Edit to Death

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Myrtle reappeared, looking grim. “Everything is not okay. Nell was strangled with her own scarf.”

  Chapter Twelve

  NOT TEN MINUTES LATER, Red was glowering at her. “You need to stop getting involved in this mess, Mama.”

  Myrtle put her hands on her hips. “Involved in it? All Miles and I were doing was coming by for my cassoulet dish.”

  Miles gave Red a miserable look.

  Red said, “You gave Nell a cassoulet? We’d better have the coroner double-check the cause of death then.”

  Myrtle glowered at him.

  “And what’s going on with the red car at your house? Don’t tell me you’ve gone ahead and purchased a vehicle.”

  Myrtle said primly, “Boone has been very helpful. He wants to make sure I love whatever car I pick out from him so he’s letting me take them home and try them out.”

  Red said, “Well, I’m too busy to handle that nonsense today. But we’ll have a conversation about this, later. Now I’ve got to figure out what’s happened to poor Nell.”

  Myrtle gave him an insincere smile and Red stomped away.

  Myrtle squinted as a car pulled up. “Oh, look! It’s Lieutenant Perkins with the state police. Maybe he can be a bit more helpful than Red.”

  Lieutenant Perkins got out of his car and gave Myrtle a smile as he walked up to her. He was a rather stern-looking man with a military haircut and very good posture. Sometimes, however, Myrtle could make him loosen up enough to provide her with information. Fortunately, Red was busy speaking with some other policemen. He was never much of a fan of Perkins and Myrtle conferring with each other.

  “Lieutenant Perkins!” said Myrtle, giving him a hug. She loved giving the policeman hugs. It always surprised him and Myrtle liked it when Perkins was a little off-balance—it meant that she might be able to squeeze more information from him.

  “Mrs. Clover,” he said, patting her on the back awkwardly as she hugged him. “Good to see you, despite the circumstances. I understand that you and Mr. Bradford discovered Ms. Prentiss?”

  Myrtle said, “That is correct. It’s just terrible. I certainly hope that the police can find out what happened to poor Nell.” Naturally, she believed that they wouldn’t, and that she and Miles would end up slightly ahead of the police.

  Perkins asked Myrtle a few questions, nodding seriously and taking notes from time to time. Then he nodded. “This is all very helpful, Mrs. Clover. I appreciate your thoughts on this.” He seemed to be about to head on his way.

  Miles cleared his throat. “When does it look like she might have been . . . well, might have passed away?”

  “You make it sound so peaceful, Miles,” said Myrtle. She pursed her lips. Although it was good that he was able to think of a good question to ask before they lost Perkins altogether.

  Perkins said, “From what I heard reported on the way over, Ms. Prentiss would have died sometime yesterday evening. Right before dark, I’d imagine. Apparently, it’s been a little while. If you’ll excuse me?”

  Since it didn’t appear they’d be getting anything else useful at Nell’s house, Myrtle and Miles walked back home.

  Myrtle said, “Now we’ve got a full day on our plates.”

  Miles said archly, “Yes, we do. But I have the feeling that something has escaped your notice.”

  Myrtle frowned. “What’s that? You mean the dealership? Boone doesn’t care when I return the car.”

  Miles sighed. “Now I’m wondering if you even read the book.”

  Myrtle gaped at him. “Not book club.”

  “Book club. I even mentioned it to you in passing yesterday,” said Miles.

  “Clearly, I was contemplating Pearl’s death or something equally important.” Myrtle paused. “All right, I’ll admit it—I remember nothing about any of it. Who’s hosting? What’s the title of the book? Obviously, I didn’t read it.”

  Miles frowned. “You really weren’t paying attention. Tippy picked the book because it was her month.”

  Myrtle snorted. “Great. Then we’ve ended up with some horrible novel that she claims she spots symbolism and other literary devices in.”

  “That’s true. It’s A Long Time in Coming,” said Miles.

  Myrtle said, “Let me guess. It’s about a woman who is recently divorced and endured another major life change: either the loss of her mother or the loss of her career. Now she’s groundless and looking for meaning. And middle-aged.”

  Miles said, “I thought you said you hadn’t read the book.”

  “I haven’t. But that’s the type of book that Tippy always picks. She’s completely predictable. What’s more I can tell you it’s probably set at the beach or the book’s action ends up at the beach while the character is finding herself. Tippy, of course, will find all sorts of hidden meaning that simply isn’t there. She’ll say the character is named ‘Dawn’ because she’s experiencing the dawn of a new day.” Myrtle’s tone indicated exactly what she thought of this sort of analysis.

  Miles said, “Actually, Tippy won’t say those things.”

  “Unless Tippy has a bad case of laryngitis, she’s sure to say those things,” said Myrtle. She unlocked her front door.

  Miles followed her in. “She won’t because she isn’t able to attend the meeting. She had to go out of town to check on her mother.”

  “But if Tippy picked the book, then she must be hosting.” Myrtle tossed her pocketbook at the chair and missed. She made a face as things spilled out, willy-nilly.

  Miles stooped and shoved the things back into her bag. “She asked me to host for her.”

  Myrtle said, “Oh, wow. And when you host, you usually spend the entire day of book club obsessing over everything. I can’t believe you’re even here and not at home.”

  “I couldn’t sleep well last night, so spent half the night cleaning and organizing for the club meeting. I already have chairs, plates, and glasses set out. I’ve purchased the hors d’oeuvres and they’re ready to be placed on the table. And right now, I have Puddin over there putting the finishing touches on the house,” said Miles.

  “Oh, she’ll put the finishing touches on it, all right,” muttered Myrtle. “She’s probably over there carefully undoing everything you’ve already done. Puddin will have her feet up on the coffee table, a bag of chips making crumbs on your sofa, and be watching a game show.” Puddin was Myrtle’s housekeeper. She was completely unreliable in every way; from showing up to doing a good job. Her favorite excuse was that “her back was thrown” whenever Myrtle asked her to do any stooping or scrubbing. The only saving grace to Puddin was her husband, Dusty, who was Myrtle’s ancient yardman. Dusty was the only yardman in town who would work around Myrtle’s gnomes.

  Miles said, “She only does those things at your house. Puddin actually works at mine.”

  Myrtle made a face. She knew this to be true. “I’m not sure what it is about my house or me that makes Puddin so completely impossible. Send her over here after she’s finished at your place. I need some work done.” She paused. “Puddin has no intention of staying at book club, does she?”

  “No.”

  “Thank goodness. I’m so glad she got over her infatuation with it. For a while, I was really worried,” said Myrtle. Puddin had read Myrtle’s copy of a book and had been a star at the book club meeting as she made astute observations about a variety of things. This was because it was the book Myrtle had taught from for years and had notes written in the margins.

  “The thing is,” said Miles, “I’m trying to stay away from large groups of people. I don’t want to catch anything, you know.”

  Myrtle sighed. “You know how these ladies are, Miles. If they have the smallest sniffle, they think it’s the end of the world. They take to their beds. They get casseroles from their well-meaning friends. They definitely don’t go to book club and infect everyone. It’s simply not how they operate.”

  Miles said, “But sometimes people are contagious before they show symptoms. I read
a lot about it last night.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “You had a busy night between setting up for book club and researching illnesses. I’ve told you about the danger of reading up on medical stuff online. Now you’ve got the heebie-jeebies. Book club will be fine. Of course, you could always wear one of those flu masks. That will keep everyone away from you. In fact, they might run screaming out of your house.”

  Miles slumped. “I suppose there’s nothing else to do but host it.”

  “You’re right. I’ll come over and make sure it all runs smoothly. And I’ll be sure to bring an appetizer.”

  Miles raised his hands as if to ward off evil. “No, that’s all right. We have all that covered. We end up with way too much food at these things and then it has to be tossed out. It’s such a waste.”

  Myrtle stared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everyone just takes their leftover food home with them and feeds it to their husbands later. I’d feel badly if I don’t bring something.”

  Before Miles could continue arguing, there was a knock on the door behind him. He opened it up to see Puddin there.

  “Figured you was here,” she said laconically. “Gest wanted to let you know I was done.”

  Myrtle said, “Excellent! While you’re here, I have some things that I need you to do.”

  Puddin scowled at her. “Don’t got no time for that! Got other things to git to.”

  Myrtle walked to the door and peered down the street. “Where’s your car?”

  Puddin muttered, “Done broke again. Dusty’ll pick me up.”

  “Well, Dusty isn’t here right now. You can work here until he turns up. You owe me that at the very least, Puddin. It’s been ages since you were here. I’m being bullied by gigantic dust bunnies,” said Myrtle.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” said Miles quickly. “See you for book club?”

  “Of course. You know I wouldn’t miss it,” said Myrtle. And then promptly forgot about it again as Puddin shambled towards Myrtle’s kitchen.

  Puddin muttered an imprecation and then her pale, dour face glared around the corner of the kitchen door. “Did you go crazy in here? What’s all this stuff?”

  “Oh, the stupid junk drawer. I was reorganizing in there and was interrupted,” said Myrtle.

  “This is organized?” Puddin made a face.

  “Look, don’t get started with the kitchen. Vacuum the rest of the house first and I’ll put that junk away,” said Myrtle.

  When she looked at everything strewn all over the counter, Myrtle made a face, too. Then she made a command decision and swept it all into the trashcan. If she hadn’t needed that stuff in months, she likely wouldn’t need it in the future.

  The vacuum cleaner turned on and Myrtle kept an eye on Puddin, who was unenthusiastically pushing it around.

  “Get under the furniture!” bellowed Myrtle.

  Puddin put a hand up to her ear.

  “UNDER! Get UNDER!” yelled Myrtle, pointing to the dust bunnies lurking malevolently under her furniture.

  Puddin put a hand on her back to indicate that it was thrown.

  Myrtle stoically pointed under the furniture until Puddin reluctantly stooped and used the vacuum hose to get the errant bunnies that appeared to be fleeing from the hose.

  Dusty did not show up, nor call. Puddin became more and more animated, muttering under her breath at Dusty’s tardiness and abject failure in rescuing her.

  “Got stuff to do,” she said, kicking her foot against the doorjamb.

  Myrtle was delighted that Dusty had been so unreliable. Puddin had vacuumed, mopped the kitchen, and cleaned her bathtub.

  “Do you really have something to do, or are you just using that as an excuse?” asked Myrtle.

  Puddin said, “I really have stuff to do.”

  “Stuff like watching your favorite game show? Or real stuff?” asked Myrtle.

  Puddin heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked up at Myrtle’s ceiling as if looking for divine help in being delivered from annoying elderly women. “Real stuff. I’ve got to pick up a prescription.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “But the pharmacy is open for hours to come. That’s hardly an emergency.”

  Puddin glared at her. “I want to start takin’ the medicine now.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” said Myrtle in the tone of someone who actually possessed it.

  Puddin set her chin stubbornly.

  Myrtle said, “I know what we’ll do. I’ll drive you there.”

  Now Puddin squinted up her small eyes. “You?”

  “I drive extremely well. And, as it happens, I have an errand to run, myself. I need to go by the used car dealership and trade in the red car for another vehicle,” said Myrtle. “You can come along with me and then I’ll drive you to the pharmacy and back home.”

  Puddin considered this while looking suspiciously at Myrtle. “You drive okay?”

  “Extremely well,” repeated Myrtle, looking cross. “Really, I don’t know what’s wrong with people. Is everyone in this town going deaf but me?”

  Puddin said ungraciously, “Guess I’ll go with you. Lemme leave Dusty a message.”

  “While you’re leaving him a message, ask him to put my gnomes out in my yard again. I have a bone to pick with Red.”

  A few minutes later, they were driving toward the dealership.

  Puddin was holding on the passenger door as if her life depended on it.

  “That’s very distracting,” said Myrtle, sounding annoyed.

  “Feels right,” said Puddin fervently. “Hey, there’s a cat over there!”

  Myrtle hit the brakes hard enough that their heads bobbed forward.

  “The cat was in its yard! Nowhere near the car, Puddin!” scolded Myrtle.

  Puddin said sullenly, “Cat could have run into the street. You know what cats is like.”

  Myrtle made a disgusted noise and accelerated again. Puddin made the sign of the cross.

  “And you’re Baptist, not Catholic,” said Myrtle grouchily.

  The dealership was very quiet, which suited Myrtle perfectly. As she drove up, she saw Boone wave away one of his salesmen and come up, smiling, to Myrtle’s car.

  “Miss Myrtle! You sure do look snazzy behind the wheel of this car.” Boone beamed at her, showing way too many teeth. “And this is?” He looked at Puddin, tilting his head to one side as if trying and failing to place her.

  “Puddin,” said Puddin. She gave a giggle as she was wont to do around attractive men.

  Myrtle gave her a repressive look. “Yes, Puddin helps me around the house.”

  Boone raised his eyebrows. “Does she? I’ll have to get your number, Puddin. I know my dad will need some light cleaning now that my poor mom is gone.”

  Myrtle pursed her lips. She would have to disabuse Boone of the notion that Puddin would actually be anything but trouble. But, she supposed, not in front of Puddin. Otherwise, Puddin might punish her later by refusing to come clean. Then where would she be?

  “So, did you like the car?” asked Boone, turning his attention back to Myrtle. “Drives like a dream, doesn’t she?”

  Myrtle nodded. “It’s a very nice car. And I don’t want to use up your time too badly, Boone. You don’t mind if I drive another car, just to see? Maybe that small black one over there?”

  Boone grinned at her. “I like a woman who knows her own mind. No, of course I don’t care if you take another one home and see what you think. I want you to find the best car for you.” He turned the brightness of his smile to Puddin, who simpered. “I don’t suppose that you’re in the market for a car?”

  Puddin stammered out, “Maybe. Depends on the price. My car done broke.”

  “Past the point of being able to be fixed?” asked Boone in the kind of tone that encouraged a yes answer.

  Puddin gave a small shrug, eyes shining at him. “Dunno. My husband ain’t figured it out yet.”

  Boone said sympathetically, “It’s hard to fin
d the time, isn’t it? And those older cars—I’m guessing yours is older?”

  Puddin bobbed her head a few times in eager response.

  “When these older cars act out, it’s real expensive to make them work again. Sometimes it’s cheaper to get a gently used car and not worry about fixing something that’s just going to break down again and again,” suggested Boone.

  Puddin said in a gasping voice, “Maybe I’ll come back here later. With Dusty.”

  Boone grinned at her again, displaying all of his white, sparkling teeth. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Myrtle said quickly, “By the way, Boone, I’m so sorry to have to extend my condolences again to you. Nell was a special lady.”

  Boone immediately changed into a more solemn visage. “Yes, she was. And thank you. What a weird morning! Red contacted me right away and was very decent when he let me know. My poor aunt. I don’t know what’s going on in this town right now. I’m sure Red will get to the bottom of it, though.” He paused. “I wish I’d been around whenever that killer dropped by. I’d have taken care of him. But I was at home with my wife, Erin.”

  Myrtle said, “It was a frightful thing to happen. I simply can’t imagine who’d ever want to hurt Nell. Like your mother, she was a real pillar of the community. And her bellringing was delightful.”

  Boone nodded and heaved a wistful sigh. “If only I could see her again and tell her how much I appreciated her. But that’s the thing about life, isn’t it? We think we have all the time in the world to share with the people we care about. And no, I can’t imagine who could have hurt Aunt Nell.”

  Myrtle decided she needed to try to open the door to other sides of Nell. Otherwise, they would end up with Saint Nell syndrome. “Of course, she wasn’t perfect. But even her less-than-perfect traits were lovable.”

  Boone grinned again. “You mean the way she was bossy? She and Mama used to butt heads all the time over stuff. Nell would try to tell Mama what to do and Mama wouldn’t listen to her. Used to drive Nell crazy. In a lot of ways, the two of them were very different, but in other ways, they were a lot alike.”

  “Sisters,” said Puddin in a knowing voice, trying to break into the conversation.