Hushed Up--Myrtle Clover Mystery #15

Chapter Twelve

Myrtle held out her hand for the keys as she and Miles walked toward the car. "I'm certainly not getting into a motor vehicle with someone who's falling asleep like Dozey from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs."

Miles frowned. "There wasn't a Dozey."

"Of course there was! He constantly fell asleep, just as you did."

Miles said, "His name was Sleepy. I think you made an odd amalgam between Dopey and Sleepy."

"Whatever. All I know is that you don't need to be behind the wheel of a car." Myrtle held her hand out in a peremptory fashion and Miles reluctantly dropped the keys in it.

Myrtle slid behind the wheel and started up the car. She carefully backed out onto the road from Rowan's driveway. It was, in fact, such a very careful backup that by the time she'd executed it, a car had suddenly appeared on the road and honked at her.

Myrtle glared at it. "Speeders! Where on earth is Red Clover when one needs him?"

Miles yawned. "Trying to catch a murderer, I suppose." He rested his head on the passenger window as Myrtle sedately drove toward Magnolia Lane.

Myrtle gave him a dissatisfied look. "I thought we might talk about Rowan, but I can see that's not going to work."

"All I want to do is go back to bed," said Miles. "Maybe we can talk about Rowan later."

Myrtle said, "You should set an alarm for yourself or else you'll sleep the entire day and then you'll be up the entire night."

"At this point, even that sounds good. In fact, I might even sleep for 24 hours straight." He stifled another yawn.

"As long as you're ready for Lillian's funeral tomorrow morning. I'll need to write a story about it and maybe we'll have the chance to speak with her family again."

Miles snorted. "And have Martin pitch insurance."

"You should simply learn to say no. It's very easy to do." Myrtle pulled into Miles's driveway. "All right. I'll just walk home from here. Do get some sleep, Miles. Your insomnia is cramping my sleuthing."

Miles nodded as he stumbled toward his front door.

"The keys!" Myrtle dangled them and Miles turned around to collect them, dropping them twice before finally making it to the house.

Back home, Myrtle was closing her front door when Pasha slipped in behind her, blinking up at her fetchingly.

"Hungry, Pasha?" crooned Myrtle. "What a smart kitty you are. Let's have something to eat."

She opened a can of tuna for the black cat and made herself a bowl of soup. After Pasha finished her food, she hopped up in the chair next to Myrtle's and purred at her as Myrtle finished off her soup.

Usually Pasha wanted to leave just as quickly as she arrived, but this time she appeared to want to hang out. Myrtle sat in her recliner with her book and the cat curled up on her sofa as the two relaxed for hours.

The next morning, Myrtle woke early, eyes flying open. She'd forgotten to evaluate the condition of her funeral outfit before turning in. She slid out of bed and hurried to her closet, flipping through elastic-waisted pants and button-front blouses before finding it. Amazingly, the outfit looked to be in good condition. Usually, ghastly things happened to her funeral clothing in her closet. It was as if gremlins stole in there and mucked the garments through the outdoor garbage bin.

Because of her early-morning panic over her attire, she was up for good. There was no trying to go back to sleep after waking up like that. The problem was that it was exceedingly early in the day. The paper wasn't in her driveway yet, which was most annoying. Pasha was still out hunting in the darkness and didn't come when Myrtle opened her kitchen window in invitation. There was nothing left to do but cook, even though Myrtle knew she was going to be eating a lot of heavy foods not much later in the day at Lillian's funeral reception.