A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter Ten

Miles cleared his throat. "The Mayor of Casterbridge," he squeaked.

"That's it! The very one." Georgia stuck out her hand and said, "Just wanted to thank you in person for recommending it."

Miles's jaw dropped and he absently shook Georgia's hand. "You mean to say that you liked it?"

"Liked it? I loved it. It's been a while since I've read something like that. You know ... a psychological thriller," said Georgia.

Myrtle frowned. "A psychological thriller? We're referring to the same book, aren't we?"

Miles gave her a hard look. He said in a genuine voice, "Thank you, Georgia. I really appreciate that. As a matter of fact, I was worried about what your reaction to it might be. I've been hearing from a lot of book club members that they're having trouble understanding the story."

Georgia gave a belly laugh that boomed through the aisles of the Piggly Wiggly. "Isn't that a shame? Thought those ladies were smarter than that. Least, that's how they always act. That they're smarter."

"Well, I'm glad there will be someone there who can offer some insight into the story during the discussion," said Miles.

He'd been leaning on the grocery cart and it suddenly set into motion, nearly casting him on the floor in the process. Georgia caught the errant cart with one hand and in a smooth gesture, shoved it right back over until it was in its original spot.

Myrtle rolled her eyes and decided a change of subject was needed. "Georgia, what do you think about Neil Albert's death?"

Georgia's penciled-in eyebrows now looked positively ferocious. "I thought it was a tragedy! Hope Red finds the guy who did it and strings him up. Or, if Red wants to sling the murderer my way, I'll be happy to be the one to dole out the punishment. Neil was a good guy. I saw him in the bank every week when I went in to cash my checks. Always had a nice word to say."

"You never saw Neil arguing with anyone or anything like that?" asked Myrtle.

"Not a bit! He was as nice as they come. Funeral's tomorrow—did you know?" asked Georgia. "Eleven o'clock in the morning at Grace Hill cemetery."

"No, I sure didn't. How did you find out?" asked Myrtle in consternation. She worked for the paper and this was her story. How was it that Georgia Simpson had information that she didn't?

"Word of mouth. Think the widow isn't wanting a big deal made out of it," said Georgia.

"She clearly doesn't know how Southern funerals operate," said Miles dryly.

Georgia said, "She'll find out when a hundred casseroles land on her doorstep." She glanced at her Mickey Mouse watch. "Good seeing you both. Guess I'll see you at the meeting," said Georgia.

As Myrtle and Miles finished filling the cart (since Myrtle had indeed thought of more items that she needed), Miles said thoughtfully, "Maybe the upcoming book club meeting won't be the disaster I thought it was going to be. If Georgia Simpson can understand the book, surely others will, too."

"I'm not at all sure that Georgia did understand the book," said Myrtle with a sniff. "Psychological thriller, indeed!"

"At any rate, let's just let her talk when the discussion starts. Otherwise, it'll be the Myrtle and Miles show. Then everyone will start complaining about how you and I pick books that are too challenging."

"That group would find Dr. Seuss challenging," said Myrtle. "All right. So after we finish up here, we're done for the day. But pick me up for the funeral tomorrow."