Death at a Drop-In: Myrtle Clover #5

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Myrtle had a somewhat adversarial relationship with her collection of cookbooks. They took up gobs of space in her small kitchen and looked appropriately food-doused and brown with age...it looked like a serious collection of books for a serious cook. But Myrtle blamed these books for the intermittent culinary disasters that plagued her. The directions in the books were obviously unclear or even out-and-out wrong. With some trepidation, she pulled out the books and started leafing through them.  

The recipes were fairly unimaginative. There were tons of chicken and broccolis, chicken and rice, meat loafs, and beef casseroles. Joan was sure to get at least ten casseroles and Lucas just as many. Maybe a soup? Soup could be lunch as well as supper, and Myrtle could make it in her slow cooker and not scorch it like she had the last time she'd tried making it.  

She peered at the ingredients. Wonder of wonders, she seemed to have everything she needed for the potato soup. And, with an entire package of crumbled bacon, it had to taste good. Who didn't like bacon? 

Myrtle was well into making the soup when her doorbell rang.  

It was Elaine with Jack in tow. Myrtle pulled the door open. "Yay!" Jack said, beaming up at her. 

"Yay!" she said back, leaning heavily on her cane so that she could give him a hug before he dashed inside. 

"Are we interrupting anything?" asked Elaine. She had an armful of knitting paraphernalia with her and watched as Jack went straight to Myrtle's coat closet to pull out his basket of toys. "I thought we might knit together while Jack plays. After the day you had yesterday, I figured that a very calming activity was in order." 

She turned and beamed at Myrtle. Elaine's face looked positively thrilled. "Oh my," said Myrtle. 

"Red told me how excited you were to return to knitting!" said Elaine, beaming at her. "I'm so glad, Myrtle. I was hoping that you and I could spend more time together. We could keep an eye on Jack and knit and talk. It will be great!" 

Myrtle sighed. Ordinarily, she'd interject that she hadn't the slightest interest in the hobby. She'd proclaim her anti-crafting stance. She'd fuss that Red was an insufferable busybody who needed to be stopped at all costs. The only problem was Elaine's complete and total delight. And the fact she'd mentioned that Myrtle could spend more time with Jack-one of Myrtle's main objectives in life at this point. 

"Won't it?" she agreed weakly, looking at the basket with consternation. "Although, Elaine, you know I'm rusty. Quite rusty, since the last time I knitted was probably, oh, sixty years ago." And under duress. Her mother had insisted that she learn. 

"That's not a problem. I'm really still learning, myself. I can help give you a refresher," said Elaine with a smile. 

Myrtle felt an unfortunate flare-up of heartburn again. 

"I brought over a few different kinds of supplies for you to try out. I know I sent Red over with a few, but I wanted to give you more options. Some knitting notions are a better fit than others," said Elaine. 

Myrtle peered glumly into the basket, since she was clearly expected to show some interest in its contents. "These knitting needles are nice," she said, pulling them out. They were silver, sharp, and about four and a half inches long. 

Elaine grinned at her. "I might have known you'd pick those wicked-looking needles. The nicest thing about those is that they're hollow, so they're lightweight and easy to use." Elaine bent to hand Jack another truck that had somehow gotten mixed up in the knitting supplies.  

"Besides bringing the knitting stuff over, I wanted to let you know that Red was really pleased that you told him about Mary Marlson's memory issue. Sure enough, the clothes that she swore were stolen from her clothesline were safe and sound in her closet."