Hushed Up

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Myrtle hung up the phone and beamed. She immediately called Miles. “We have a plan for the day.”

  “I thought we already had a plan for the day. The silent auction is at 6:30 this evening, right?” Miles’s voice did not reflect enthusiasm for the auction.

  “Yes, but Tippy needs more help. She said she needed muscle.”

  Miles groaned. “I never should have joined this club. What kind of muscles do they think I have? I worked in an office my entire life.”

  “Apparently, they think your muscles are better developed than their own, a notion I entirely agree with. Besides, it will give us an opportunity to speak with Rowan and Bianca. They’ll both be there around 5:00 to set up.”

  Miles said, “They’ll be busy with their food and flowers. They won’t want to speak with us.”

  “I think they will. After all, we know more about Tallulah’s death than almost anybody. They must be curious. I think they’ll make time to talk to us.”

  “All right.” Miles’s voice was defeated. “But let’s have a quiet day up until that point. I want to work my crossword and read the new book Carolyn found for me. And gather my strength for whatever show of power is required of me this evening.”

  Miles may have had a quiet day until they left for the auction. But Myrtle was a whirlwind of activity and restlessness. Because she was stuck at home, she took a walk. Pasha spotted her and walked along with her, glaring at neighbors who considered coming up to chat with Myrtle. When they got back home, Myrtle fed the feral cat. She promptly gobbled up the cat food, took a vigorous bath, and then fell into a deep sleep.

  While Pasha slept, Myrtle thought she’d read her book. But as she read, she kept glancing around her living room and noticing dust, dust bunnies under the furniture, and the fact the entire room could use a good vacuuming. A vacuuming that had been interrupted the last time. That Puddin. She picked up her phone and proceeded to have another annoying conversation with Puddin. By the end of it, however, Puddin had reluctantly acquiesced to coming over to clean the following day.

  Then Elaine called as soon as Myrtle had hung up the phone.

  “Thanks again for watching Jack for me. I got so much done while he was there.”

  “It was no trouble at all. He was a perfect angel, the way he always is.” Myrtle said this rather smugly. Jack was always very good with her, but she was aware this wasn’t always the case for Elaine.

  “Do you have a minute? I know the auction is tonight.”

  “I’m actually at loose ends right now, as a matter of fact.”

  “Did you have a chance to read my stories?” asked Elaine eagerly.

  Myrtle had been considering her answer to this question. She didn’t like to lie. “Elaine, the stories were edited perfectly. You did a remarkable job. I didn’t see a single typo.” This was the truth.

  Elaine sounded pleased. “Wow, that’s amazing! Especially since I know you pull out your red pen and use it on the newspaper all the time.”

  “You should offer editing services to Sloan,” said Myrtle, completely genuinely. “Heaven knows he could use the help and you obviously have an excellent eye.”

  “It’s only because I do a lot of reading,” said Elaine modestly.

  “Readers make the best editors.”

  Elaine said, “But what did you think of the content of the stories? Did you like them?”

  Myrtle remembered Red had wanted her to discourage Elaine. She also remembered Red’s pushiness and the fact he hadn’t been very polite to her at Martin’s house when he was arrested last night. She had the perfect answer for Elaine.

  “Your stories showed excellent sense of mood. They reminded me quite a bit of Emily Brontë, to be completely honest.”

  Elaine gasped with pleasure. She had no way of knowing Myrtle loathed Emily Brontë’s work.

  “Thank you, Myrtle. You’ve made my day,” gushed Elaine.

  Myrtle said, “Do you know what you plan on doing with the stories? Are you submitting them to literary magazines? Anthologies? Publishers?” Myrtle crossed her fingers. She hoped the answer to this was no. Rejection was never fun and she had the feeling it might be crushing for someone like Elaine.

  Elaine said, “At first, that’s exactly what I thought I’d do. I wanted to share my stories with everybody! I even tried to get Sloan to add a section in the paper for literature.”

  Myrtle said cautiously, “How did that go over?”

  Elaine laughed. “Not well. Apparently, Sloan doesn’t think Bradley has a lot of literature lovers.”

  “He’s probably right about that,” said Myrtle with relief.

  “Anyway, I looked into querying publishers, anthologies, contests, and magazines. It’s a lot of work. I decided maybe I like writing for myself, most of all. It’s cathartic, you know? So I’ll keep them to myself.”

  “I can completely understand that,” said Myrtle sincerely.

  “And from time to time I might share a favorite with Red and you.”

  Myrtle winced. “Of course you will. Thank you, dear. I’ll look forward to it.” She paused. “On a completely different subject, how is Red doing? He seemed rather shaken up last night after finding Tallulah.”

  “He was. Do you know he’s never discovered a single murder victim before? He seemed much better this morning when he left to go to work, though. Even though I don’t think he slept very well. Poor Tallulah.” Jack started yelling in the background and Elaine quickly said, “Better run. Hope you have fun at the auction tonight.”

  Later that afternoon, Miles and Myrtle headed off to the auction to help set up.

  “I’m not sure a suit was the best choice of attire, Miles.”

  Miles said, “It’s a dressy event. I’m wearing what the invitation stated.”

  “Yes, but now you have to lug things around and perspire in your suit,” said Myrtle.

  “You’re dressed up, too.” Miles glanced over at Myrtle in the passenger seat.

  “I’m wearing my funeral outfit, recently laundered, and nothing very fancy. And I won’t be perspiring. I plan on speaking with Bianca and Rowan under cover of making sure everything is correct.” Myrtle smoothed down a small wrinkle in her funeral outfit.

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “Won’t Tippy think you’re slacking off? She seems to think you’re going to be helping set up the event . . . whatever that entails.”

  “Tippy is just grateful to see me at all,” said Myrtle breezily. “I volunteered to be there—I don’t have to be there. I’ve already helped her out with the arrangements a couple of times. And Tippy wouldn’t dream of fussing at a woman old enough to be her mother.”

  Miles nodded. “You’re right. I can’t imagine Tippy doing that.”

  “Besides, setting up this event in this venue takes a certain amount of magic. The place is incredibly pedestrian. It has low tile ceilings, dark wood paneling, and a polished concrete floor. Tippy might be stringing lights everywhere. Octogenarians do not string lights.”

  Miles said, “I’m not sure my age group strings lights either.”

  “Then hang out close to me. You might be able to escape it.”

  When Miles pulled up to the venue, Bianca was just starting to pull arrangements out of her car.

  Myrtle waved to her. “Miles can help!”

  Miles shot her a baleful look.

  Bianca flushed and said gratefully, “Would you? There are a few of them. The vases are kind of heavy and it was going to take me forever.”

  Miles took one of the larger arrangements and headed for the building.

  Myrtle said vaguely, “If you have something small, I could take it in.” It was the kind of offer that wasn’t supposed to be taken up on.

  “Could you just bring my purse in? That would be a huge help,” said Bianca.

  A few minutes later, they were inside the building. Miles had set the arrangem
ent down on the closest available surface since it had been quite heavy and Bianca showed him where it actually went.

  Myrtle watched her work for a moment. Bianca was relaxed and professional, upbeat and confident. Myrtle said, “You seem very, very capable, Bianca. Isn’t this your first event on your own?”

  Bianca gave her a smile. “It sure is. I don’t know but I feel suddenly like I’ve done a good job. Like I’m excited to show off the work I’ve done with the flowers. Is that weird? I should probably feel the total opposite since it’s my first solo event.”

  Myrtle looked at her shrewdly. “Maybe it’s because Lillian isn’t here, overseeing you. I know she was a hard taskmaster.”

  Bianca thought about this for a moment. “You’re right. I’d mess stuff up because Lillian totally expected me to mess stuff up. Here, everybody is expecting the flowers to look great and the flowers look great.”

  Myrtle watched Bianca rearrange some of the flowers and then said, “Did you hear about Lillian’s neighbor? Tallulah?”

  Bianca’s face fell. “Somebody who came into the shop told me. She lived down the street from Lillian? I mean, do the police think somebody is targeting people in that neighborhood?”

  “She lived directly next door to Lillian. And no, I think this is much more personal than someone just randomly targeting people on the same street.”

  Bianca looked grim. “It’s terrible, no matter what. I didn’t know her at all. Lillian one time mentioned her, but she didn’t say much. Like I said, she didn’t talk about personal stuff a lot. It happened at night?”

  Myrtle nodded. “Well, after dark, anyway.”

  “That’s so scary. I mean, that’s always when I’m at home alone with my little boy. I’m planning on getting another lock for my door because now I just don’t feel safe.” She watched as Rowan asked one of his staff to rearrange a chaffing dish. “He seems happier today, too. Maybe it’s just easier when Lillian isn’t here.” Then she looked really guilty. “I feel awful for saying that.”

  “What exactly transpired between Rowan Blaine and Lillian? I understand they might not have been getting along,” said Myrtle.

  Bianca paused and said miserably, “I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

  “I don’t think it matters to Lillian now,” said Myrtle briskly.

  Bianca looked around her as if the set-up crew was determined to listen in. She said in a low voice, “Lillian didn’t get along with Rowan at all. They were both the same kind of people. Perfectionists, I guess? Anyway, Rowan made Lillian mad because he’d always recommend this other florist to people for their events.”

  Myrtle frowned. “I didn’t think there was another florist.”

  “There isn’t here in Bradley, but there’s one in Iva. It made Lillian really upset. He said her arrangements were really simplistic. Something like that.” Bianca looked uncomfortable.

  Myrtle said, “Did Lillian tell Rowan what she thought? Because I can’t imagine her keeping her anger to herself.”

  “She kept it to herself. But she launched this . . . sort of campaign against him.” Bianca flushed. She clamped her lips together as if she wanted to keep from talking about her former employer.

  Myrtle sighed. “Bianca, I promise you, there’s absolutely nothing Lillian can do to hurt you now. And who knows? What you tell me could end up being very useful for solving this case. Maybe we can figure out who did this to Lillian. But you have to tell me what you know.”

  Bianca reluctantly continued. “Well, like I said, Lillian didn’t talk to me much about personal stuff. But the shop isn’t very big and her voice would carry when she was on the phone or when she was talking to a customer up front and I was in the back room. I heard her spreading all kinds of gossip about Rowan right after that.”

  “What kinds of rumors?” asked Myrtle.

  “It was stuff about his business; that his business was overstretched and he was about to go under. That he wasn’t fulfilling what his customers asked for. That the events were sloppy. Just really negative gossip.” Bianca looked miserable.

  “And you think this is because Rowan was sending business to another florist?”

  Bianca nodded. “That, and the fact he’d also gossip about Lillian. I guess she thought she was getting him back. But there wasn’t any truth to it, I know—Rowan’s business is real successful. She was just trying to get him back, that’s all.”

  Myrtle said, “I suppose you must have heard about Martin, too.”

  Bianca looked worried. “I did. I wondered what would happen to the shop if he stayed in jail.” She shook her head. “Selfish, I know. But that’s the kind of thing I think about now. I have to keep caring for Tim.” She paused. “I’d better finish up with this stuff before people start coming in.” She hurried away.

  Myrtle looked around for Miles. Tippy had gotten hold of him and he was moving tables around, still wearing his suit jacket. Myrtle sighed.

  A dulcet voice came from behind her. “Don’t you look nice tonight?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  She turned to see Rowan there and smiled. “Thank you, Rowan. This is technically my funeral outfit, but I decided it should have other purposes.”

  He tilted his head to assess the ensemble. Then he slowly nodded. “There is absolutely no reason to limit that outfit to the realm of funeral services. It suits you well.” He added in a low voice, “As long as it’s not bad luck! Wouldn’t that be horrible? If we had yet another grisly death in Bradley?”

  Myrtle said crisply, “Perish the thought! Two is more than enough.”

  Rowan leaned in a little closer. “What do you think about Martin’s arrest?”

  Myrtle asked, “What do you think about it?”

  Rowan said, “I’m completely shocked. I mean, totally shocked through and through. If there was one thing I thought was obvious, it’s that Martin loved his mother very much. He always spoke of her in such fond terms. He seemed so devastated by her death.” Rowan frowned. “I do hope this isn’t going to hold up any remuneration I’m owed for the funeral reception. Wouldn’t that be awful?”

  Myrtle said, “I suppose we’ll have to see. I’m not convinced Martin had anything to do with his mother’s death.”

  Rowan’s eyes opened wide. “But I hear there was evidence. I mean, there was evidence at Tallulah’s house that implicated Martin. That’s the scuttlebutt, anyway.”

  Rowan was the sort of person who knew everything going on in a town. How he knew about police evidence, though, was unclear.

  Myrtle shrugged. “Maybe there’s evidence, maybe not. Martin says he wasn’t there.” She knew Rowan would be spreading the information all over town. Maybe Martin would still be able to live and work in Bradley when he left the jail if Rowan spread an alternate version of events.

  Rowan’s eyes bugged out. “Really? Well, you’re the mother of the police chief, so I’ll take your word for it. I suppose evidence can also be faked, can’t it?”

  Bianca walked by then and looked at them curiously. Rowan waved a cheery hand and as soon as Bianca passed by, he said, “That poor girl. Do you know how absolutely awful Lillian was to her? She acted as if Bianca was some sort of half-wit or something. Terrible, terrible behavior.”

  Myrtle clucked over this and then innocently added, “I heard Lillian wasn’t too kind to you, either, some of the time.”

  Rowan blinked at her and then burst into laughter. “Red should take you on as his partner, Miss Myrtle. Oh my goodness, how do you find your information?”

  Bianca again passed curiously by and Rowan waited until she was out of earshot again. “I can tell you Lillian wasn’t fun to work with. She wasn’t just a perfectionist with her own staff; she was a perfectionist with mine, as well. When she started carping at one of my employees, I’d really had enough. Only I am allowed to fuss at my staff and they hadn’t done anything fuss-worthy. So I started recommending
a competing florist in Iva to folks who were putting on events.”

  “But not for this one,” said Myrtle.

  “Oh, no. No, because Lillian was a member of the garden club so of course they needed to use her shop for the flowers. Lillian would never have forgiven them, otherwise.”

  Myrtle said, “I take it Lillian didn’t appreciate having business go elsewhere. Did she know why it happened?”

  Rowan nodded. “She was a smart cookie. She figured out I’d been the one who’d sent people to other florists.”

  “And she retaliated,” said Myrtle.

  “Absolutely! She was positively vicious. Livid.”

  Myrtle said, “She approached you about it? Argued with you?”

  A cagey look crossed Rowan’s handsome features. “Lillian did something else. She started rumors about the stability of my catering business. An argument would have been much better. She told people I was in financial disarray and wasn’t following through on events the way I was supposed to. Really vile stuff.” He paused. “You probably have some influence over Red, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” said Myrtle dryly.

  “Maybe you could tell him there’s no way I could murder anyone. I really don’t know him very well, being a law-abiding citizen and all. But for some reason, Red has been speaking to me a lot. He seems to think I’m a likely suspect. And if Martin really wasn’t responsible for these deaths, I’m sure Red will be by again. It’s not very good for business to have a cop parked outside all the time.”

  Myrtle asked, “Why don’t you just give him your alibi for Tallulah’s death? He won’t consider you as a suspect if it’s impossible for you to have done it.”

  Rowan made a face. “That’s just it—I wasn’t doing anything remarkable whenever Tallulah was murdered. It was night-ish, wasn’t it? It would have been so much better if I’d been at a large party making a fool of myself and everyone had seen me there. I’m not sure what I was doing, but I certainly wasn’t out murdering Tallulah!”

  “You knew her then?” asked Myrtle curiously. “Somehow I wouldn’t have thought you two would have run in the same circles.”