she getting along well with everybody there?” asked Myrtle.

  Georgia said, “You’re talking about something that took place practically a lifetime ago, Miss M. But yeah, I still do remember some details because it all stuck in my head when Tara went missing that night. Tara had been drinking, for one.”

  “Drinking?” Myrtle looked startled.

  Georgia grinned at her. “I’m surprised that you’re surprised. You dealt with teenagers all those years. I’d-a guessed that you knew all the ins and outs of teen behavior.”

  “And I did. But the fact is that Tara didn’t seem to be interested in that kind of thing. She seemed, actually, like a really sweet, innocent girl,” said Myrtle. “Now I’ve no doubt that Boone Epps was drinking like crazy.”

  “You’re right there,” said Georgia, wagging a finger at her. “He was almost off his head with booze. Wasn’t the kind of guy who could hold his liquor.”

  From what Myrtle had just observed of Georgia, she could likely hold hers better than any man. “Okay,” she said, “so Boone and Tara were both drinking. Anything else?”

  “Tara and Rose had a spat,” said Georgia succinctly. She took another swig from her cup.

  “Did they? About what?” asked Myrtle.

  Georgia shrugged. “It just didn’t seem all that important at the time, Miss M. These were teenagers and teenagers act out sometimes. I only know that they’d had a falling out.”

  She wagged her finger at Myrtle. “Speaking of falling outs, I saw another spat yesterday. Boone was yelling at his sister like you wouldn’t believe. She was crying her eyes out and he was really letting her have it.”

  “When was this? And where?” asked Myrtle.

  “On this very same street. Not too far from the Epps house . . . and not too far from Nell’s either, I reckon. I guess Tara was dog walking because she had Tippy’s two standard poodles with her. And Boone was leaning out of his car window and his face was like thunder.”

  She looked balefully into her empty plastic cup. “I gotta get this thing filled again,” she said as if it were the most onerous task. “See ya soon.”

  A full forty-five minutes later, the herd of cackling women had finally filed out to walk themselves home or to have their husbands or daughters pick them up.

  Miles looked around his once-tidy home with a shocked expression. The state of his house appeared to sober him up. The women had certainly not cleaned up after themselves, which was an anomaly in itself. They’d also left various things behind them by accident—Myrtle spotted at least two sets of car keys, a purse, and numerous copies of It’s a Long Time Coming.

  “What a nightmare,” he said. He hesitated. “I believe I might have dropped off back there for a few minutes. Did I miss anything?”

  “Only Elaine. She came in and took pictures for the newspaper,” said Myrtle.

  Miles held his head again.

  “I’ll have to call Puddin,” he muttered, picking up a paper plate with a pizza carcass on it before hastily setting it down again as grease got on his fingers.

  “Puddin? You’re clearly delusional. Puddin wouldn’t have anything to do with a mess this large. No, you need an actual professional cleaning service to come in or else you’ll need to spend the next few hours getting everything back to normal,” said Myrtle.

  Miles put his hands to his head as he walked around to survey the damage. “I wonder if I can get the service that Blanche is using now.”

  “You can get anybody for the right price. Aside from Puddin,” amended Myrtle. “There are other housekeepers available. It’s just that they cost a fortune.”

  “I’ll call Blanche’s housekeeper,” he said decisively. “I can’t handle the scope of this mess. And then let’s go to your house. I don’t even want to look at it.”

  Myrtle’s house was startlingly clean in comparison, since Puddin had actually done a little work while she’d been there.

  Miles was clutching his head again. “I must have picked up some sort of illness at book club.”

  “The only illness that you picked up is a hangover. I’ll make us some strong coffee,” said Myrtle briskly, walking over to her coffeemaker.

  Miles said, “But then we won’t be able to fall asleep tonight. Book club lasted so late that it’s practically time to turn in now.”

  “When do we ever really fall asleep? No matter what we do, we won’t be able to get a good night’s sleep, so we might as well enjoy the coffee,” said Myrtle.

  She bustled around, making the coffee. Miles jumped when there was a scratching sound at the window.

  “Darling Pasha!” said Myrtle proudly. “Hungry again.” She gasped. “Miles! We forgot about the cat food sale.”

  Miles, who did not have any desire to discuss cat food or, really, anything else, groaned. “But the sale goes on the entire week. We don’t have to go tonight.”

  “The sale may go on for the entire week, but today is senior citizen’s day, so I get an additional discount. What’s more, they’re running a one-day double-coupon deal,” said Myrtle.

  Miles buried his face in his hands. “Those coupons are too high to double, Myrtle. They only double the fifty-cent or seventy-five cent ones.”

  “Usually that’s the case. But today it’s super double coupon day. They double the value up to a dollar.”

  Miles waved a hand. “I surrender. Let’s go to the store. But can we at least drink that coffee first? The store is in no danger of closing at this hour.”

  Myrtle nodded. She fed Pasha, who ravenously dug in to her food. Then she poured them two cups of coffee, just how they liked them. “The book club meeting was very in
teresting this afternoon.” She put a cup of coffee in front of Miles.

  Miles asked, “Was it?” in a very doubtful tone.

  “Well, everyone was too intoxicated to ask either of us about poor Nell and poor Pearl. Ordinarily, they’d have been peppering us with questions. That was, perhaps, the only good part about the alcohol at the meeting.” Myrtle took a cautious sip of her coffee. Despite all the cream in it, it was still very hot.

  “The alcohol was actually very nice for about twenty minutes,” said Miles.

  Myrtle said, “And then it led to that dreadful book club discussion.”

  Miles looked morosely into his coffee cup. “It was a dreadful book, so it naturally followed that it would engender a dreadful discussion.”

  Myrtle pinched her lips together. She refrained from telling Miles that the worst parts were his own startlingly insipid thoughts on the story. He had been most un-Miles-like. Instead she said, “I meant, however, that there were other aspects of the book club meeting that were interesting.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “Did you find out any information about Nell’s death?”

  “Maybe indirectly,” said Myrtle. “It was more about what happened to Tara Blanton.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows even higher. “Was this information provided by Georgia? I saw how much time you were spending talking to her. An unusual amount of time, I thought, given that it was . . . Georgia.”

  “She had a good deal to say about Tara because Georgia’s younger sister and she were good friends.”

  Miles drank more of his coffee and now seemed a good deal more animated. That might have to do with the caffeine in the cup. If Georgia had made a stiff drink, Myrtle had made a stiff coffee. “Let me guess. Georgia said that Tara hadn’t run away.”

  “Exactly. She said that the cops were looking for the easiest way out of an investigation. Georgia was adamant that there was no reason for Tara to run away. She said that she had lots of friends, had a great home life, and was doing well at school. What’s more, she said that Tara and Boone were secretly dating,” said Myrtle.