A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter Thirteen

"I'm sure you would be, but no thanks. I don't need you in my business and I don't need an accountant. I'm perfectly capable of handling my own affairs," said Myrtle, glaring at him.

"All right, all right. But let's talk about the work thing again," said Red.

"Just go on back to investigating the case, Red. I know you must be swamped right now," said Myrtle.

"I was wondering why you weren't plying me with questions about poor Lyle. Clearly you already know about his death. Considering you were cooking up a storm in your kitchen, and all," said Red.

"I'm not plying you with questions because I'm about to enjoy a nice, relaxing and information-filled lunch with Lieutenant Perkins from the SBI, himself," said Myrtle, enjoying the vexed look on Red's face. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll finish up figuring out Puddin's nonsense and be on my way."

Myrtle turned around, stomped into the house and closed the front door with an excessive amount of force. She walked up to Miles and Puddin, who was still on Myrtle's computer.

"Were you about to make any sense out of Puddin's foolishness, Miles?" asked Myrtle.

"As a matter of fact, Puddin made something of a discovery," said Miles, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Puddin gave Myrtle a smug look.

"And this discovery is?" asked Myrtle impatiently.

Puddin said, "You might not know, but I clean for Mr. Holt sometimes."

Myrtle raised her eyebrows. "I'm very surprised to hear this. I assumed he had higher standards."

Puddin shrugged. "Sometimes his wife works and she needs an extra hand. Hard to find somebody who just comes out every once and a while. Anyway, I heard him talkin' over there. On the phone."

Myrtle glanced at her watch. "Miles, can you possibly expedite the telling of this tale?"

Miles cleared his throat. "Well . . . okay. Puddin, stop me if I go wrong. Puddin was aware that Holt is one of our suspects for Neil's murder. Apparently, she'd seen Red leaving Holt's house when she was on her way in to clean. There was a phone call from a political pollster of some sort. Holt stopped the pollster, saying that he couldn't vote. Puddin wondered if a previous felony of some sort was the cause."

Puddin nodded her head over at the computer. "So I started Googlin' him. Nothin' on the first page of results. Nothin' on the second. Nothin' on ...."

"I've got the picture, Puddin. Where was there a result?"

"It was on page six or seven or eight. Guess no one ever dug that deep. Has a mugshot and everything." Puddin's eyes gleamed with malice.

Myrtle said, "But I thought ex-felons could vote after a certain number of years."

Miles said, "They can. But they must re-register. Maybe Holt hasn't gotten around to it yet."

Myrtle walked over to peer more closely at the computer. The mugshot showed a younger Holt, and a different name, but it was definitely him. "Drug trafficking," mused Myrtle. "That sounds serious."

Puddin shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Same as dealin' drugs. Just a fancy name for it."

Miles said, "Holt could have been in possession of a good deal of drugs and the police decided that he intended on selling them. That's a felony."

Myrtle said, "So he moved from Boston and settled in Bradley with a different name. But the school would have done a background check on him. And why on earth would he choose to go into education?"