Death at a Drop-In: Myrtle Clover #5

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Myrtle glanced over the neat rows of books. She decided to bring over a couple of choices-a book she would actually like to have the book club read, and a book that Sybil would most likely want the book club to read. This would have the added benefit of not only giving her the opportunity to quiz Sybil on the murders, but also possibly even giving her the chance to pitch real literature at their book club.

Thinking about book club made Myrtle grouchy, so she tried to refocus on the rows of books. She found an old favorite, Eudora Welty's The Optimist's Daughter, and pulled it gingerly from the stacks. Myrtle placed it carefully in her tote bag and then looked back at the shelves with a critical frown.

There was a novel written by a celebrity that looked absolutely atrocious, but Myrtle didn't want anyone to think she even knew who this celebrity was. There was a book featuring a beach and a middle-aged woman staring thoughtfully off into the sunset. Myrtle made a face. That accurately depicted eighty-percent of the books that the book club had chosen over the past eighteen months. She shouldn't take this one over to Sybil's because it might be one of the books she was supposed to have read for the club and hadn't.

Then Myrtle spotted it. Life Is a Soap Opera. She opened the book and saw some similarity between her favorite soap, Tomorrow's Promise, and some woman experiencing midlife crisis. Perfect. She chucked it into her tote bag and fished her library card out of her pocketbook.

Myrtle raised her eyebrows when she saw who was standing in the checkout line in front of her: Joan. She had a stack of children's picture books that the librarian was quickly checking out. Noah stood next to her and he turned and smiled at Myrtle in recognition. "Mama," he said, pulling at Joan's pants leg.

Joan took the books and turned around. "Hi, Miss Myrtle!"

"Well, hi there! Did you find some good books, Noah?"

Noah nodded and pointed to one of the books that Joan was holding. "I've got one with a dump truck!"

A closer look at the stack of books showed not a single one was on the subject of biochemistry or calculus. Clearly, it must have been Cosette pushing Noah to learn foreign languages and pursue academics. Joan and Noah had picked out books about trucks, construction, dinosaurs, and fairy tales. It sure seemed more appropriate for a preschooler.

Joan's mind appeared to be running on the same track as she looked down at the books she was carrying. "You know, my mother is probably rolling in her grave that I'm checking these out." She put a hand over her mouth as if regretting what she'd said, but she didn't seem that regretful. "It's just that Mother was always pushing Noah to read these super-academic books when all he really wanted to do was see pictures of front-loader trucks and bulldozers."

Myrtle nodded. "Oh, I know. When Red was a little guy, sometimes we'd walk over to watch construction sites. He'd be entertained for hours."

Joan snapped her fingers. "This is off the subject, but I just remembered that I need to get that container back to you-the one the soup came in." For some reason, Joan didn't seem to want to meet Myrtle's eyes now. Had something happened to the container?

"No hurry, my dear. Whenever you think of it." Except that she really did want another chance to talk to Joan about the case later on. "Although-well, I do tend to use that container myself quite a bit."

"I'll bring it by tomorrow or the next day," said Joan. "No worries."

"I was wondering," said Myrtle innocently. "You had mentioned seeing poor Tobin the morning he died...that he was already working in the cemetery when you were driving Noah over to Elaine's house. Are you quite sure that you saw Tobin then? And that he was doing yard work?"