Cruising for Murder: Myrtle Clover #10

Chapter Thirteen

 Miles was glum as he took the last bite of his chocolate gateau. "Do I really have to have a drink with Bettina, Myrtle? She may get the wrong impression."

"She will not get the wrong impression. I won't allow it. I'm going to have a drink with you and ask questions. There will be nothing in the least that could be considered romantic about any of it."

Miles glanced at Myrtle's plate. "Didn't you like your dessert?"

"It baffled me. I don't like it when my food is confusing. It didn't seem to want to be eaten," said Myrtle. "I cut one with my knife and fork, but the reward didn't seem worth the labor. That will teach me to order anything with a French name. I need to eat desserts with names like cheesecake or pudding."

Miles pushed his plate away and then stood, courteously holding Myrtle's chair as she rose. "Speaking of pudding, I wonder how things are going at home. With Dusty and Puddin."

Myrtle made a face. "How do you think they're going? When the cat's away, the mice will play. I've a feeling that Puddin is sitting in my den, fending off Pasha, eating the remains of my food, and watching Tomorrow's Promise."

"Dusty is more industrious, though," said Miles.

"Is he? Give him half a chance to be lazy and he'll jump on it like fleas on a hound dog," said Myrtle. "They're probably letting everything in the house and yard go until right before we get back. Then they'll scramble like crazy to have it look good. We'll have to bring our neighbors little gifts to make it up to them when we return."

Miles, who liked everything done in a particular way, looked uncomfortable at the thought of his yard resembling a South East Asian jungle. Or perhaps he was still wrestling with the fact that he was about to have a drink with a woman for the first time in a while.

Myrtle had to give Bettina credit. She'd thought of everything. She was sitting at a small table in the piano bar where the lighting was excellent. Her dress played up her figure and she was expertly made up. The pianist was playing As Time Goes By from Casablanca. And there were only two chairs at the little table. At least, there were only two chairs until Miles quickly pulled another out for Myrtle.

Bettina smiled toothily at Miles and then gave Myrtle a clear back-off look, which Myrtle blithely ignored. "Hi there, Bettina," she said beaming. "What a treat to hang out with you a little while. Don't we all look amazing? We should dress for supper every night."

Bettina continued shooting daggers with her eyes at Myrtle. "Yes. Miles, you look very handsome, as usual," she crooned.

Miles looked miserable and stayed as close to Myrtle as he possibly could. A waiter hovered for drink orders and Myrtle ordered a Shirley Temple. Miles waved the waiter away.

"Unfortunately," said Bettina, "this is a table for two." She was as pointed as she could be.

"Very true. We should move to a larger table," said Myrtle.

Miles, who just wanted to get the whole thing over with, said quickly, "This is fine for the short time we'll be here. As I mentioned, I do want something of an early night."