A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter Four

Myrtle, afraid of somehow being forced to spend even more time with Erma, pounded frantically on Miles's door, punching the doorbell a couple of times for good measure. When there was no immediate response, she rapped with her cane on his front window.

Miles finally appeared, his terrified visage peering blearily through the front window. His hair was tousled, stubble peppered his chin, and he wore plaid pajamas. There was every evidence that he had just awoken from the deepest of slumbers.

Miles pushed the door open in a panic. "What is it? A fire? What's happened?"

"Erma happened," hissed Myrtle, pushing her way inside Miles's house as Erma gave them both a jaunty wave.

"For heaven's sake. I thought you had some sort of awful family emergency or that there was a terrorist attack or something." Miles's voice, still early-morning rusty, was now very annoyed. He stomped off in the direction of his bedroom and returned wearing a navy robe with white piping and matching slippers.

"There was an emergency. I was having a conversation with Erma. And ... really? Terrorists in Bradley, North Carolina? Population 1500?" asked Myrtle.

"I'd just woken up," said Miles stiffly. After a moment he said, "You can usually handle Erma better than that."

"It was too early in the morning to navigate an Erma encounter," said Myrtle. She walked into Miles's kitchen and started whipping up a pot of coffee. "I'm suddenly starving, too. Must be my near-death experience with our nasty neighbor. Hungry?"

Miles's irritation was only gradually lessening. "I'm not hungry when I first wake up."

Myrtle said, "Interesting." She proceeded to scramble eggs and microwave a few slices of bacon. As the eggs were cooking, she glanced behind her at the miffed Miles. In a placating tone she said, "I talked to Lyle."

"I thought we were going to see him together," said Miles. "At a more reasonable hour of the way."

Myrtle shrugged, carefully scooping the eggs onto a plate with the bacon. "It was unplanned. I was walking over here to see you. Lyle was already up and working in his yard, believe it or not. That man's obsessed."

Miles nodded. "He's one of those guys who's out there all the time. He thinks the yard is some sort of extension of himself. Maybe he's a frustrated landscaper."

"Or maybe his wife drives him crazy and he takes refuge outside," said Myrtle. "At any rate, we don't really need to scrutinize his motives for being outside all the time. We need to figure out if he was so incensed by Neil's disregard for his lawn that he decided to get rid of him."

"Seems extreme," said Miles. He fixed himself a cup of coffee from the pot that Myrtle had made. "And what if the yard didn't improve upon Neil's demise? Clara didn't really seem like a gardener to me."

"That's right. He might have assumed that Clara would hire a yardman. Problem solved." Myrtle looked at her watch. "I wonder how long it will take for Dusty to finally lumber over to my house to drag my gnomes out. I'll need to hop over and talk to him before he scrambles back out of there. Maybe he and I can go over to Clara's house together."

"Dusty's hardly a problem-solver," said Miles, taking a large sip of coffee.

"He could actually help to solve this particular problem. He's probably the only available yardman in town. You know how we have a terrible shortage here in Bradley," said Myrtle.

"There's always Tiny," said Miles.

"Tiny does a much better job. Tiny shows up on time. Tiny sends invoices. Tiny actually cares about his job. That's why Tiny has zero availability. No, it has to be Dusty. He should be heading to my house shortly. With any luck, he has his reluctant Puddin in tow."