Hushed Up--Myrtle Clover Mystery #15

Chapter Eight

As they walked toward the car, Myrtle said, "You're entirely too modest. You were there when I made the casserole, after all. You could take some credit for it, if you'd wanted."

Miles shook his head violently. "No. I never take credit when credit isn't warranted."

"How pedantic of you, Miles!" said Myrtle a bit crossly. They climbed into the car and Myrtle looked down at the floorboard to see the other casserole. "Let's take this over to Annie right away, since it's not on ice. Maybe we should have brought a cooler."

Miles said, "We weren't in Martin's house long enough to create a problem, I don't think." But he did drive a little faster over to Annie's house.

He asked, "What does Annie do?"

Myrtle said, "She's a teacher. She and I have talked about it before, actually. I don't think she's as crazy about teaching as she thought she'd be. That's probably one of the reasons she was interested in moving away from town and starting over."

Miles said, "I thought teaching was sort of like preaching—you needed to have some sort of calling to do it. It's not something suited to everyone."

"She might have simply been determined to do something completely different from what her mother wanted her to do," said Myrtle with a shrug. "Lillian was pestering Annie to go into the flower business with her and there Annie was getting a teaching certificate. It must have driven Lillian nuts. Which was precisely what Annie wanted, I bet."

They drove up to a much more modest home than Martin's had been. It was a small duplex apartment with overgrown landscaping.

Myrtle rang the doorbell. There was a flutter of the curtains near the front door and then Annie peered out. She had sharp features, bright red hair and a suspicious expression on her face that quickly turned to surprise when she spotted Myrtle. She unlocked the front door.

"Miss Myrtle!" said Annie, opening the door wide. "What a surprise to see you!"

"Yes, dear. I was so sorry to hear the news about your poor mama." Myrtle thrust the casserole at her. The casserole, having sat in a hot vehicle during the visit with Martin, was decidedly fishy in aroma and Annie's nose crinkled just a little bit. Miles made an odd noise, which he quickly covered with coughing.

Myrtle gave Miles a reproving look. "And this is Miles Bradford. Perhaps you've seen him around town."

Miles gave Annie an apologetic smile to cover either the casserole, the intrusion, or both. "I knew your mother. I'm very sorry."

Annie said, "Please come in. Just forgive the mess—yesterday was such a long day and I haven't had the chance to clean up."

"Don't even think about it," said Myrtle, following Annie in. Although it was tough, as Myrtle quickly glanced around the small living room for a place to sit, not to think about it. Annie had papers and boxes and things all over the room. Miles patted his pockets for the comforting feel of the hand sanitizer bottle as Annie whisked the aromatic casserole away to the kitchen.

Miles gave Myrtle a silent, questioning look and Myrtle hissed, "Just uncover a chair, Miles! It isn't rocket science."

Miles looked miserably at the sofa, which would require extreme excavation. "I hate to move her things."

"It's not as if her things are organized. I don't think we're messing up some sort of arcane system." Myrtle picked up a pile of clothing and papers from an armchair and dropped them on the floor.

Annie came back into the room and flushed. "I'm so sorry about this. I promise I'm not usually so much of a slob. I'm kind of stuck in a transition and don't know what to do. The more I stew over it, the less-inclined I am to try to make sense out of this room."