Free A Body in the Backyard by Elizabeth Spann Craig Page B

of rogue would make you even more appealing,” said Myrtle.
    “You mean adding to my appeal as someone who still drives,” said Miles dryly. For some reason, the thought he was desirable simply because of his driver’s license had certainly stung.
    “Going back to my need for a ride. Erma is impossible to ask because she’s so infernally nosy,” said Myrtle.
    Miles gave a suggestive cough.
    “I know what you’re thinking. But I’m investigating, not being nosy. I’ve already written a short update story for the paper. It’s running tomorrow morning.” It wasn’t a really newsy article since there weren’t a lot of undisputed facts about the case yet. But the important thing was that the story had her byline on it. She could use the investigative reporter angle to question suspects anytime she needed to.
    “Whatever,” sighed Miles. “I guess I could drive you out there in a little while. It’ll at least give me an excuse not to endure a visit from Aunt Connie. She said she might drop by this afternoon.”
    “Really?” asked Myrtle. “Oh, Miles, we shouldn’t pass up a chance to talk with her. If we go to Wanda’s house this morning, that leaves all afternoon for us to talk to Aunt Connie.”
    “You won’t enjoy the experience Myrtle. You’ll want to run away. It’ll be very similar to a visit with Erma Sherman.”
    “I doubt that very much,” said Myrtle firmly. “Besides, I usually hit it off with the elderly. I’m a member of the club, after all.”
    “Yes, you’ve been a card-carrying member for a few years,” said Miles. “But remember—she’s not particularly elderly. In fact, she’s not even sixty.”
    “There’s something really icky about that, too,” said Myrtle distastefully. “Yuck.”
    “Nothing to do with me,” said Miles. “My uncle just fancied much younger women. And I told you that I don’t want to claim either my aunt or Cousin Charles. Now look, if we’re going out into the sticks to visit a country psychic, I need to go ahead and get ready.”
    Myrtle snorted. “Don’t worry about dressing up. We’ll be lucky if Wanda is wearing shoes. And very lucky if Crazy Dan is wearing a shirt.”
    Miles sucked in a shuddering breath. “Fine. I’m so excited about the direction my day is heading. Maybe I’ll forgo my coffee this morning and have a Bloody Mary instead.”
    “As long as I’m driving, which I’m happy to do. My driver’s license is good for another eight years.”
    Miles made a funny noise on his end of the phone, which she couldn’t quite decipher. “Never mind. I’ll just be sure to serve drinks while dear Aunt Connie is visiting. I’ll need one then.”
     
    An hour later, Miles pulled his car up in front of Myrtle’s house. She grabbed her cane, locked the door behind her, and started carefully picking her way through the now very tall grass and gnomes. One of the problems was that her yard was afflicted with crabgrass. She glared resentfully at Erma Sherman’s offending yard, the source of the scourge. If Myrtle just had regular grass in her yard, it would never be this tall now. That Erma! And that Puddin and Dusty, too!
    She jumped when a nasal voice whispered out her name and held her cane up, protectively. Sure enough, it was Erma. “You scared the living daylights out of me,” she snapped at her neighbor. “What are you whispering about?  All I need is to fall down in this death trap of a yard, thinking I’m hearing ghosts.”
    Erma’s eyes were large and she bobbed her head in the direction of Miles’s car. “You’re not going off with him are you?  Myrtle, you’re in danger.”
    “He’s not that bad of a driver. I’m only in fair-to-middling danger. I’m in a lot more danger than that just walking around my yard right now. Can you do something about the crabgrass situation?  It’s spilling over into my yard and turning it into a disaster area,” said Myrtle.
    Erma looked around Myrtle’s yard and smirked. “Ha!