A Body in the Trunk : Myrtle Clover Book 12

Chapter Eleven

Holt gaped at her. "To work?"

"Maybe. At any rate, you may see me over there from time to time. I'd sign into the office, of course," said Myrtle. That should explain any visits to see Adelaide or Holt.

Holt was stammering now. "When I said there weren't any changes, I really meant that the kids haven't changed. We do have a lot more technology now. SmartBoards and that kind of thing."

Myrtle waved a dismissive hand. "Pooh on that. Oh, I'm fine with technology, if it comes to that. I'm on social media, you know. But I have the feeling that if I could teach Shakespeare on a blackboard, I can teach it any way."

Myrtle studied Holt carefully to see if he was still knocked off-balance by their conversation. His defenses did still seem to be down, so she quickly said, "Isn't it awful about Neil Albert? I couldn't believe it. Where were you when it happened?"

As she'd hoped, Holt didn't seem to be following her very closely. He gave her a bemused frown, still likely thinking about an octogenarian teacher for his fifteen-year-olds. "Ah, yes. When it happened? You mean, when Neil was ... killed?"

"That's right," said Myrtle.

"Oh. Well, it was after school from what I understand. I always go directly home to my wife. That's where I would have been," said Holt. The barest bit of wariness was starting to emerge in his eyes.

"I wanted to ask you, because it seemed such a strange coincidence. Someone saw you and Neil having quite an argument. It was at the bank, apparently, and very recently—right before Neil's death. I heard that you and Neil actually knew each other," said Myrtle.

Holt frowned now. "I wouldn't have said that we were friends."

"But you knew each other," pressed Myrtle.

Holt gazed off into the distance. "We did."

Myrtle said, "That's unusual, from what I hear. My understanding from his wife is that Neil and she hadn't gotten close to anyone in Bradley. They just hadn't been interested in making friends, apparently. They kept to themselves and didn't really forge any acquaintances."

Holt said, "That's very likely true. But I didn't know him here. I knew him from Boston, long ago. And, even though it was long ago, I'm sorry that he's dead. That's why I'm here today—to pay respects."

Myrtle said, "And the argument? Friends do argue."

"As I mentioned," said Holt, "we really weren't friends. Not anymore, anyway. We were having an argument because I wanted to borrow some money from the bank. Neil wasn't approving the bank loan. I have a tendency to get frustrated sometimes. It's like I hold back any show of temper during the day so that I can be as patient as possible with the students and staff, but then the temper spills out after school is done for the day. I was simply irritated about not getting the loan, that's all."

Myrtle said, "What was the loan for?"

"I want to make some improvements to the house. Nothing major. But I can't do it without a loan," said Holt, shrugging.

Myrtle had the feeling that he was holding something back. At the same time, she was realizing that she'd been able to get a decent amount of information from the notoriously tight-lipped Holt. Her announcement that she planned to come out of retirement must have shocked him enough to make him lose his usual reserve. She decided that she'd better not push it.

She was about to thank him for coming to her rescue when Holt, looking across the cemetery where mourners were now leaving, said, "There's one guy who could be responsible for Neil's death."