Myrtle and Miles walked toward Miles’s Volvo. Miles said, “Bonnie said that Amos was acting weird at your dinner party. That’s not really a good sign for the future of their relationship.”
Myrtle scoffed. “Bonnie wouldn’t know flirting if it hit her in the face. But she might understand an email or an invitation to a date a little better. Besides, she’s unemployed right now and at loose ends. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
Miles gave up. “Okay, well, it’s the middle of the day now. Are we going to try and hunt down more suspects? We’ve got plenty of hours left to do it. What’s our next move?”
“I want to find out more about that argument that Felix had with Chester. Let’s try to scout him out,” said Myrtle, climbing into Miles’s car.
Miles said, “How exactly do you propose to do that? We don’t just usually run into Felix, do we?”
“We should beard the lion in his den. Let’s go right to his house and knock on the door. He knows I write for the paper and we’ll just explain that I’m trying to get a little background information for my story,” said Myrtle.
Miles started the car, looking worried. “I don’t know, Myrtle. He seems like a nice guy, but I doubt your excuse is going to make him want to talk to us. He’ll probably come up with some excuse.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s a politician. All politicians love the press.”
They drove back to Bradley and right through downtown. Myrtle was looking idly out the window when she suddenly sat up. “Stop the car!”
Miles obediently stopped right in the middle of the street, making a guy in a truck behind him honk at him. He turned red. “I certainly hope there was an emergency that required me to stop in the road.”
“You’re so literal, Miles! I only meant that you should park it. It’s Hattie—still speaking to a Realtor, but about to come out. She’s another one who’s hard to catch up with.”
Miles, gritting his teeth, parked the car. Myrtle hopped out and onto the sidewalk in enough time to affect casual surprise when Hattie finally walked out the door of the real estate office.
“Hattie! What a surprise to see you, dear,” purred Myrtle. “And you were seeing a Realtor? Are you house shopping?”
Hattie’s look of irritation was quickly masked by a tight smile. “It’s more like house selling.”
“I see. Your uncle’s home, then.”
Hattie said, “Yes. It’s a great house, but it’s way too big for one person. Not that Uncle Chester would ever admit something like that. And, well, it’s just not my style.” She gave a shiver as if the white columned, plantation-style home gave her nightmares. Hattie was the sort who probably would prefer to live in a loft in the middle of a big city. “Plus, I heard that the market was very good right now.”
Myrtle nodded. Wanda’s horoscopes at work again. Seller’s market.
Then she gave them both a sharp look. “I hope you’re not thinking that I’m some greedy relative excited about getting my uncle’s money.”
Myrtle said, “No, I think you’re being smart to talk to a Realtor and start the process of selling.”
The defensive look on Hattie’s face disappeared. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I just heard it from Louvenia and then it made me think that everybody felt the same way.”
“When did Louvenia say that?” asked Myrtle, frowning.
Hattie gave a short laugh. “At your dinner party. It was after she’d gotten really smashed, though. She probably wouldn’t have said anything otherwise. At the beginning of the party, she was fine and we were talking about local art venues and interesting restaurants. But later, she was telling me that I was low-class and would probably end up spending Chester’s money on tattoos. And said something about being cheated out of a restaurant?” Hattie shook her head. “But she was messed up.”
Miles said, “Actually, it appears that she wasn’t.”
“You must not have talked to Red yet. The police chief, that is. But Louvenia is dead,” said Myrtle.
Hattie stood very still. “Alcohol poisoning? Overdose?”
“It looks as if she might have ingested antifreeze. She was poisoned,” said Myrtle, watching Hattie closely.
Hattie’s eyes were hooded now. “Someone murdered her?”
“That’s right. Do you have any idea who might have done it? Or why?” asked Myrtle.
“Or did you see anyone hanging around her drink?” added Miles.
Hattie gave a short laugh. “I was hanging around her drink. Not really her drink, but her. She was the only person I felt I knew really well enough to talk to. And before she started putting me down, she was sort of entertaining.” She shook her head as if she was still trying to figure it out. “Antifreeze. I was wondering how she could be so plastered when I didn’t really see her drink anything. I figured she must have had something before she came or that maybe she was on a prescription drug that shouldn’t have been mixed with alcohol.”
“Did you think anything was strange at all?” asked Myrtle.
“Regarding the people at the party,” clarified Miles.
Myrtle glared at him. He was determined to consider her food strange.
Hattie thought for a minute and then shrugged. “Nothing really strange. It was strange that she was drunk, but I guess we have an explanation for that. I noticed that Amos seemed to be flirting with Bonnie and I thought that was a little odd. I mean, Bonnie’s nice and everything, but, you know. And early in the party, Louvenia and Bonnie were talking together for a while. I saw Bonnie start to cry.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t hear what they were talking about.”
“Any ideas why someone would want Louvenia dead?” asked Miles.
Hattie said, “She seemed kind of nosy. Maybe she knew something about Uncle Chester’s death.” She looked at her watch. “Sorry, but I’ve got to head out. I’ve got a lot to do. Good talking to you.”
And she was gone.
Myrtle and Miles got back in the car to go see Felix. Felix had a large brick home right on the lake. It had a manicured yard and a couple of nice cars in the driveway. Myrtle and Miles were just getting out of the car when Felix came hurrying outside, carrying a bunch of campaign materials. He paused when he saw them, before putting on a large smile.
“Miss Myrtle and Miles! I keep running into you, don’t I?” he asked in a light voice.
Myrtle said, “This time it’s not accidental. You probably know that I work for the newspaper,” she said.
Felix’s eyebrows drew together in thought before he smiled again. “Ah, yes. The Helpful Hints column. Nice stuff. I really like it when you post tips on painting rooms.”
“I meant my investigative reporting. Sloan relies on me for the really complex stories,” said Myrtle with some irritation.
Felix nodded. “Right, right. You write a lot for the Bugle, then.”
“Yes. And I’m trying to speak to everyone and really flesh out my story. Since Miles and I last spoke to you, we found out a little more about Louvenia’s death. She didn’t die of natural causes—she was poisoned. Likely by antifreeze,” said Myrtle.
Felix dropped a few yard signs and Miles picked them up and handed them back to him.
“Really? I mean ... is that just speculation or something else?” asked Felix.
“Not according to Red. But they’re getting the poison pinned down right now,” said Myrtle. “What I wanted to ask you was whether you saw anyone hovering around Louvenia’s drink or noticed anything at all out of the ordinary.”
“Besides Louvenia being intoxicated,” added Miles. That always seemed to be the only thing the other dinner party guests noticed.
Felix’s face was the very picture of someone earnestly trying to remember. He said slowly, “Bonnie spent a good deal of time with her. And Hattie, of course. And that other woman hovered over her drink.”
“Which other woman?” asked Myrtle with a frown.
“The rather pale, sort of squatty one,” said Felix. “She was helping you out.”
“Oh, Puddin,” said Myrtle, waving her hand dismissively. “Yes, she was helping as much as she ever does.”
“And Erma, I guess. She was filling everyone’s coffee cup,” added Felix.
Myrtle nodded. She would love to be able to suspect Erma of murder, but she was of the solid belief that Erma, although incredibly annoying and cringe-inducing, was not lethal in any way.
Felix dropped another couple of campaign yard signs and Miles stooped again to pick them up.
Miles was handing them to Felix when Felix said, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you two keep these signs for yourselves? The election is coming up and I can use all the help I can get from my friends in the community.”
Myrtle rather thought that ‘friends’ was a stretch. “I’m afraid I’m apolitical.”
Miles hastily nodded. But he wasn’t the type to have political advertising marring his immaculate yard.
Felix grinned at them. “That can’t possibly be true. I remember your teaching was laced with politics, Miss Myrtle. I think you might even have been a guiding force channeling me into government service.”
Myrtle pursed her lips. “I might have been more political decades ago. All I really care about now is rights for seniors.”
Miles hid a smile. Myrtle was certainly more political than that. She’d even organized a sit-in at Greener Pastures Retirement Home before.
Felix said eagerly, “Well, that’s perfect, then! I’m all about rights for seniors.”
He then launched into a political spiel as Miles anxiously clutched the yard signs, looking for an opportunity to stuff the unwanted propaganda back into Felix’s arms.
Myrtle waited until Felix took a breath and then interjected quickly, “That’s wonderful, Felix, and I’m delighted to hear that I inspired your political ambitions. But I’m afraid that my yardman is unhappy enough over my yard art. I dare not put anything else in my yard at this juncture.”
Felix looked as though he was about to debate the point, but then stopped. He must have been remembering the ‘yard art’ and thinking that perhaps he’d rather not have his campaign associated with it, after all.
“I did want to ask you something else. We’ve heard reports that you and Chester had a disagreement,” said Myrtle.
Felix’s brow furrowed again. “A disagreement? Whatever over? Chester and I were friends. Everyone knows that.”
“Yes, but even friends have disagreements. As a matter of fact, I understood that the disagreements were over the very signs that you’re holding right now,” said Myrtle.
Felix laughed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t know who was listening or what they heard, but that’s completely ridiculous. They misinterpreted everything. Chester wasn’t big on having my campaign signs in his yard. That was fine. End of story.”
Miles said carefully, “And you weren’t upset about that?”
“Maybe I was a little piqued. But I certainly understood. So Chester isn’t a yard sign kind of guy. That’s okay,” said Felix, holding out his hands in an expansive gesture.
Myrtle stared at Felix as if he were back in her classroom. “But Chester was a yard sign kind of guy. Miles and I have driven past his house plenty of times. There’s still a campaign sign in his yard currently that Hattie hasn’t pulled up. And the sign is for your opponent.”
Felix reddened and said, “It’s a free country. Chester could do what he wanted.”
“But Chester was your friend. You were counting on him to support you, weren’t you?” asked Miles.
Felix gave a short laugh. “I always considered us friends, yes. But Chester was very resentful of my success.”
Myrtle said, “But Chester was successful, too.”
“But he worked harder for it,” said Felix. “He was jealous that I had the opportunity to go off to college when he had to go to work.” He paused. “There’s really no reason to go into this. Amos is probably behind these crimes. You asked what I noticed at your dinner party. When Chester’s name was brought up in passing by Erma, I was watching Amos’s face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of hatred on anyone’s face. And this was after the man was dead.”
Myrtle said, “You didn’t bring this up before.”
Felix shrugged. “I didn’t realize Louvenia was murdered before. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to distribute these signs,” he said, taking them back from Miles. If you change your minds about having campaign signs, you know where to find me.” He gave them a wink.
“Well, that’s all of them,” said Myrtle as they got back in Miles’s Volvo.
“But not everyone we need to talk to,” said Miles.
Myrtle frowned. “Who am I forgetting?”
“Erma. She was there the whole time at your party. She’s also fairly observant. And she was the one who was pouring the drinks.”
Myrtle said, “That doesn’t mean I want to talk to her.”
“Don’t be so stubborn. You know she’s probably got helpful information for us. We don’t have to stay long,” said Miles.
“Yes, but every second with Erma is like an eternity,” said Myrtle darkly.
They drove to Myrtle’s and parked in the driveway. Myrtle steeled herself to walk over and talk to Erma.
Miles tried to calm her nerves a little. “Your yard looks nice. Dusty really must have spent most of the day here.”
Myrtle stared at her front yard, frowning. “It looks short. Real short. Dusty scalped my lawn. He was so horrified by the length that he took it way too far.”
They continued to sit in Miles’s car, staring at Erma’s house.
“Once we’re done, we can go watch Tomorrow’s Promise,” said Miles in the tone of one offering a bribe.
Myrtle said, “All right. Let’s do it.”
Erma grinned from ear to ear when she answered the door. She fell all over herself letting them into her house. The house currently smelled rather a lot like cooked cabbage and Myrtle’s nose wrinkled.
“Myrtle and Miles! Good to see you! Say, Myrtle, your yard looks so much better. Almost as good as mine, except Dusty cut your grass waaay too short. But so much better!”
Myrtle’s head started hurting. And she didn’t even have a chance to respond before Erma started up again.
“Are you investigating? What have you found out? Did you need to ask me some questions?” Erma bounced into her living room like a small child at a birthday party, with Myrtle and Miles trailing reluctantly behind her.
Myrtle said, “I’m writing my story for the paper, Erma. One of my investigative pieces—you know.”
Erma snorted, an action that seemed to backfire and required her to reach for a nearby tissue box. “Say what you want. I know you’re sleuthing. The paper is just a cover.” She grinned at them, crumpling up the tissue.
Miles cleared his throat. “What we were particularly interested in, Erma, was the night of Myrtle’s dinner party.”
Erma nodded excitedly. “Oh, I know. Red has already visited me and he was very interested in all of my observations. Here, sit down, sit down!”
Erma gave Miles a little shove and he lost his balance, stumbling backward onto a garish loveseat. Myrtle held up her hands as if to say that she needed no such manhandling, and sat sedately in a squeaky armchair.
Erma said, eyes gleaming, “Isn’t it just awful about poor Louvenia? I mean, we were all right there and we had no idea that she was dying the whole time she was at your party, Myrtle.”
Miles winced.
Myrtle said briskly, “That’s true, Erma, but it’s also true that we had no idea that she’d been poisoned. To me, it just looked like she’d had a lot to drink.”
“Right, but where? Because you weren’t really serving it, you know? It was pretty much bone dry at your house. I figured she’d shown up sloshed, but Red said no,” said Erma.
Myrtle struggled to regain control over the visit. “Did you see anyone leaning over Louvenia’s drink? Or putting anything into it?”
Erma’s face was slack with disappointment. “No. I wish I had! If I’d seen someone pouring something weird in Louvenia’s drink, I’d have knocked it out of her hand and then yelled to everybody that I’d solved the case and knew who the killer was.”
Erma dreamily considered the imaginary happy scenario where Erma Sherman saved the day.
Then she gushed, eyes wide, “And isn’t it dreadful that book club killed Louvenia?”