Cleaning is Murder (A Myrtle Clover Cozy Mystery Book 13)

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  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. Or, at least, that they were off and on.”

  “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.”

  Josephine shrugged again. “I could, but with what money? That’s also not exactly how I want to spend what little free time that I actually have. Besides, I only recently found out that Dad had any money at all—I’d never expected to get much. Although I suppose I thought I’d at least get the house and could leave my apartment.”

  Myrtle said, “On another subject, have you heard about Gabriel?”

  “Yes, and that was about as shocking as my finding out that Dad had left me penniless,” said Josephine. “I’m thinking his death was the result of bad karma. Gabriel didn’t always treat people well and that obviously backfired.” There was no small amount of malicious relish in her voice.

  “Did he treat you well?” asked Myrtle.

  “I didn’t give him much of a chance to treat me one way or another. In my mind, he was Dad’s friend. Not that he was the best of friends. He always seemed to bring out Dad’s bad side. Dad would either start bragging around him or drinking too much or whatever. I avoided him and I avoided Dad when he was around him,” said Josephine. “But I had nothing to do with Gabriel’s death. I’ve been up to my eyeballs trying to plan the service and whatnot.”

  Puddin made disapproving noises, presumably about the drinking and bragging and not about the planning of the service.

  “Do you have any idea who might be involved with his death?” asked Myrtle. “Do you think that Alice may be a suspect, considering he made her his heir?”

  Josephine said, “As much as I’d like to think so, and even though I’m incredibly aggravated by all this, I don’t think that Alice knew anything about it. The lawyer said she was as surprised as I am. But I don’t know who killed Gabriel. Like I said, he wasn’t always the nicest guy so it could be that he rubbed somebody the wrong way.” She glanced at her watch. “I probably should go.”

  A couple of minutes later, Puddin and Myrtle were back in Miles’s car.

  “How did that go?” he asked. He appeared to be waking up from a short nap.

  “He cheated her!” snarled Puddin.

  Miles blinked.

  Myrtle said, “Puddin means that Amos decided not to leave his estate to Josephine at all. Instead, he gave it to Alice Porper.” She paused thoughtfully. “I think that was the most important information we received from our conversation.”

  Miles started driving. “Alice Porper! But I thought they weren’t close anymore.”

  “Apparently he wrote the will some time ago and then forgot to change it,” said Myrtle.

  “Unbelievable,” muttered Miles. “And Josephine is stuck in the same lifestyle.”

  “On the bright side, at least she’s not cleaning her father’s house anymore while trying to juggle work. And Josephine pointed out that she hadn’t even realized that her father had any money until recently, so she doesn’t feel as cheated as she might have.” Myrtle looked out the window and saw Josephine driving away in an old-model sedan.

  “Did she say anything about Gabriel’s death?” asked Miles.

  “Only that he had what was coming to him. She didn’t seem to be much of a fan of Gabriel’s and said that there were plenty of people who didn’t like him and might have wanted to get rid of him,” said Myrtle.

  “An’ she kept outta his way,” added Puddin in a helpful tone.

  Myrtle said, “She intimated that she avoided Gabriel whenever possible because she didn’t think he was a good influence on her father and she didn’t care for Amos’s behavior when he was around him.”

  “Got it.” Miles said, “Where am I driving, by the way? To the library? I hope so, because I really would like to return that book.”

  “So that you can sleep tonight with a clear conscience? I suppose so. I do want to speak with Philomena, and she’s usually working during the week. Let’s drop Puddin off first, though,” said Myrtle.

  Puddin said, “No way. I’ll go to the library. I read, remember? Goin’ to book club tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I keep forgetting that meeting is tomorrow.” Myrtle groaned. “I have a feeling that it’s going to be a nightmare.”

  “You can find me the next book to read,” said Puddin complacently.

  Miles said, “We might as well all go. The library is on the way to Puddin’s house.”

  “All right, all right,” said Myrtle grouchily. “But don’t get too sidetracked. I’m trying to investigate, remember?”

  The library wasn’t nearly as busy as it usually was. It was frequently full of young mothers with children for story time, seniors getting computer instruction from a local volunteer, and students studying in groups or with tutors. Today there was only one dad and child looking for books in the children’s section and a couple of older folks reading magazines in the lounge area in front of the gas fireplace. A fireplace that, mercifully, wasn’t turned on, considering the temperatures outside were in the 90s.

  Miles returned his book at the circulation desk and Puddin headed toward the shelves. Myrtle put out her hand. “Hold up a minute. You’ll be in here all day if you approach book browsing that way. First question: do you want to read fiction or nonfiction?”

  “Made-up or not made-up?” asked Puddin. When Myrtle nodded, she squinted in thought. “Made-up, I guess.”

  “All right. Then head over to that section. Because you were headed directly for the gardening books and I didn’t want you to tell me that this library has boring books,” said Myrtle. “Although, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Dusty to check out some of those books. What does he do in his spare time?”

  Puddin made a face. “Drinks beer and watches racin’ on TV.”

  “All right. Maybe we could check out some gardening magazines for him, instead,” said Myrtle.

  “Ain’t you gonna help me find a book?” demanded Puddin. “Either one of you?”

  Miles looked at Myrtle helplessly. “I don’t really feel qualified to pick out something that Puddin might enjoy.”

  “Puddin, I’ll definitely help you choose something, but I need to speak wit
h Philomena first. Why don’t you start looking through the books and I’ll catch up with you?” said Myrtle.

  Philomena, her blonde hair pulled back neatly in a tie, was putting books on the shelves from a cart. She smiled when she saw Miles and Myrtle approaching her. “How was that Sherlock Holmes companion book?”

  “I’ve only just started it,” said Miles. “I was finishing up another book first.” Here he gave a guilty blush. “But it’s great so far.”

  “Wonderful. I hope you’ll enjoy it,” said Philomena sincerely.

  Myrtle said, “Did you get in touch with Tippy? Will you be at the book club meeting tomorrow?”

  “She said they’d love to have me there. I’m nervous since I wasn’t exactly prepared to speak so soon. I have my pick of topics: how librarians choose books, book recommendations, series recommendations, and so on.” Philomena looked a little overwhelmed.

  Myrtle said, “I’d be delighted to offer you some direction. Our book club adores classical literature.”

  Miles made a choking sound.

  Myrtle ignored him, although Philomena pursed her lips as though worried there might be some sort of medical event about to transpire.

  “The problem is that the club could use an expert to guide us and offer us some sort of direction. Perhaps some of the more entertaining classical novels would be best,” said Myrtle.

  “What is it that the club is reading now?” asked Philomena.

  Myrtle beamed at her. She was delighted that her answer wasn’t Lost in Love or some such beach mess. “1984.”

  “Well, perhaps a good corresponding novel would be Fahrenheit 451 or something similar,” said Philomena looking more relaxed now that she had more of a game plan for her talk.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. And maybe you can help us plan out the following months as well,” said Myrtle smoothly. She snapped her fingers. Perhaps all of her problems could be solved by simply spending time with Philomena. “Do you enjoy gardening?”

  Miles rolled his eyes and looked longingly at the shelves of books.

  Philomena said with a laugh, “Are you thinking about having me speak at your garden club, too?”

  “Close. I was thinking that you might be interested in a ticket to my garden club’s gala. There will be speakers and food. It’s this weekend. It’s supposed to be fun,” said Myrtle rather unconvincingly, since she was not particularly excited about the event herself.

  But somehow, she seemed to have interested Philomena. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking that I’d like to spend more time in my yard. Not today, maybe, while it’s so hot outside. But I’ve been tinkering with my flowerbeds when I come home in the evenings and the temperatures have dropped some.”

  Myrtle said, “I just so happen to have a ticket left for this event. It’s been very popular, you know. It’s completely sold-out.”

  Miles again made a strangled sound.

  Philomena said, “Do you mind if I get it? I don’t have any plans for the weekend and I could use a distraction. My purse is right over there.”

  A minute later, she paid Myrtle and Myrtle fished the ticket out of her large purse.

  “I hope you’ll have fun,” said Myrtle. Then she asked in a low voice, “Could you help me with a book recommendation for my friend, Puddin? She asked for my help and I can’t seem to come up with anything for her. Her enthusiasm for reading may have made her rather over-confident in her abilities, unfortunately.”

  “What about a classic animal story?” asked Philomena smoothly. “The Incredible Journey or Where the Red Fern Grows?”

  Both very sad books. Myrtle carefully weighed whether she wanted to deal with a tearful Puddin or not. She decided that any tears that the book may generate would likely be out of her presence. “Excellent idea,” she said with a smile. Then she put on a sorrowful look. “I suppose you’ve heard about poor Gabriel.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Philomena’s features became grim. “Yes. Yes, one of the patrons was talking about Gabriel’s death about an hour ago. It’s terrible to hear. I don’t know what’s going on in this town.”

  Miles said as if trying to make polite conversation, “It must have been especially upsetting to you. You likely spent a good deal of time with Gabriel, considering Amos and he were such good friends.”

  Philomena looked down as she put her gala ticket carefully into her purse and then put her purse on a shelf behind the counter. “Not as much as you’d guess. He and Amos weren’t seeing all that much of each other at the time Amos and I were dating. There may have been some hard words between them or something. I never pressed Amos on it because he and I were having too much fun together to have another person tag along with us. Perhaps Amos wasn’t seeing Gabriel because Amos and I were always at the bookshop or the movies or a concert. His wife is more of a homebody and didn’t like going out as much.” She paused. “Still, it’s hard to believe he’s gone, especially considering that we saw him at the funeral this morning.”

  Myrtle said, “You’ve had a busy day, haven’t you? Did you go straight from the funeral to work?”

  Philomena looked steadily at her. “Not exactly. The library gave me a half day off. I had lunch and then took a walk.” She sighed. “That’s the trouble with being single. You never have a good alibi.”

  Myrtle said, “Do you have any idea who might be responsible for Gabriel’s death? Or even more ideas for who could have been behind Amos’s?”

  Philomena’s voice, already Library Low, dropped even further. “I hate to bring this up, Miss Myrtle, especially considering she’s your friend and that you’ve brought her here.”

  Philomena looked across the room and Myrtle and Miles turned to look, too. They watched Puddin who was gleefully grabbing books, looking at the covers, and then sticking them randomly back on the shelves.

  “You think Puddin could be the murderer?” asked Myrtle. She couldn’t contain a note of disbelief.

  “As I said, I hate to bring it up. But you asked,” said Philomena briskly.

  “Why do you believe that she could be involved?” asked Myrtle. “Because I can assure you Puddin is a very simple person. Far too foolish to plan and execute two murders.”

  Philomena said, “She threatened Amos right in front of me, right here in the library. She was most disturbed about not being promptly paid.”

  Myrtle nodded. The fury of an unpaid Puddin.

  “And who knows? Gabriel could have seen or heard something that made him realize that she was guilty. The same patron who told me about Gabriel’s death also told me that your friend was at the scene of the crime once again.” Philomena spread her hands out in front of her as if the case was closed.

  That patron was certainly a loud mouth.

  Miles said quickly, “She’s coming over, by the way.”

  Puddin was indeed staggering toward them, holding a load of books. None of them appeared to be on the reading level of either The Incredible Journey or Where the Red Fern Grows.

  “Got some books,” she said in a satisfied voice. She heaved them onto the circulation desk. “This where I check ‘em out?”

  Philomena immediately switched to full-fledged librarian mode. “That’s right. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Found the same books Mr. Miles was readin’. Sherlock.” Puddin smiled victoriously. “Him an’ I go to the same book club.”

  Miles gave her a weak smile, likely envisioning Puddin calling him on the phone and demanding answers to questions about Sherlock, Watson, and whatever mystery they were embroiled in.

  Myrtle said, “Well, anyway, it’s all a huge pity. Two murders in a few days’ time. And Gabriel was so full of life this morning.”

  Philomena said, “That he was. But I’m definitely not going to look at him as a better person than he was simply because he’s dead. Neither will my brother.” She stopped, as if irritated with herself for saying anything.

  “Your brother Steven did get into a physical alt
ercation with Amos, did he not?” asked Myrtle.

  Philomena thoughtfully scanned Puddin’s book and gave her a date due slip. “He’s always very protective of me. He has been for years. He didn’t care for Amos much and I don’t think he liked Gabriel, either. But he wouldn’t have had anything to do with their deaths because he works all the time. Amy, his wife, has had a lot of health problems the last couple of years and Steven has been working double shifts to take care of bills.”

  Philomena handed the book back to Puddin. “Hope you enjoy the book.” She glanced behind them and said, “Sorry, but there are other patrons to help.”

  “Enjoy your afternoon,” said Myrtle.

  They piled into Miles’s car and Miles drove away.

  Puddin said pointedly, “The reason I wanted the Sherlock is because I’m doin’ some investigating myself.”

  Miles and Myrtle said, “What?” at the same time.

  “Told ya. I knowed who done it. Not gonna share it with nobody until me and Red talk.”

  Myrtle arched her eyebrows. “And you have a meeting set up with Red for this? The last I heard, you were terrified Red was going to arrest you for murder.”

  Puddin shrugged. “Sorta.”

  Puddin was many things and one of them was an inveterate show-off. Myrtle twisted around in her seat to look at Puddin and said, “You know you don’t have the slightest clue. If you did know, you’d be quick to tell Red to keep suspicion off you.”

  Puddin grumbled from the backseat.

  Myrtle’s phone rang and she reached in her purse to pick it up. “Hello?” she asked impatiently, not recognizing the number that was calling.

  “It’s me,” grated a scratchy voice on the other end.

  “Wanda!” said Myrtle, pleased.

  “Yep. Need ya to pass along somethin’ to Puddin.”

  Myrtle didn’t even blink that Wanda knew that Puddin was with her. “I’ll put you on speaker, Wanda.”

  Myrtle fumbled with the phone while Puddin watched with trepidation from the backseat.