Chapter Nine
Myrtle spent much of the night thinking about Maisy. She called Elaine as early as decently possible the next morning, broke the news that the cat had stolen the tuna, then started right in with some questions.
"Did Red find out what happened to Maisy? What does Red know about it? How is she feeling? Is she still in the hospital? Does she need someone to bring her a casserole?"
Elaine shuddered on the other end of the phone. She had a feeling that Maisy, who had just recently undergone horrific gastric distress, would not want a Myrtle Clover casserole.
"She's still in the hospital, Myrtle. After all, she wasn't in the strongest of conditions even before she got sick. And Red mentioned..." Elaine hesitated, but knew Myrtle would end up pulling it out of her. Red shouldn't give her information about his cases! He knew she couldn't keep a secret from Myrtle. "...he mentioned that Maisy was poisoned. I don't know with what."
"What?" asked Myrtle with a sinking sensation in her stomach.
"Which is ridiculous! I mean, like anyone would want to poison poor little Maisy! Did someone put something in her green bean casserole? Really!"
Myrtle suddenly felt something very large and hard in her throat that made it hard to talk around. Nobody would want to murder Maisy. No one. But Myrtle? Maybe. And it was Myrtle's iced tea that Maisy had been drinking.
This was something that Elaine didn't need to know. Because this was something that Red didn't need to know. Apparently no one had noticed that it had been Myrtle's drink that Maisy had drunk from. Red was keeping close enough tabs on her as it was. If she wanted to make sure he wasn't going to stick one of those electronic surveillance ankle bracelets on her, she'd better just keep her trap shut.
There was a light tap on Myrtle's door. She peeped out the window, saw Miles, and said, "Elaine, I've got to run. Miles is here."
She opened the door. "Come on in, Miles," she said.
Miles's face looked oddly green. "There's a mangled rabbit on your front porch."
Myrtle leaned out the door and looked. She shrugged. "Just step over it for now. I'll get the shovel in a little while."
Miles skirted the small corpse, found a spot on Myrtle's sofa and said, "Myrtle? Why is there a dead rabbit on your front porch?"
"The cat," said Myrtle. She waved her hand impatiently at Miles's questioning face. "You know, the feral cat. It's just thanking me for feeding it."
"No good deed goes unpunished," said Miles. He looked intently at Myrtle's living room window. "I'm guessing that's the culprit there?"
Myrtle craned her head and saw the scrawny, black cat staring at them through the window. "The very one."
"Nobody's pretty child, is it?"
Myrtle surprised herself by feeling affronted. "She's had a hard life, Miles. You'd look the same if you poked around garbage cans looking for food."
"Have you named it?" he asked. "I'm thinking 'Fluffy' won't do."
"Not unless I'm being ironic. No, I need something tough, steely. Maybe something Russian. Pasha."
Miles nodded slowly. "Strong, yet feminine. And doesn't Pasha mean 'passion' in Russian? She definitely has a passion for slaughtering and disemboweling small, furry creatures."
Myrtle was cross. "How do you know so much trivia? How could you possibly know any Russian?"
"I read," said Miles loftily. He shifted in his seat. "You know, Pasha is making me uncomfortable just glowering at me. Is there something she wants from you?"
"Oh, who knows? She probably wants to hear a few 'good girls' from me for the rabbit. And the cardinal earlier." Myrtle looked thoughtfully at the cat and it opened its mouth for a silent meow. "I think I'll bring Pasha inside for a couple of minutes. Just to tell her what her name is."
Miles blinked. "You're not looking for a pet, are you?"
Myrtle stood up in an abrupt motion. "Of course not. I've got enough going on without having a live-in companion. I'm just curious to see what would happen if I brought her inside."
"Aren't feral cats completely unadoptable? And unpredictable around people?"
"Okay, Elaine. I'm not inviting Pasha in for good, just for a couple of minutes. She did go out of her way to slaughter offerings for me, after all." She turned the door knob, stuck her head outside, and called, "Here, kitty, kitty. Here, Pasha!"
There was the flash of black that was Pasha in motion. Myrtle turned to smile smugly at Miles for Pasha's obedience and obvious intelligence (A feral cat coming when called? What an amazing animal!). The smile died when she saw that Pasha was hissing dementedly and had attached herself to Miles's body like a clawed, fanged limpet.
Miles gave a high-pitched scream that Myrtle wouldn't have believed he could make and frantically tried peeling Pasha off of him. But Pasha was a virago, and determined to punish Miles for some unknown crime.
"Bad kitty! Bad Pasha! No!" said Myrtle.
"Get it ooooofffff meee!" yelled Miles.
Myrtle grabbed her glass of ice water and threw it on Pasha's back. And Miles's leg, of course, since that's where most of Pasha was. Pasha launched off of Miles, slinking to the corner of Myrtle's living room, and staring sulkily at Myrtle before licking her wet fur with emphatic strokes of her tongue.
Miles stood up shakily, summoning as much dignity as he could muster after being attacked by a stray cat in a friend's house. "I think I should go," he said coldly.
Myrtle bit the inside of her lip. She couldn't show any sign of the amusement that she was feeling over the whole situation or that would make him even angrier. "I'm sorry, Miles. I don't know what got into her. Maybe she was abused by a man at some point?"
"But not," said Miles, "by me. I'm sure Pasha can make the distinction between me and some cat abusing man." He sounded quite offended that the cat could have made such an error when determining the direction of his moral compass.
"I'm sorry, Miles," Myrtle repeated. "Uh...what did you come over here to tell me to begin with? Before being ambushed, I mean."
Miles peered suspiciously at Myrtle, as if suspecting she might be laughing at him. "I wanted to let you know that I heard from the checkout lady at the grocery store that Willow and Jill had a huge argument in the store right before Jill was murdered."
"And she had that huge fight with Jill the night of the supper club, too. Willow's always been upset that Jill married Cullen and that she continued supporting him after he quit working. Was that the argument?"
Miles still looked pretty miffed. "If it was, it was the loudest, most animated argument about Cullen that they've had yet. That's what the checkout lady said."
Myrtle knit her brows. "I really want to find out some more information about Cullen. He seems to be at the very center of everything, but I really don't know much about him. I taught him, of course, but that was...well, it was a while back. And Cullen doesn't seem like he's sober enough to hold an intelligent conversation. Maybe I could have a little chat with Simon, instead, and pick his brain about his brother. I wonder how I could make it seem like I've just casually run into him."
Miles pushed his glasses up and thought. "Actually, I know where he goes three times a week and exactly the time of day he's there."
"Please don't tell me it's the gym. I just told off Red a couple of weeks ago for trying to boss me into going over there. I made the mistake of telling Elaine that my doctor recommended I work out and she felt compelled to share that tidbit with Red."
"It's the gym. He's there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday during his lunch hour at noon. On the weight machines," added Miles helpfully. "Of course, even if you make it look casual, I'm sure he'll know why you're asking about his brother. Front page news, remember? Octogenarian sleuth?"
Myrtle blew out a deep breath. "True. But it's possible he doesn't even subscribe to the paper. That's why Sloan is feeling so desperate right now, after all. I guess I could go to the gym just the one time. For the sake of the case."
"You'll have to go over there more than once, Myrtle. The staff has to give you special training on using the machines so that you don't hurt yourself. Or the machines. What is it that your doctor told you you're supposed to be doing?"
"Building up bone mass," said Myrtle gloomily. "He said I was in fantastic shape, then completely contradicted himself by telling me to do some gentle weight lifting. And then Elaine was a blabbermouth and told Red what the doctor said. If Red has his way, I'll work out so much I'll be an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike."
"Not with the kind of workout you'd be doing, Myrtle. Besides, this gym isn't some body-building hangout. It's mostly middle-aged and older people trying to stay healthy. You might find that you really like it."
Miles eyed Pasha with apprehension as she seemed to grow restless and swished her tail a few times. "I'm ready to go now. I don't want to start round two with your new pet."
After receiving training on the equipment Thursday, Myrtle went into Fit Life shortly before noon on Friday. She scanned her membership card at the front desk and was surprised to see Sherry there. "I didn't know you worked here."
Sherry was digging out some membership paperwork for a new member and gave Myrtle a quick smile and said, "You probably wouldn't, unless you came here. I've seen Chief Clover here, of course."
Myrtle made a face. "He's been trying to get me here for weeks."
Sherry opened her mouth to respond, then clamped it shut before mumbling, "Excuse me, Miss Myrtle," and redirecting her attention to the new member. Myrtle turned around and saw Cullen Caulfield swaggering up to the desk. He worked out? Since when? He wasn't exactly trying to take care of himself. He seemed to be in no hurry to scan a membership card. Was he there for some other reason? Maybe to talk to Sherry? She remembered again the way Sherry had looked out from Cullen's window the morning after Jill's murder.
Myrtle decided that a cup of coffee from the coffee station in the lobby would be perfect before her workout. And a perfect excuse to stand around and see what happened.
But nothing seemed to be going to happen. Sherry appeared determined to pretend that Cullen was not there. She made herself busy with the new member, then settled down to filing applications and inputting the data on a computer. All the time, Cullen loped around the lobby, watching Sherry all the tim. Finally he leaned across the membership desk and bellowed, "Sherry! You're going to talk to me. I'm not going away."
Myrtle squeezed her coffee cup, nearly crushing the Styrofoam.
Sherry pretended that she hadn't heard anything and continued typing on the computer. Another employee walked out of the office, looking at Cullen curiously.
"Can I help you?" she asked, and Cullen shook his shaggy head, impatiently. "Are you a member here?" persisted the employee.
Just when Myrtle was sure Cullen was on the verge of being unceremoniously kicked out of the health club, things became even more interesting when Cullen's brother, Simon Caulfield, came through the door. Unlike his brother, Simon was clearly outfitted for exercising, and carried a workout bag as well.
Cullen and Simon looked like twins, even though they were several years apart. They both had a wasted quality about them: Cullen...well, because he probably was wasted, and Simon because he looked like someone who wasn't happy with what he was doing in life. They were both tall, thin, angular, and serious.
Simon, his body stiff and face furious, said something quietly to Cullen. Cullen clenched his fists and said something in return that Myrtle couldn't catch. Myrtle crept closer to listen in. She was worried at first that they were going to find somewhere private to argue-but soon realized that they were angry enough to forget that anyone else was around.
"You killed her!" Cullen said in a vicious voice. "It was you, it must have been. You hated Jill."
"I hated the fact that she was sponging off of you with Dad's money! That money should have been mine. And then you drank the money, instead of doing anything useful with it at all. If I'd had that money..."
"Oh right. Because if you'd had Dad's money, you'd be a Nobel Prize winner. Right. Same old story."
Simon stood very still. "I would have made something out of myself. Dad didn't mean for his money to be spent on booze," he said. "And it would kill him that your wife was cleaning other people's houses. There's no excuse for the way you've been just bumming around the house, drinking, while your wife works two jobs to scrape together a paycheck. What kind of man are you? She was scrubbing our toilets last week."
"It was the old man's money," said Cullen, ignoring Simon's mention of Jill's housekeeping. "He could do whatever the hell he wanted to with it. So he did. He didn't like your lifestyle..."
"There wasn't any lifestyle," said Simon in a very quiet voice. "Lies. You lied to the old man to get his money. And somehow he believed you. And now you're trying to pin Jill's murder on me? You didn't give a rip about Jill."
"I did," said Cullen. His hands were clenched in fists at his side.
"Really? Because I'm thinking you got rid of her so you could mess around with..."
Cullen gaped at his brother. "You think I killed her? She cooked for me. Cleaned for me. Did my yard work. Are you nuts?"
How touching, thought Myrtle. Really, he was just in the same position she was in with Puddin and Dusty-he hadn't wanted to lose his housekeeper and yard man.
"Besides, you couldn't stand Jill, either. And nobody knows what you were doing when she was killed. I've got a good idea...I think you murdered her."
Simon gave a short laugh. "Why would I do that, Cullen? For what possible reason?"
"Plenty of them. You've always been embarrassed by Jill. You thought she wasn't good enough for our family. And maybe...I think she figured out why Dad cut you out of the will. Maybe she didn't want to hold her tongue like I always have."
Now Simon's eyes were coldly furious. "There's nothing to find out. You made it all up. I didn't go near Jill. And get off your high horse, Cullen. If you'd cared anything about Jill then you wouldn't have been cheating on her right up until she died."
Myrtle's eyebrows shot up. She looked around to see if Sherry were listening and what her reaction was, but apparently Sherry had retreated to the back of the gym.
"Just because I cheated on her doesn't mean I didn't love her," said Cullen in what Myrtle considered a staggering lack of logic. "The affair didn't mean anything. Jill and I understood each other."
"It sure would've been convenient if Jill had been taken out of the way. Then there would have been nothing standing in the way of you two," said Simon. "How can you handle living in this town where everybody knows what a lazy, no-good guy you are? You had plenty of money. I heard about that windfall. But you were still happy to have Jill out there working like a dog."
And that was the moment when Cullen threw the first punch. Myrtle suddenly heard Red's voice bellowing out, "All right. All right! That's enough. Break it up, you two," and her son quickly strode into the lobby, reaching down a big hand to yank apart the brothers.
It only took a second for Cullen and Simon to separate. They stared at each other, panting. "Cullen, I know your sorry hide doesn't have a gym membership here. Get out before I charge you with trespassing. Simon, you better start exercising before you're charged with public fighting and disturbing the peace." Red waited while Cullen slunk out and Simon, still bristling, grabbed his workout bag and stalked into the weight room.
Red finally noticed Myrtle standing to the side, clutching her coffee. "Mama? What are you doing here?" he squinted suspiciously at her. "You always turn up like a bad penny whenever there's trouble. Should I be looking around for a dead body?" He did double take as he took in Myrtle's athletic outfit. "You're here to work out?"
Red's delight really made Myrtle steamed. She hated having him think he'd won that argument. But it would be worse having him think she was snooping around on his case. "Miles got me to go. He's been talking up this place for months. So I figured, why not? I didn't mind so much if I had somebody to exercise with me."
"Well, I'm just glad to see you here, Mama, whatever the reason was. You've been trained on the equipment and everything?"
"Yes, some man yesterday showed me how to use it. You know, I didn't see Sherry here yesterday. I didn't even know she worked here."
Red hoisted his workout bag back onto his shoulder. "Yeah, I usually see her in here when I come. She doesn't work every day, though."
"It's a good thing you were here when you were, Red. Considering that fight."
Red rolled his eyes. "Those two just don't get along. You'd think that brothers would have more in common. Seems like I break up a fight between those two every few months."
Myrtle trod carefully. She wanted to try and get information from Red, especially since she sensed he'd been knocked off-guard by her sudden interest in exercising. But she didn't want to supply him with any information he didn't already have. "It sounded to me," she said slowly, "like they were fighting over money. Like Simon was upset that their father had cut him out of his will and given the money to Cullen."
"Well, if that's what they were fighting about, it sure isn't the first time," snorted Red. "You'd think they'd stop going round and round on that subject. Cullen pressed charges years ago against Simon after the will was read and Simon jumped on him. Sounds like nothing much has changed. Do you remember how they were when they were boys?"
Myrtle said, "It wasn't too bad at the school because they were in different grades. But I remember a couple of times I heard about fights on the school bus." She snapped her fingers. "Almost forgot. I wanted to ask you how Maisy Perry is."
Red looked grim. "She's doing okay now that they pumped her stomach out. She was a
lucky lady that she got sick where she did. If she'd been at home then she probably wouldn't have made it. Having all the church ladies jump in like they did really made a difference."
"But she wasn't just sick, was she? I've never in my life seen someone get that sick, that fast. Was she...poisoned?" She didn't want him to know that Elaine had been blabbing to her about it.
Red rubbed his eyes. "Yes, Mama, she was. Somehow her drink was poisoned with liquid nicotine. But I can't for the life of me think why someone would want to kill Maisy Perry. Did she upset someone with her horoscopes? I can't even ask her anything because she's still in bad shape. Seems like the whole town is going to hell."
"Liquid nicotine? So that means that it was in her drink?"
"That's right." Red glanced at his watch. "We'll have to catch up later, Mama. I've got to squeeze my workout in and then get back to work. Perkins and I have to get started in about an hour."
Myrtle raised her eyebrows questioningly when Red paused. "You coming?" he asked.
She groaned, threw her cup in the trash can and went in to face her doom.
"Progressive Dinner Deadly" and other Myrtle Clover mysteries are available in ebook, audio, and print formats from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and other retailers. I'll post a chapter each Friday, but if you can't wait, please visit one of the listed retailers for the completed book. Follow me on Twitter (elizabethscraig), sign up for my newsletter, or visit my website at Elizabethspanncraig.com for more information. I'll update Wattpad on Friday afternoons. Hope you'll enjoy the book.