A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter One

"But you did park here, remember? We ran an errand before we came back here."

Miles said, "Oh, that's right. I'd somehow forgotten the scintillating trip to the drugstore to pick up my allergy medicine before coming here." He sighed and slowly stood up. "All right. Where are the clothes and things?"

"Oh, I can help you, Miles. I simply didn't want to do it all myself." Myrtle stood up and stretched to her full, nearly-six-foot height. "It's all in my room."

"Myrtle, you won't be able to carry things and hold your cane at the same time." Miles looked pointedly at the cane propped on the chair next to Myrtle.

"I can walk without the cane. You know that! It's practically just a fashion accessory."

Miles sighed again and followed Myrtle. They carried out several bags and boxes to Miles's car.

"Where did all this stuff come from, anyway?" asked Miles, panting a bit by the third trip. "I don't remember your having an extensive wardrobe that needed to be culled."

"Red offered to bring things out of the attic," said Myrtle with a nonchalant shrug. She and her son, Red, had a sometimes-combative relationship and it wasn't easy to directly praise him. "There was stuff up there from thirty years ago. I either can't wear it now or I shouldn't wear it now. One's couture choices in your fifties can be rather different than your choices in your eighties. It's amazing how many women don't seem to realize that."

Miles raised his eyebrows. "That was very helpful of Red to clear out your attic for you. Is that perhaps the reason why the gnomes in your front yard suddenly ended up back in the shed?"

Whenever Red drove Myrtle especially crazy, she pulled out her large and ever-growing collection of garden gnomes. Red had no fondness for the gnomes and, seeing as how he lived across the street, displaying them helped Myrtle demonstrate that Red had annoyed her.

"It was more to give the poor gnomes a reprieve. With Red's obstreperous behavior lately, the little guys were spending far too much time in the front yard. And sunlight can be so damaging, you know."

Miles's phone rang in a shrill, high-pitched tone and he jumped. "I must change that ringtone. It scares me to death."

"Who is it?" asked Myrtle with curiosity. "One of your lady friends?"

"I don't have any lady friends. As you well-know," said Miles stiffly.

"That's right—you just have a gaggle of admirers," said Myrtle. She watched as he glanced at his phone and made a face. "It's Georgia."

Myrtle smiled at him. "Isn't that nice? You've always had something of a fascination with Georgia."

"Only because she reminds me so much of someone I was in Vietnam with. And get any thoughts of romance out of your head. Georgia is very likely calling me on book club business," said Miles with a sigh as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"Why on earth is that?"

Miles said, "They appear to be having trouble understanding this month's selection."

Myrtle blinked. "Trouble with The Mayor of Casterbridge? Why on earth would they struggle with that book? It's straightforward enough."

"Apparently not. And, since it was my choice for the month, they seem to think they should call me to ask me questions about it."

Myrtle snorted. "I can't believe it. There's nothing challenging about Thomas Hardy. If they want a real challenge, they should pick up some William Faulkner. They'd really struggle through that. Or James Joyce. I suspect it's all just a ploy to talk with you on the phone."