Hushed Up--Myrtle Clover Mystery #15

Chapter Four

When Myrtle returned to the car, Miles was fast asleep and snoring lightly, his empty take-out container on the passenger seat. He didn't even wake up when Myrtle took the container and threw it away in a nearby trash can. He didn't wake up when Myrtle slammed the passenger door after plopping down heavily into the car. So Myrtle opened and shut the door again with even more vigor until he finally stirred.

"Thank heavens," Myrtle said, "I was starting to believe I was sitting next to a corpse."

Miles blinked a few times and then rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I'm just really tired from all that lost sleep."

Myrtle gave him a critical look as he continued rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'll drive, instead. You're way too sleepy to be alert enough to safely get us where we need to go."

This seemed to wake Miles up. "No, no. I can drive." He paused. "Where do we need to go? Wasn't the plan to go back to your house? I thought we were going to watch the soap opera."

Myrtle frowned. "You're certainly stuck on the soap opera today."

Miles sighed. "I wish you'd never gotten me hooked on them. The way they close each episode with a cliffhanger is very sneaky. I want to find out if Payton and Miranda were able to slip out of the government lab before the security guards rushed in."

"You know Payton and Miranda somehow got out of it. It wouldn't be much of a soap opera if the two of them ended up in jail for years," said Myrtle.

"Yes, but I want to know how they got out," persisted Miles.

Myrtle said, "And I do, too. But let's do that after we visit Wanda."

Miles looked uncomfortable, as he always did when the psychic was mentioned. He'd discovered he was a cousin of hers and felt a sense of responsibility for her, especially since she always seemed so downtrodden.

"Let me run by the ATM first," he said with a sigh.

They were about halfway there when Miles's phone rang and he startled. Myrtle barked, "Eyes on the road! I'll answer it."

Miles asked, "Can you see who it is?"

Myrtle peered at his phone. "It's Tippy Chambers."

Miles clutched the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. "Oh, no. She's going to ask how the silent auction collection went. And it was totally derailed."

Myrtle quirked an eyebrow at him. "What's the worst that can happen? You get kicked out of garden club? That sounds like a positive outcome as far as I can tell." She answered the phone. "Tippy? It's Myrtle. Miles is driving."

"Oh, hi, Myrtle. Listen, I was just checking in to see if Miles was able to pick up the items for the auction. I thought he was going to drop them by my house." Tippy's cultured voice was a little strained. Myrtle remembered she tended to get a little keyed up before events.

Miles hazarded a stressed look at Myrtle and Myrtle gestured pointedly at the road. "Tippy, the truth is that Miles set out early today to start collecting auction items and then ran into something quite tragic. He found Lillian Johnson dead in her home."

There was silence on the other end. "Tippy?" prompted Myrtle.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," said Tippy. "How absolutely horrible. Was her death . . . I mean, did she suffer some sort of health calamity?" Her voice indicated she certainly hoped so.

"I'm afraid not. Lillian was murdered," said Myrtle.

Tippy paused again and then said slowly, "I see. Oh, goodness."