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  Myrtle said, “Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was pouring coffee into a mug and the next the newspaper was knocked in the way.”

  Miles picked up his trashcan and moved it to the sink. “No point in trying to read that, Myrtle. Just throw it away. I’ll look at yours later.”

  Myrtle said, “And of course I’d want you to look at mine later. It’s such a pity that the paper delivery guy skipped me today.”

  Miles nodded slowly, looking at Myrtle through narrowed eyes. “Okay. Well, let’s have our biscuits. Do you need to make more coffee?”

  “Oh, no. No, there’s enough for us to both have a cup.” Because Myrtle had made more than she’d needed to for this very reason.

  They settled down at Miles’s kitchen table and spent a few moments in companionable silence. Then Miles said, “So if Red wasn’t there to warn you off buying a car, what was he there for?”

  Myrtle finished a bite of her biscuit. “He admitted that Pearl was murdered. There were apparently signs of a struggle.”

  “Poor Pearl,” said Miles.

  “I just get madder and madder over the whole thing,” said Myrtle.

  Miles asked, “Did the police find her computer?”

  “No. Someone took a lot of trouble to make sure that her memoir is gone. The laptop is likely at the bottom of the lake somewhere,” said Myrtle.

  Miles said, “Pearl’s life was clearly more faceted than anyone gave her credit for.”

  They drank their coffee and enjoyed the quiet until Miles said in a cheerful tone, “At least we saw Rose yesterday. That means there’s no need to cook a casserole and tote it over.”

  Myrtle said, “There is likely still a need for a casserole.”

  “I’m quite certain there’s not,” said Miles.

  “Not for Rose, I mean. But there are others in that family who we might need an excuse for a conversation with,” said Myrtle.

  Miles frowned. “I’m not as well-acquainted with the family tree. I thought it was simply a matter of Pearl and Hubert and their children, Rose and Boone.”

  “There is also Pearl’s sister, Nell,” said Myrtle.

  Miles said, “Nell Prentiss?”

  “You know her?” Myrtle finished off her biscuit.

  Miles tempered this. “I don’t really know Nell. She is part of that Scrabble club that I’ve had to play with from time to time.”

  “Ah. The one Maisy dragged you into,” said Myrtle with a smile.

  Miles said stiffly, “I’m hardly playing at all. I’m just on the alternates list for when a regular can’t make it.”

  “If you were me, you wouldn’t be on it at all,” said Myrtle. “I know how to say no.”

  Miles said, “If I recall, you weren’t asked to be in the Scrabble club.”

  “That’s because I win every time,” said Myrtle. “It eliminates the fun factor.”

  “Anyway,” said Miles, trying to return to the original point, “Nell is part of that club. What do you know of her?”

  Myrtle said, “She’s Pearl’s older sister and never married. Is she one of the ladies who’s trying to catch you?”

  Miles gave Myrtle a cold look. “Catch me?”

  “Yes. You know, that band of merry widows who drop by with food and laugh too loudly when you’re around. Not that Nell is a widow, just that she might be part of that flirty group.”

  Miles said, “She is not part of that flirty group. Be aware that I’m not necessarily agreeing, by the way, that such a group exists.”

  “We should see Nell this morning,” said Myrtle. “She might know what was going on in Pearl’s family.”

  “It sounds like she’s in Pearl’s family. Maybe she’s a suspect, too,” said Miles.

  Myrtle looked doubtful. “Secrets about Nell? I can’t imagine what those could be.”

  Miles said, “Hasn’t everyone said the same about Pearl? And her life was apparently rife with secrets.”

  “I suppose.”

  Miles said, “Why don’t you just speak to Nell in a reporter guise?”

  Myrtle snorted. “Nell would slam the door on me. She has quite the no-nonsense manner. No, it needs to be food and sympathy.”

  Miles’s face creased in worry before he suddenly brightened and snapped his fingers. “I know! There’s a great new ready-to-eat meal in the Piggly Wiggly deli. I tried it just the other day. It was beef stroganoff with a side of wild rice. Very tasty. You could put it on your own plate.”

  Myrtle sniffed. “Good try, Miles, but I hardly think Nell Prentiss will have the same culinary leanings as a bachelor. I’ll prepare my famous cassoulet.”

  “Dare I ask why it’s famous?” asked Miles gloomily.

  “Don’t be rude. It’s delicious,” said Myrtle firmly. She frowned. “If I can locate the cookbook. I haven’t made my famous cassoulet for a while.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “I find it hard to believe that you lose track of anything in your house. It’s very tidy and organized in there.”

  “Yes, but Red came over one day last year and insisted that a friend of his wanted to borrow some old cookbooks. He carefully picked out about half a dozen and then left with them. He never returned them.” Myrtle frowned at the memory.

  Miles said, “And the name of the friend who wanted the old cookbooks?”

  “Undisclosed,” replied Myrtle curtly.

  Miles made some odd expressions while keeping his mouth from turning up at the corners.

  “It doesn’t matter. I can make the recipe by heart,” said Myrtle.

  Miles said, “That doesn’t sound like a very good idea. Why don’t you just focus on your chicken and broccoli? That’s pretty basic.”

  “You’re missing the point, Miles. This is supposed to be a work of art—a physical manifestation of my sympathy for Nell.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be a way for us to have a conversation with her without having a door slammed in our faces,” said Miles.

  Myrtle was too absorbed in her thoughts to hear him. “I should get started.”

  “But it’s five in the morning. What time does Nell get up in the morning?”

  Myrtle shrugged. “I suppose she should be ready for a visit by ten a.m. Does anyone ever really sleep the night after their sister is murdered?”

  Myrtle grabbed her cane and strode back to Miles’s front door.

  “Thanks for the visit,” said Miles dryly.

  Myrtle nodded absently in return.

  Chapter Seven

  BUT AT TEN O’CLOCK, when Myrtle and Miles were ringing Nell’s doorbell, she drove into her driveway. Nell’s house was conveniently located on Magnolia Lane, the same as Myrtle’s and Miles’s.

  “See? Nell has already been out today. Other people in town are early birds,” said Myrtle with a sniff. She carefully juggled the cassoulet and gave Nell a jaunty wave.

  “Not to be rude, Myrtle, but that casserole smells odd,” said Miles.

  “It’s simply your unrefined senses,” said Myrtle in a firm voice. “And it’s not a casserole. It’s a cassoulet.”

  “How did you get hold of duck this early in the morning?” asked Miles. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Duck? Oh, one bird is as good as another,” said Myrtle airily as Nell parked her car in the garage.

  Miles said, “Does that mean that you used chicken?”

  “Why not?” asked Myrtle.

  “As I recall, that recipe has lots of ingredients in it. Like pork shoulder,” said Miles.

  “A mere technicality,” said Myrtle.

  “You substituted . . . what? Hot dogs?” asked Miles. He shuddered.

  “Certainly not! Have you lost your mind?” hissed Myrtle. “I used pork barbeque. I happened to have some in my fridge from the other day.”

  Miles took a deep breath and then released it. “You really whipped this meal up in a flash. Doesn’t cassoulet usually take days to prepare?”

  “Only for beginners,” said Myrtle
tersely.

  Nell got out of her car, looking curiously at them and the covered dish in Myrtle’s hands. “Myrtle? Miles? Can I help you?” she asked briskly.

  Myrtle said quickly, “It’s more of us running by to see if we can help you. We’re so sorry about poor Pearl.”

  Nell pressed her lips together and then said, “Thanks. I’m still trying to absorb it all. Please, won’t you come in?”

  It was the kind of perfunctory statement that you make when you hope that the other person will quickly just hand you the covered dish and be on their way.

  Myrtle quickly said, “That would be wonderful, Nell, thank you.”

  Nell gave a resigned nod as she led them inside. “Sorry about the state of the house. There will still be a cereal dish out and about somewhere. I had to leave early to be at the church.” She took the dish from Myrtle and quickly took it into the kitchen. “Are you feeling better, Myrtle? I heard you were doing poorly.”

  Myrtle gritted her teeth and then said, “I’m just fine, thanks. It’s apparently just a rumor that someone started.”

  When Nell returned, Miles said, “We’re sorry we’re here so early. Were you planning Pearl’s service?”

  Nell gestured for them to sit down, which they did on well-worn antiques. “No. That is, Pearl’s service is being planned, but that’s not why I was at the church today. I’m one of the bell-ringers and we had a practice.”

  Myrtle said, “I didn’t realize that you did that, Nell. I’m sure the church really appreciates your help. Even when I’m not at church, I always enjoy hearing the bells.”

  Nell looked pleased. “It’s fun for me. Actually, that’s the only way that I’m really involved at the church. I just love ringing and I love the other bell-ringers. We’re like a little family.”

  Myrtle nodded and then said, “Speaking of family, I just wanted to let you know how very sorry I was for what happened with Pearl.”

  Nell’s face drew into tight lines. “Thank you.” She paused for a moment, looking blankly around the room with its faded wallpaper and worn furniture. Then she said to Myrtle, “I understand that Pearl reached out to you yesterday.”

  Myrtle said, “She did. And I agreed to give her a hand. As a matter of fact, Miles was there, too.”

  Nell sighed. “I feel terrible that I wasn’t around yesterday morning. I hate the thought that my sister needed help, and I wasn’t there to give it. I knew this morning would be an early day for the bell-ringing practice, so I’d slept in yesterday. Then I slowly got ready for the day and had a late breakfast and a late crossword.”

  Nell gestured at the crossword. “As you can see, it’s a habit of mine. Although, unfortunately, not much of an alibi for your son,” she said, looking at Myrtle.

  Myrtle made a face. “You know that Red and I don’t always see things eye-to-eye, Nell. You didn’t know that you needed an alibi, did you?”

  Miles said, “Looks as if you ran out of time to finish your crossword today.”

  Nell snorted. “More like I ran out of knowledge to finish it.” She saw him looking at it and said, “Go ahead and take a stab at it. I could use the help. For some reason, I seem to be better at Scrabble than I am at crosswords, at least lately.”

  Miles didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up the newspaper and the pen beside it as Myrtle gritted her teeth. She hoped that Miles would stick with the crossword and not venture over to the horoscopes.

  “Did you know much about Pearl’s memoir?” asked Myrtle.

  Nell glanced away. “Not really. None of us thought Pearl would be able to finish a book. You know how it is—people always say that they want to write a book or that they’ve started a book. But how many folks have the discipline to go all the way through to the end?”

  Myrtle glanced over at Miles. He was tapping the pen against his leg and frowning at the crossword puzzle.

  Nell followed her glance and said to Miles, “It’s hard today, isn’t it? It’s not just me?”

  “It’s as if some sort of crossword PhD took over the puzzle today,” said Miles seriously.

  Myrtle was determined to get the conversation away from puzzles and newspapers altogether. She glared at Miles as if to remind him of the purpose of their visit. But Miles was already idly thumbing through the paper, taking special interest in Myrtle’s story.

  Nell said, “You wrote a good article today, Myrtle. It was a nice tribute to Pearl, too.” Nell started to tear up, but then rapidly blinked her eyes to force any of the intrepid tears from pouring out. Myrtle had no need to worry about Nell losing it. She was a trooper.

  Myrtle said, “Thanks. I hoped it was. Pearl was a good friend and I can’t believe that she’s gone. Going back to her book—clearly, the family was surprised that she actually set her mind to it and finished it.”

  “That’s right,” said Nell. “But I don’t know why we were surprised. This was Pearl. She could do anything. She could run five committees at church, create a magazine-worthy English garden at her home, and knit blankets for children’s hospitals on the side. If anyone would be able to finish a book, it would be Pearl.”

  Myrtle said, “Did Pearl talk at all about what she’d written?”

  Nell pressed her lips shut tightly again as if to keep unwanted words from flying out. She said, “Not really. I suppose everyone has things about themselves or their family that no one really knows about. Maybe that sort of thing would be interesting to others.”

  Myrtle gave Miles a nervous glance. He was now on the page with the horoscopes and completely absorbed. Then he froze and leveled a cold stare at Myrtle.

  Myrtle frowned at her. “That’s hardly the sort of thing that would make someone break into my house to steal a manuscript.”

  “You’re taking it rather personally, aren’t you?” asked Nell in frigid tones.

  “Having my house broken into is personal,” said Myrtle. Her eyes were steely.

  Miles was now removing antibacterial wipes from his pocket and very carefully wiping his hands in a surreptitious manner. Myrtle sighed.

  Nell rubbed at her shoulder absently as if it hurt. “The truth is that I don’t know what the truth is. I’m simply concerned about my family and don’t want to see more harm come to them. Rose, as I’m sure you could tell, is very delicate. Very fragile.”

  Myrtle said, “I thought she appeared to be under a lot of stress and had had a terrible shock with the death of her mother. She certainly was functioning, though. She was walking a client’s dog when we spoke with her.”

  Nell nodded. “That’s all true. But the fact of the matter is that she’s been that way for a while now. Whatever stress she’s under is messing with her brain. She can’t remember anything and she’s in middle age. I have a better memory than she does and I don’t have a good one at all. But I don’t know of any reason why Rose would be concerned about her mother publishing a memoir. And I don’t know of any reason why Boone or Hubert would be concerned, either.” But Nell looked away again as she said it.

  Miles was now sitting with his hands carefully folded in his lap as if to avoid any further contact with bacteria in Nell’s tidy home.

  “Did Pearl and Boone get along well?” asked Myrtle.

  Nell gave her a sharp look. “Mothers and sons usually get along quite well, don’t they? It’s said that they share a special relationship.”

  Myrtle said, “Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t.”

  Miles smiled.

  Nell was quiet for a moment and then said, “I wouldn’t have said that Boone and Pearl got along perfectly, but they were very fond of each other. Pearl always seemed very proud of Boone and the success he’s made of his life.”

  Myrtle said, “My own son’s fondest wish is to lock me away in Greener Pastures Retirement Home. I can assure you that we don’t get along perfectly, either. In fact, we have prodigious arguments nearly weekly.”

  Nell said, “I’d just say that Boone and Pearl seemed at odds with each ot
her lately. Pearl had had a few minor mishaps in her car and Boone thought that she needed to stop driving. Maybe let Hubert drive her around to errands and so forth. But Pearl was very independent and wanted to keep driving. She didn’t want to ask Hubert to drop her off at choir practice or to run by the library. Pearl wanted to set her own timetable for her day and not have to plan it around when Hubert could drive her. Boone wanted her safe and Pearl wanted her freedom. It was all completely understandable.” Nell held out her hands as if to display the utter reasonableness of their arguments.

  Myrtle said, “And none of these disagreements revolved around Pearl’s book?”

  “Not that I was aware. Of course, I wasn’t always around,” said Nell.

  Miles, sensing a lull in the conversation, stood up. “We should probably go and let Nell get on with her day.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “All right. Nell, it was good to see you, but sorry it was under these circumstances.”

  Nell nodded and said to Miles, “Maybe we’ll see each other at Scrabble soon.”

  Miles gave her a tight smile. Myrtle imagined that he was imagining what a chore it would be to use antibacterial wipes on all of those tiny tiles.

  Once Myrtle and Miles were outside, Miles hissed at her, “What was the big idea, trying to keep me away from my horoscope?”

  “What, that silly thing?” Myrtle made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You don’t mean you put any stock into those things.”

  “Only when Wanda writes them,” said Miles. “Which she did. And Wanda called me out specifically and referenced germs.” He shuddered.

  “And there are likely many places where you should heed her advice. Perhaps if we visit someone at the hospital. Or if we go to Wanda’s house. But any germ with half a brain wouldn’t be in Nell Prentiss’s house. That place was scrubbed within an inch of its life. And she apologized for the mess.” Myrtle snorted.

  Miles said gloomily, “Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough if I’ve contracted something horrible.”

  “If you believe you’re going to contract something horrible, it’s Erma Sherman you should be avoiding. She’s constantly attempting to fill me in on whatever horrendous condition she has.” Myrtle jumped as her phone rang. “That ringer is set way too high.”