Myrtle and Miles stared at each other. Even for Erma, this was a non-sequitur.
“What on earth do you mean?” asked Myrtle. “I agree that most of the selections by book club are murder to read. Are you just being facetious?”
Erma gaped at her. “You mean you don’t know? But you have to know. You read the book. Miles read the book. You both discussed the book and added your analysis to it.”
“What book? What are you talking about?” asked Myrtle, now more visibly irritated. “You don’t make any sense, Erma.”
Erma heaved an exhausted sigh as if Myrtle and Miles’s lack of intelligence was very wearing on her. “Bonnie’s book club selection. You know! I thought Miles made a great comment that tied right into it. Are y’all both stricken with dementia?”
“Certainly not. But I don’t know how Louvenia’s death is tied into book club in any way,” said Myrtle.
Erma brayed the donkey-like laugh that made Myrtle cringe. Then she said, “Clarissa’s dog died from antifreeze poisoning.”
Myrtle and Miles stared at each other again. It seemed more than coincidental.
Erma mistook their exchanged glance for confusion. “Remember? It was sort of a foreshadowing-thingy, at least according to Tippy.”
Myrtle frowned. “Is that what Tippy was going on and on about? I couldn’t follow her.”
“Tippy didn’t mention antifreeze by name,” said Erma with a shrug. “She just said ‘poison.’”
“How helpful of Tippy,” said Myrtle dryly.
“Perhaps if we’d read the book more closely,” said Miles between clinched teeth.
“It must have been a part I skimmed. I do tend to skim during slow sections when the plot lags,” said Myrtle with a sniff.
Erma said, “The book club didn’t talk much about it, but it was really pivotal to the story. Clarissa was so, so attached to her dog. Millennials are, you know, because most of them don’t have kids yet. Although Clarissa was always changing diapers since she had a baby. And then, after Toto died, Clarissa died. That’s the whole reason Randolph drank himself to death.”
“Right, right,” said Myrtle hurriedly, hoping to prevent Erma from giving the book’s plot blow by blow. “But I can’t imagine anyone in book club killing Louvenia.”
“Except Bonnie,” murmured Miles under his breath.
“Did the book go into much detail about the effects of antifreeze poisoning? I can’t remember,” said Myrtle.
“It went on for about a page. They were milking the tragedy of little Toto’s death,” said Erma helpfully. Then she clapped her hands. “I’m a sidekick!”
Myrtle immediately clarified this. “Honorary sidekick for today. Thank you, Erma. Did you ... um ... happen to share this information with Red?”
Erma shook her head. “No. I was going to, of course. But he was in such a big hurry to get out of here that I didn’t have time. You’ll pass it on to him, won’t you, Myrtle?”
“Of course I will,” said Myrtle, a sweet smile on her face.
“You’re going to do no such thing,” said Miles as they left Erma’s house a minute later.
“No. But I didn’t need to tell her that,” said Myrtle as they made the short walk next door. “Come on in. Let’s have lemonade and talk and watch our show.”
“Homemade lemonade?” asked Miles with a hopeful expression on his face.
“Mix. But you’ll never guess it’s not homemade,” said Myrtle.
Miles sighed.
A few minutes later, they were settled in Myrtle’s living room with glasses of lemonade that was a very unnatural yellow, and snacks.
“Let’s recap our investigation before we turn on the soap opera,” said Myrtle. “We now know that Felix and Chester were arguing over yard signs, no matter how petty that sounds. And we know that Felix thinks Amos was brimming with hatred against Chester because of his workplace injury and how it was handled.”
“And we know that someone likely got the idea to kill Louvenia with antifreeze from our illustrious book club selection,” added Miles.
Myrtle said, “I don’t see Tippy poisoning cooking class teachers somehow. Nor the rest of the book club ... even Georgia. I mean, why would they? No, I think either it was Bonnie or it was someone who spoke with Bonnie.”
“It just seems sort of random. Why would Bonnie blab about book club to someone not in book club?” asked Miles, shaking his head.
“Because Bonnie is generally an awkward conversationalist. If she can’t think of anything to say, she’ll say whatever is on her mind. All someone would have to do is engage in conversation with her for long enough to make Bonnie uncomfortable, and she’d be sure to start blabbing about antifreeze, dogs, or whatever else,” said Myrtle.
Miles said, “Which means that we need to go back and talk to Bonnie again.”
“Exactly. And remember—Hattie said that Louvenia made her cry. Maybe Louvenia was drunkenly trying to blackmail Bonnie and Bonnie desperately needed to get rid of her. Plus, the fact that Bonnie wrote that awful note to Chester; we know how unhappy she was. Her self-confidence was pretty much wiped out by Chester and she told Felix that Chester had messed up her life. Maybe she even lost her teller job because of her lack of confidence. We definitely need to talk to her again. But not until after our soap opera. Even amateur detectives need a break,” said Myrtle.
They watched the show together. But by the end of the soap opera, Myrtle was about to make a salient point to Miles about Randolph’s new, edgier personality and how that was causing tension with other characters, when she saw Miles had nodded off.
“Miles!” she said sharply. “How could you possibly fall asleep during such an important and exciting episode?”
He rubbed his eyes, but kept them closed. “I haven’t slept so well lately. What with being in danger and all.”
Myrtle sighed impatiently. “I need to tell Wanda that, in the future, all dire predictions and warnings need to only be directed at me. You don’t have the fortitude.”
“I think a nap is in order,” said Miles, still without opening his eyes.
“It appears that you’re already taking one.”
Miles slowly opened his eyes and stood, hands dangling loosely. “You’re not going to see Bonnie now, are you?”
“I suppose not, since my sidekick is so out of it. How you could fall asleep while Tristan strangled Fernando, I just can’t fathom,” said Myrtle.
“I’m sure Fernando will return to life in some future episode when they need him for the plot point or to fill some crazy plot hole they’ve created,” muttered Miles. “All right. I’ll call you when I’ve waked up.”
“You do that.”
When Miles left, Myrtle felt restless. She’d really planned on going back over to talk to Bonnie right away, but now she had to wait. Myrtle loved it when she had leads that Red didn’t have yet. Well, it was Red’s own fault for not hanging out with Erma for long enough to get a clue.
The doorbell rang and Myrtle frowned at the front door. When she opened it, she saw an exhausted and irritated Miles standing there.
“That must have been the world’s record for napping,” said Myrtle. Then she noticed that Miles carried a small overnight bag.
“My air conditioner is broken. It must have been broken since this morning to be as hot in there as it is,” said Miles. He walked into Myrtle’s living room and sat heavily on the sofa.
“Did you call the repair place?” asked Myrtle.
“They’re already closed.” The sentence came out as more of a moan.
“Well, then, you can call them first thing tomorrow and see if Jim can fit you in.” She looked at the bag. “And you’re moving in, in the meantime?”
“Since you have air conditioning and an extra room, I suppose so,” said Miles ungraciously. “Although it’s going to make Erma Sherman gossip about us again.”
“But no one wants to spend enough time in Erma’s company to hear the gossip, so it will be fine,” said Myrtle.
“I can’t believe there’s no afterhours answering service for the repair shop,” grumbled Miles.
“For heaven’s sake, Miles! This isn’t Atlanta. You’ve got a place to stay, so calm down. I don’t usually have to talk you off the cliff like this. You’re cranky and need to take a nap—please retreat to the guest room and take one!”
Miles obediently stomped off down the short hall leading to the guest room. Five minutes later, Myrtle remembered that there wasn’t a blanket in there. Miles was already sound asleep when she tossed the blanket over him.
Myrtle looked impatiently at her watch an hour later. It was already getting dark and she wanted to call on Bonnie at a reasonable time of day. It would certainly be a lot easier, too, if Miles drove her there. It was a bit of a way to walk.
She walked into the guest room. “Miles?” she asked.
No response.
“Miles!”
This time he grunted in his sleep, but still didn’t wake up.
That settled it. If her sidekick was too sleepy, she was going to have to be the one to interview Bonnie, by herself. Otherwise, Erma would decide to show off her book club knowledge and call Red on the phone to tell him all about the antifreeze.
As she was getting her keys, she heard a cat yowling outside. Pasha was telling her she was hungry. And, if she didn’t immediately feed her, Pasha would continue her discordant concert outside the house.
Myrtle opened the kitchen window so that Pasha could come and go as she pleased. “What does my sweet baby want for her dinner, hmm? Maybe a tuna can? Or a chicken can? Or beef?”
Pasha purred at her as if to say that all of the above would suit her fine.
Myrtle prepared a heaping plate and left Pasha happily eating. She hurried out the door as the sun started setting.
It wasn’t really that Bonnie’s house was that far away. It was just that everyone seemed surprised to see Myrtle walking down the street toward town. They must have gotten used to seeing Myrtle being chauffeured by Miles. Three different cars stopped and asked her if she needed a ride. One of them was an old biddy even more elderly than Myrtle. Myrtle decided that she’d rather walk for miles instead of accepting a ride from Petunia. But it was good to know that she could easily find someone to drive her in case Miles couldn’t.
When Myrtle finally arrived at Bonnie’s door, she rapped and rang the doorbell. Bonnie’s startled face peered out a minute later.
“Why, Miss Myrtle? Whatever are you doing here?” Bonnie opened the door wide and looked outside. “Did you walk here?”
Myrtle frowned. “Why does everyone persist in thinking that I’m incapacitated? I’m perfectly capable of walking wherever I want to walk.”
Bonnie’s eyes lingered on Myrtle’s cane and Myrtle said, “This thing? This cane simply helps me with my balance. But I’m glad you’re here, Bonnie. There are some questions I need to ask you.”
Bonnie was practically wringing her hands. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“There’s just a couple of different things I wanted to ask. For one, you were seen crying during a conversation with Louvenia. Could you tell me what that was about?” asked Myrtle.
Bonnie knit her brows, trying to remember. “Oh, wait. It must have been during your party. Before Louvenia got too drunk. She was drunk enough to start talking about things, though. She was telling me that she lost her little dog, Pepper, right before cooking class started. I loved Pepper. Louvenia used to have him in the car with her when she ran errands and she’d go through the bank drive-through with him. I’d give him dog biscuits through the window. So sad.” Her eyes clouded even now, thinking about it. Then she said, “But you didn’t really come here to ask about Pepper, did you?”
Bonnie was simply too tenderhearted. Myrtle sighed. “I thought Louvenia might have been upsetting you in another way. On to my next question. You see, Bonnie, I did read your book club book. I really did. I simply read it very quickly and if there was a section that I thought was dragging, I might have skimmed a little. I completely missed the importance of the fact that Louvenia was poisoned with antifreeze.”
Bonnie flushed, leaving blotchy red spots on her cheeks. “I see. And you think because I read the book and I was in the cooking class and at your dinner party, that I must have murdered Louvenia.”
Myrtle was very worried that the tears that were filling Bonnie’s eyes were about to spill over. “No, no. Not necessarily, Bonnie.”
Bonnie flung her hands out beseechingly. “Because how stupid would I be to do something like that? Do people really think I’m that dumb? Red hasn’t found out yet, but he will. I’m sure the way that Louvenia died is going to get out soon and then everyone in book club is going to think that I killed Louvenia. And probably Chester, too!”
Myrtle said soothingly, “That’s exactly why we need to find out who the responsible person is. Now I need you to think carefully, Bonnie. Really focus. I know you enjoyed the book you picked for club and you probably talked to people about it. With whom did you speak?”
Bonnie gave a tremulous sigh. “Oh, goodness. Sometimes I just babble, you know?”
“Think!” commanded Myrtle in her best former-schoolteacher tone.
Bonnie wrinkled up her forehead as if thinking were a painful process. She slowly said, “Tippy and I talked a lot about it. Or, I guess, I was the one telling Tippy about it.”
Myrtle felt a headache coming on. They were going to be there all night if Bonnie listed the completely innocuous people in book club. “Tippy Chalmers isn’t likely to be on top of our suspect list. Did you mention the book to anyone in class one morning, maybe? Maybe one day when you were there early and trying to make conversation?”
Bonnie buried her face in her hands as if trying to force the information from her head. “I ... I did mention it to Amos. He was trying to talk to me on the way into class one morning and I didn’t know what to talk about.” She lifted her head and looked helplessly at Myrtle. “Amos just sent me an email, too, a little while ago. I don’t know how he even had my address!”
Myrtle sighed. “Bonnie, Amos likes you.”
The remainder of Bonnie’s face turned scarlet. “No. No, he couldn’t.”
“He could and he does. Now, I don’t like getting messed up into your private business, but it seems as though you need everything laid out for you since you’re not one to pick up on subtleties. Amos likes you. He would like to go out with you. Your own horoscope implored you to open your eyes,” said Myrtle.
Bonnie’s eyes were now wide open behind her thick glasses.
Myrtle said, “Now you know. If you don’t feel the same about Amos, you can easily tell him that you’re just not interested.”
“But I am! I just didn’t realize—didn’t know.” A glow seemed to settle around Bonnie.
Myrtle hastily interrupted the glowing. “That’s great, Bonnie. You should answer the email then. Now, let’s get back to these questions. You thought Amos was acting oddly, but now you realize that he was just awkwardly trying to make conversation with you because he would like to pursue a relationship. Was there anyone else that you mentioned the book to?”
“Hattie was walking by when I was talking to Felix about the book club book and the antifreeze,” said Bonnie slowly. “She might have overheard what I was saying. But I didn’t tell her. I didn’t think she seemed very much like a book person.”
“I don’t know—she sort of looks like the kind of person who might go to poetry readings and such. You’re doing a good job. Is there anyone else?” asked Myrtle.
Bonnie frowned in concentration again and then smiled. “Felix! But I didn’t have to tell him about the book. He was already reading it. He came in right after Hattie when I was still talking to Amos. Felix said that he’d been reading the same book and was really enjoying it, even if the title had escaped him. I gave him the title and then we talked about the book for a while.”
So, basically, Bonnie had informed everyone in the class one way or another about the antifreeze poisoning. Myrtle’s head hurt even more.