Murder on the Ballot

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  That night, despite what Myrtle told Wanda, she was more than alert. She was on edge. This meant that she tossed around in her bed for a while. Then she pulled her book out and tried to read. Finally, she gave up and deserted her bedroom for the kitchen. Sometimes a snack was good for sleeping, she told herself. However, the snack she chose was a sugary one, so perhaps not the best choice for falling asleep.

  As she was biting into her second cookie, there was a bloodcurdling scream outside.

  Myrtle bolted outside in her robe and slippers, heading in the direction of the scream, thumping with her cane as she hurried down her front walk. Wanda, rubbing her eyes, hurried after her, a blanket wrapped around her pajamas.

  “Who is it?” grated Wanda.

  “I’d know that scream anywhere,” said Myrtle grimly. “That was Erma.”

  The scream continued on and on as lights popped on in the houses around them, Red’s front door flew open and he charged out, looking very groggy.

  “What is it? What’s going on? Are you okay, Mama?” he yelled across the street at them.

  “It’s not me. It’s Erma.” Myrtle muttered to Wanda, “As if I would scream like that.”

  Miles came bolting out of his house, a navy robe over his plaid pajamas. Myrtle gestured him over.

  “Erma?” he asked as he strode over, watching as Red dashed over to Erma’s backyard where the screams were continuing.

  “Yes. But surely she can’t be that badly off and still be making that much racket,” said Myrtle.

  “Shouldn’t we stay back? Let Red handle it?” asked Miles as Myrtle kept walking toward Erma’s backyard.

  “Nonsense. Besides, I already know what happened.”

  “What? How do you know?” asked Miles.

  “Death,” grated Wanda.

  “Wanda knew before we turned in. Got the chills from it.”

  Red appeared again as they stood in Erma’s side-yard. He was moving Erma with determination from her backyard toward Myrtle. “Mama,” he said loudly over the continued screaming. “Can you take Erma to your house?”

  For the first time ever, Myrtle was happy to invite Erma over. “Yes.” She turned to Erma and said forcefully in her very best teacher voice, “Stop it, Erma. Now.”

  Erma took a gasping breath and stared at Myrtle.

  “We’re going to go to my house to have milk and cookies,” Myrtle said firmly.

  “Store-bought cookies?” asked Erma hopefully.

  Miles hid a smile.

  “Yes, yes, store-bought cookies. Come along. Everyone is gaping at us and lollygagging.”

  Sure enough, neighbors up and down the street were watching Erma being escorted next door to Myrtle’s house and Red was now making a phone call, presumably to the state police. Since, as Wanda had promised, someone was certainly dead.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They walked into Erma’s house and Wanda took the blanket off and wrapped it around Erma’s shoulders since Erma was shaking uncontrollably. Myrtle dumped the remaining cookies onto a plate and poured Erma a glass of milk.

  Miles cleared his throat. “Perhaps something a little stronger might be good, as well. Something more medicinal.”

  Myrtle said, “I’ll find the sherry.”

  A moment later, Erma was consuming an odd mix of sherry, milk, and cookies. Her color, such as it was, was starting to return so she wasn’t ghostly white anymore but merely her usual, pale self.

  Erma, true to form, was starting to realize she had an audience. And a spotlight. She sat a bit straighter and the light returned to her eyes.

  Seeing this, Myrtle asked, “Now Erma, if it’s not too upsetting, can you tell us what happened? I’m assuming you weren’t screaming because of some horrid health-related malady?”

  Erma shook her head. “No. Although I did have quite an upset stomach directly after the funeral reception. Something didn’t agree with me. Maybe it was the fried chicken. Or maybe the deviled eggs. But my intestines—”

  “That’s quite enough talk of intestines. What happened?”

  Erma swallowed and looked sadly down at her plate of cookies. “I heard a noise outside. I haven’t been sleeping very well since Royce’s death. I started wondering if someone was planning on murdering all the candidates for the town council spot!” She looked wildly around at Myrtle, Miles, and Wanda. “That puts you in danger, too, Myrtle.”

  Myrtle did not seem in the least perturbed at being in this sort of danger. “I hardly think that was the motive for Royce’s murder, Erma. But please, continue.” Especially since Red would most likely be there in the next minute or so.

  Erma took a deep breath. “I picked up a frying pan as a weapon and I carefully looked out my back window. It was the backyard that the noises were coming from. I saw something out there, but you know how dark it was. I couldn’t tell what it was. I opened the door and tiptoed out and it was Preston! He was dead in my yard!”

  The last couple of sentences were said in a shrieking tone that made Myrtle fear the worst for the continuation of Erma’s previous screaming. She refilled Erma’s sherry and said, “Have some, Erma.”

  Erma obeyed, picking up the tiny sherry glass with a trembling hand.

  Myrtle, Miles, and Wanda looked at each other in puzzlement. Why had Preston been in Erma’s yard? How had he died there?

  As Myrtle thought, Red came back, shoving the door open and looking at the gathered group in the kitchen with his hands on his hips. He relaxed a little when he saw the rather domestic scene in front of him, with no screaming involved.

  He pulled up a chair and gave Erma a concerned look. “Are you doing all right?”

  Erma asked meekly, “You mean in general, with all my health conditions? Or just specific to what happened a few minutes ago?”

  Red clearly had no desire to be relegated with a dozen of Erma’s most-grotesque medical issues. “Just in regard to what took place tonight.”

  Erma nodded.

  Myrtle said, “Before you start asking her questions, Red, I think it’s fair if you give us a little information. Erma will feel a lot better if she knows more about what happened and maybe she’ll make a bit more sense.”

  Miles smiled at the implication that Erma hadn’t been making enough sense to satisfy Myrtle.

  Red rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Erma, I guess you know who was out in your yard.”

  Erma nodded again, this time bobbing her head up and down so wildly Myrtle thought her eyeballs might be rattling around in her head. “Preston Cook!”

  “All right. I can confirm that he is dead. Lieutenant Perkins, who has been staying locally while investigating Royce’s death, is at the scene ensuring it stays undisturbed.”

  “I’m assuming it wasn’t a natural death,” said Myrtle. “That Preston didn’t, for some bizarre reason, wander into Erma’s yard and have a heart attack there.”

  Red shook his head. “I’m afraid it was definitely murder.”

  Erma gave another shriek that made everyone jump. “Why? Why was he in my yard?”

  Red said in a calm voice, “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, I promise you. Do you have any information you can give me to help me get started? Did you have any interactions with Preston recently?”

  “No. No! I barely know the man.” She gasped. “You don’t think he had any romantic notions about me? You don’t think he was going to throw pebbles at my window or something?”

  Red blinked at her. Then he said in a soothing voice, “No, I don’t think that was it. I didn’t see any pebbles in his hand. But I do wonder why he was in your yard.”

  Erma grabbed her throat, eyes wild. “I don’t know! I really don’t know!”

  Myrtle noticed that Wanda had a knowing, tired look in her eyes. She bet that Wanda had some idea what he might have been doing there.

  Red said gravely, “Okay, Erma, I think we’re going to be able to let you back in your house, but you’re going to need to put on a pair of booties to go through yo
ur yard to get in, just in case there’s any evidence outside that we need to protect.”

  Erma nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  “Just make sure you don’t go outside.” Red’s voice was stern.

  Erma shook her head. “I won’t!”

  Red led Erma away and Miles, Wanda, and Myrtle sat at the kitchen table, looking at each other.

  “What on earth was that all about?” asked Miles.

  Myrtle said, “I haven’t the faintest idea, but I believe Wanda does.”

  Wanda nodded, sadly. “That funeral.”

  “Where Erma was running her mouth,” said Myrtle knowingly.

  Wanda said, “She was being too loud an’ actin’ like she knew stuff.”

  “That’s Erma’s normal behavior,” said Myrtle with a weary sigh. “But she can’t do that when there’s a murderer out and about.”

  Miles rubbed his temples. “Wait. Maybe I’m still trying to wake up, but I don’t totally understand what the two of you are saying. Are you saying that Preston was at Erma’s house to kill her?”

  “She said she had important info,” drawled Wanda.

  Miles said, “What’s hard for me to understand is that anyone who knew Erma would think that she had any important information. Like Myrtle was saying: she’s always acting like she has a vital piece of gossip that really isn’t. Or that her medical complaints are so important that she has to share them with everybody else. Why would Preston believe her?”

  “Desperation,” said Myrtle coolly. “He probably also doesn’t know Erma as well as we do. He might have thought she really did know something and thought she was going to expose him. So he crept up through her backyard to do away with her and eliminate the risk.”

  “And she killed him?” Miles was frowning. “Self-defense?”

  Wanda shook her head. “Said she found a body.”

  “But was she likely to say she just killed someone?” asked Miles.

  Myrtle said, “This is Erma we’re talking about. You saw the state she was in. As much as she likes telling tall tales, there’s no way she’d have the intellectual capacity to come up with a cover story. No, she’d have been blabbing to all of us that she hit him over the head with her frying pan because he was going to kill her.” She frowned. “We need to find out if Erma actually does know something. That’s the problem with Erma.”

  “There’s only one?” asked Miles.

  “Well, it’s the biggest problem with Erma right now. We’re so used to her being unhelpful that when she might actually be helpful, we’re doubtful about it. Tomorrow morning we’ll need to talk to her.”

  Wanda drawled, “Along with everybody else on the street.”

  “Oh, they’ve probably already gone back to bed,” said Myrtle, waving a dismissive hand.

  Miles got up and walked to Myrtle’s living room window to peek out through the blinds. “Their lights are still on.”

  “Well, we have an advantage. We’ll go early.”

  “How early?” asked Miles warily.

  “Maybe in a couple of hours. Once the forensics people are done with the yard.”

  Miles said, “You do know it will be 4:30 a.m. in a couple of hours. You might well give Erma a heart attack if you arrive at that time, considering Preston was in her yard trying to kill her just a short while ago.”

  “As far as I’m aware, Erma has no heart conditions at all,” said Myrtle breezily. “She really only complains about her skin and her intestines. Besides, how likely is she to go back to sleep, considering all the drama going on in her yard?”

  Miles and Wanda looked at her and Myrtle snapped, “Okay, okay. I’ll give her a phone call, how about that? That’s less-scary than a doorbell ringing or a knock on the door.”

  “Good idea,” said Wanda.

  “Now, I’m assuming that we’re not going to try to return to bed. Is that what you two are thinking? Because I don’t believe I’ve ever been so wide-awake in my life,” said Myrtle.

  Wanda shrugged. “Don’t feel real sleepy.”

  Miles sighed. “I suppose I might as well stay up at this point. Although it is the middle of the night.”

  Myrtle said, “Excellent! So it’s a party. I’ll pull out crackers and cheese and we’ll watch our soap opera.”

  Miles flinched, as he usually did, when she applied the pronoun our to “soap opera”.

  Wanda looked hopeful and Myrtle added, “And then we’ll play cards.”

  A couple of hours later of happy companionship, Myrtle looked at the clock. “I do believe it’s time for me to make my phone call to Erma. I must get to her before everyone else on the street does.”

  “I think everyone else on the street has finally fallen back asleep,” said Miles wryly.

  “Nevertheless, it’s time. We’ve got a busy day ahead, remember? We have to go out into the community! Speak to people. Figure out what’s happened to Preston and Royce. Plus, I really must bake Cindy a casserole.”

  Miles winced at the mention of the casserole.

  Wanda drawled, “An’ the fundraiser? Them gnomes?”

  “Ah, yes. Well, that won’t take very long, will it? I really should follow up with Tippy, too, and ensure that Benton isn’t being ridiculous about her wanting to run for office.” Myrtle pursed her lips, looking displeased at the thought of Benton being unreasonable.

  “But it wasn’t really Tippy who wanted to run, was it? Wasn’t it more that you wanted her to run?” Miles gave her a reproving look.

  Myrtle said briskly, “It’s that Tippy is the perfect candidate. I won’t have to worry about silly shenanigans going on during town council meetings if Tippy is there. She’s a grown-up. People automatically behave themselves around her because she commands respect.” She scowled. “Believe me, if Benton tries to talk her out of it, I will certainly be having words with him.” Her expression boded ill for Benton if he tried to get in Myrtle’s way.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Erma’s number. It rang once and then was picked up by a gasping Erma. “Hello? Hello?”

  “Erma? It’s Myrtle.”

  There was a gusty sigh of relief on the other end. “Oh, it’s you. I thought Preston’s killer might be after me. Myrtle, do you think I’m next?”

  Myrtle said in a firm voice, “No, Erma, I don’t. In fact, I think the real danger posed to you was from Preston. I have the feeling he wasn’t in your backyard last night because he was planning a friendly visit. But now that he’s gone, I’m thinking you’re safe. But what I really wanted to know is what you know. What’s the vital information you have that made Preston think he needed to permanently silence you?”

  Erma howled on the other end. “I don’t knooooow! I really don’t, Myrtle!”

  Myrtle scolded, “You must, Erma. You were saying at Royce’s funeral that you had new insights into his death. What was it that you meant?”

  Erma’s voice was subdued now. “I don’t think I really meant anything. I thought I might know something, but I really don’t. I was at the scene of the murder. I went back for my medical alert bracelet thing. I was showing it to somebody at the debate and I must have set it down when I was speaking to them and forgot it. I thought maybe someone would still be in the town hall building—maybe the custodial staff would be there cleaning up. But the lights were all off and I knew I couldn’t get inside.”

  “Did you see anyone leave? Did you see a car there? Was there anything that looked wrong or out of place?”

  Erma wept. “I don’t know! I really don’t. I think I saw a car, but it was raining so hard that I couldn’t really tell what it looked like. I was focused on trying to get inside the building so I wasn’t paying that much attention.”

  Sadly, this all sounded very likely. As Myrtle had thought, Erma didn’t know anything. But Preston had clearly thought she had and that led to his death. “Try to get some rest,” said Myrtle. She paused. “It might be kind of noisy over at my house today. I’m having a fundraiser in a little while. It�
��s a sort of impromptu thing.”

  Erma yawned on the other end. “I’ll try to come by,” she said sleepily.

  “No! No, that’s not necessary, Erma. You’ve had a long enough day already and it’s barely started. I was simply explaining that there might be children and cars so you might want to put headphones on or earplugs or something.”

  “It’s okay—I’ll pop over. It’s a fundraiser.”

  “Yes, Erma, but it’s a fundraiser for an opposing candidate. It doesn’t really make sense if you come over.”

  Myrtle listened, but didn’t hear anything on the other end. “Erma?”

  There was a loud, rattling snore on Erma’s end and Myrtle hung up the phone.

  “Nothing?” asked Miles.

  Myrtle made a face. “Worse than nothing. She doesn’t know anything and she’s planning on making an appearance at my fundraiser.” She looked at her watch. “Which perhaps I should set up for now.”

  “It’s still dark outside,” said Miles, looking somewhat appalled. “There’s no point in putting everything out there now.”

  “It will hang over me until it’s done,” said Myrtle. She stood up and got her homemade signs.

  “I’ll help,” croaked Wanda, standing up.

  Miles reluctantly stood. “I will, too. I guess. Although I still think we could wait until it’s a little later. At least until sunrise.”

  “Could you lift that folding table, Miles? Wanda, if you’ll grab the snacks I picked up at the store. And I suppose we need some sort of box or something for everyone to put their donations in.”

  Miles wrestled the table to the driveway and pulled the legs out and stood it up. Wanda set the food out. Pasha, who had been hunting around the gnomes, watched them all curiously.

  “Myrtle?” came a quiet call from the street as Myrtle was putting a sign in her yard.

  Myrtle gave a short yelp of surprise and then peered into the darkness. Cindy Cook was standing there.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miles and Wanda froze.

  Myrtle said, “Goodness, Cindy. Are you all right? What are you doing out here? Come inside. We have snacks. And . . . sherry.”