Murder on the Ballot

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Myrtle carefully picked her way around the gnomes and led the way into her house. Cindy was shivering and Myrtle picked up the blanket that had also given comfort to Wanda and Erma and threw it around Cindy’s shoulders as she bustled her to the kitchen table.

  Myrtle, Miles, and Wanda stared anxiously at Cindy, who did look quite pale and hollow-eyed. This likely, of course, was due to the fact that Cindy must have just recently found out that she had been widowed.

  Miles said slowly, “Sherry, I think, Myrtle.”

  Myrtle pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and hurriedly poured a full glass and shoved it at Cindy. She kept her fingers crossed that Cindy wasn’t going to suddenly burst into tears. Myrtle always felt helpless when people did that around her and she didn’t think Miles or Wanda were going to be much better.

  Cindy took a long gulp from the glass and then coughed. She drained the glass as Myrtle blinked. If Myrtle had a glass of sherry, she usually nursed it until at least an hour had gone by. The good news was, however, that Cindy’s cheeks were now stained with color.

  “You heard,” said Cindy.

  “About Preston? Yes. Cindy, I’m so, so sorry.”

  Cindy nodded dully, looking down at the empty glass. Miles helpfully filled it up again and Cindy took another big gulp.

  “I’ve lost everything now,” she said simply. She glanced around at the three of them and suddenly seemed to realize where she was and what she was doing. “I’m sorry for horning in. Thanks for this. After Red told me, I just couldn’t stay holed up in the house. I couldn’t even call anybody because it was so early. So I just set out for a walk and then saw y’all outside.” She frowned a little as if it occurred to her that that was rather odd, too—these three people setting up signs and tables in the dark.

  “Red woke you up, I suppose,” said Myrtle. “That must have been extremely disorienting right there.”

  Cindy nodded. “I’d been at home all night. I turned in early, so I did get some sleep.”

  Miles said, “Preston was home with you? When you turned in?”

  “Yes. Well, he’d worked sort of late at the garage, but that’s pretty common. He was home before I went to sleep, though. He knows I don’t sleep really well when he’s not there.” She gave a bewildered shrug. “I guess he must have slipped out at some point. When Red told me where he was found, I couldn’t believe it. Part of me wanted to just check all the rooms of the house and check the backyard. He’d been right there, with me. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around this.”

  Myrtle asked, “Do you have any idea what Preston was doing at Erma’s house, Cindy?”

  Cindy shook her head, looking baffled. “I have absolutely no idea. I mean, nobody really seeks Erma out, do they?”

  But there was something about Cindy’s expression that made Myrtle wonder if perhaps Cindy did have an idea what Preston might have been doing there. “Can you tell us anything about Preston’s demeanor since Royce died?”

  Cindy knitted her brows and Myrtle elaborated. “How has Preston seemed? Has he been acting differently?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes. I was wondering if Preston might have known something that made him a target. Maybe he was investigating on his own?”

  Myrtle thought this was highly unlikely. Perhaps some of this feeling crossed her features because Cindy said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe he wasn’t really investigating, but he did know something. He’s been acting really tense; not like himself.”

  Myrtle said slowly, “All because of Royce’s death? That seems a little odd to me, Cindy. I’d never gotten the impression that Preston cared all that much for Royce. In fact, I remember a lot of high school history—you’d probably be surprised to hear that.”

  Cindy gave a short laugh. “Miss Myrtle, you were always sharp as a tack. I don’t think anything slips by you.”

  “As I recall,” continued Myrtle, “you were dating Royce for a while during your high school years. Then Preston won you over. I believe that probably generated some bad blood between the two men.”

  Cindy was quiet for a moment and then took a few large gulps of the sherry, draining the glass. Myrtle gave Miles a pointed look, meaning he needed to fill it again and he shook his head. The sherry bottle was empty.

  Then Cindy said, “It’s true. They didn’t like each other.” She gave a hiccupping sob and Myrtle looked at her with concern, wondering if she was going to have to find her tissue box. “Oh, Miss Myrtle. I was back with Royce.”

  “The two of you were having an affair?” asked Myrtle, although she knew good and well that they were.

  Cindy nodded miserably. “That’s right. It had been going on for a while. Preston . . . oh, I feel just awful about it. But he found out. I asked him to forgive me. He just looked so disappointed and sad. It makes me feel even worse about all of this . . . that he thought poorly of me right before he died.”

  “You and Preston always seemed happy together when I saw you around town,” said Myrtle. “I guess we never really know what goes on in people’s private lives, though.”

  Cindy said, “We were happy. That was the thing. It wasn’t all a lie. I don’t really even know why I ended up seeing Royce again. It wasn’t like anything was missing from my relationship with Preston. I guess I was sort of flattered by the attention and it turned my head. Maybe it even made me feel young again, like I was back in high school and having two guys argue over me.” She grimaced and held her head with both hands. “I can’t believe how stupid I was. Now I’ve lost everything.” She looked up suddenly. “You were there, weren’t you? When Preston was . . . found? Did you get any other information? Did Red tell you anything?”

  Myrtle shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, Red doesn’t provide much information. But I guess you already discovered that, since you’re asking me.”

  Cindy sighed. “He just gave me the basics—that Preston’s death was suspicious, he was found in Erma’s backyard, and they were going to be investigating. Then he asked me a bunch of questions that I didn’t have the answer to because I was asleep and because Preston wasn’t telling me what was going through his head.”

  Myrtle said, “Can I do anything for you, Cindy? Bring you some food later today?”

  Miles shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  Cindy quickly said, “Oh no, no Miss Myrtle. I’ll be just fine, although I appreciate it. You’ve done more than enough for me just letting me invade your home like this. You have some sort of event going on, too.” She cast a doubtful glance toward the front door.

  “Oh, just that little fundraiser. All right, but you must let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  Cindy stood up, swaying just a bit on her feet, whether from exhaustion or the effects of the sherry. “Thank you. I’m going to get out of your hair now.”

  And, in a moment, she was gone.

  “What do you make of all that?” asked Myrtle, sitting back in her chair.

  Miles said, “I think she drank quite a bit of your sherry.”

  “Well, yes, but she was walking and not driving, and she’d had a terrible shock.”

  Wanda croaked, “More upset about her guilt.”

  Myrtle looked at her through squinty eyes. “I presume you’re referring to the guilt she feels about Preston discovering her affair with Royce. You’re not saying that Cindy is guilty of murdering Preston, are you?”

  Wanda shrugged and looked unhappy. “The sight—”

  “Yes, yes, the sight doesn’t work that way. Which is most unhelpful of it. But I’ll agree that Cindy did seem extremely rattled by the fact that Preston had learned of her affair and then died shortly after.”

  Miles shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t think she was too despondent, do you? She did make that statement about losing everything. Do you think she’s all right being alone right now?”

  Myrtle frowned. “Are you asking if I think she’s going to do herself harm? I don’t think so.” She paused, thinking it
through more. “But I’d be the one feeling guilty if she did. I know what I’ll do. I’ll call Red.”

  Miles glanced at the clock and Myrtle said, “Don’t be silly, Miles. Red isn’t asleep. He’s got a new victim on his hands.”

  She picked up her phone and dialed his number. Red answered and it sounded as if he was right in the middle of a groan. “Mama? Now what?”

  “Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet your mother, for one. You need to work on your manners.”

  “I hope you aren’t calling me to talk about phone etiquette,” growled Red.

  “No. I’m calling to let you know that maybe you should send someone along to be with Cindy Cook. She was wandering down our street and came in to visit and she looked decidedly unwell and made a rather hopeless statement while she was here. Perhaps a welfare checkup of some sort?”

  Red said, “Cindy Cook just happened to pay you a call right after her husband died.”

  “I don’t appreciate that disbelieving tone, Red Clover! It’s precisely what happened. She didn’t want to be alone and she didn’t want to be at home. She drank the rest of my sherry, which Erma had already put quite a dent in, and headed back out into the darkness.”

  Red sighed. “Okay. I’ll let the state police know and see if they can spare an officer to sit with her for a while or make contact with some of her family.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Myrtle huffily, hanging up the phone. She narrowed her eyes. “Now I’m especially looking forward to our gnome event this morning.”

  Miles, however, was not particularly looking forward to the gnome event. He couldn’t really imagine that it was going to get much traffic and he had the feeling it would end up being him and Wanda sitting outside munching on potato chips while Myrtle paced around impatiently.

  So he was pleasantly surprised when there were cars pulling up and over to the curb and then a line forming at the table. Then he was panicked. He was the photographer and the process meant not only taking the picture, but sending it along to the recipient since he didn’t want to use their own, germy phones to take the photos. He quickly discovered that the sending part took a good deal of time since he had to type in the number to text it to or the email address to mail it to.

  Myrtle beamed at everyone as they came by. “Welcome! So good to see you. Yes, any sort of donation . . . it goes right in this jar. Now pick a gnome and Miles will take a picture of you.”

  Honking was also happening as cars went by since Myrtle had put a “honk if you love gnomes” sign out.

  Wanda was at first tasked with making sure everyone made a donation and knew where the snacks were. But then Myrtle decided that Wanda was becoming too much of a distraction as once again people were asking her to tell them their fortunes. Myrtle quickly hustled her inside. “Sorry, Wanda,” she murmured.

  “Not a problem,” said Wanda, looking pleased. “I’ll play cards.”

  “And make yourself a sandwich!”

  Miles did take quite a few pictures that weren’t any good, but since the issues with the photos were quickly discovered, he was able to retake them.

  There were a lot of children there. Myrtle had expected that. What she hadn’t expected was the number of adults there.

  One of them said to her in a gleeful tone, “I’ve always wanted to wander through the gnomes, but I couldn’t do it before because it was trespassing.”

  “Yes, well, all rules are suspended today! Enjoy yourself,” said Myrtle.

  Elaine came across the street about halfway through the event, with Jack in tow. Jack immediately headed for Myrtle and gave her a big hug around her leg. Both Elaine and Jack were wearing “Vote for Myrtle” stickers.

  “Who’s the smartest little boy in the world?” asked Myrtle, beaming at him.

  “Me!” said Jack. Then he got quickly distracted by the table of goodies behind Myrtle.

  “Is it okay if he has a snack?” Myrtle asked Elaine.

  “Go for it,” she said with a laugh. “He’s already had a nutritious breakfast, so might as well eat a little junk. Sorry we couldn’t make it here any earlier. I had one thing after another come up.”

  Myrtle suddenly noticed that both Elaine and Jack were wearing rather odd outfits. Their clothes were both covered with stripes. But the stripes didn’t really line up with each other and the entire effect was making Myrtle feel very dizzy. She leaned heavily on her cane as her gaze wandered over them.

  Elaine noticed and she said proudly, “What do you think? I’ve started sewing and I thought it would be so cute for Jack and me to have matching outfits. I picked out the fabric, myself.”

  Myrtle had no doubt of that. Unfortunately, not only was Jack’s shirt a striped mess, it was also apparently itchy. He absently scratched at his shoulder as he watched people posing with the gnomes.

  Miles walked up and blinked at the sight of Elaine and Jack. “Hi, Elaine.”

  Elaine said, “Hi, Miles!” She leaned in and said to them both conspiratorially in a low voice, “I hope you were both able to get some sleep last night after the incident.”

  Myrtle shook her head. “Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on last night. However, it was rather action-packed. Did Red happen to disclose anything to you?”

  Myrtle didn’t have a lot of hope that Red had. He’d gotten just as cagey when speaking to Elaine about cases as when he was speaking with Myrtle. That’s because Elaine had fallen into what Red considered a bad habit in terms of sharing information with Myrtle.

  Elaine shook her head ruefully. “I wish I had more intel. Of course, he bolted out of the bed when Erma was screaming and texted me later to tell me what was going on. He just told me Preston was dead in Erma’s yard. Which does seem a little strange. He didn’t offer me any ideas about that, either.”

  Myrtle made a face. “Red has been decidedly unhelpful lately. Very unforthcoming. Well, that’s fine. We can get information without his help. Did Erma wake Jack?”

  Elaine said, “Believe it or not, no. He slept like a baby last night.”

  They turned to look at Jack who was happily climbing on a gnome that, inexplicably, had a small dinosaur on a leash.

  Miles said hesitantly, “Would you like a picture of you and Jack with the gnomes?”

  “I would love one,” said Elaine. “Where’s the jar for the fundraiser?”

  Myrtle pointed it out and Elaine joined Jack with the gnome.

  “You’ll have to have this photo blown up and framed,” said Myrtle. “Do promise me, Elaine.”

  “I absolutely will,” she said.

  Myrtle smiled to herself. The picture would likely drive Red insane inside his own home, which was precisely the effect she hoped to have. The combination of the dizzying stripes and the gnomes was perfect.

  Miles sent the picture to Elaine’s phone and then they stood and chatted for a few minutes.

  “Where’s Wanda?” asked Elaine curiously.

  “Oh, we had to shoo her away inside. You know how people are—they start harassing Wanda, trying to hear their fortunes. It’s completely draining for the poor woman. But hopefully I can do something fun with her later to get her out of the house. Otherwise, she’ll play cards all day long. Puddin got Wanda hooked on game shows, so that’s a thing, too.”

  At that moment, Red’s police cruiser went slowly by and Red gaped out the window at the sight of Myrtle’s gnome-filled yard populated by people having their pictures taken. Red did not honk his horn to show his love of gnomes.

  Myrtle watched smugly. “I guess Red didn’t hear about my event today.”

  “Well, he didn’t have a chance to read the paper because of Preston’s death,” said Elaine. “I did see Sloan had included a blurb about your fundraiser. It appears to be quite a success.”

  Myrtle glanced around and stood a little straighter. “It certainly is.”

  Elaine said, “By the way, if you send me your measurements, I could make you an outfit, too. I know y
ou’re always complaining about how your funeral outfit seems to always get spilled on. I could sew together a pantsuit or something for you.”

  Miles came up just in time to hear this and made a funny coughing sound which he hastily turned into a real cough as Elaine turned his way.

  Myrtle drew in a deep breath and said, “That’s so lovely of you, Elaine. I’m afraid it might be a little while before I can get those to you, unfortunately. Just with everything going on—the campaign, Wanda, the crime stories I’m writing. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Sure! Whenever things slow down a little bit, just send your measurements over and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Myrtle could only imagine what “taking care of it” might entail. She shivered at the thought of the garment that might ensue.

  “Well, I’d better run. Jack and I have a lot of errands to do today. Tell Wanda I said hi.”

  Myrtle called after her, “Remember to print that picture! Make it nice and large!”

  Elaine lifted her arm in a wave and walked across the street and into her house.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After another forty-five minutes, the event wrapped up. Myrtle took the jar of cash inside and dumped it out on the kitchen table as Wanda left to watch a game show and Miles trailed behind them.

  Myrtle counted it all out loud and finally said, “Two-hundred dollars! Wow!” She frowned. “Maybe I really should continue running for the seat. People do seem very enthusiastic about supporting me.”

  “Or perhaps overly-enthusiastic about having their photo taken with gnomes,” said Miles dryly. “By the way, I’m completely exhausted. That was a lot of pressure to put on me.”

  “Pressure? You were merely taking snapshots, Miles. Everyone loved their pictures.”

  Miles peered down at the photo gallery on his phone. “Is there a quicker way to delete all these photos instead of doing it one by one?”

  “I have no idea. We could give your phone to Jack the next time we see them. He seems to be a genius with technology.”

  Miles seemed reluctant to offer his phone to a three-year-old.