He started hurrying away and Myrtle rushed to keep up with him, her cane thumping on the sidewalk as they scampered off. Myrtle couldn’t resist a backward glance and spotted Eloise standing there, watching them go with her hands on her hips. Myrtle chuckled.
“Nicely dispatched, Miles.”
Miles looked uncomfortable. “I think I’ve seen her more now that we’re broken up than before.”
“Well, even Eloise should get the hint at some point. You’re definitely not interested. If she doesn’t stop ambushing you like this, you can always call Red and report her as a stalker.”
He gave her a wry look. “Thanks, but I think I can handle this.”
“If you find that you can’t, call him.”
The Bradley Bugle office was dimly-lit, especially coming off the sunny street. They blinked as their eyes tried to adjust to the lack of light. There was a rustling of papers and a startled, “Miss Myrtle!” from the back of the room, indicating that Myrtle’s editor, Sloan, was there. Sloan was a former student of hers and whenever she appeared, he suddenly reverted to being a ninth grader who hadn’t completed his homework.
“Sloan?” she called out. Then, in a grumbling voice, “You need to turn on some lights in this place. You’ll put your eyes out trying to read in the dark.”
There was some crashing around and then, suddenly, light.
“Sorry, Miss Myrtle,” said Sloan, looking abashed. “Hi, Miles. Is that better?”
“Somewhat,” said Myrtle with a sniff. “I know how it could be even better though. Let me write a piece on Jax’s death.”
Sloan looked worried. “I’ve already spoken with Red today. He wanted to keep you out of this one. Said it could get vicious.”
“What an extraordinary thing for Red to say! It’s already gotten vicious, hasn’t it? After all, a man is dead and endured a violent death. The circumstances aren’t any different than from the other cases I’ve written about before.”
Sloan looked rather miserable at being caught between a rock and a hard place. “I suppose so.” He brightened. “Maybe you could do a feature on Jax. You always do wonderful human-interest stories. And it’s about time for you to turn in a helpful hints column for me.”
Myrtle leveled a stern look at him. “I’m certainly not going to write either one. Not while there’s a major story to cover. You know I’m your best crime writer.”
Sloan slumped in his chair. “You’re my only crime writer. Fortunately, there’s not that much crime to speak of.”
“Nonsense! There’s crime happening all the time. That’s what keeps Red gainfully employed.”
Miles had been looking curiously at the crossword puzzle that was going to be printed in the paper the following day. He jumped when Myrtle said, “Don’t you think so, Miles?”
He nodded vigorously, although he had no idea what Myrtle had just said.
Sloan groaned. “Okay, Miss Myrtle, but try to keep it under your hat. I don’t want to end up on the police chief’s bad side. Again.” He snapped his fingers. “There’s something I do need to ask you, though. You know I’ve been able to make some sense out of Wanda’s horoscopes lately. Well, this one has baffled me.”
Wanda’s horoscopes were eerily accurate, although her lack of general literacy made transcribing them something of a problem.
Sloan handed Myrtle the paper and she peered at it. Miles looked at it over her shoulder.
“What part don’t you understand?” asked Myrtle. “It all seems rather self-explanatory to me.”
Miles gave her a quizzical look and continued frowning at the hieroglyphics on the paper.
Sloan gestured to the middle of the page. “It sort of goes downhill with Leo. I understand from Aries up until then.”
Myrtle grabbed a legal pad and a pen and carefully jotted her transcription in her former teacher handwriting. Then she gave the pad to Sloan.
He nodded. “Okay, this makes a lot more sense.” He glanced over the sentences and raised his eyebrows. “Looks like Martha Johnson needs to go to the doctor and get checked out.”
Myrtle said, “Sure looks that way. Well, I’d better head on home and start working on the article assignment.”
Sloan gave her a glum smile and waved. “See you both later.”
Myrtle and Miles walked to his car. “You’d think Sloan would have given up trying to dissuade me from writing crime-related stories. He never wins.”
Miles said, “I guess he feels a certain loyalty to Red. Red doesn’t want you to write them and Sloan feels the need to try and stop you.”
“You’d think Red would have given up by now, too,” grumbled Myrtle.
Miles made the short drive back to Myrtle’s house and then they sat in her driveway for a minute. “What are you planning on doing now?”
“My plans involve watching Tomorrow’s Promise. Want to join me?”
Miles said, “Sure. I can bring over those puzzle books I was talking about the other day. Maybe we can work on them while we watch.”
“Bring the puzzle books, but I can’t work on a crossword and watch the show at the same time. This episode is going to require my full concentration.”
“Really?” asked Miles. “What did I miss?”
“Nathan is planning on killing Marcus, remember?”
Miles frowned, eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t remember that at all.”
“Perhaps you were dozing during that part. Marcus discovered Nathan’s secret and Nathan is desperate to eliminate Marcus and conceal it.”
Miles said, “What was the secret?”
“If you don’t know Nathan’s secret, Miles, I’m certainly not going to be the one to enlighten you. That’s why you have to pay attention during the show.”
Miles sighed. “That’s why I bring my puzzles sometimes. Everything in Tomorrow’s Promise is very dramatic. I work on puzzles during the parts that are too over-the-top.”
“They do call it a soap opera. There’s nothing more dramatic than opera.”
Miles grumbled, “It all seems rather overacted and amateurish.”
“That’s only because you have a crush on Rowena and she hasn’t had much airtime lately.”
Miles did return with puzzle books, but the soap that day ended up with a huge Rowena focus so his sudokus fell by the wayside.
The following morning, Myrtle woke up and glanced at the clock. She had the strange sensation she’d overslept, even though it was still very early in the morning.
“Must be because of the service today,” she muttered.
She got up and proceeded straight to the kitchen to make a large pot of coffee. She had the feeling she was going to require it. Her conversation with Nicole had made it clear that Jax’s memorial service was going to be very unusual indeed.
While she was sitting at the kitchen table making quick work of her crossword puzzle, there was a scratching at the door. Myrtle smiled and opened it to Pasha.
“Brilliant Pasha,” she said as she opened a can of cat food.
Pasha gave her what appeared to be a small feline smile as Myrtle placed the food in front of her.
Everything went exactly as it should, smooth as anything. Her crossword was a piece of cake. Her breakfast of granola, yogurt, and banana had been filling and delectable. She pulled out her funeral outfit and, for once, it didn’t have a spot on it.
Miles came over at the appointed time to pick her up and she was sitting, ready, in the living room.
“You look rather smug this morning,” said Miles with a smile.
“I’m feeling very smug. This morning has gone off without a hitch. That’s a completely unusual experience for me. Ordinarily, the mornings of funeral services are fraught with pitfalls.”
Miles glanced at the clock nervously. “I’m not sure I’d tempt fate, Myrtle. Shouldn’t you knock on wood or something?”
Which was precisely when Myrtle, in her previously-spotless funeral outfit, splashed the remainder of her coffee all over
herself.
Pasha gave her a dour look. Miles covered his face with his hands.
Myrtle gritted her teeth. “This is going to pose a problem.”
“Just find something else to put on. We should be going in a minute or two. You have time to change.”
Myrtle hurried to her bedroom, unsure of her choices. She found her old funeral dress in the closet but then realized she didn’t have any panty hose. She simply couldn’t wear a dress at a funeral service without hose . . . her mother would roll in her grave. Myrtle looked dolefully at the other options in the closet. Her black slacks were in the laundry hamper. The only thing that was suitably dressy were the red slacks that she usually wore for Christmas services. She grimaced. She really needed something more somber to balance them out. She grabbed a black blouse and black shoes and quickly put on the ensemble.
Myrtle grimaced at her reflection. Her hair was standing up like Einstein’s. Despite the black blouse and shoes, she still looked entirely too festive. She sighed. It would have to do.
She joined Miles in the living room. He looked slightly surprised at her choice of garments, but was focused on getting them in the car as quickly as possible and to the service.
Miles said, “This is a memorial service, isn’t that right?”
“Well, it’s a celebration of life. I think that’s roughly the same as a memorial service. However, it sounded like this one was going to have a lot of surprises along the way. Nicole said that Jax had left very explicit instructions. I’m not really sure what to expect.” Myrtle frowned. “By the way, where are you going?”
Miles blinked. “To the cemetery.”
“Well, that’s not where the service is. It’s in Jax’s backyard.”
“Really?” This was already bucking tradition. Ordinarily, any type of service was going to be in either the cemetery or the church.
Myrtle nodded. “Take a right here and cut through this neighborhood. We’ll save time.”
It was evident as soon as they pulled up to Jax’s house that everything was going to be very different. There were cars parked all the way up and down the street. Jax’s front yard was strung with what appeared to be Christmas lights—the blinking sort.
“Well, Jax was very colorful,” said Miles. His voice was doubtful, though.
“I’m just glad that my red slacks fit in better than I thought they would,” said Myrtle. She wiggled her nails. “Of course, I guess they don’t coordinate very well with my robin’s egg blue fingernails, but it’s okay.”
They walked through the house and into the backyard, which backed up to the lake. There were tables on the sides of the yard fairly groaning with food. There was another long table that was so crowded with hovering people that they couldn’t even see what was on it.
“What’s over there?” asked Myrtle, craning her head.
Someone moved slightly and Miles raised his eyebrows. “It appears to be an open bar.”
“That explains a lot,” said Myrtle.
Sure enough, there was a lot of boisterous laughter going on and some back-slapping among Jax’s friends. One of them appeared to be singing.
“How long has this service been going on?” asked Myrtle with a frown.
“Perhaps they arrived in that condition,” said Miles thoughtfully.
“Just the same, I don’t think I’m going to imbibe. There’s a limit to how jolly I want to be at a memorial service.”
Miles said, “Perhaps it’s more acceptable at a celebration of life service.”
Several of Jax’s friends broke into what sounded like a sea shanty, followed by more hooting laughter.
“No thanks,” said Myrtle dryly. “I’ll stick with my plan to have A Mighty Fortress is Our God at my funeral. Sea shanties, indeed.”
There was apparently a funeral director of sorts. A gentleman who was dressed somberly cleared his throat and then announced that the service was about to start and for everyone to take their seats. They all sat in the folding chairs.
“Why do I get the impression that I’m in the audience at the theater?” murmured Myrtle.
Miles said slowly, “Because they’ve set a stage. Those are props, aren’t they?”
They were indeed props. A couple of actors in costume came out and proceeded to work their way through a skit.
Miles was frowning. “Is this—?”
“Yes. It’s a spoof of Waiting for Godot.” Myrtle listened for a few more minutes and said, “A spoof of a spoof, I suppose.”
At the end of it, there was scattered applause. Uncertain applause, since everyone was ostensibly at a funeral. The applause became more enthusiastic when Nicole, wearing a flowing, multicolored dress, gave a standing ovation and hooted and hollered in a most dramatic fashion. The performers grinned and bowed.
Next was a soloist. Instead of A Mighty Fortress is Our God, the singer sang a selection from what was apparently Jax’s favorite show, Oklahoma!
Following that, there were a few people who spoke about Jax. The eulogies were relentlessly upbeat and full of humorous stories about Jax’s many exploits. Myrtle had the feeling that Nicole had specifically required the eulogists to keep the mood positive.
Nicole went to the front after the last eulogist and said, “That’s it, folks. Please fill up your plates with some food. We have all of my dad’s favorites, so prepare to have your arteries clogged!”
Myrtle and Miles moved to one of the food tables and saw that it was loaded with fried chicken, biscuits, mac and cheese, baked beans with bacon, hush puppies, fried okra, potato salad, coleslaw, and peach cobbler.
Myrtle said, “Now Miles, you’re looking positively queasy again. You’re making that same face you make when we go to the diner.”
“It’s the same food I encounter at the diner,” muttered Miles. “Minus the hotdogs.”
“Just have some coleslaw and peach cobbler,” said Myrtle. She glanced around Jax’s backyard. “I’ve spotted someone we should talk to.”
“I certainly hope it’s not Eloise.” Miles shuddered. “I saw her a little while ago. She winked at me.”
“I’m not a bit surprised,” said Myrtle darkly. “That’s precisely the type of behavior I’d expect from Eloise. Although I do think it takes a lot of audacity to wink at an ex-boyfriend at someone’s funeral service, celebration of life or not. And no—Eloise is not on my list to speak with at this event. I want to talk to Bailey.”
“Marigold’s husband,” said Miles.
“That’s right. However, I have the feeling Eloise is probably going to hijack you at some point. We just need to make sure we’re not sitting with her.”
Miles nodded fervently. “Exactly.” He turned and glanced around at the different groups of tables and chairs set out. “Looks like Marigold and Bailey are already seated with a couple of drinks at a table.”
Myrtle said, “Oh good! Miles, you help me to a plate. Get plenty of food because I might take the extras home for supper.”
Miles quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose, at our age, that sort of thing is allowed. Take-out at funerals.”
“Of course it is. After all, I blew my budget with my manicure and tipping Jax’s daughter. Anyway, I’ll go ahead and sit down with them and save you a spot.”
Myrtle hurried over to the table where Marigold and Bailey were sitting quietly. She beamed at them. “May Miles and I join you?”
Marigold looked up with relief. “Hi, Miss Myrtle. Yes, please do. I was about to get up and get myself something to eat.” And she promptly did just that, delighted at the opportunity to foist Bailey on someone else.
Chapter Ten
BAILEY WAS A RATHER nerdy-looking fellow. He had a wiry frame, steel-gray hair, and black-framed glasses. He gave Myrtle a tight smile.
Myrtle was glad that Marigold had left because she’d been hoping to speak with Bailey on his own. She was about to launch into her questioning when a voice behind her said, “Hi there, Myrtle! May I squeeze in with you?”
; Eloise. Myrtle turned around and snapped, “No, unfortunately, you may not. We’re saving these seats for Miles and Marigold.”
“But there’s plenty of room. I’ll just scootch a chair in between these two.”
Myrtle had had entirely enough of this. She bared her gritted teeth at Bailey. “I’ll be right back. Do save my spot.”
“Of course,” he said in a rather bemused tone.
Myrtle stood up and grasped Eloise’s arm, pulling her out of earshot of others. “Now listen to me and mark my words, Eloise. You are done with stalking Miles. You were unfaithful to him and your relationship is over. He ended it. You clearly have no understanding of what this means, but here it is in a nutshell: you don’t see each other anymore socially.”
Eloise narrowed her eyes. “You’re not the boss of me, Myrtle.”
“I’m just letting you know that if you continue hounding Miles, I’ll be sure to make your life miserable.”
Eloise snorted. “How would you manage to do that?”
“Ask Red. I make his miserable all the time.”
Eloise opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Scowling at Myrtle, she slunk away.
Myrtle looked up just in time to see Red quirking an inquiring eyebrow at her from several tables away. She gave him a small smile.
Myrtle rejoined Bailey. “Now then!” she said gaily.
Bailey pushed his glasses up and gave her a small grin. “I’m glad you dodged that one, Miss Myrtle. I wasn’t wanting to share a table with Eloise. You might not know it, but she’s been spreading rumors that Marigold killed Jax.”
“I didn’t know it, but I’m certainly not surprised. That’s just the type of thing Eloise would do. Now how have you been doing? I haven’t seen you around for a while. Been working a lot, I suppose?”
He gave her a solemn look. “Indeed I have, Miss Myrtle. Lots and lots of travel.”
Myrtle politely inquired, “What type of work do you do? I can’t remember.”
“I work in information technology. I sell security software to corporations.”
That was decidedly a conversational dead-end since Myrtle knew next to nothing about that. Besides, that wasn’t really what she wanted to hear about in the first place. She needed to get information from Bailey before Marigold came back to the table. Fortunately, it appeared that Marigold had no intention of hurrying back over.
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