At three o'clock, Myrtle called Miles on the phone.
Miles said in a resigned voice, "I suppose you're ready to head over to the high school for the basketball game, right? I have the feeling that we're going to be scouting out Holt Kelly as well as Adelaide."
"That's right. But what's more, I think I need to escape my house," said Myrtle. "Elaine has been over here working in my yard. She has very strange landscaping ideas. Jack has a lot more talent at planting than Elaine does, and a lot more sense about where to plant things. She has one perennial smack-dab in the middle of the front yard next to a shrub she stuck there. It's not a bed, it's not a border—it's just this lone plant sitting sadly by itself. She said something about 'visual interest.'"
"Maybe it's her idea of art? Some sort of artistic yard statement?" asked Miles in a doubtful tone.
"Who knows? I think she just wanted to plant something right in the middle of my gnomes. They're so many of them in the yard right now that Elaine must have shoved two or three aside to make room."
"It's sort of sad, isn't it? Elaine always tries so hard," said Miles. "There must be something that she's good at."
"Must there be? I think she's run the gamut of hobbies. But enough of this. We need to head over to the high school," said Myrtle.
"But the game is at four o'clock. I'd rather not be there a minute early," said Miles. "I've been obsessing over the fact that we'll be on bleachers. My back will probably go into shock at sitting on something without a back to it for that long."
Myrtle said, "Then you'll be happy to know that the one good thing that came out of Elaine's visit, besides the opportunity to be with my darling, brilliant grandson, was the fact that she brought over two stadium seats. She and Red like to see games sometimes."
"I suppose that will make it bearable," said Miles.
"And if we go there early, maybe we'll have a chance to speak with Adelaide or Holt, or both of them."
Miles's voice was resigned. "If that's what we need to do."
They arrived at the high school a little too early. There was no one manning the ticket booth yet. Miles made grumbling noises and they resumed sitting in the car.
Finally, there were signs of life over in the ticket booth. They bought their tickets and walked inside where there was a school security guard with a wand to check them for weapons. When the guard spotted Myrtle and Miles, he simply waved them through without putting them through security or even checking Myrtle's bag.
Myrtle said—huffily—as she and Miles walked away, "I feel rather insulted. I could be a very dangerous person."
"You are a very dangerous person," agreed Miles. "You just happen to look very innocuous. Apparently, I do, too."
"It's ageism," said Myrtle. "I've a mind to go back there and demand that my purse be checked for weapons."
"For heaven's sake, Myrtle. Let's just get through this game without any problems, all right?" said Miles.
They walked into the gym. It was like every high school gym in America: shiny wood floor, scoreboards on either end, rows and rows of uncomfortable bleachers. The junior varsity basketball team was practicing on the floor and the cheerleaders were filing in and taking their places in the stands since there was no room on the floor for them.
They carefully made their way up the steps into the stands and set up their stadium seats. Once they were finally settled, Myrtle said, "I feel like I've stepped back in time to my teaching days. Of course, they've renovated the gymnasium since then, but I still feel like I'm here for a pep rally."
Miles said, "I don't really have happy memories of high school gyms. I wasn't the most athletic of students."
"I suppose not, since you ended up an accountant. They rarely move from their desks," said Myrtle.
"Engineer," said Miles coolly. "I was an engineer."
"Whatever," said Myrtle. She paused for a second. "I wonder if they've set up their concession stand yet."
"Concession stand? At a high school game?"
"Certainly! That's how the booster club makes all its money. They'll have candy bars and popcorn and soft drinks and things," said Myrtle.
"Sounds healthy," said Miles morosely.
"You can eat a little junk food. Remember how the healthy food at Bo's Diner made you feel sick yesterday?"
Miles said, "That's because the healthy food was either fried, drowned in sugar, or covered in gravy or bacon."
"But at its core, it was healthy. I felt fine, and I had hot dogs," said Myrtle.
Miles sighed. "What would you like at the concession stand?"
"Popcorn."
Miles carefully walked back down the bleachers and disappeared out the gymnasium door. Myrtle trained her eyes on the basketball court where Adelaide Pound was coaching the girls' basketball team.
After a few minutes, Adelaide called out to two girls, "My captains can take over the rest of the practice."
Myrtle watched as Adelaide walked over to where Myrtle was sitting. "Mrs. Clover! It's such a pleasure to see you."
Adelaide was an athletic looking middle-aged woman with black hair pulled back in a ponytail and blue eyes smiling at her.
Myrtle started to stand, but Adelaide quickly stopped her. "Don't worry about standing up—those metal bleachers are too unsteady. I don't know how you climbed up them to begin with."
"I was just telling my friend, Miles—oh, here's Miles now."
Miles was carefully scaling the bleachers holding a drink, a plate with two slices of pizza, and popcorn.
Myrtle said, "That's a feast, Miles!"
"Apparently, concession stands at high schools now have pizza, hot dogs, and hamburgers. I thought we might get hungry," said Miles.
Myrtle introduced Miles and Adelaide.
Adelaide said, "Well, it sure is a pleasure. Mrs. Clover was one of my favorite teachers. Whenever I run across you in town, I never really have the chance to say hi. Did you decide to take in some basketball today, just for something different?"
"I have to admit that part of it is the thrill of being back on the campus. I spent so many years here!" Myrtle smiled at her. "But there is an underlying reason that I'm here today."
Adelaide snapped her fingers. "Wait a minute. I think I remember reading a story of yours in the paper this morning." Now she looked just the slightest bit wary.
Myrtle looked pleased that her story had been read, but also wanted to dispel Adelaide's concerns. "Oh, just a small story. As a favor to Sloan at the paper. You must know how things at the paper go—you write stories there, yourself. My article was nothing very exciting."
Adelaide snorted and said, "You'll forgive me, Mrs. Clover. From what I remember about your writing ability, there are no small, unexciting stories from you. You can't downplay your reporting. So, even though I'm a little nervous about it, what can I help you with before I get back to the team?"
Myrtle glanced over at the scoreboard, which appeared to have a countdown to the start of the game. "You always were very direct. All right, I'll spit it right out, but I want to let you know that it makes me uncomfortable." She lowered her voice, which was difficult to do and still be heard in the noisy gym. "There is some talk that you had a relationship with Neil Albert. The deceased person in the article you read this morning."
Almost as if on cue, Adelaide's blue eyes filled with tears. She blinked fiercely until they went away. "Sorry. It still hurts hearing his name. And you're not the one to have something to feel uncomfortable about—it's me. I never thought I'd be in a relationship with a married man. That was something that was always against my personal code of ethics." She blew out a sigh. "But somehow, I couldn't help myself with Neil."
Myrtle asked, "And he felt the same way?"
Adelaide gave a hard laugh. "I'd like to tell myself that, especially now. It would be so easy to just say that he still had warm feelings for me, up to the point of his death. But it's not true. Neil came to his senses, I guess. Or else, he realized that, in a small town, word would get around very quickly to his wife. I don't think he ever planned on leaving her for me ... certainly not by the end of our relationship."
Miles asked delicately, "So it did end?"
"In a manner of speaking. That's to say that Neil considered it to be over. I was still trying to get back together with him. I was more into him than he was into me," she finished sadly.
Myrtle glanced back at the scoreboard and hurriedly asked, "Where were you a couple of evenings ago? When Neil died?"
"I was sitting in the bank parking lot when Neil left. I did that a lot. This might sound kind of crazy, but it was my way of feeling like we were still together," said Adelaide.
"You just sat there? You didn't try to speak with him?" asked Miles.
"Oh, I tried speaking with him, too. But most of the time, he just shut me out. So I started bringing supper along with me. It was almost like we were having dinner together since we were in close proximity and I was eating." She shook her head. "Like I said, this sounds kind of crazy. Especially when I put it into words."
Myrtle decided not to address the craziness of Adelaide's parking lot picnics. "And you were sitting in the parking lot when Neil died?"
Hearing his name again made Adelaide blink rapidly once more. She said, "I was. I picked up some fast food on the way from the school. He looked like he had something on his mind—he really barely looked at me. That hurt worse than the times he'd get angry that I was there. It was almost as though he had gotten used to my being there and no longer registered my presence one way or another."
Miles interjected, "Or maybe whatever he had on his mind was serious. Maybe he was so distracted that he barely even noticed the parking lot at all. And it sounds as though you weren't there every day."
Adelaide gave him a grateful look. "No, not every day."
Myrtle said, "So you didn't follow him? When you did this?"
Adelaide shook her head. "And risk upsetting his wife? No. Neil was pretty routine-driven. When he left work, he was heading home."
"You didn't see his car on the side of the road on your own way home?" asked Miles.
Adelaide sighed. "No. I live in the opposite direction. I wish I had. I've been tormenting myself over it. If I'd passed by Neil while he was having car trouble, maybe he wouldn't be dead right now. I wouldn't have left him. I'd have called for help."
Myrtle said, "It's never good to ask ourselves those types of questions, Adelaide."
Adelaide glanced back again at her team and Myrtle added quickly, "Who do you think might be responsible for Neil's death? Do you know of anyone who wasn't getting along with him? Heard of any arguments or disagreements?"
Adelaide nodded. "As a matter of fact, I have. I was having some sandwiches outside the bank last week when my boss pulled into the parking lot." She winced. "At first, I thought he was there to give me a hard time for being there—that maybe Neil had complained about my hanging out, waiting for him. Harassment, or something."
Which it certainly was. Myrtle said, "This is Holt Kelly? Your principal?"
Adelaide gave another quick look around to make sure that the man wasn't there and lurking over her shoulder. She gave another nod. "That's right. But it turned out that he wasn't there to see me, at all. He was there to talk to Neil."
Miles asked, "Could you hear any of their conversation?"
"I was a little worried that Mr. Kelly would see me there, but I managed to roll my car window down enough to hear some of it. I wouldn't necessarily call it a conversation; it was more of a yelling match," said Adelaide.
"What did you hear?" asked Myrtle.
"Mr. Kelly was saying something about money," said Adelaide with a shrug. "But I only heard the tail-end of it all. Sorry I can't be more helpful." She paused. "Do you really think that Mr. Kelly could have something to do with Neil's death? But why?"
Myrtle said, "I'm not sure. Did you ever get the impression from Neil that he knew your boss? That he was acquainted with him?"
Adelaide said, "No, although I'm sure he probably felt as if he knew him. I'd talk about Mr. Kelly all the time. You know how teachers talk about their principals."
The scoreboard made a startlingly loud buzzing sound and Adelaide grimaced. "That's my cue. It was good talking to you, Mrs. Clover. Mr. Bradford."
And she bounded down the bleachers in a surefooted way that made Myrtle very jealous.