Murder on the Ballot Read online

“Who is?” asked Myrtle. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Wanda. Is Miles in danger? Or am I?”

  “You are, Myrtle,” said Wanda. She rubbed her eyes, looking exhausted.

  “What is it this time?” asked Miles. “There hasn’t even been a suspicious death yet.”

  Wanda intoned, “Myrtle shouldn’t run.”

  Myrtle said soberly, “Shouldn’t run? For office, presumably. Is that because something awful will happen?”

  Miles hid a smile. He could think of plenty of awful things happening if Myrtle were in charge of the town. Mostly to do with Red’s blood pressure.

  Wanda nodded earnestly. “You’ll be stressed. Stress is bad for you.”

  Myrtle said, “I don’t think stress has such an awful effect on me. After all, I solve murder mysteries and that’s stressful.”

  Wanda gave her a look. “No it’s not. You like it.”

  Miles smiled. “She does like it.”

  Myrtle huffed. “Like it? All I get is a sense of civic satisfaction from ridding the town of murderers.”

  Wanda said, “You like beatin’ Red.”

  “Outsmarting him? Well, of course I do,” said Myrtle complacently. “Who wouldn’t?” She considered Wanda’s words for a few moments. “What Miles and I were discussing was my just influencing the town council’s direction and behavior. That I’d run for office, scare everyone into controlling themselves while representing the town, and then drop out. Would that be acceptable?”

  Wanda carefully considered this. “Guess so,” she said slowly.

  Myrtle clapped her hands together. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now let me get you something to eat. Do you want coffee, too?”

  But Wanda had already nodded off on Myrtle’s sofa.

  “She’s completely worn out, the poor thing,” said Myrtle in a hushed voice.

  Miles took this opportunity to stand up. “As I was saying, Myrtle, I’m very tired, too. I’ll go home and try to take a nap. Wanda looks like she could use a nap too. Then give me a call when you’re ready to go to the town hall to see the clerk.” He hurried out while Myrtle was frowning in concern at Wanda, who had slumped to the side of the sofa.

  Myrtle found her oldest, softest blanket and put it around Wanda. Then she found a pillow and shook Wanda awake for a second to place it behind her head.

  Wanda gave her a serious look. “The rain.”

  “Rain? What rain? It’s bone dry outside.”

  “Just remember the rain,” mumbled Wanda before dropping back to sleep.

  Myrtle muttered to herself as she turned off the living room lights and ensconced herself in the kitchen. It sounded as if the psychic was moving from regular predictions to weather predictions. But she knew better than to discount anything she said, so she tucked away the non-sequitur for future reference.

  Myrtle worked on her crossword puzzle and tried to keep herself quiet in the kitchen as Wanda took some much-needed sleep. A couple of hours later, a sheepish Wanda appeared in the kitchen door.

  Myrtle beamed at her. “Feel better?”

  Wanda nodded and sank into one of Myrtle’s kitchen chairs in a fluid motion that was distinctly Wanda. A black feline face suddenly peered intently through the kitchen window and Myrtle quickly opened the window. “Looks like someone is wanting to visit with you.”

  Wanda grinned and reached out for the black cat who bounded through the window onto the floor and then up into Wanda’s bony lap.

  Myrtle said briskly. “All right then. All we need now is a nice, hearty breakfast.”

  “But you done ate.”

  “I was just using the pronoun ‘we’ to be inclusive. You’re right—I’m still stuffed from all the pancakes Miles made. I can’t think for the life of me why he made such a big batch and why we felt compelled to eat them all.” She groaned and put her hand tenderly to her stomach. “But that doesn’t mean that you can’t eat. After all, breakfast is the meal I cook best.”

  Wanda gave her a crooked smile and didn’t say anything.

  Myrtle busily emptied the remaining eggs out of her carton into a frying pan and made scrambled eggs. She had sausage links in the freezer and put those in another frying pan on the burner. There was a bag of hash browns in the freezer as well and she got those going on yet another burner. She frowned at everything on the stove. “I better stop here. That fourth burner doesn’t work all the time and we wouldn’t want to set the house on fire.”

  She made another pot of coffee and poured herself and Wanda some as Wanda gently tickled Pasha under her chin, making the black cat happily close her eyes.

  Myrtle put a veritable feast in front of Wanda. It took two plates to hold it all, but Myrtle had the feeling that not a bite of it would go to waste.

  As Wanda hungrily attacked the food, Myrtle said, “You know, I’ve had time for a little contemplation while you were taking your nap. I’ve decided that having a psychic as a campaign adviser would be an excellent idea. Much better than Tippy.”

  Wanda looked abashed. “Don’t know what one does,” she muttered in between bites.

  “Well, they basically help the candidate make good decisions. I’ve asked Miles to be my campaign manager because he has all sorts of business background.” Myrtle waved her hand vaguely to indicate all the experience Miles had that she didn’t quite grasp or particularly want to. “But an adviser would help keep me straight and, perhaps, keep me safe, too. Especially since I have a talent for putting myself in danger, apparently.”

  She paused, looking closely at Wanda. Wanda did still seem healthier than she had in a while. She’d stopped smoking and no longer was wracked with the deep coughs she’d had for so long. Myrtle also knew she’d taken an interest in gardening and was growing healthy vegetables to supplement her diet. Wanda made a decent income with her job writing horoscopes for the Bradley Bugle. However, Myrtle strongly suspected that her brother, Crazy Dan, might squander that money from time to time.

  “Are you doing all right, Wanda?” she asked.

  Wanda took a final gulp of her meal and sat sadly surveying Myrtle. “S’pose so.”

  “I mean, that was a very long walk you took just to think things through. You walked for miles and miles. What was on your mind?”

  Wanda shrugged. “Don’t know. Felt like takin’ a break from the house.”

  The house was a hubcap-covered shack that seemed to have a shaky grip on utilities. It was rather dark and cluttered in the interior and Myrtle could well-imagine wanting to escape from it.

  “Ain’t no electricity neither,” said Wanda in a conversational tone, as if commenting on something remarkably commonplace.

  “No electricity? In this heat?” asked Myrtle. “No air conditioning? No fans? How on earth are you getting by?”

  Wanda sighed. “It’s pretty hot.”

  “Well, no wonder you felt like a walk in the middle of the night. It must have been a lot cooler outside in the night air than it was in your home. Isn’t Sloan paying you enough? I thought he increased your salary?”

  Wanda nodded. “He pays good. But Dan has been usin’ the money for other stuff.”

  “For other stuff? Not electricity?” Myrtle sat back in her chair at the table and stared at Wanda as if she’d stopped speaking English. “So, he’s siphoning it off for other pursuits?”

  “Buyin’ stuff. Bought another couple of used cars,” said Wanda calmly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Myrtle gave a harrumph. “Ridiculous. He’s got a yard full of old clunkers up on cinder blocks.”

  Wanda shrugged again. “Likes workin’ on cars.”

  “He’s not thinking straight. Food and utilities are priorities over hobbies,” said Myrtle, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes. She planned on having a serious conversation with Crazy Dan at some point in the near future. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure how much effect that was going to have. He was called Crazy Dan for a reason.

  Myrtle said brisk
ly, “Well, you simply can’t stay over at that house in the broiling heat with no electricity. It’s barbaric. Let your brother roast there for a while and maybe he’ll put on his thinking cap the next time he chooses buying a used car over paying the electric bill. You can stay here with me. I have a small guest room.”

  Wanda’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good.”

  “All right. You can join Miles and me this morning to go to the town clerk’s office so I can register to be a candidate.” She frowned. “I suppose we’ll need to run you by your house, though, to pick up any necessary items. I’d take you out to buy new items, but I’m afraid my own budget doesn’t extend to that.” She snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. I know what we can do. We can go to the secondhand shop. That’s definitely budget-friendly and maybe I can even find something there, too. Elaine has been on a coupon-clipping kick and she has a huge number of toothbrushes and toothpaste and other things she can donate to us.”

  Wanda looked doubtful. “Won’t she need that stuff?”

  “She wouldn’t go through it all in a million years. Red will be glad to get some of it out of the house. Besides, Elaine told me that she was planning on donating a lot of it to the Goodwill or the homeless shelter or something. This will be perfect.”

  And so it happened that Myrtle, Wanda, and Miles ended up at the town hall right when it opened at nine o’clock. The town clerk, BeeBee, gave them a wary look as they walked in. It was never a good thing when Myrtle Clover came into town hall. It ordinarily meant a complaint about garbage pickup, a pothole on her street, or any number of other issues. She didn’t usually come stand at the clerk’s desk and this was, in particular, what worried BeeBee.

  “May I help you?” asked BeeBee, devoutly hoping she couldn’t. Myrtle had taught her English long ago and whenever she was in Myrtle’s presence, she felt like she was back in high school. And not in a good way.

  “Yes,” said Myrtle, standing up proudly with her unusual entourage and said, “I would like to run for town council.”

  BeeBee gaped at her.

  Myrtle frowned. “The town clerk is the individual one sees to receive the filing paperwork, correct?”

  BeeBee stammered a little before saying, “Of course. We just have to make sure you qualify.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  BeeBee gave a high-pitched laugh. “No reason. It’s just a formality before I give you the packet. You have to sign our provided statement and affidavit. There are certain requirements to run for office. An age requirement, for instance.”

  Myrtle said, “Well, I assume I’ve met that.”

  Miles made a strange coughing sound as BeeBee looked even more flustered. Wanda watched the proceedings laconically.

  BeeBee explained the different documents as Myrtle signed them and then she handed over a final stack of papers. “This is your nominating petition. You’ll need to have ten signatures from voters to prove you’re a viable candidate for office.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “Only ten?”

  “You’re only surprised because you’re used to Atlanta, Miles. This is a small town. It doesn’t take much,” said Myrtle.

  BeeBee continued in a rush as if desperate to get the little group out of there. “Then you’ll just return the packet to me before the deadline.” She paused. “The only problem is that the deadline is tomorrow.”

  “That’s not a problem at all,” said Myrtle breezily. “There will be plenty of citizens delighted to support my candidacy.”

  “Good,” said BeeBee, looking relieved. Their conversation appeared to be drawing to a close, at least for the day. “Then bring the petition back after you’ve finished and submit it.”

  Chapter Three

  Myrtle, Miles, and Wanda walked out of the town hall and Miles said, “I guess you know what you’ll be doing the rest of the day.”

  “What we’ll be doing the rest of the day. After all, I’m with my campaign team.”

  Miles and Wanda looked glumly at each other.

  Myrtle said, “I think we should go to the Bradley Bugle office first. I need to make sure the paper covers my campaign.”

  Miles said slowly, “But you aren’t technically a candidate yet. You have to return the paperwork with the signatures by the deadline.”

  “Once you, Wanda, and Sloan sign the document, I’ll be nearly halfway there,” said Myrtle with a sniff.

  Miles and Wanda followed Myrtle into the dimly lit newsroom at the local newspaper. Myrtle had a helpful hints column there and sometimes wrote crime stories, and Wanda gave extremely detailed horoscopes for the paper. Sloan was the editor and another former student of Myrtle’s. He jumped up from his desk when he spotted her coming in. Every time Myrtle was around, Sloan somehow reverted back to high school, although his high school days were far behind him.

  “Miss Myrtle,” he said, shoving a pile of paper away from him as if disassociating himself from the clutter that engulfed him. He peered closer and said, “Goodness, and Wanda and Miles, too. Come on in and have a seat.”

  Myrtle came closer, but didn’t take a seat. The seats in the Bradley Bugle office were all very unreliable in a variety of ways. They were swivel chairs that made surprising moves when one was sitting in them and they squeaked horribly. “We’re just popping in for a few minutes, but thanks.”

  “More of a quick visit, then?” Sloan looked nervous. “Well, all right. It’s good to see you.” He paused. “There hasn’t been some sort of murder that you want to write up, has there?”

  Myrtle’s son wasn’t a fan of Myrtle being a crime reporter, a fact Sloan was well-aware of. Somehow, Myrtle seemed to get the scoop whenever a murder had occurred in the small town and managed to write a front-page story. It made Red very unhappy and Sloan always ended up hearing about it.

  “Heavens, no,” said Myrtle. “Sometimes I have other important articles for you, Sloan. As it happens, I have a tip for you today.”

  “Well, good, good,” said Sloan, reaching back into the teetering pile of papers to find a notebook. “That’s very helpful, Miss Myrtle. What have you got?” He poised a stubby pencil over the ratty-looking notebook.

  Myrtle drew herself up to her full almost-six-feet height. “I’m running for office.”

  Sloan’s jaw dropped and he quickly snapped it back when he saw Myrtle’s eyes narrow. “For president?”

  “Certainly not, Sloan! For local office, of course. Town council, as a matter of fact.”

  Sloan looked worried. “Have you told Red about this?”

  “No, but he’ll be able to read about it in the newspaper like everyone else. That’s what a newspaper is for, you know. To spread news.” Myrtle gave him a look as if an editor of a newspaper should be able to grasp that concept.

  Miles gave a muffled sound that might very well have been a laugh as Wanda watched the proceedings with a steady gaze.

  “Well, okay,” said Sloan a bit gravely. “That is news. You’re kind of a late contender, then, aren’t you?”

  Myrtle nodded. “I got fed up only this morning and Miles had the brilliant suggestion that I should run for office myself.”

  Miles gave Sloan an apologetic look, feeling rather guilty that he’d inflicted Myrtle on the local government and its citizens.

  “So I’m doing my patriotic duty. I’m going to straighten out town council. There’re all sorts of foolishness going on there and it needs to stop. So I’m going to put a stop to it.” She paused, looking at Sloan severely. “You can quote me on that.”

  Sloan jumped and jotted down a few notes with his stubby pencil while Miles tried to hide a smile.

  “Foolishness. Got it,” he said. “What sort of foolishness exactly? There’s been so much I’ve reported on that I feel like I need your take on what was especially egregious. Just for the record.”

  Myrtle started enumerating on her fingers. “There was that nonsense with the gavel.”

  Miles frowned. “I must have missed that one.”


  Sloan said, “The mayor’s gavel was snatched away by one of the commissioners. She somehow anticipated this move and pulled another gavel out of her briefcase.”

  Miles looked slightly stunned. These sorts of shenanigans had apparently not happened in Atlanta.

  “Then there was that business with the mayor not responding to public records requests,” added Myrtle. “As a member of the press, I took great umbrage to that.”

  Sloan nodded and kept making notes.

  Myrtle said, “Then there was that scuffle when one of the commissioners wanted to audio record the meeting.”

  “A scuffle?” asked Miles.

  Sloan said, “They dove for the commissioner’s phone so he couldn’t record the proceedings.”

  “Which, considering how ridiculous and embarrassing the meetings are, is completely understandable,” said Myrtle. “And of course, several of the meetings lately have ended in various elected officials yelling at each other. Completely reprehensible and a terrible example to our citizens on how to behave when we disagree with one another.”

  Miles gave a low whistle. “No wonder you wanted to run for office.”

  Myrtle frowned at him. “Actually, Miles, I’m surprised that you didn’t know all of these antics were going on. You read the paper every day.”

  Miles looked guilty. “It’s stressed me out a bit lately, so I’ve been focusing on the comics, the crossword, and the Sudoku.”

  Sloan chuckled. “Well, glad the Bradley Bugle can offer you some escape, anyway.” He turned to look at Wanda, who’d remained quiet and was taking in the office around her. Myrtle thought sadly that it was likely cluttered enough to remind her of her home. Sloan said, “Wanda, you doing all right?”

  Wanda nodded and said, “Stayin’ with Myrtle for a little while.”

  Both Sloan and Miles blinked at this.

  “Yes, we’ve made arrangements,” said Myrtle briskly. “Wanda didn’t bring her overnight bag with her, but we’re going shopping as soon as we get the chance.”

  “Got some horoscopes for ya,” said Wanda levelly to Sloan.

  Sloan beamed at her. Wanda’s horoscopes were the main draw for his newspaper. In fact, he’d told Myrtle before that he believed Wanda was responsible for the recent surge of subscriptions.