A Body at Bunco (9 page)

“Which makes for a very protein-packed breakfast,” said Myrtle smoothly as she settled into one of the old armchairs. And certainly explained the pervasive aroma. “Why were you so interested in Bradley? It seems like an odd choice for a professional…meteorologist?”

“Storm chaser,” said Estelle. “Oh, I have some working knowledge of meteorology, but I don’t have a degree in it. And some of it bores me to tears. What I really enjoy are the big storms—the tornadoes, in particular. I film them and then sell the footage to news organizations.”

Myrtle glanced around the living room. Every available surface seemed to have some sort of odd equipment on it. There was something that resembled a radio that she supposed must be a type of weather radio. There were also maps all over the place—real, physical maps. Somehow she’d thought that maybe there would be something on the computer or phone that Estelle would use. An app, maybe. But instead there were state maps littering the sofa that Miles sat on. And a couple of compasses. Did she not use GPS? There were also flashlights and a binocular next to Miles on the sofa cushion. He gazed at them with a bemused expression, finally managing to pull his focus away from the unusual architecture. “Getting ready to go on a trip?” he asked.

“With any luck,” said Estelle fervently. She grinned. “Of course, that means that I’m technically wishing bad weather on some poor soul.”

“But again—Bradley isn’t really known for bad weather, surely. Wouldn’t you be more interested in a place like Alabama or Kansas or even Tennessee? They see a lot more tornadoes than we do,” said Myrtle.

“I’d rather
chase
them,” said Estelle simply. “Not be surrounded by them. And not to have my property destroyed by them.”

However, the overall effect of Estelle’s residence was that of a home that had been hit by an F4 tornado. But Myrtle managed to smile understandingly. “You’ve enjoyed Bradley, then? A nice quiet town, isn’t it?”

Estelle said, “Ordinarily, yes. Although the murder at your house was a surprise.” She looked down at her hands. “At first I thought that someone must be playing a bad joke. For a murder to happen during a Bunco game?” Estelle shrugged her shoulders to indicate the rarity of such an event.

Myrtle, never one to accept blame gladly, said with a slight edge to her voice, “That had nothing to do with me. I’d only met Luella that day. But
you
knew her, didn’t you?” She shifted in her seat as a spring started poking her in an unpleasant way.

“I wouldn’t say we were
friends
. Unfortunately, I haven’t seemed to be able to make very many friends since I’ve moved here. But, I did know Luella through Bunko. Elaine was nice enough to ask me if I wanted to be part of the group when another member stopped playing.”

That sounded like Elaine. So Myrtle was right—Estelle had been lonely here.

“And Mimsy has been especially nice. She’s even been bringing fresh vegetables from her garden over and visiting for a little while when she comes,” said Estelle.

Miles gave one of those small coughs that indicated he was about to make a point. “Mimsy and Elaine are both very friendly, aren’t they? But going back to Luella. Your tone suggests that you didn’t really care for Luella very much.”

Estelle measured him up with a quick glance before admitting, “Not much, no. I don’t have time for people who gossip, you see. And Luella White was gossipy.”

“Did she gossip about you?” asked Myrtle quickly.

“It got back to me, sure. It was more like she was making
fun
of me. She wasn’t very impressed, apparently, with my being a storm chaser. And when the bank denied my loan application for a real storm chasing van, she spread that around, too.”

“How would she have found out about that?” Miles looked alarmed. Myrtle figured that he would probably be up that night worrying about his personal financial business being spread all around Bradley. Maybe she would come over with coffee and cookies this time.

Estelle said, “Luella was the loan officer. She really only worked part time over there, I guess to help them out. She had a banking background of some kind before she moved here. All I know is that I desperately need an outfitted van for my storm chasing. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to really make it, big-time. The bankers here have no imagination whatsoever. If you’re not trying to open a diner or a pet store, they don’t understand your business.”

Myrtle said carefully, “Miles and I were trying to recollect exactly how events happened during Bunco and are having a tough time. Where exactly were you sitting, for instance? And where were you during the party?”

Estelle gave her an indulgent smile. Apparently, she thought Myrtle was nosy but was willing to excuse it because of her age. And maybe because Estelle actually had visitors for once. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an alibi, if that’s what you’re looking for. I don’t know anyone well enough at Bunco to just sit and talk the whole time to one person. I talked to Alma a while, talked to Georgia. I got a glass of wine and then a refill. And I ate. I was in the kitchen, in the living room, and even briefly in the restroom.”

“And you didn’t pop into the backyard and hit Luella on the head with a wrench?” Myrtle allowed her eyes to twinkle to show that she really didn’t think Estelle would do such a thing, but she had to ask the question.

“No.”

Myrtle felt as if Estelle had more to say. “Do you know of anyone who might have done it? Did you see anything? Was anyone loitering by my back door? Or do you have a guess who might have been so upset by Luella that she might commit murder?”

Estelle hesitated. “I thought Florence Ainsworth spent a lot of time near the back door. She seemed as if she were propping herself up, actually. I don’t think she’s really been on top of things lately. But I can’t imagine why she might want to murder Luella. That seems like a strange thing for an elderly woman like Florence to do.”

Estelle was vastly underestimating the elderly. “So, Florence was in a good position to have done this. But is there anyone that you think might have
wanted
to do it?”

Miles said simply, “Who had a grudge against Luella and why?”

“Alma Wiggins was no fan of Luella’s,” said Estelle finally. “She has talked to me about her numerous times. Apparently, Luella was spreading gossip about her son.”

Miles looked thoughtful. “You know, I want to say that
I
have heard gossip about her son.”

“That he was cooking the books at that accounting firm he works at?” asked Estelle.

Miles nodded.

“You see how a small town works?” asked Estelle, looking sad. “There is no evidence at all, according to Alma, that her son is involved in any such thing. He’s not been arrested. He’s not being investigated. But the owner of the accounting firm is Luella’s friend and is making these unfounded allegations which Luella is spreading around.”

“What a shame,” said Miles indignantly.

Myrtle said, “So Alma was understandably angry with Luella.”

Estelle appeared wary. “Yes. But I can’t go so far as to say Alma did anything to hurt Luella. Otherwise, I’m gossiping just as much.”

Myrtle nodded and then looked over at Miles. “We should probably head out…we’ve got things to do.” They both stood.

Estelle blinked and said in a rush, “Oh. Do you have to? Can’t I get you something to drink? An ice water? I was enjoying our visit. And…well, I’m just curious as to why you dropped by.”

Myrtle said, “Didn’t I say? How silly of me. I…uh…” She rummaged in her pocketbook as Miles looked uncomfortable. “I wanted to see if you left this lipstick at my house. Someone did. So I’m trying to figure it out. With Miles.”

“You’re investigating, aren’t you? Just like a sleuth! The Lipstick Caper, or something.” Estelle smiled at her in her engagingly awkward way. “I’m afraid that I don’t wear lipstick. But I’m glad you stopped by. And good luck tracking down the owner of the lipstick. It’s cool that you’re a sleuth…I mean, considering your maturity.”

“Estelle was nice,” said Miles as they left.

“Except for the fact that she mentioned my
maturity
,” grumbled Myrtle. “It makes it sound as if I’ve just stopped playing with baby dolls. I don’t see why people can’t just say
old age
. Why dance around the phrase by substituting something as silly as
maturity
?”

Miles decided not to engage in another of Myrtle’s word wars. “I did think she was lonely, though. She was awfully thrilled to see us and didn’t even care if we were there on a pretext or not. Don’t you think so?”

“Most definitely. She’s new to the town and is not in a traditional line of work. She doesn’t have a family to help her engage with the community. It’s got to make it very hard to meet people,” said Myrtle. “But she did give us some leads. We’ve got Florence near the back door and we’ve got Alma with a grudge. Excellent.” There was a bounce to Myrtle’s step as they walked down the sidewalk.

“So glad that narrowing down potential murder suspects has made your day,” murmured Miles.

“I think we’ll visit Alma now,” said Myrtle, ignoring him. “We have a definite lead to investigate and it sounds as if she might enjoy a Luella-bashing opportunity.”

“Perhaps that’s not the right way of phrasing it, under the circumstances,” said Miles rather primly.

“And we can dispense with the lipstick charade for Alma,” said Myrtle, turning briskly down a side street. “Alma Wiggins appreciates directness and she knows that I work at the
Bradley Bugle
.” She glanced at her watch and groaned. “I have to get that story to Sloan.”

“Is it ready to send out?” asked Miles.

“Haven’t started it yet,” said Myrtle.

They approached a large home with peeling white paint. The yard was kept tidy, the front walk to the house neatly swept. But the house itself indicated that its inhabitant might be low on available funds. And, despite the heat, every window of the house was open to let in any passing breeze. Clearly, Alma wasn’t wanting to run her air conditioner.

“Was this house
ever
in good repair?” asked Miles in a low voice as they approached the front door.

“It was beautiful when it was Alma’s mother’s house. But I think Alma’s mother’s money was completely drained by her health problems and nursing home stay. Alma doesn’t have two cents to rub together.” Myrtle rapped at the door.

Alma wasn’t quite as welcoming as Estelle or perhaps she simply wasn’t as desperate for companionship. She opened the front door a crack and peered suspiciously out at Myrtle and Miles. “Y’all aren’t collecting for charity, are you? Or a food drive? It’s really not a good time. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I’m absolutely exhausted.”

Alma might have been an appropriate recipient for charity herself. Myrtle beamed at her, completely ignoring her unfriendliness. “Hi there! No, Miles and I are just running by real quick to visit everyone who was at my house during Luella’s murder.”

Miles’s alarmed look told her should subdue her peppiness, considering the topic of conversation.

Alma said cautiously, “Why is that?”

“Well, you know I write for the
Bugle
. I’m working on a story for them about the murder.”

Alma closed the door a fraction of an inch. “The
Bugle
has gone downhill so much that I dropped my subscription. Besides, I don’t know anything that can help you,” she said dismissively.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” said Myrtle, leaning forward on her cane a bit and peering earnestly at her. “I hear that you might provide me with some insight into Luella. You see, since she was new to town, I didn’t have the chance to really make her acquaintance.”

“Nor did I,” said Alma. “And I didn’t
want
the chance to get to know her better. She was an unpleasant woman.”

“Yes. I understand that she could be. And that sometimes she gossiped,” said Myrtle in a wheedling tone.

Alma’s fingers tightened around the edge of the door. “Lies. Not gossip. Gossip implies an element of truth. And she said very unpleasant and untrue things about…my family.”

Miles shifted from one foot to the other and said sympathetically, “That’s a shame. Do you know if anyone else experienced issues with Luella?”

Myrtle narrowed her eyes at Miles. She hadn’t been quite ready to move on from Alma’s potential role in the murder. Miles sometimes went off on a tangent. Sidekicks could be a pain.

Alma’s reaction to Miles’s rather innocuous question was fairly telling. “I told you, I can’t help you!” And she slammed the door shut.

Chapter Seven

“Good job, Miles,” muttered Myrtle as they slowly walked back toward Myrtle’s house. “You frightened her off.”

“I wasn’t trying to frighten her off!” protested Miles. “I thought
you
were frightening her off, so I was trying to bring the tension down a little by asking her if
other people
had grudges against Luella. How would I know that it would be a trigger for her?”

“What I’d like to know is,
why
was it a trigger? Does Alma know something about last night? Is she trying to protect someone there?”

They thought about this as they walked past Miles’s house and on to Myrtle’s. Miles said, “I want to say that I’ve seen Alma and Mimsy together in town sometimes. Maybe they’re friends.”

“That makes for an unusual friendship. Mimsy seems very outgoing and cheerful and pleasant to be around. She has a nice house and a nice husband and is just…nice,” finished Myrtle with a shrug. “But why shouldn’t she be nice? It appears she’s had a very easy life so far.”

“Well, maybe opposites attract in friendship, too,” said Miles, giving Myrtle a meaningful look. “Some would say that you and I aren’t very much alike.”

“Only because I’m assertive and you’re passive, Miles. But we can fix that.”

Miles seemed displeased by this pronouncement.

They paused on the sidewalk in front of Myrtle’s house. Myrtle said, “Okay. So I have to whip out this story for the
Bugle
and email it to Sloan. You come on in and make yourself a sandwich and then we can catch
Tomorrow’s Promise
together. After that, maybe we can pop by and see Florence. I’m curious about her issues with Luella.”