Myrtle sniffed. “There’s clear evidence that Puddin was here, all right. The house is a disaster, and the television is on. I bet she thought that Amos wasn’t even at home and she took advantage of the opportunity to watch TV.”
Miles said, “She did say that he was a sneaky dead man. We should have asked her where he was ... um ... reposing.”
Myrtle steeled herself, “All right, I’m heading into the bedroom.” Miles followed at a distance as if reluctant to disturb the privacy of the dead man.
But there was no body there. There was simply an untidy bedroom with an old robe strewn across an unmade bed. Myrtle checked to make sure there wasn’t a very thin Amos Subers under the robe (she hadn’t seen him for a while). Seeing nothing, she walked back out to the living room.
“Perhaps Puddin was hallucinating,” suggested Miles.
“Perhaps Puddin fell asleep during her game show and dreamed she saw Amos dead,” said Myrtle, getting irritated. “Instead of looking for bodies, we could be back home playing Scrabble and eating pimento cheese sandwiches.”
“Except that Red eliminated your bread supply,” said Miles. “We still haven’t checked Amos’s kitchen.”
“Yes, but we can see most of the kitchen from where we are and I don’t see bodies littering the floor. I only see a kitchen that needs cleaning,” said Myrtle.
Miles walked carefully into the kitchen as if dead bodies might pop out of the pantries at him. He walked around the island in the center of the kitchen and stopped short, grimacing. “I’ve found him. Completely concealed by the kitchen island.”
“Sneaky indeed,” said Myrtle breathlessly as she hurried over to where Miles stood. There was Amos. He was, most definitely, dead. A glass bottle lay on the floor beside him and he lay in a puddle of blood.
Miles cautiously checked for a pulse, just to make sure. He looked at Myrtle and shook his head. “I’m calling Red,” he said firmly.
“Fine,” said Myrtle in a distracted tone. “I wonder who on earth did this?”
Miles said as he dialed the phone number, “I’d imagine Puddin would be a likely suspect.”
“Puddin?” said Myrtle in a scornful voice. “Puddin doesn’t have the sense to murder anyone.”
Miles said, “It’s rather telling that the murder weapon appears to be a bottle of cleaning solution, isn’t it? Almost as if the killer were making a final point of some sort.”
Myrtle snorted. “Puddin is too foolish to make points. That glass bottle could be vinegar or olive oil or any number of things.” She walked around the other side of the island and peered at the bottle from a distance. “All right. It appears to be a homemade cleaner. It looks like an old, glass vinegar bottle with a spray nozzle attached to the top. That thing was probably heavy as lead. Remember, Puddin didn’t like his homemade cleaning stuff because she said it was stinky. Even if it was homemade cleaning solution, Puddin brought my cleaning products in here. In fact, I need to track those down.”
Their conversation stopped for a few minutes while Miles spoke with Red on the phone, giving him a quick summary.
“He’ll be right over,” he said and then stopped short with a frown at the sound of a siren.
“Small towns,” said Myrtle with a shrug. “He’s never very far away.”
Myrtle walked around curiously. She spotted a desk in the living room and used her tissue to lift things off of Amos’s desk and peer at them.
“Anything interesting?” asked Miles. He walked over to the window and glanced outside.
“Not particularly. He really could have used a filing system. Oh wait, here’s his desk calendar,” said Myrtle.
The siren grew closer. Miles said, still looking out the window, “It looks as if progress is happening outside. Puddin appears to be actually listening to Wanda.”
Myrtle snorted. “Probably because Puddin is in shock. Those two women are like oil and water. Now let’s see about this calendar.” She pulled out her phone from her pocketbook and took a couple of pictures, carefully turning the pages with her tissue. “It looks as though Amos had a fairly active social life.”
Miles said, “I did seem to see him out a lot.”
“Did you? That’s surprising, since you’re not out a lot,” said Myrtle in a distracted voice.
Miles said stiffly, “I meant when I was out running errands. I’m running errands and he’s socializing.”
“It’s your own fault that you’re not socializing. You know that every old lady in town has set her cap for you. You just choose to go to the post office and the drugstore instead of going out to eat,” said Myrtle.
Miles said, “I like to take things slow, that’s all.” He frowned at Myrtle.
“That’s something we can agree on. Now, more about Amos’s socializing. With whom was he doing it?” She turned another page of the desk calendar. “Perhaps Philomena Fant?”
Miles said, “That must be a very helpful calendar. Yes, I’ve seen him walking into Bo’s Diner with Philomena.”
“How about Alice Porper?” asked Myrtle. She made a face as the sound of the siren came right in front of the house. “Pooh. I’ll have to wrap this up. And I didn’t even find a cell phone.”
“I usually saw him with Alice. But lately it’s been Philomena with him. I remember thinking to myself that he might be two-timing Alice,” said Miles.
Myrtle raised her eyebrows as she stepped away from the desk. “Is that because Amos appeared to be friendly with Philomena?”
“Very friendly indeed,” said Miles.
“Interesting. I suppose he was a handsome man with those dark eyes and that lean build. And I seem to remember a particularly engaging smile. I never could get around that beard, though,” said Myrtle. “It could be quite full on occasion.”
A voice behind them said, “Please tell me that Amos Subers had a natural death.”
They turned to see Red coming through the door.
“Afraid not,” said Myrtle. “Looks as though he was conked on the head by a glass bottle.” She paused. “It probably has cleaning solution in it. Puddin mentioned that he had homemade cleaners and he was certainly cheap enough to use them.”
Red groaned. “Investigating murder was not on my list of things to do today.”
Myrtle said, “Does this mean that I need to do my own grocery shopping? Because I don’t really have food in my house now.”
Red said to Miles, “Can you drive her to the store?”
Miles nodded.
“Okay, where’s Amos? And then, if you two could be so kind as to step outside and join Puddin and Wanda? I’ll talk to you out there after I’ve called the state police. I want our conversation to be private, too—I wanted to ask you about Puddin,” said Red.
They pointed to the kitchen island and then headed for the door. As they walked outside, Myrtle muttered to Miles, “I simply can’t allow Puddin to be arrested for murder. My house will be even more of a wreck than it is now.”
“You always complain about what a terrible housekeeper she is. Maybe this is the opportunity to find someone new,” said Miles as they walked toward Puddin and Wanda.
“Wanting someone new and finding someone new are two different things. This town only has so many cleaning ladies and they’re always booked. What’s more, I can’t afford anyone better than Puddin. I can barely afford Puddin! No, I need to clear Puddin’s name and make sure that I track down who’s responsible for this. And, if Amos really was dating two women at once, I know where to start,” said Myrtle.
Puddin, who had been gazing at Wanda with a rather awed expression, hurried toward them when she spotted them. “He were dead, weren’t he? Deader than a doornail!”
Myrtle said, “Yes, Amos Subers is unfortunately deceased.”
Puddin pointed at Wanda. “She knows about it, too!”
Myrtle said sharply, “Wanda knows about lots of things she has no involvement with. What I’m interested in is your own involvement with this issue.”
Puddin looked sullen. “Ain’t got nuthin’ to do with it. Him just died.”
“No, him didn’t just die. He was eased along the way. First off, where are my cleaning bottles?”
Red suddenly snorted behind them. “Trust you to ask the important questions first, Mama.”
“Well, Puddin took them from my house with every intent of using them. I’m curious to know where they are since I looked through Amos’s house and didn’t see them,” said Myrtle.
Puddin, mindful of the officer of the law nearby, said with a nervous laugh, “Just borrowed ‘em. They’re in my car.” She nodded to the old sedan.
Red said, “As much as I’m glad that y’all have determined the location of Mama’s precious cleaning bottles, I’m going to need to talk to you alone, Puddin.”
Puddin’s already pasty-white face turned whiter, and she started howling. “Don’t wanna go to jail!”
Red rolled his eyes to the heavens as if searching for some patience in the clouds. Apparently having found some, he gently said to Puddin, “I didn’t say I was arresting you, merely asking you a few questions. You’re vital to this investigation, having been the first person on the scene. I need to hear all about it.”
Puddin looked drawn between panic and pride at being someone who knew something. She nodded reluctantly and Red took out his notebook and pen. They walked over to Red’s police cruiser so that Puddin could sit while Red took notes.
Wanda gazed silently at the tableau. Myrtle figured that she’d probably never seen so much crying in her lifetime.
Myrtle said, “Do you have any ideas about this, Wanda? You knew Puddin was in danger ... is that because she was here right after the murderer was, or because she’s in danger of going to prison?”
Wanda said, “The sight don’t work that way.”
Miles, never a fan of the sight, gave a gusty sigh.
Wanda continued, “I done talked to her. Puddin. She’s gonna tell you everythin’ she knows. Wants you to help figure it all out. I gots to go.”
“Go?” asked Miles in alarm. “You can’t walk all the way back home, Wanda. And I can’t drive you there right now, either.”
“Goin’ to walk to the diner for some food,” said Wanda. She held out her hand to display a leathery handful of quarters.
Miles reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He carefully counted out a few bills and thrust them at Wanda. “In case you want more.”
She smiled at him and loped off.
Miles muttered, “I’m surprised she’s still hungry after eating at your place.”
“Wanda is always hungry. Besides, it wasn’t exactly a feast at my house, not after Red ate most of the sandwich stuff,” said Myrtle.
Miles glanced back over at Puddin and Red and said, “You don’t think Red believes Puddin had anything to do with this?”
Chapter Four
“Red likes a case closed by the simplest means possible. But no, I’m sure in his heart of hearts that he doesn’t think Puddin is a killer. Puddin is obnoxious, lazy, and foolish, but she’s no murderer. And I really do need to keep my domestic help situation stable,” said Myrtle, a fervent tone in her voice.
Miles said with a frown, “The thing that bothers me is that she didn’t bring your cleaning products inside. They’re still in the car. She couldn’t exactly have forgotten them, considering that the entire reason she was at Amos’s house was to clean it.”
“But this is Puddin we’re talking about. Maybe she knew that he had cleaning products in his house already. Perhaps she wanted them because the next house she was going to needed all-purpose cleaner or glass cleaner or what-have-you. Or maybe even the house she was going to tomorrow didn’t have cleaning products inside. Puddin likely thought it was a more effective argument to tell me that the very next house she was cleaning didn’t have them,” said Myrtle.
Miles’s face was doubtful. “I suppose so.”
Myrtle said, “Think about the situation, Miles. Puddin was mad. She doesn’t like cleaning in the first place, and then suddenly she’s thrust into a situation where she is not even being paid for her work. This makes her furious.”
Miles added dryly, “Furious enough to hit Amos over the head with a glass bottle? Furious is probably not the word we want to use around Red if we want to keep Puddin from being arrested.”
“Point taken. So Puddin is concerned that she hasn’t been paid. However, being a conscientious employee, she shows up for her designated cleaning day anyway,” said Myrtle. She plopped down on a handy garden bench and made room as Miles sat down beside her.
Miles said, “That’s laying it on thick, don’t you think? Red is actually acquainted with Puddin. In fact, he’s known her for a number of years. She’s never conscientious. She probably went to Amos’s house today with no intention of cleaning at all. She didn’t even bring the cleaning bottles in. She went over there for the sole purpose of demanding her money.”
“Money he owed her,” corrected Myrtle with a frown. “You’re making her sound like someone who was working for a mob boss instead of an employee cheated out of her pay. But I’ll agree with you—mostly because Puddin shows up at even my house determined to clean as little as possible. She walks inside and doesn’t see Amos. She decides, as Puddin would, to watch brain-numbing television in the form of a game show. Then she likely wants to fix herself something to drink or eat because ... it’s Puddin. She believes that your refrigerator is her refrigerator. She sees Amos, freaks out, and calls us.”
Miles said, “We can see if our theory is right in a few minutes. Looks like Red has finished with her and is heading over to us.”
Red was indeed heading their way, and he looked grim. Puddin remained in the back of the police car, an obstinate expression on her face. The state police pulled up and Red spoke with them for a few minutes before turning back to Myrtle and Miles.
Myrtle said, “You seem upset, Red.”
“Upset? Can’t imagine what I have to be upset by.” Red enumerated the issues on his fingers as he went. “My stomach is complaining about the alfalfa or whatever the abomination was I ate this morning before I ended up at your house. My mother has a habit of finding bodies.”
Myrtle pursed her lips in displeasure. “I didn’t find this one. You haven’t been paying attention.”
“I have a murder to investigate. What’s more, I may need to find a new housekeeper for my aforementioned elderly mother because her current one is under suspicion of murder.
Miles looked concerned. “You suspect Puddin?”
“How can I not suspect Puddin? Puddin incriminated herself all over the place when I was talking with her. She has no filter whatsoever,” said Red. “And I know that it was Amos who was Puddin’s issue earlier. Remember our conversation at your house, Mama? You said Puddin was worse than usual because someone owed her money. I’d say that was a pretty good motive, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d say it was a good motive if it was anyone but Puddin. Surely you can’t imagine that Puddin could murder someone! Puddin is a lot of things, but she’s never done anything illegal,” said Myrtle hotly.
Red said, “She’s been sneaky, though.”
“But sneaky and dishonest are two different things. Puddin might not show up for work and she might prevaricate and say that her back is thrown and she can’t clean. She might even walk out with my cleaning supplies.” Myrtle stopped and frowned. She’d lost track of where she was going with that.
“Yes?” asked Red.
It came back to her and she said, “But she’s never taken any of my things before.”
“Besides your cleaning supplies, you mean,” said Red, rolling his eyes.
“Exactly. Which don’t count because she parades out the front door with them. I swear, she’s more like a sullen child. She doesn’t go around murdering people, even if they owe her money,” said Myrtle.
“Okay. Settle down, Mama. I don’t have time to drive you over to the doctor to get your
blood pressure checked out. We’re finished with Puddin for right now. Why don’t you and Miles take her home? Dusty can bring her back later to pick up her car. She needs to wind down a little,” said Red. He glanced around. “And where’s Wanda?”
“Gone to eat again.” But as she said this, she saw Wanda’s thin frame shuffling down the sidewalk toward them.
“Guess you’ll have a full carload,” said Red to Miles with a chuckle.
Miles nodded glumly.
A sedan pulled up and a tall, muscular man with a very short haircut stepped out. “Lieutenant Perkins!” drawled Myrtle as he approached them. “What a delight. You know I always look forward to seeing you again.”
“Even though that means yet another homicide victim in the town of Bradley,” muttered Red.
Perkins smiled at Myrtle, which pleased her more than a handshake or hug would do. That’s because Perkins was usually stony-faced and stern. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Clover, despite the circumstances. And hello to you, too, Mr. Bradford. Mrs. Clover, I’d love to hear your opinion on what you’ve seen so far here.”
Myrtle beamed at him and Red put a hand up to his temple as if it were pounding. He never liked the fact that Perkins put great stock into Myrtle’s insights. But in Myrtle’s eyes, this trait of Perkins made him a most capable detective.
Myrtle gave him a short rundown of the day. Finishing up, she said, shooting a sideways glance at Red, “Although it may, to the unimaginative eye, appear that my cleaning woman, Puddin, had something to do with this murder, I can assure you that she did not.” Red muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
Perkins nodded and put away his notebook, looking at Myrtle thoughtfully. “It sounds as though you have a lot of affection for Puddin.”
Miles snorted in disbelief, causing Myrtle to shoot him a quelling look.
Myrtle said, “Ordinarily, Puddin is the bane of my existence. But yes, I can’t help but feel a certain fondness for her. At any rate, I know what Puddin is and isn’t. She’s no killer.”
Cleaning is Murder (A Myrtle Clover Cozy Mystery Book 13) Page 3
