Cleaning is Murder Read online

  Myrtle said, “I’m sure you did. Do you have any idea why Alice Porper would claim otherwise?”

  Josephine’s mouth turned down. “Alice never did like me. Somehow she seemed jealous of the close relationship that my father and I shared. Why on earth would I go over there and clean every week if we weren’t close? We had one squabble and now I feel terrible about it because he’s gone.” Josephine stared at her hands, which were twisted together in her lap.

  Myrtle said, “You said that your father got on people’s bad sides. Is there anyone in particular you have in mind?”

  “Well, now I want to name Alice, since she’s apparently been saying things about me around town,” said Josephine spitefully. “And that wouldn’t be far from the truth. She and Dad had a good relationship ... until they didn’t. But I won’t tell tales. His cleaning woman that you two shared was upset with him because he owed her money.”

  Myrtle and Miles exchanged a quick look.

  “In addition, I’ll note that Dad and Gabriel Tharpe didn’t always see eye-to-eye.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Is that so? I always thought that they were the best of friends. I’d see them around town together having lunch or grabbing coffee. They always seemed to get along really well.”

  Josephine said, “There’s a word for what they were. Frenemies. Are you familiar with it?”

  Myrtle said, “Not really, but it’s self-explanatory. I see. Friends and enemies.”

  “I’m not saying that Gabriel had anything to do with Dad’s death,” said Josephine in a rush as if Myrtle was about to phone Red. “It’s just that they’ve been on the outs a little more than usual.”

  Miles cleared his throat. “Are there plans for your father’s service, or is it too early to inquire?”

  Josephine smiled at him again. “It’s not too early. I received word from the state police today that there was no need for them to keep my father’s body any longer—that his death was officially labeled murder by blunt force trauma. I’m hoping to bury him tomorrow afternoon; I’ve already been in touch with the funeral home.” She gave them an apologetic look. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a tiny affair—graveside only and that sort of thing. I don’t have the funds to throw something really grand.”

  “Not that your father would have expected a grand gesture, I’m sure,” said Myrtle. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I suppose things will be better for you once the estate is settled.”

  “As far as I’m aware,” said Josephine glumly. “I don’t suppose Dad was cross enough with me to write me out of his will in the last couple of weeks.”

  “Surely not!” said Myrtle, aggravated by the very thought. “Not after all those years you dutifully cleaned for him. He wouldn’t have dared.”

  Miles said, “Or, more likely, he wouldn’t have wanted to pay the legal fee associated with such a maneuver. Having a will changed isn’t exactly inexpensive, and it sounds as though your father wasn’t much of a fan of spending money.”

  Josephine gave him a grateful look. “You’re right. It doesn’t sound like something he’d do. He was incredibly miserly.”

  “Even to the point of making his own cleaning products?” asked Myrtle. “Or was he making his own cleaners for other reasons—to ensure they were natural or green or something like that?”

  “He did indeed make his own cleaning products and only to save money. I don’t think he cared a whit about the environment or using chemicals.” Josephine made a rueful face. “He’d even fuss at his cleaning woman and me for using too many cleaning products. You should have seen his cleaning woman’s face the first time he told her that!”

  Myrtle could just imagine.

  A few minutes later, Myrtle and Miles were back in Miles’s car.

  Miles said, “You know, I’d be mad too, if I were Josephine. That was thoughtless of Amos to make his daughter work so hard for so many years.”

  “And not offer to help her out! Instead, she was helping him out. Ridiculous.” Myrtle squinted through the window. “Where are you taking me, Miles? Not home, I hope.”

  “Well, that was the plan. Don’t tell me we’re visiting Gabriel. How on earth do you plan on casually approaching him?” asked Miles.

  “No, we’re not seeing Gabriel today. I have hardly any scraps of food left at home and so we need to head to the store. As for Gabriel, we could simply say that your car was ailing. He owns a garage, I believe,” said Myrtle in a careless voice.

  “That sounds like a rather expensive excuse for talking with him,” said Miles coldly. “Especially since there’s nothing wrong with my car.”

  “Perhaps it needs a checkup,” said Myrtle.

  “It’s a Volvo. It’s in excellent condition,” said Miles in a stiff voice.

  “Maybe an oil change then,” said Myrtle in exasperation. “Surely it’s due for something.”

  “The oil for this car is very expensive and not due yet,” said Miles. “It could stand to have its windshield fluid replenished. But I’d rather keep our going to Gabriel’s garage as a last-resort. He and Amos were best friends. I’m sure that Gabriel will be going to Amos’s funeral tomorrow to pay his respects, even if he and Amos had something of a strained relationship recently.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” said Myrtle. She didn’t sound completely convinced.

  “And if he’s not, you could always tell him you’re writing a story for the Bugle and wanted to get a quote from Gabriel about Amos,” said Miles in a persuasive tone.

  “All right, that does make sense,” said Myrtle. “I do want us to talk to him, and soon. Despite his name, Gabriel is no angel.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. “It sounds as if you know more about Gabriel than I do.”

  “I mainly have suspicions about Gabriel. He was another of my students and was constantly in trouble. I had a hall pass for the principal’s office ready and waiting for him every day. Modern-day Gabriel doesn’t seem much better. He has a wicked smile. And he looks like he has secrets. People in Bradley have whispered about him for years—that he runs around with lots of women behind his poor wife’s back. And Red has broken up several fights that Gabriel’s been involved in over the years. Gabriel likes his drink,” said Myrtle.

  The grocery store was busy. Miles got a grocery cart and Myrtle, who was out of really everything, stopped every few feet to put in more food. Various neighbors and other acquaintances slowed their progress by chatting with them both.

  Miles gritted through his teeth, “I’ll never get used to living in a small town.”

  “People didn’t accost you in the grocery aisles in Atlanta?” Myrtle tossed a couple of packages of dry pasta in her shopping buggy.

  “No, they didn’t. And they didn’t study the contents of my cart and ask me if various products were any good, either,” said Miles. “The good people of Bradley have a serious problem with nosiness.”

  “They probably think of it as product research,” said Myrtle. “After all, why try something and hate it? Ask someone who’s already tried it.” She stopped walking and frowned, staring at a perfectly coiffed woman wearing white slacks and a silky black blouse. “Oh, pooh. There’s Tippy. She has a bee in her bonnet over those garden club gala tickets. Perhaps we can avoid her.”

  Miles and Myrtle turned the cart around and strode rapidly in the other direction, but it was too late.

  “Myrtle and Miles! What an unexpected pleasure.” Tippy’s voice called out from behind them. It was the kind of voice that couldn’t be ignored.

  “We could play deaf,” whispered Myrtle. But Miles was already obediently turning around.

  “Good to see you, Tippy,” said Myrtle brusquely, although her tone stated otherwise.

  Tippy beamed at her. “And how lucky that I ran into you, Myrtle. You’re on my list of folks to call this afternoon. I need to check in with everyone to see how the ticket sales for the garden club gala are going. It wi
ll be such a lovely occasion and I want to make sure we have a great turnout.”

  Myrtle said, “I’m sure we will. Miles is thrilled about going to the gala.”

  Miles’s expression was somewhat less than thrilled.

  Tippy frowned. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but I hope that you’ve sold more tickets than that. The gala is coming up in a few days and we’ve ordered a lot of food and beverages. And of course we want to give our speakers an honorarium.”

  Myrtle said, “I’ve sold quite a few of them, Tippy. Everyone seems to be looking forward to it.” She crossed her fingers behind her back at the fibs.

  Tippy said, “Wonderful! It will be a lot of fun.” She checked her watch. “Looks like I’d better head out so that I can make those phone calls. Take care, you two. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

  They heard Tippy’s tinkling laugh as she walked away and Miles muttered, “I’m thrilled about the gala?”

  “Well, you should be. It’s an expensive evening of entertainment. Anyway, you bought a ticket so you should go.”

  “I bought a ticket because of your high-pressure sales techniques. I wasn’t really planning on actually attending the event,” said Miles.

  “All the cool kids are coming. But if you don’t want to be as cool as Wanda and me, I suppose you could stay at home and organize your sock drawer or clean your fish tank or whatever it is you’ll end up doing.” Myrtle put a packet of taco seasoning in her cart.

  Miles said, “I don’t have a fish tank, as you well know. Although you bring up an interesting point. I’d like to see how Wanda navigates the garden club gala. Have you considered the fact that she doesn’t have anything to wear?”

  Myrtle tilted her head thoughtfully. “She can probably dress up what she usually wears with jewelry or something. I could lend a necklace or earrings or something to her.”

  “There’s absolutely no way her garments can be dressed up, Myrtle. I’ve never seen her in anything but the same two outfits over the years and they haven’t improved in appearance in that amount of time. They’re clean and that’s all that can be said about them,” said Miles.

  Myrtle frowned. “I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable at the gala. Maybe I can take her to the Centerville Dress Shop. That way I can check back in with Alice Porper while having an excellent excuse to be there.”

  Myrtle headed for the dairy section and Miles hurried to keep up with her.

  He said, “That’s an expensive shop. I’m sure it’s not in Wanda’s budget. And I’m not sure that buying another outfit there this month is likely in your budget, either.”

  Myrtle said, “It’s pushing it. Especially with Red eating me out of house and home and with having to buy all my unsold gala tickets. Unless you’d like to contribute to Wanda’s wardrobe fund? As a concerned cousin?”

  Miles flinched as the family connection was mentioned and grimly nodded. “Yes. Let me know when you’re planning on going and I’ll send you with my credit card.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to drive us there, too. Centerville isn’t in walking distance and Wanda doesn’t exactly have a reliable vehicle,” said Myrtle.

  Miles sighed. “I suppose I’ll get reacquainted with the shop’s hunting and fishing magazines.”

  Myrtle finished her shopping in record time. Miles drove her back and helped unload the groceries. “See you tomorrow for the funeral then?” he asked.

  “Give me a call first thing in the morning and we’ll work out the logistics,” said Myrtle.

  Chapter Eleven

  BUT MYRTLE DIDN’T GET a phone call first thing. She shrugged, figuring Miles must have slept in. She poured herself a large bowl of granola and then fed Pasha when she jumped in through the kitchen window. She was just putting on her new funeral outfit when the phone rang. It was Miles.

  “Do you think Elaine can take you to Amos’s funeral? I woke up with a raging headache,” said Miles. His voice was subdued.

  “If she can find someone to watch Jack for her. A funeral is hardly the place for a preschooler. But never mind that. Are you okay?” asked Myrtle.

  “It’s a migraine. I get them from time to time. I’m going to close my eyes for a while and hope it goes away,” said Miles fervently.

  “Good luck. Take aspirin, too,” said Myrtle. “I’ll check in on you later.”

  “Great,” said Miles. His voice didn’t sound particularly grateful however.

  Myrtle called Elaine and found that, fortunately, Jack had a playdate at a friend’s house for the morning. And, despite whatever worthwhile tasks Elaine had planned on doing in that period of time, she was more than happy to drive Myrtle to Amos’s funeral.

  As usual, Elaine was cheerful as Myrtle walked up to Elaine’s minivan.

  “Myrtle! I love the new funeral outfit!” said Elaine. “Did you give your funeral dress the old heave-ho?”

  “It was looking a little tired. I’m holding onto it, though. It can be the backup dress. It’s good to have something else in the rotation. Bradley has so many funerals that I have to have something appropriate to wear.”

  Elaine reached over and quickly cleared off the passenger’s seat, which held two organic granola bars, a small blanket, a canister of antibacterial wipes, a packet of travel tissues, a tube of sunscreen, a couple of sippy cups, and a few toy trucks.

  Myrtle sat gingerly down in case there was any more preschool paraphernalia lurking on the seat below. Somehow, she’d thought all those things would have been in the backseat, near the car seat.

  Elaine said, “Sorry about all that. Oh, and hey, let me know if you want to try this snack that I’ve brought. It tastes so amazing and it gives you energy and vitamins and minerals.” She held up another zipper bag full of brown and black crunchy things of various shapes and sizes.

  Myrtle was proud of the steady smile she was able to levy on Elaine. “Thanks, but I’ve already eaten breakfast. And I feel fairly energetic this morning.”

  “Well, it’s here if you need it. Red loves it. And you might be hungry by the time we head home. I’m not sure how long Amos’s service will be.” Elaine backed out of the driveway and drove at a fair pace down the street.

  “Probably not very long, from what Josephine was telling me. She’s somewhat short on funds and wasn’t planning anything elaborate,” said Myrtle.

  “I didn’t realize that you were close to Amos,” said Elaine, giving her a quizzical look before looking back through the windshield. “Or is this more to do with the case surrounding his death?”

  “The latter,” said Myrtle. “For one thing, I’m trying to clear Puddin’s name. She seems to be a suspect.”

  “Really?” Elaine’s eyes grew wide. “Puddin? I mean, I knew she was the one who found Amos’s body, but Red never really mentioned that she was a suspect. Why is that?”

  “Oh, just her general foolishness. Threatening Amos in public in front of witnesses and that sort of thing. The type of nonsense you would expect from Puddin,” said Myrtle.

  “Why on earth would she threaten Amos? He was her employer!” said Elaine.

  “Her employer who owed her money,” said Myrtle. “Puddin is very particular about getting paid. Not so particular about showing up to work and definitely not as particular about the quality of her work, but most particular about receiving payment in a timely fashion.”

  Elaine shook her head. “Well, that’s not good. And Red had mentioned that Amos was killed by a blow to the head from a glass bottle of cleaning solution?”

  “Yes, he apparently hoarded money, even though he had a good deal of it. So he made his own cleaning solutions and didn’t pay his housekeeper on time. Oh, and had his daughter cleaning for him before he even hired Puddin. He was a scamp,” said Myrtle with a shrug.

  “The type of murder weapon doesn’t exactly help Puddin’s case either, does it?” asked Elaine.

  “Not so much,” admitted Myrtle. “Although Puddin isn’t the type to lose her temper to the point
of hitting someone over the head. She prefers sulking.”

  Elaine pulled into the grounds of the new cemetery as opposed to the older one that was farther away. Here the plots weren’t quite as well-kempt and there weren’t the variety of different headstones as the other cemetery. It was more of the budget cemetery in Bradley.

  Elaine drove around a few minutes to find parking. “There are more people here than I thought there’d be,” she said. After a few more minutes she said, “How about if I drop you off near the graveside and then park the car?”

  Myrtle, despite the energy she’d claimed to Elaine earlier, was more than happy to be dropped off. The day was a scorcher with temperatures already cresting 90 degrees Fahrenheit. A walk on an asphalt road to the graveside wouldn’t be fun and might even mean her new funeral outfit would have to be dry cleaned.

  Myrtle approached the assembled mourners. In deference to her age, the crowd parted and a man who appeared to be the funeral director quickly suggested that Myrtle sit under the tent near the graveside. Myrtle, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, plopped down in a folding chair under the tent. There weren’t many people under it, despite the number of people at the service. Amos hadn’t had much family and the tent space was usually reserved for close family. She saw Josephine give her a tight smile. Josephine looked uncomfortable in a dress that was most definitely not from the Centerville Dress Shop. She also wore rather too much makeup and, in testament to her distress, had mascara pooled under her eyes.

  As suspected, Gabriel Tharpe was there. In fact, he was under the tent looking over some papers he held in his hands. It looked as if he might be speaking during the service.

  Myrtle turned to look behind her and saw both Alice Porper and Philomena Fant standing outside the tent. They weren’t standing near each other and each seemed to pretend that the other wasn’t there.

  There was no sign of Puddin, but that was hardly surprising.

  After parking the car, Elaine joined the group standing outside the tent. When Myrtle motioned to her, she shook her head. Elaine was always one for protocol.