A Body in the Backyard

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Chapter Fourteen

  Myrtle noticed with horror that Erma Sherman was standing on her front step. Erma grinned and waved as the van drove up the drive.

  “Now how am I going to escape that?” moaned Myrtle. “Why can’t the woman remember that she lives next door and that she needs to stay over there? All she does is pester me.”

  “Just tell her you’ve had a big day shopping with me and Jack and you need to go in and put your feet up and close your eyes for a while,” said Elaine in a sympathetic voice. “She should understand that.”

  But it took a lot for Myrtle to admit to someone, even falsely, that she was tired out. She liked to present a picture to the world of strength and heartiness. “Of all the neighbors in the world, I had to get her.”

  “She’s my neighbor too,” said Elaine. She chuckled. “For some reason Red and I aren’t on Erma’s radar at all. She’d prefer to bother you.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t like children. Or animals,” said Myrtle, glancing around. Where was that Pasha when she needed her? The cat was the one protection she had against that woman.

  “I thought she was always feeding the birds and stuff like that.”

  “The squirrels. Erma Sherman feeds the squirrels. And that right there should show how squirrelly she is,” said Myrtle. She reluctantly opened the car door and stepped outside. “Wish me luck.”

  There was just no point avoiding the inevitable. Erma Sherman was bound and determined to have some kind of visit with her, and by golly, that’s what she was going to get. If Myrtle caved in, then maybe Erma would leave her alone for a while. Besides, standing at the ill-mannered Silas’s door for such a long time (hadn’t the man realized she was old?) meant that she was ready to sit for a while with her feet up—even if it meant she had to suffer through a chat with Erma. Maybe she should pull that burned-up ham out of the fridge and offer Erma a sandwich. That might scare her off from visiting for a while.

  As she walked down the front walk, Erma said in a hurry, “I know you’ve got to run Myrtle, but I needed to tell you something. You’re always in such a rush! Don’t you think you’re going to fall down and break a hip or something? Moving slower is better.”

  Myrtle resisted the urge to shoot her a sour look for the unasked-for advice. But she was being good, no matter how torturous it was. She hoped she was winning a few points for this from the big guy upstairs.

  Erma’s mouth dropped open in complete shock as Myrtle fished her keys out from her pocketbook, opened the door and motioned her inside. “It’s such a warm day today, Erma. Why don’t you come inside and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Erma trotted in before Myrtle could change her mind. As Myrtle closed the front door behind her, she glimpsed Elaine across the street, looking her way in shock. Elaine would likely be checking back in with her later to make sure she hadn’t suffered a small stroke.

  Once Myrtle sat down, she had a feeling that she wasn’t going to be getting back up again for a while. “Erma, just hold that thought and give me a few minutes to get settled.” She definitely wanted to make a quick visit to the bathroom—she’d been gone for a long while, after all—then pour them both some iced tea and get them out a small snack. Erma, from what she remembered, could be a fairly demanding visitor and it would irritate the stew out of Myrtle to keep having to jump up from her chair like a jumping jack.

  She returned a few minutes later with a tray holding a plastic pitcher of sweet tea, two tall glasses, and a plate with cheese and crackers on it. Myrtle noticed wryly that Erma didn’t leap up to help her carry in the tray, despite the fact that Myrtle was holding the tray with one arm and her cane with the other. Typical Erma.

  But, since she was determined to make this visit stick and count as a real visit, she hid her irritation. At least, she attempted to.

  Erma was already blabbing on about some horrible medical problem she was having with her skin that was making Myrtle lose whatever appetite she had. Myrtle decided that she was going to have to interrupt Erma, or else terminate the visit. She was about to cut her off with a quick retort, but bit her lip and took in a deep breath.

  Myrtle mildly said, “Erma, hate to interrupt you, but before I forget—you know how memory is with older adults—I think you mentioned you wanted to tell me something? I thought it might be something about the case.”

  Clearly, though, there was a reason why she’d never used this kinder, gentler tack with Erma in the years she’d known her. That’s because, Erma bulldozed over ‘kind and gentle’ like they didn’t even exist.

  “So that was my day at the dermatologist,” she said. “But it wasn’t over then! Next, I had to go to the dentist. Can you believe it? The dentist!” Erma grinned at her and Myrtle decided that she could certainly believe it. Erma’s teeth were not in the best of shape. And Erma’s breath had an unfortunate hint of gingivitis about it.

  The dentist! And Erma’s favorite activity besides hunting down and torturing Myrtle, was flirting with men. No matter how hopeless that flirting might be. She must, absolutely must, be one of Dr. Bass’s patients.

  “Do you go to Dr. Bass?” asked Myrtle quickly, while Erma was taking in a quick breath.

  She beamed. “I do! I do go to Dr. Bass. And he and I are very good friends, too,” Erma said proudly.

  This sounded very much like one of Erma’s chronic delusions. Myrtle very much hoped that just a fraction of that statement was true, and that maybe Erma could at least tell her who Dr. Bass’s friends actually were.

  “So you see Dr. Bass outside of the dental office?” asked Myrtle.

  Erma was reluctant to answer this. Finally, she said, “Well, we would, except that Dr. Bass’s business takes up so much of his time. Especially since he’s the only dentist in town. But I’ve mentioned to him before that I would love to go to the movies, or out to eat with him whenever he had a break in his busy schedule.”

  Myrtle was sure the dentist took that under advisement and stayed as busy as he possibly could.

  “He has this huge house on the lake,” said Erma, her eyes lighting up. “It’s right on the opposite side of the lake from us. And he has a couple of boats—a bigger one and a little one. I’ve seen him out on them when I’ve been out boating.”

  If you could call what Erma did boating. She had an ancient pontoon boat.

  “But of course we see a lot of each other because of my dental visits. I have a lot of dental visits because of these problems I keep having with my teeth,” said Erma.

  Before Erma could spin off into another revolting health-related discussion, Myrtle quickly broke in.

  “You know, I was talking with someone the other day about Dr. Bass. I don’t think I’ve really ever noticed the man hanging out around Bradley. Oh, I might have seen him getting food at the grocery store or something, but that’s about it. But someone mentioned that he had a friend—a male friend,” said Myrtle quickly, since Erma would have denied that Dr. Bass had any female friends other than herself. “Do you know who that might be?”

  Erma puffed up with pride. This time Myrtle thought that maybe she did actually know something.

  “That would have to be Dr. Bass’s friend from high school.” Erma leaned in so much to tell gossip that she looked like she might break in half. “He’s a very handsome man—a barber. You probably know him.”

  “Except that I don’t go to barbers for haircuts,” said Myrtle pointedly.

  “You must have noticed him around town, anyway. He’s a fine dresser—wears pink ties to his barbershop and always a lot of cologne. I love seeing him when I’m out at the store or post office or something. He smells delicious and he always winks at me!” Erma giggled. If Myrtle was to believe Erma, then she had a beau in every port.

  “So they’re still friends then,” said Myrtle. “I wonder if Dr. Bass confides much in this fellow. What’s his name?”

  “Buddy Fenton. His shop isn’t on the square in downtown—it’s fart
her out,” said Erma.

  “Very interesting,” said Myrtle. She hesitated. Erma had wanted to see her to tell her something. Although it was something that Myrtle probably didn’t care about hearing, if she didn’t tell Myrtle, then she was going to continue trying to talk to her until she did. Myrtle sighed. “Erma, wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me about?”

  Erma squinted up her rodent-like features and studied Myrtle’s ceiling in thought. “Yes, there was. Let’s see. It wasn’t about my dermatology appointment, although I talked about that. It wasn’t about my dentist appointment, although we talked about that, too.” She winked at Myrtle, giving her the horrible impression that she was going to spread news of Myrtle’s fascination with Dr. Bass all over town.

  “Let’s see. It had something to do with the murder I’m sure. And I wanted to tell you because you always snoop around for the paper. Think, Erma! Think!” Erma put her hands on both sides of her head and pushed, as if she could squeeze the memory out of her brain.

  Erma snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! It was the morning that Lee was murdered in your yard. Before we all went to the funeral. I had the feeling that someone was watching our houses from the bushes near the lake. Of course, it was probably Miles, since he must have killed Charles.”

  Both Erma and Myrtle’s yards sloped down from a level, grassy yard (or weedy yard, if you were talking about Erma’s) through a wooded area down to the lake. Myrtle had an old dock down there and a boat. It wasn’t actually her boat anymore—she’d not wanted the bother of upkeep anymore and had handed the keys over to Red.

  Myrtle waited for Erma to say something more newsworthy—that she had seen a man dressed all in black, or that she’d noticed footprints behind the azalea bushes near the lake—something meatier than a funny feeling. But this was all Erma apparently had.

  Myrtle cleared her throat. “Duly noted. Thanks, Erma.”

  Yes, Erma had been unexpectedly helpful. Who’d have thought? But of course, she was still going to need to formulate a plan so that Erma didn’t keep visiting with her. This visit, for instance, had been entirely too pleasant. Erma would likely be eager to repeat it.

  “You know,” said Myrtle in a confiding voice. “I’m glad you came over today. There’s been a couple of different things that I wanted to share with you.”

  “Really?” Erma looked surprised and just a wee bit uncomfortable. It was the discomfort factor that Myrtle was going after.

  “Yes. One thing I wanted to do was show you some of my old photo albums. Now that Elaine has this interest in photography, it’s made me even more interested in taking a look at some of my own pictures. I think I had quite an eye for composition, and I’m considering taking it back up!” Myrtle gestured to a row of ancient photo albums on the bookcase across the room. “Would you take five or six of those albums out for me? This shouldn’t take too long—maybe a couple of hours. You have the time to spend with me, don’t you?”

  Erma was definitely looking alarmed now. “No, not really. Not right now, Myrtle.”

  “Oh, you have some place to go? How about tomorrow? Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I’m pretty sure I have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow, Myrtle. Sorry.” Erma stood up and hastily walked toward Myrtle’s kitchen, carrying her dirty glass to put in the sink.

  “Well then, the next day, surely. You won’t believe these pictures, Erma. There are some of the cutest pictures of Red you’ve ever seen. You’ll just love them,” said Myrtle.

  Erma used a very firm, un-Erma-like voice. “I’m going to have to call you later and let you know when I’ve got time to sit with you and look through albums. It might take a while, though—I’ve been very, very busy lately!”

  Now Erma was hurrying to the door. “See you soon, Myrtle. Or, well, if not soon, then some time.”

  That was the quickest she’d ever dispatched Erma Sherman. The quickest, at least, when Pasha hadn’t been involved in the process.

  Thinking about Pasha made Myrtle miss the cat, who hadn’t been around the house that day. This made her get angry with herself for missing a feral cat. She was sure the cat didn’t miss her. She wondered if Pasha was still miffed by the fact that Myrtle had held her against her will in her bedroom during the reception.

  Myrtle’s thinking about the reception reminded her about the ham again. She bet the cat really would love some of it. And it still annoyed her that she’d spent so much money on a ham and hadn’t been able to use it. Maybe she’d just freeze the ham. Then she could cut off bits of it later on for a soup…and give a few bites to Pasha, too. Right now, with the case and everything, she just didn’t have time to deal with it, but later she would. She took the ham out of the fridge and put it in the freezer.

  That night, Myrtle was visited by her usual insomnia. She might even have had the faintest hint of uneasiness. She looked out her kitchen window into the backyard—with a small degree of apprehension.

  It was hard to tell in the dark, and with the grass as tall as it was, but it looked as if something was out there in her yard. The hairs on the back of Myrtle’s neck started rising. No, there was definitely something out there in that same space among the gnomes.

  Myrtle held her breath as she fumbled with the light switch beside the door, accidentally turning on both the kitchen light and the grinding garbage disposal, cursing at herself as she did. She finally got the right one and peered anxiously out into the suddenly illuminated yard.

  Pasha the cat lay in the spot where the bodies had been. She blinked at Myrtle in the light but showed no inclination to get up. She was glad to see the cat but didn’t want to disturb her from…whatever it was that Pasha was doing out there.

  Did the spot smell odd to Pasha? Was there suddenly good nighttime hunting in Myrtle’s backyard? Or was Pasha, as Myrtle strongly suspected, standing guard?

  “Myrtle, I already have a barber,” said Miles coldly.

  “Sometimes it’s nice, though, to shake things up a little bit, Miles. You know—to get a different perspective on your hairstyle from another professional,” said Myrtle.

  Miles’s voice, coming through the phone, sounded quite icy. “I don’t have a hairstyle. My hair is just a standard men’s style. And I just got my hair cut two weeks ago…I don’t need a haircut.”

  “It seemed to me that your hair was coming down kind of low over your ears,” said Myrtle judiciously. “You could go to have it shaped up a bit.”

  There was a meaningful silence on the other end of the line.

  “Oh, come on, Miles. What’s the harm in it? I’ll even pay for the haircut. If you hate the way this fellow cuts your hair, then it’s going to grow back in a few weeks anyway. I can’t think of another way to talk to Buddy Fenton without visiting his house as a reporter for the paper—and I have a feeling he won’t dish on his old friend Dr. Bass if I’m representing the paper. What do you say?”

  “I say that I think my own barber will get mad at me if I see a different barber. Then I’ll really be in a mess,” said Miles. His mind was clearly working overtime.

  “Pooh on that! Barbers aren’t like beauticians—they’re not going to be hypersensitive and get their feelings hurt just because you try someplace different,” said Myrtle.

  There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “All right, I give up. But this better not end up getting me in trouble with my barber, Myrtle.”

  “It won’t,” said Myrtle with satisfaction. “And at least this visit won’t result in some discovered cavities.”

  Miles took an instant dislike to the barber as they waited for him to finish up with the client he had in the chair.

  “He must have bathed in cologne,” said Miles, wrinkling up his nose.

  “He’s a single guy. He’s just trying to make sure he’s attractive to the ladies.”

  “In a barbershop? What ladies is he going to see in here?” asked Miles.

  “Well, I’m in here.”

/>   Miles raised his eyebrows. “Yes, and you’re the only one. Besides, how are we going to explain your presence in here? Are you my mother?”

  “Very funny. I’m not old enough to be your mother, as you well know.” Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, so she kept breezily talking, “We’ll tell the barber that you’re not really driving anymore and rely on me for rides.”

  Miles gave her a baleful look.

  “He’s not going to ask anyway. Why would he care that I’m here or what my relationship to you is?” asked Myrtle.

  Apparently, however, that was just what Buddy Fenton was interested in. He immediately remarked that Myrtle was the first woman he’d seen in the shop for the last couple of weeks. “Are you just coming along to make sure he gets enough taken off?” Buddy asked Myrtle, with a wink at Miles.

  “Oh, Myrtle?” asked Miles, in an offhanded voice that meant trouble. “She’s my designated driver. I always have a few cocktails with my lunch. Myrtle drives me around town afterward.” He sounded convincingly slurred.

  Buddy gave a hearty laugh, slapping Miles on the back as if they were in some kind of men’s club together.

  “I like the way you’ve set up your day,” said Buddy, putting a cape around Miles. “That’s the life, isn’t it? I guess one day, after I’m retired, I’ll be able to do the same thing. You only have time for hedonism when you’re real young or real old, right?”

  Miles had a wistful expression on his face, which made Myrtle smile. She knew that he hadn’t experienced hedonism during either young or old.

  Myrtle cleared her throat. “So you did have a wild youth then, Buddy? Who all did you go to high school with? I’d already retired when you came through Bradley High, hadn’t I?”

  “You sure had, Mrs. Clover. And that’s just as well for you—you wouldn’t have wanted to deal with my crowd, I bet. I was in there with Charles Clayborne and Hugh Bass—hung out with them.”

  Myrtle said innocently. “Oh! That sounds like a wild crowd, for sure. I was so sorry about Charles. What a tragedy.”

  Buddy carefully trimmed a spot above Miles’s ear. “It was, wasn’t it? Of course, it wasn’t like I’d kept in touch with Charles. Nobody had from our group. Well, except for Hugh.” He suddenly stopped talking and pressed his lips together as if he hadn’t planned on saying that.

  “Charles left Bradley soon after he graduated, didn’t he?” asked Myrtle. “So how did Dr. Bass keep up with him? Just online and by phone?”

  Buddy said slowly, “Not just that way, no. Hugh Bass ended up at the same college that Charles did. Of course, Charles wasn’t planning on being a dentist.” Buddy smirked at the thought of Charles going into dentistry.

  “What was Charles thinking of going into?” asked Miles. He quickly hiccupped, in case his question had sounded too sober. Myrtle noticed that he didn’t claim any kinship to Charles.

  “Anything shady,” said Buddy smoothly. “Charles wasn’t exactly a guy who minded operating on both sides of the law.” He stepped back to give his work a critical eye, then continued. “I’m not saying that Charles did anything outright illegal…in an obvious way, anyway. He wasn’t out there robbing banks, dealing drugs or breaking into cars or houses. But if there was something in the gray area that might make him some money, or some way to hustle some money on a phony business deal? Charles was going to be up for it.”

  Myrtle said, frowning, “Then why did Dr. Bass stay friends with him?”

  Buddy Fenton tilted his head to the side and studied her. Summing her up probably, to see if she was just a harmless, nosy old lady. Then he glanced over at Miles. Miles hiccupped in a comforting way again and Buddy continued, “At first, I guess he thought that Charles was fun to be around. He was, you know. As long as he wasn’t trying to squeeze money out of you somehow, he could be the life of the party. He could tell jokes that would leave you rolling on the floor. And he had lots of exciting ideas for things to do, too.”

  “But after that?” asked Myrtle. “After Dr. Bass maybe got tired of his shenanigans?”

  Both Myrtle and Miles hung on Buddy’s words. For a guy like Buddy, this must have been very flattering. Myrtle could tell he was the kind of person who thrived in the spotlight and craved it. He wore attention-getting cologne and had the whole look-at-me attitude that she remembered so well from students when she taught school.

  But he was also Hugh Bass’s friend. From all appearances, he was Hugh Bass’s only friend. It might take a little persuading for him to disclose whatever dirt he had on Hugh and Charles, despite how much he longed to have a captive audience.

  Myrtle quickly lied, “You know, I’m friends with Dr. Bass’s parents. Sweet people.”

  Buddy smiled and combed Miles’s hair, taking small snips with his scissors. “Yes, they are.”

  “They told me a story a couple of years back which I just barely remember. It was something to do with Dr. Bass and some trouble he’d gotten into while he’d still lived out of town.” Myrtle gave a ferociously thoughtful frown, as if the fascinating story was right there on the very edge of her subconscious and just waiting for her to spill it. She tapped her nose with a long finger as if that would help her to remember it.

  Buddy looked sharply at her. He glanced around the shop to ensure they were truly alone. “So you know about what happened then. I’m surprised—I didn’t think that anybody knew that story. The only reason I know about it is because I was still good friends with him at the time. We’re friends now, of course, but we were a lot closer back then. I’ve been real careful not to say anything about it.”

  “I know the story, yes. Dr. Bass’s folks were so worried at the time. Distraught. Anyone would be! I used to know all the details, but now I’ve forgotten,” stressed Myrtle, trying to appear foggy, vague, and hesitant.

  Miles gave a few encouraging hiccups.

  “Yes, so they went to a college in West Virginia. After graduation, Charles found some sort of work nearby and Hugh Bass went to dental school. This arrangement lasted for about four years. They were even roommates, trying to cut costs and share expenses. They still hung out together after Charles was done with work and when Hugh was out of class for the day. Hugh graduated and set up a practice, but they needed money. Whatever Charles was doing wasn’t bringing in a whole lot, and Hugh didn’t have any money to speak of, because he was paying back his tuition and paying rent for his new dental practice.”

  “What did they do?” asked Myrtle. “I mean,” she added quickly, “remind me again what they did.”