Murder on the Ballot, Myrtle Clover #17

Chapter Ten

Myrtle swiftly joined Miles back at the table, hoping Scotty hadn't taken it into his head to finish his breakfast and head on his way. She was relieved to see him still there, finishing up some scrambled eggs. Miles was looking increasingly uncomfortable as Myrtle approached.

Myrtle ignored Miles and quickly said, "Hi, Scotty. I'm Myrtle Clover, I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm running against your dad for the town council spot."

Scotty was in his early twenties and seemed to have an issue against shaving. He had a half-formed scruffy beard. He was thin and even when sitting down seemed to be very tall. He said laconically, "Then you're going to have a pretty easy time getting elected. Dad is dead. You might not have heard."

Miles froze, menu in hand. Myrtle took a deep breath. "Goodness," she said. Then, "I'm so sorry, Scotty. He seemed very well last night."

Scotty shrugged. "That's what happens when you're murdered. You're fine one second and dead the next."

This casual attitude gave Myrtle pause. "May I . . . well, do you mind if I sit down with you for a second, Scotty?"

He gestured to the chair across from him and Myrtle sat gingerly in it. Scotty took another bite of eggs and looked thoughtfully at Myrtle as if trying to figure her out. Myrtle was trying to figure him out on the other side of the table.

Myrtle cleared her throat. "So, again, I'm so sorry. Miles is sorry, too."

They looked over at Miles at the table next to them. He quickly put the menu down and gave Scotty a small smile.

"This must have come as a terrible shock to you," said Myrtle, the faintest note of doubt in her voice. It didn't seem to come as a shock at all, considering how Scotty was plowing into his breakfast. But she was aware that different people handled grief in different ways. Scotty's way was apparently gorging himself on food.

Scotty considered this. "Well, of course it was a surprise. I mean, I had no idea Dad was dead when I woke up this morning. But the police actually sent someone over very quickly. I guess they were worried Mom and I would find out from somebody else if they didn't tell us first. I don't know if I'd really call it a 'shock', though. Dad had a talent for making people upset."

Myrtle said gingerly, "Did he make you upset sometimes, too?"

"No. No, Dad made me upset all the time. That doesn't mean I'm not sorry he's gone. But it sure doesn't mean that I had anything to do with his death. But after the police told Mom and me, my first reaction was that I wanted to get out of the house and get something to eat." Scotty shrugged. "Maybe that's just my way of dealing with bad news."

"Did the police offer any information about what happened?" asked Miles.

Scotty shook his head. "Not really. They just called it a suspicious death. They mostly seemed really focused on trying to find out what I was doing last night." He snorted. "Guess they thought I might be involved."

"What did you tell them?" asked Myrtle.

"The truth. I was at home with my mom. It was pretty nasty weather last night and I was glad to stay inside."

Myrtle asked, "Your father wasn't upset that you weren't going to the debate? Or that your mom wasn't?"

Scotty shrugged. "He didn't seem to be. He knew politics wasn't really our area of interest. I think he was just glad to be out of the house and away from Mom and me. You know how families can get on each other's nerves."

"It must have been difficult having two men in the same house. At least . . . are you living with your family now?" asked Myrtle.

This seemed to be a sore spot. Scotty winced a little but didn't deny still living at home with his parents. "Dad and I got along just fine. We were just two completely different people with different ways of looking at things. But I've always been proud of him, of course. Everyone respects him. Respected him. He was a self-made man—he didn't come from money."