“Well, maybe you have some idea who might have wanted to get rid of Royce. It sounds as if you did spend some time in his vicinity, despite your strong sentiments about him.”
Foley gave her nearly the same squinting look Puddin gave her when she wasn’t quite sure what Myrtle was getting at.
Wanda translated. “Know who did it?”
Foley gave her another appreciative look before scratching his head in thought. “Let’s see. Right after that last poker game, I was gonna head home. Heard Royce get a phone call. Royce, he thought he was by hisself but then he never paid me much attention no-how. He was cooing on the phone.” He gave Miles a meaningful look as if Miles was the only one present who might understand.
Miles frowned. “You mean he was speaking with a woman? A woman who wasn’t his wife?”
Foley pointed at Miles. “Got it in one.”
Myrtle said, “So he wasn’t speaking with Jenny. Do you know who he was talking to?”
Foley considered this. “Christy? Naw. Cindy. That’s it. Wife of that fellow who owns the garage where my car’s at.”
“Cindy Cook?” asked Myrtle.
“That’s her. I seen ‘em together, too. I was in the grocery store one day and thought they looked pretty cozy. Canoodling with each other.”
Myrtle said thoughtfully, “Well, that’s very interesting. As a matter of fact, the two of them dated in high school.”
“How do you remember things that happened that long ago?” asked Miles.
“It’s a gift.”
Dusty, still out lugging gnomes around, cleared his throat loudly and in a very annoyed way. Foley shot another anxious look in his direction.
Miles said, “Perhaps we should let Foley get back to work.”
Myrtle gave him a distracted look. “What? Oh, okay.”
Foley slumped a little in relief and took a few steps in Dusty’s direction before Myrtle said, “You don’t gamble still, do you?”
“Ain’t got no money,” said Foley with a shrug. “It were just a hobby, not a habit.”
Myrtle watched as he grabbed a gnome from the storage shed and went around the corner of the house.
“I don’t think I hear the vacuum anymore,” said Miles.
“That’s one of the irritating things about Puddin. She lies in wait. You’ll think she’s done with the vacuuming and then as soon as you go inside, she’ll practically assault you with it. Why, do you want to go back inside?”
Miles said, “I just feel bad watching these guys working so hard while I’m sitting here in a chair.”
“I’m paying them to do it. It’s not like they’re putting gnomes around the yard out of the goodness of their hearts. But we can try to sit inside and see what happens.” Myrtle turned to Wanda. “You and I need to work on your horoscopes.”
“You’re goin’ down to see Sloan,” said Wanda.
“That’s right. I want to give him my story about Royce and your horoscope at the same time.”
Miles said, “Don’t you usually just email him the articles? Surely, there isn’t any need to walk down there again.” He sounded personally resistant to the possibility of spending more time with Sloan.
“I do, but I’d like to talk to him about Foley. Sloan hangs out in that drinking and poker-playing underworld and I want to hear what he has to say about all of this. Do you want to come with me?”
“I was actually fancying a nap after that breakfast,” said Miles.
“A nap? It’s not even noon yet.”
“Naps aren’t permitted before noon?” asked Miles.
“Not unless you’re ill.”
“Then I’ll just rest my eyes,” said Miles.
“A euphemism for napping. That’s fine, but don’t be surprised when you’re awake all night tonight,” said Myrtle vindictively.
Miles shrugged. “I’m never surprised when I’m awake all night.”
“I’ll go with you to see Sloan,” said Wanda.
Myrtle beamed at her. “Thank you, Wanda.”
Miles went back to his house to rest his eyes. Puddin, fortunately, had moved on from vacuuming to a much-quieter cleaning activity so Wanda and Myrtle could go inside and work on the article and the horoscope before setting back downtown to the newspaper office.
It was a little after noon by then and when they walked in Sloan had his feet up on his cluttered desk and was delving into a large bag of fast food. He tossed the bag away guiltily when Myrtle and Wanda entered as if to dissociate himself from the unhealthy food. “Miss Myrtle! Wanda! What a surprise.”
“I know—we’ve already been here today. But I wanted to personally deliver my article and Wanda’s horoscope.”
“Well, that’s very nice,” said Sloan in a tone suggesting that it wasn’t really at all as Myrtle brought him the two documents and laid them down on the top of one of the stacks on his desk.
“I also wanted to ask you some questions,” said Myrtle severely, making Sloan look even more fidgety and anxious than he did before.
“Okay, shoot,” said Sloan, bracing himself for the onslaught.
“First off, do you know Foley Hardy?” asked Myrtle.
Sloan blinked in surprise. Whatever direction he’d thought this inquisition would go, this wasn’t one he’d considered. “Sure, I know Foley.”
“What’s your take on him?”
Sloan tilted his head to one side as if that helped him come up with a quick assessment of someone he’d never thought much about. “Well, he’s nice enough. He’s at the bar pretty frequently.” He blushed as if realizing that put him at the bar pretty frequently, something he’d rather his former English teacher didn’t know.
“Is he just hanging out at the bar? What else do you know about him?” asked Myrtle impatiently.
Wanda hid a smile as Sloan started to look more anxious, realizing he wasn’t delivering whatever information Myrtle wanted.
“Well, sometimes he shoots pool,” offered Sloan in a hopeful tone. His face fell when Myrtle also seemed dissatisfied with this answer.
Wanda drawled, “Does he gamble?”
Sloan lit eagerly on this question. “Yes! As a matter of fact, he does. Mostly poker, but I think he also bets on football games and horse races and stuff like that. I don’t think he wins a lot, either. He always seems short on cash.”
“He played with Royce Rollins?”
“Sure. He played pretty often with him I think. The only reason I know that is because Royce played all the time. I bet it got on his wife’s nerves. She doesn’t look like the gambling type or the type that would accept it.”
Myrtle said, “I don’t really know Jenny Rollins very well, do you?”
Sloan, eager to please but not wanting to get in over his head, said cautiously, “I wouldn’t say I knew her well, no. But I’ve seen her around from time to time. I don’t think she was real excited about Royce running for office, either.”
“Lots of that goin’ around,” said Wanda, thinking about Red.
Myrtle said, “What made you get the impression Jenny wasn’t happy about Royce running?”
Sloan said, “Oh, I asked him a question near the beginning of his campaign. It wasn’t really a hardball question, but it wasn’t a softball question, either. Jenny wasn’t at all happy about it. She scowled at me and told me that Royce was too busy to answer any other questions. Then she hustled him away.”
“So she was very protective of Royce,” said Myrtle. “I’m sure she’s not taking the news of his death at all well, then. I’ll have to bring Jenny a casserole tomorrow.”
Wanda and Sloan shared a meaningful look.
“Was there anything else you wanted, Miss Myrtle?” asked Sloan. His tone indicated he devoutly hoped not. It indicated that the mention of Myrtle cooking made him even more nervous.
“That was everything, I think. You’ve got the horoscopes and the article. Thanks, Sloan.”
As Myrtle and Wanda left, Sloan watched their exit with relief.
<
br /> Chapter Twelve
“Do you feel up to a little walk, Wanda? We don’t have our driver right now, so it’ll mean a bit of exercise.”
“Goin’ to the garage?” asked Wanda.
Myrtle smiled at her. “If you’re up to it. It’s very handy having a psychic around. It means I have a lot less explaining to do. We’ll go see Preston Cook. He owns the garage and would have spoken with Foley about his broken car.”
“An’ he’s married to the woman who Royce was talkin’ to on the phone,” added Wanda.
“You’re a natural sidekick,” said Myrtle, sounding pleased. “Yes, that too. As I mentioned, I taught all these folks back in the day. At the time, Preston was a football hero and Royce . . . was not. Cindy and Royce had been an item until Cindy started dating Preston. They married young, as I recall. Now it sounds like Royce might have gotten Cindy back, at least briefly. I don’t think Preston is the kind of man who would have taken kindly to that.”
Wanda turned to look at Myrtle as they slowly made their way in the direction of the garage. “Think Preston might have killed Royce? Outta jealousy?”
“It’s certainly possible.”
The garage wasn’t a very big place, but it was a popular one. There were cars everywhere—cars that were about to be worked on, cars that were ready to be picked up, and cars belonging to the mechanics who worked there.
“You ain’t got no car,” said Wanda as they approached the garage.
“No. Red made sure of that years ago.”
“Then what’s yer excuse for bein’ here?” asked Wanda.
“I’m campaigning,” said Myrtle simply. “I’m asking for Preston’s vote. You’re here as a member of my campaign staff.”
Wanda smiled a little to herself at the thought of being on someone’s campaign staff.
Myrtle spotted Preston outside the garage looking at a car and waved. He raised his hand and immediately started coming over. Myrtle had to admit she wasn’t exactly sure what Cindy had found appealing in Royce, especially compared to Preston. You could still see how Preston Cook had been a football star back in the day. He was still muscular, strong, and athletic looking. He’d been the high school’s quarterback and had even gotten picked for a college team. At the time, though, Myrtle had wondered if Preston’s academic performance would allow him to remain on a college team. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to cut it as a student and had been forced to drop out. But he hadn’t done poorly for himself—he’d started out as a mechanic at this garage and had ended up owning it. Still, though, Myrtle had always felt Preston had a lingering air of regret about him. As if he were living a life that he hadn’t quite planned on.
“Miss Myrtle,” said Preston, respectfully taking his baseball cap off as he walked up. “It’s very good to see you.”
Myrtle introduced Wanda and then said, “It’s been a long time. How have you been?”
“Oh, pretty good, pretty good. You know how it is, Miss Myrtle. I don’t have any complaints. Like I said, it sure is good to see you. I was just thinking about you the other day, as a matter of fact. You were such a good teacher and I still remember stuff you taught me. I feel like I write out decent invoices for customers because of your help.”
Myrtle beamed at him. Preston’s cell phone rang and he said, “Please excuse me for a second.”
He put his cap back on his head so he could find his phone. He was fumbling with some of the aforementioned invoices, so Myrtle held out her hand for them. He thrust the papers gratefully at her as he spoke on the phone to a customer calling to check on his vehicle. Myrtle glanced over the invoices and sighed. There were plenty of errors on them. She hated to think they’d be even worse if Preston hadn’t had her for high school English.
He quickly got off the phone and gave her a smile as he took back the papers. “Sorry about that. Now what can I do for you two ladies today? Miss Myrtle, I was thinking that you didn’t have a car anymore. Is it Wanda who’s having the car issues?”
Myrtle shook her head. “Actually, we’re here on a completely different matter. I’m running for the vacant town council seat and Wanda is on my campaign staff.”
Preston scratched his head. “Well, my goodness,” he murmured. Apparently, if he’d been hazarding guesses as to why Myrtle was there, his imagination had failed him.
“Did you know I was running?” asked Myrtle.
“No ma’am. Sorry about that—I don’t really follow politics.”
“Did you know Royce Rollins was running against me?”
Preston shook his head slowly. “Nope. No, like I said, I just don’t follow that kind of stuff. Maybe I should.”
“You’re registered to vote, though?” Myrtle’s eyes narrowed as if she were preparing to launch into a lecture if there was a negative reply.
Preston latched onto this eagerly. “I sure am. You’ll have my vote, Miss Myrtle. I have no doubt you could run this town. You sure ran a classroom like clockwork.” He paused again and said, “You mentioned Royce. I think it was one of my customers who told me he’d passed.”
“He surely did. Last night.”
Preston shook his head. “That’s awful. Must have been real unexpected. Last night was such a mess, wasn’t it? I was here at the shop and drove right home to Cindy . . . didn’t even stop at the store to pick up the milk she wanted. I managed to get home right before the rain started. Raining cats and dogs, it was.”
“How is Cindy doing, by the way? It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen her. She was always such an excellent student of mine.”
Preston laughed ruefully, “Better than I was, for sure. She’s okay.” But there was a guarded look on his face now that hadn’t been there before. It made Myrtle wonder if maybe Cindy was fine, but Cindy and Preston’s relationship wasn’t.
“Well, I am so sorry about Royce. My sympathies to you.”
Preston looked a little taken aback and Myrtle continued, “But you two were always so friendly in high school, weren’t you? It must be terrible to lose a friend, especially at your age. It must be such a shock.”
Preston looked away. “We did know each other in high school, Miss Myrtle, but we were never very close. I really didn’t know Royce at all.” The last was said with a hint of bitterness. Then he slowly said, “You know, I hear things at the garage. The guys gossip between themselves and the customers come in with all kinds of stories, too. Lots of gossipy stuff going on there. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Scotty, Royce’s son, had done him in.”
“What makes you say that?” Myrtle’s eyes narrowed again.
Preston shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I’ve heard that he was real hard on the kid. I guess he’s not much of a kid now—early twenties? Anyway, he let Scotty live there, but never gave him a dime. Acted like he was just a freeloader. Maybe his son got tired of asking for money and being turned down.”
“You think he might have killed Royce to get his hands on some inheritance money?” asked Myrtle.
“I guess it’s possible, isn’t it? I mean, it seems to me that he needed to do more for his son. Royce owned his own business, same as I do. If I had a son, I’d have him over here at the garage and teach him the business inside-out. The office, the shop. How to repair cars, how to run a business. The works. But Royce never had Scotty over there . . . at least, from what I heard from other people. To me, that was him doing a real disservice to his son.”
One of the mechanics called out to Preston and he gave Myrtle and Wanda a regretful look. “Sorry, I guess I better go. You’ll have my vote, Miss Myrtle, don’t worry about that.”
As he quickly headed back to the garage, Wanda croaked, “He’s lying.”
“Lying about what?” asked Myrtle.
Wanda shrugged, looking unhappy. “The sight don’t—”
“I know, I know. The sight doesn’t work that way. It seems to me that the sight is very picky about how it operates.” Myrtle sighed. “Well, I know he’s lyin
g about one thing, anyway. That man did not pay enough attention in English class. His invoices were a real mess.”
“What’re we doin’ the rest of the day?” asked Wanda.
“Hm. Good question. We could go harass Miles—that’s always fun. We could make him watch Tomorrow’s Promise with us. Or we could spend some time planning the fundraiser we’re holding soon.”
Wanda raised her eyebrows. “With them gnomes?”
“Sure. We’ll pull it together pretty quickly. After all, my campaign isn’t going to run for very long. It’s not the kind of fundraiser that’s going to take a lot of work. I’ll just stick a sign in the yard that says ‘take your picture with a gnome! $5 fundraiser!’ Something like that.” Myrtle snapped her fingers. “To really get attention, I could put another sign out that says ‘honk if you like gnomes.’ Then people will hear the honking and come around to see what’s going on.”
Wanda’s eyes crinkled up. Myrtle was going to create quite a lively disturbance on Magnolia Lane.
Myrtle frowned. “Wait. What day is it?”
Wanda, who had never been tasked with keeping up with the days of the week, looked bemused.
“Uh-oh. It’s garden club day. Ugh. I totally forgot about it.” Myrtle made a face.
“Who’s hostin’ it?”
Myrtle brightened a little. “Actually, it’s Tippy’s day to host. What’s more, she’s going to have a speaker there so it shouldn’t be as awful as it sometimes can be. Would you like to go? I know you enjoy growing things.”
Wanda still did. Which was why Miles had taken her back home a couple of times since her stay with Myrtle—so that she could water the little living things she had in her house and out in her small garden.
Wanda nodded, eyes shining.
“Then let’s get ready. We should probably wear our nicer clothes since we have the speaker and everything. Let’s hope Erma isn’t there. I’m surely not in the mood to be dealing with Erma’s nonsense today.”
Wanda grated in her croaky voice, “You know yer in a bit of a pickle, don’t ya?”
“Am I? Over what?”
Murder on the Ballot Page 9