A Body in the Trunk

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Myrtle said, “Don’t be so self-conscious! Tarleton Fleming has enough on his mind to fret over your television viewing habits. And you know how soap operas are: if we miss the next half-hour, babies might have grown into five-year-olds and Malena might have gotten married and divorced seven or eight times. We have to keep up!”

  So Myrtle and Miles ended up being caught back up into their show again while Tarleton did a couple of small jobs in the back of Myrtle’s house.

  The show ended and Myrtle and Miles chatted for a few minutes longer. Tarleton resurfaced from the back. “I’ve taken care of everything on your list, Miss Myrtle.”

  She followed him back and she said, “You’ve done very good work, too. I’d expect nothing less from you, though. I’ll be sure to brainstorm more projects for you to help with.”

  “I appreciate that,” said Tarleton warmly. “Take care, Miss Myrtle. You too, Miles.” He took his leave.

  Miles said, “Not that I don’t like Tarleton, but aren’t you a bit worried about having a suspect in your house?”

  “Not when the suspect is Tarleton. I’ve known him his entire life. Besides, I think I can take him, Miles.” She looked at her watch. “Are you about ready to head over to the basketball game, so that we can talk to Adelaide and find out what’s going on?”

  “I don’t think I’m going to ever really be ready to head over to the basketball game. And, as a matter of fact, I’d really rather not go today. It looks like rain outside,” said Miles.

  Myrtle paused and then said, “You do realize that the basketball game is played indoors, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. But we’ll still get wet on the way, both in and out. We’d probably have to stand outside to buy tickets, too. Plus, this has already been a long day. You could always go, yourself, though.”

  Myrtle made a face. “This might be an occasion where it would be nice to have my sidekick with me, especially during the game. Somehow I can’t fancy myself sitting in the bleachers by myself at a high school basketball game.”

  “Unimaginable,” agreed Miles. “I’ll check online and see if they’re playing a home game tomorrow.”

  Fortunately, a quick check determined that there would be a home basketball game the very next day and at the same time.

  Myrtle walked Miles out. “All right, then, I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll hold off on any investigating until then, too.”

  That late-afternoon and evening passed rather uneventfully for Myrtle, after her previous busyness. She wrote the story for Sloan and emailed it over to him. Then she ended up calling him to make sure he’d received the email and that the article would make it into the paper the following day.

  Myrtle actually enjoyed a sound night’s sleep, despite all the things on her mind. That is, she enjoyed a sound night’s sleep until the sound of a cat crying woke her up.

  “Pasha!” she’d gasped. Throwing on her robe and slippers, she hurried to the front door and flung it open.

  There she saw a very self-satisfied Pasha with some sort of dead rodent at her feet. Myrtle sighed. “I wish you had more conventional ways of giving tokens of your affection, Pasha. Some cats purr and rub against their owners or sit in their laps. You do some of that, and I wish you’d do more. Anything but dead chipmunks.”

  Myrtle wondered if Pasha’s gift was something that could be added to Tarleton’s list of things to do, but then decided that might be considered rude. She walked back in, carefully closing the door behind her, and walked into the backyard for a shovel. When she returned, Pasha’s present, and Pasha herself, were gone. Pasha was clearly exasperated by Myrtle’s inappropriate reaction to the present.

  Myrtle picked up the newspaper and scanned the front page. Sure enough, there was her story. She smiled to herself.

  She spent the next few hours waiting for the rest of Bradley to wake up. Myrtle worked on her crossword puzzle, which she was able to complete in thirty minutes. Then she had a large breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage links, complete with a bowl of grits. Although sometimes other meals could be tricky, Myrtle had mastered the art of making breakfast.

  After checking her emails, she glanced at the clock again and sighed. Still too early for the stores to be open or for people to really be about. That was annoying. She liked it when she got emails praising her articles in the newspaper.

  Myrtle was startled by the doorbell, having decided that no one in town was awake. She peeked through the window beside her front door and smiled when she saw Elaine and Jack there. Jack was pulling a red wagon that was full of various plants and even a couple of small shrubs.

  She opened the door and said, “Look who’s here! Good morning!”

  Jack gave her a hug around her legs and seemed on the point of pulling the wagon full of plants right into Myrtle’s living room until Elaine stopped him. “These are outside plants, remember, Jack?” She smiled at Myrtle. “I figured it wasn’t too early to come by. Jack decided to have an early start this morning.”

  “Well, whenever he does, he’s welcome to come over and play with his Nana. Jack and I have a lot in common,” she said. “The early bird gets the worm, doesn’t he, Jack?”

  Elaine said, “I thought I’d go ahead and get started in your yard before it gets too hot out.”

  Myrtle still had that uneasy feeling that she always had whenever Elaine embarked on a new hobby. They never really ended well. But Elaine was a member of garden club. With any luck, this would go better than the other disastrous hobbies had.

  “That sounds wonderful, Elaine. Although I know there are a lot of gnomes out there to work around, plus the fact that the ground is probably soggy from the rain we had last night,” said Myrtle.

  “Oh, that’s all right. The gnomes will keep Jack and me company out there. He loves them.” Elaine paused. “Remind me again what the gnomes are a result of?”

  Myrtle said, making a face, “Red wants to take over my bill paying. He thinks I’m not paying my bills on time—there was simply some sort of mix-up or misdelivered mail that kept one bill from getting paid.”

  “It would be nice if Red would take over our bill paying,” said Elaine with a sigh. “I’m the one in charge of that. Well, if it makes you feel better, he hasn’t said anything to me about it. Maybe he’s forgotten, what with the case and all.”

  “Speaking of the case, have you heard anything from Red about the investigation? Any insights?”

  Elaine said ruefully, “I believe that Red thinks I’m a mole. He’s keeping this investigation pretty quiet because he knows I tell you all sorts of things.”

  “Hm. That’s a pity. Well, I guess I’ll just have to pump Lieutenant Perkins for information when I have my meal with him,” said Myrtle a little grandly.

  “Perkins? I didn’t know y’all had plans. Is he ... easy to talk to?” asked Elaine. “He always seems sort of stern and quiet to me.”

  “He’s both of those things, but once you get to know him, he loosens up a little bit. Or, at least, I hope that’s true. It’s nice to get little snippets of information and you’d think that would be the least Red and Perkins could do for me, considering all the cases I’ve solved for them,” said Myrtle in an irritated tone.

  Elaine said, “You know, there is one thing. I heard Red on the phone and he said something about running by to see Holt Kelly. I thought that was sort of weird. The high school principal has something to do with Neil Albert? Neil didn’t even have children. But it was definitely to do with the murder and not some separate issue.”

  Myrtle said, “Believe it or not, I’d already found out that Holt might somehow be connected with Neil, but it’s good to have it verified.”

  Jack was getting restless and Myrtle stooped down. “Would you like to see if we can find some cookies in my kitchen?” She glanced up at Elaine. “Is that all right? It’s never too early for cookies, is it?”

  “Never. I’d like one myself, if you find them,” said Elaine with a grin. Once they’d ha
d a cookie break, Elaine and Jack set out into Myrtle’s yard.

  Chapter Nine

  AT THREE O’CLOCK, MYRTLE called Miles on the phone.

  Miles said in a resigned voice, “I suppose you’re ready to head over to the high school for the basketball game, right? I have the feeling that we’re going to be scouting out Holt Kelly as well as Adelaide.”

  “That’s right. But what’s more, I think I need to escape my house,” said Myrtle. “Elaine has been over here working in my yard. She has very strange landscaping ideas. Jack has a lot more talent at planting than Elaine does, and a lot more sense about where to plant things. She has one perennial smack-dab in the middle of the front yard next to a shrub she stuck there. It’s not a bed, it’s not a border—it’s just this lone plant sitting sadly by itself. She said something about ‘visual interest.’”

  “Maybe it’s her idea of art? Some sort of artistic yard statement?” asked Miles in a doubtful tone.

  “Who knows? I think she just wanted to plant something right in the middle of my gnomes. They’re so many of them in the yard right now that Elaine must have shoved two or three aside to make room.”

  “It’s sort of sad, isn’t it? Elaine always tries so hard,” said Miles. “There must be something that she’s good at.”

  “Must there be? I think she’s run the gamut of hobbies. But enough of this. We need to head over to the high school,” said Myrtle.

  “But the game is at four o’clock. I’d rather not be there a minute early,” said Miles. “I’ve been obsessing over the fact that we’ll be on bleachers. My back will probably go into shock at sitting on something without a back to it for that long.”

  Myrtle said, “Then you’ll be happy to know that the one good thing that came out of Elaine’s visit, besides the opportunity to be with my darling, brilliant grandson, was the fact that she brought over two stadium seats. She and Red like to see games sometimes.”

  “I suppose that will make it bearable,” said Miles.

  “And if we go there early, maybe we’ll have a chance to speak with Adelaide or Holt, or both of them.”

  Miles’s voice was resigned. “If that’s what we need to do.”

  They arrived at the high school a little too early. There was no one manning the ticket booth yet. Miles made grumbling noises and they resumed sitting in the car.

  Finally, there were signs of life over in the ticket booth. They bought their tickets and walked inside where there was a school security guard with a wand to check them for weapons. When the guard spotted Myrtle and Miles, he simply waved them through without putting them through security or even checking Myrtle’s bag.

  Myrtle said—huffily—as she and Miles walked away, “I feel rather insulted. I could be a very dangerous person.”

  “You are a very dangerous person,” agreed Miles. “You just happen to look very innocuous. Apparently, I do, too.”

  “It’s ageism,” said Myrtle. “I’ve a mind to go back there and demand that my purse be checked for weapons.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Myrtle. Let’s just get through this game without any problems, all right?” said Miles.

  They walked into the gym. It was like every high school gym in America: shiny wood floor, scoreboards on either end, rows and rows of uncomfortable bleachers. The junior varsity basketball team was practicing on the floor and the cheerleaders were filing in and taking their places in the stands since there was no room on the floor for them.

  They carefully made their way up the steps into the stands and set up their stadium seats. Once they were finally settled, Myrtle said, “I feel like I’ve stepped back in time to my teaching days. Of course, they’ve renovated the gymnasium since then, but I still feel like I’m here for a pep rally.”

  Miles said, “I don’t really have happy memories of high school gyms. I wasn’t the most athletic of students.”

  “I suppose not, since you ended up an accountant. They rarely move from their desks,” said Myrtle.

  “Engineer,” said Miles coolly. “I was an engineer.”

  “Whatever,” said Myrtle. She paused for a second. “I wonder if they’ve set up their concession stand yet.”

  “Concession stand? At a high school game?”

  “Certainly! That’s how the booster club makes all its money. They’ll have candy bars and popcorn and soft drinks and things,” said Myrtle.

  “Sounds healthy,” said Miles morosely.

  “You can eat a little junk food. Remember how the healthy food at Bo’s Diner made you feel sick yesterday?”

  Miles said, “That’s because the healthy food was either fried, drowned in sugar, or covered in gravy or bacon.”

  “But at its core, it was healthy. I felt fine, and I had hot dogs,” said Myrtle.

  Miles sighed. “What would you like at the concession stand?”

  “Popcorn.”

  Miles carefully walked back down the bleachers and disappeared out the gymnasium door. Myrtle trained her eyes on the basketball court where Adelaide Pound was coaching the girls’ basketball team.

  After a few minutes, Adelaide called out to two girls, “My captains can take over the rest of the practice.”

  Myrtle watched as Adelaide walked over to where Myrtle was sitting. “Mrs. Clover! It’s such a pleasure to see you.”

  Adelaide was an athletic looking middle-aged woman with black hair pulled back in a ponytail and blue eyes smiling at her.

  Myrtle started to stand, but Adelaide quickly stopped her. “Don’t worry about standing up—those metal bleachers are too unsteady. I don’t know how you climbed up them to begin with.”

  “I was just telling my friend, Miles—oh, here’s Miles now.”

  Miles was carefully scaling the bleachers holding a drink, a plate with two slices of pizza, and popcorn.

  Myrtle said, “That’s a feast, Miles!”

  “Apparently, concession stands at high schools now have pizza, hot dogs, and hamburgers. I thought we might get hungry,” said Miles.

  Myrtle introduced Miles and Adelaide.

  Adelaide said, “Well, it sure is a pleasure. Mrs. Clover was one of my favorite teachers. Whenever I run across you in town, I never really have the chance to say hi. Did you decide to take in some basketball today, just for something different?”

  “I have to admit that part of it is the thrill of being back on the campus. I spent so many years here!” Myrtle smiled at her. “But there is an underlying reason that I’m here today.”

  Adelaide snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. I think I remember reading a story of yours in the paper this morning.” Now she looked just the slightest bit wary.

  Myrtle looked pleased that her story had been read, but also wanted to dispel Adelaide’s concerns. “Oh, just a small story. As a favor to Sloan at the paper. You must know how things at the paper go—you write stories there, yourself. My article was nothing very exciting.”

  Adelaide snorted and said, “You’ll forgive me, Mrs. Clover. From what I remember about your writing ability, there are no small, unexciting stories from you. You can’t downplay your reporting. So, even though I’m a little nervous about it, what can I help you with before I get back to the team?”

  Myrtle glanced over at the scoreboard, which appeared to have a countdown to the start of the game. “You always were very direct. All right, I’ll spit it right out, but I want to let you know that it makes me uncomfortable.” She lowered her voice, which was difficult to do and still be heard in the noisy gym. “There is some talk that you had a relationship with Neil Albert. The deceased person in the article you read this morning.”

  Almost as if on cue, Adelaide’s blue eyes filled with tears. She blinked fiercely until they went away. “Sorry. It still hurts hearing his name. And you’re not the one to have something to feel uncomfortable about—it’s me. I never thought I’d be in a relationship with a married man. That was something that was always against my personal code of ethics.” She blew out a sigh. “
But somehow, I couldn’t help myself with Neil.”

  Myrtle asked, “And he felt the same way?”

  Adelaide gave a hard laugh. “I’d like to tell myself that, especially now. It would be so easy to just say that he still had warm feelings for me, up to the point of his death. But it’s not true. Neil came to his senses, I guess. Or else, he realized that, in a small town, word would get around very quickly to his wife. I don’t think he ever planned on leaving her for me ... certainly not by the end of our relationship.”

  Miles asked delicately, “So it did end?”

  “In a manner of speaking. That’s to say that Neil considered it to be over. I was still trying to get back together with him. I was more into him than he was into me,” she finished sadly.

  Myrtle glanced back at the scoreboard and hurriedly asked, “Where were you a couple of evenings ago? When Neil died?”

  “I was sitting in the bank parking lot when Neil left. I did that a lot. This might sound kind of crazy, but it was my way of feeling like we were still together,” said Adelaide.

  “You just sat there? You didn’t try to speak with him?” asked Miles.

  “Oh, I tried speaking with him, too. But most of the time, he just shut me out. So I started bringing supper along with me. It was almost like we were having dinner together since we were in close proximity and I was eating.” She shook her head. “Like I said, this sounds kind of crazy. Especially when I put it into words.”

  Myrtle decided not to address the craziness of Adelaide’s parking lot picnics. “And you were sitting in the parking lot when Neil died?”

  Hearing his name again made Adelaide blink rapidly once more. She said, “I was. I picked up some fast food on the way from the school. He looked like he had something on his mind—he really barely looked at me. That hurt worse than the times he’d get angry that I was there. It was almost as though he had gotten used to my being there and no longer registered my presence one way or another.”

  Miles interjected, “Or maybe whatever he had on his mind was serious. Maybe he was so distracted that he barely even noticed the parking lot at all. And it sounds as though you weren’t there every day.”