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  Myrtle drew herself up in the seat. “I’m an excellent driver.”

  “Is this your car, then?” He frowned at the car.

  “I’ve borrowed it from Miles to run errands. But I’m planning on visiting Boone at his dealership very soon. I have far too many places to go. I’m constantly asking for rides or borrowing cars,” said Myrtle with a sniff.

  The Goodwill attendant quickly grabbed the bags while Hubert climbed into the front seat. He wrinkled his nose at the unusual odor. Then Myrtle drove away.

  Hubert sighed and said, “I’m sorry you had to see that scene with Rose. She’s taking this super-hard. I guess we just react to things differently. After the police were done looking for evidence and took away whatever they needed, I decided that it would help me heal if I gave away some stuff. It just constantly reminds me of Pearl, otherwise. But Rose doesn’t see things that way. I don’t believe she’s thinking straight. What on earth would she do with Pearl’s clothes? It’s not like they were even the same size and they didn’t wear the same styles.”

  “The poor girl just lost her mother. Naturally, she’s having a tough time adjusting. Anyone would,” said Myrtle as she headed to downtown Bradley.

  Hubert sounded uncertain. “Would they? This much? You know, the bad thing is that Pearl was the one who sort of held Rose together. I love that girl and would do anything for her. But I’m not blind to the fact that she struggles.”

  “Struggles in what way?” Myrtle saw Red talking to another officer outside the police station. He glanced up and his eyes narrowed as he saw her driving yet another passenger. She gave him a cheery wave and a smug smile as she continued on her way.

  “With life. She’s always been so delicate—so frail,” said Hubert.

  Myrtle said, “There’s no question that Rose is incredibly frail right now. But as her former teacher, I didn’t see a hint of it.”

  Hubert gave her a patronizing smile. “That was a long time ago. Wouldn’t you have forgotten?”

  Myrtle snapped, “I haven’t forgotten anything about teaching school.”

  He quickly said, “I stand corrected. I’m just saying that I’m sure that I’d have forgotten things from thirty years ago.”

  Myrtle gave him a sidelong glance. “As I recall, Rose first seemed fragile when her friend disappeared.” She pulled onto Hubert’s street.

  Hubert said gruffly, “It was a stressful time for Rose. She kept saying that she blamed herself. Pearl and I guessed that she felt responsible for the fact that the girl ran off . . . that she should have known she was planning to do it. She and the girl were friends and had been for most of their lives. It was a very selfish thing that Tara did to both her family and her friends. Her poor parents never did get over her leaving and never heard from her again. They ended up moving out of town because everything was a reminder of their daughter.”

  “What if she didn’t run away?” asked Myrtle.

  Chapter Nine

  HUBERT STARED AT HER. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, what if something happened to her?” Myrtle pulled the car into Hubert’s driveway. She turned to study him. His face and neck were a mottled red.

  “You mean, like an accident? Went swimming in the lake and drowned?” demanded Hubert.

  “Or something else. Perhaps she met with foul play,” suggested Myrtle.

  Hubert gave a short, dismissive laugh. “Who would murder Tara Blanton? She was a child.”

  “She was fifteen. Not so much of a child,” said Myrtle.

  Hubert grabbed the door handle as if he were desperate to get out of the car. “I don’t know exactly what you’re implying, Myrtle, but if you’re blaming my family for something, you’re dead wrong. I wasn’t even at home when that girl disappeared, and neither was Pearl. The kids didn’t know a thing about it. And Rose was devastated. Now I thank you for the ride, but I need to be on my way.”

  And with that, he slammed the car door behind him and trotted off to the house at a fast clip.

  Myrtle drove to Miles’s house thoughtfully. When she pulled into the driveway, she saw that he was outside, pruning the bushes in the front of his house.

  “How is Wanda?” he asked.

  Myrtle noticed that he had a little plastic caddy full of cleaning supplies on his front porch. Next to them was a pair of plastic gloves. She sighed. Wanda had really done her a disservice with that ghastly horoscope.

  “Wanda is fine. She has bronchitis and is on antibiotics,” said Myrtle.

  Miles frowned. “Bronchitis. Is that contagious?”

  Myrtle sighed. “I asked Tommy, and he said hers shouldn’t be. It wasn’t caused by infection.” She paused. “I also gave Hubert a ride. Rose had left him at the Goodwill.”

  “The Goodwill? What were you doing out there?” asked Miles. He took off his yardwork gloves and put on some latex gloves. Then he picked up some cleaning bottles and moved toward his car.

  Myrtle scowled. “I told you it wasn’t contagious.”

  “But maybe Hubert has something. It doesn’t hurt to wipe everything down,” said Miles.

  Myrtle said, “Wanda’s house has become overrun again by Crazy Dan’s junk. I was dropping off some bags.”

  Miles had just sat in the car to wipe down the steering wheel and made a face. “What was in those bags?”

  “That’s unknown,” said Myrtle impatiently. “Look, can you be quick with that? I want to go to the dealership with you to talk to Boone.”

  Miles scrubbed at the wheel and then sprayed Lysol around the car, centering especially around Wanda’s seat. “Boone? Don’t tell me you’re really serious about buying a car.”

  “Why not? Haven’t I been borrowing yours enough lately? I could be interested, anyway, and that’s what I want Boone to think.”

  “And Red too, I guess,” said Miles as he wiped down the dashboard with an antibacterial wipe.

  “It’s two for the price of one,” said Myrtle.

  Miles looked critically around the car. “This will have to do, I suppose.”

  “Good. And Boone is always the very picture of health so you won’t have to fear any germs there,” said Myrtle.

  “I’ve already refilled my hand sanitizer, just to be on the safe side.” Miles carefully put the used wipes in a grocery bag and then pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them in the same bag.

  Myrtle watched as he put it straight into his outdoor garbage bin. She half-expected him to put up a sign with ‘biohazard’ written on it.

  Boone’s dealership was quite a big place. And as soon as Miles had pulled into the parking lot, a smiling salesman had immediately greeted them.

  Myrtle said tersely, “We’d like to see Boone, please.”

  “Oh, you’re a friend of Boone’s?” asked the young salesman.

  “Just tell him that Myrtle Clover is here, if you could.”

  As he obediently hurried off, Miles said, “You’re throwing your weight around a lot this week.”

  “It just happens that I’m dealing with a lot of middle-aged former students this week,” said Myrtle.

  A minute later, Boone Epps came striding out to join them with a spring in his step. He reached out and gently gave Myrtle a hug. “Miss Myrtle! My favorite teacher of all time! How are you doing?”

  Myrtle tried to stay serious, but couldn’t help the smile that pulled the corners of her mouth up. “I wish I could say that you were one of my favorite students of all time, Boone.”

  He gave a big hee-hawing laugh. “But then we’d know you were lying! I gave you far too much of a hard time.”

  Myrtle said, “And I’m not altogether sure you’re not lying. After all, I’m here in a customer capacity, looking at cars.”

  He grinned, showing off a line of perfect teeth. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. And I wouldn’t lie to you to sell you a car because I’m that convinced that we have the absolute perfect car on the lot for you.”

  Boone suddenly stuck out
his hand in Miles’s direction and Miles reluctantly took it. Myrtle was sure that there would be hand sanitizer being squirted as soon as it could be done without observation.

  “Hi, I’m Boone Epps. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

  Miles said, “Miles Bradford.”

  Boone snapped his fingers. “That name’s so familiar to me. Wait. I’ve got it! One of the pilgrims, wasn’t it? Are you related? That would be quite a distinguished line.”

  Myrtle smirked at Boone. “I’m glad I taught you English and not history. The pilgrim you’re trying to come up with is Miles Standish.”

  Miles cleared his throat. “Or perhaps William Bradford.”

  Boone’s eyes twinkled and he gave that hee-hawing laugh again. “I made a mash-up of two pilgrims! You sure don’t do that every day. Now I know you good folks didn’t want to spend the whole day yapping with me at the dealership. What can I help you with so that I can send you on your way with a wonderful new car?”

  Miles, surreptitiously pulling the hand sanitizer from his khakis pocket, gave Myrtle a quelling look. He was apparently most concerned that Myrtle would somehow drive out of the dealership with a wonderful new car.

  Myrtle beamed at Boone. “As a matter of fact, Boone, I want a wonderful used car. Something reasonably priced and very safe. But I’ll want to test-drive a series of them to make sure they’re exactly what I want. And I may not do that all today. I do get very tired sometimes and need to spread out my activities.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. Myrtle was never tired. Myrtle wasn’t tired even at 3 a.m. when everyone was tired.

  “But I also wanted to tell you how very sorry I am about your mother. I had a lot of respect for Pearl,” said Myrtle.

  Boone grew solemn. His eyes held a glimmer of tears in them before he hastily blinked them away. “I appreciate that, Miss Myrtle. Mama had a lot of respect for you. Your words are high praise.” He paused. “I heard that you were there right after Dad found Mama.”

  “Miles and I both were. You see, we had a very odd incident that happened at my house directly before we left for your parents’ house,” said Myrtle. “It’s been worrying me.”

  Boone tilted his head to one side and squinted thoughtfully at her.

  Myrtle continued, “Pearl had asked me yesterday morning if I could edit her memoir manuscript for her. You knew that she’d finished it?”

  Boone chuckled. “I did. And boy, were we all surprised! When Mama said she’d be writing a book, I guess we all figured that it would be one of those dreams that never really gets done. But she stuck to it.”

  “Well, she intimated that the family might not be pleased about it. Do you have any idea why?” asked Myrtle in a stern voice.

  Boone considered this. “I suppose Daddy wasn’t going to be happy. He never likes being the center of attention and if Mama had written a book, maybe he thought that people were going to be oohing and ahhing over it and her.”

  Myrtle frowned. “I can’t imagine that’s a reason anyone would be unhappy about a book. Anyway, Miles and I left for lunch. When we came back from Bo’s Diner, the manuscript was gone.”

  Boone said, “You sure about that, Miss Myrtle? If your house is anything like mine, things go missing in it from time to time. It probably just got shoved into some drawer and you only thought it was gone.”

  Miles cleared his throat. “I can attest to the fact that it was no longer in the house. It hadn’t been put in a drawer. It had been stolen.”

  Miles seemed quite affronted by the implication that Myrtle and he had ineptly managed to misplace a large sheaf of paper.

  Boone frowned. “So someone broke into your house and stole my mother’s book?”

  “Exactly. Someone who had something to lose. From what your mother told me, she was tired of harboring secrets. Maybe someone wasn’t quite as ready to let go of them as she was,” said Myrtle.

  Boone raised his hands as if in surrender. “No secrets here, just great cars. That’s a terrible segue, but honestly, Miss Myrtle, I don’t really see how I can help you at all. I’m all torn up over Mama and it was a horrible shock, but life must go on. I figured if I came on into work then everything would feel more normal again.”

  “Has it helped?” asked Myrtle, looking doubtful.

  “Until you showed up and started asking questions,” said Boone. His voice sounded teasing, but there was a sharp edge to it. “And, like I said, I can’t even help you with your questions because I have no idea what happened. I was at work all day. I didn’t know anything about it until Red stopped by to let me know. And I have no idea what was in Mama’s book because I never read it—I never even realized that she had actually written it.”

  Myrtle studied Boone. Boone shifted. It was the same look Myrtle gave when a student asked her for extra credit points on the day before the final exam. “But Pearl said the opposite when she came by my house. She said that at a family dinner the night before she died that she told everyone that she’d finished her book.”

  Boone reddened a little but somehow still maintained that carefree, friendly look. It must have been all those years being a car salesman. His expression didn’t even look forced or faked. He raised his hands and laughed. “You got me, Miss Myrtle! You’re absolutely right. I’ve been so busy that I’d forgotten that Mama laid that bombshell revelation on us at supper. She enjoyed doing it, actually. She saw the shock on our faces.”

  Myrtle backed off a little now. She gave him a smile. “I can imagine that she felt smug about that. She clearly kept her progress on the book a secret.”

  Miles said, “Although the family all knew that she was planning on writing it, so it couldn’t have been that much of a surprise.”

  Boone wagged a finger at him. “Oh, but it was. I thought it was something that Mama had just tossed out casually one day—that she planned on writing a book. I thought it was more like a bucket list item. You know: go to Paris, go skydiving, write a book.”

  “The problem is that the whole family forgot who they were dealing with,” said Myrtle, a hint of irritation in her voice. “This wasn’t someone unfamiliar with setting and meeting goals.”

  Boone said, “You’re one-hundred percent right, Miss Myrtle. That’s what we all forgot. Mama was a genius at organization. She likely set herself a word goal every day and obviously met it every single one.”

  Myrtle said, “She could do anything she set her mind to. I’m just stunned at Pearl’s death and feel very connected to it, since she was at my house and had elicited my help. And somehow, the task that I was asked to do is tied into her death. I feel responsible, in a way. And I want to get more of a handle on what was going on in her life.”

  Boone sighed and considered this for a moment. “So you’re going to help Red out. Well, I get it. Mama inspired that kind of devotion. Let’s see if I can paint a picture of what was going on with Mama’s life at home. I guess I’ll start out with Rose.”

  Miles said, “We’ve seen your sister since your mother’s death. She seems very rattled.”

  Boone snorted. “When is Rose not rattled?” He paused and said, almost to himself, “I’ll need to go by and visit her. Maybe she’s worse than usual.” He frowned as if this thought concerned him more than Myrtle thought it would. But perhaps Boone was a more attentive brother than most. He and his sister had seemed to be close when they were in high school, too.

  Myrtle said, “Your father seemed to think that she is very fragile.”

  Boone said, “The problem is that Rose needed a lot of help. I guess it was more ‘emotional support.’ She would call, or text, or go by my mom’s house and ask her all kinds of questions and tell her about any little thing that she was worried about or that was on her mind. I can’t even tell you the number of hours that my mother must have spent trying to talk Rose off the cliff.” He looked at Myrtle and Miles and grinned. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  Miles said, “Well, there aren�
��t that many cliffs around here.”

  “I don’t remember her being that way her whole life,” said Myrtle, scowling.

  Boone shook his head. “Here I’ll have to correct you. She has been that way for decades. She cries at the drop of a hat, too.”

  “I don’t remember Rose being that way when she was a teen, though. Not when she was my student. Although, as I seem to recall, she started acting more fearful and anxious around the time that her friend disappeared,” said Myrtle, watching Boone closely.

  Boone’s smile froze for a few seconds before he said, “That’s only natural; right, Miss Myrtle? After all, Tara was Rose’s best friend. In fact, Tara served as Rose’s confidant before my mother did. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Usually teen girls prefer to confide in their peers instead of a parent. So Rose lost a lot when Tara ran away.”

  “Does Rose get along with your father well?” asked Myrtle.

  Boone snorted. “Daddy isn’t the gruff guy that he usually is whenever Rose is around. He’s real protective of her. Too protective. That’s part of the reason Rose is the nervous Nelly that she is—because he coddles her so much.”

  “And your mother and you? Did your father act the same around you?” asked Miles curiously.

  “Not at all. He’s been downright rude to both of us, when it suited him. Not that he wasn’t also supportive,” said Boone quickly. But his tone made Myrtle think it might not be true. Boone continued in a rough voice, “I don’t think anybody could have done this. I still would rather think my mother had a terrible accident on those stairs. She could get distracted from time to time and she always had a lot on her mind. Mama had stumbled on those very stairs many times in the past and I feel like this time she just couldn’t catch herself.” Boone took a deep breath and blew it back out again in puffs. “But if it’s not an accident, I reckon I’d have to say that it was Edward who was responsible.”

  Myrtle and Miles frowned at each other.