Murder on Opening Night: Myrtle Clover #9

Chapter Fourteen

"I'm borrowing your phone to text Elaine to say we're heading to your house. My phone is buried somewhere in my purse. And I guess I should tell Elaine about Jack's little accident. I hate to return him in worse shape than he was when he was dropped off," fretted Myrtle.

Miles said, "I'm sure she's used to it. Toddlers aren't known for coordination and dexterity."

"Neither are seniors," grunted Myrtle as she tipped over her water reaching for Miles's phone. "Can I not get a break from water today?" After quickly sopping up that spill she finally picked up his phone. And frowned. "What's wrong with this thing?"

"Did it have water spilled on it?" asked Miles glumly.

"Not a drop. It's turning on fine, but there isn't an icon for texting," said Myrtle, peering very hard at the phone screen.

"There must be," said Miles, reaching for the phone.

"Ah! Not while we're in motion. Here, pull into your driveway and I'll show you. It also looks like you don't have an icon to make phone calls," said Myrtle.

"But it's a phone! It must make phone calls."

"Not according to what I'm seeing on this screen," said Myrtle.

Miles pulled into the driveway and quickly retrieved his phone. He pushed his glasses up his nose and stared intently at his home screen. Then he opened all of his phone's apps and stared at them. "They're ... gone! What happened?"

Myrtle considered this for a moment. "No offense to my darling grandson, but do I recall seeing him playing with your phone while we were in the diner?"

"But Jack wouldn't have been able to delete my phone and messaging apps," said Miles.

Myrtle shook her head. "Don't sell him short, Miles. I've a feeling he knows more about your phone than you do."

"He can't even read!"

Jack beamed at Miles.

"Reading doesn't really factor into it," said Myrtle.

"P-Yano," reminded Jack.

"Yes, that's right. We're going to go in and play Mr. Miles's piano," said Myrtle sedately. "And I'm going to dig my phone from the depths of my pocketbook and call Elaine."

Miles was still fiddling with his phone. "Well, I'll be doggoned."

Myrtle stopped on her way up Miles's front walk. "It looks like Wanda has been by."

"Oh no! No. Not more squash!" Miles finally walked away from the car, still holding his phone and a bag from the diner.

"Squash and a horoscope, I'm presuming. I'm thinking, at this point, that we really need to deflect Wanda. I need to give her something else to think about besides paying you back for all your past kindnesses," mulled Myrtle. "Although you'd have thought her new column would have been enough."

"Tell her that the amount of squash I'm receiving is dissuading me from making future kindnesses," muttered Miles, giving the large bag of squash a horrified look. "Is she just dumping fertilizer on her garden? How is such an abomination possible?"

"I believe she left a note on it this time," said Myrtle, peering at the bag.

"Can we decipher it? You know what Wanda's writing is like," said Miles. "I don't know how you're managing with your editing of her stuff."

"Her scrawl is short and sweet this time. It says gif to theeater." Myrtle paused. "That's odd, isn't it? It's almost as if she knew we were taking the squash there."