Chapter Thirteen
Elaine helped Myrtle pack up her bags and carry them to her house, which was nicely cool. Actually, Elaine said it was a little on the chilly side, but Myrtle didn’t notice. She was still trying to figure out who Bootsie was sneaking around with. As soon as Elaine left, Myrtle picked up the phone. “Miles? Could you come over for a minute? No, to my house…the air is fixed.”
Miles had barely settled himself into her living room sofa when Myrtle launched in. “Miles, I need you to flirt with Bootsie and squeeze some information out of her.”
Miles stared at her coldly. “I won’t. Besides, I’m too old for Bootsie.”
“But she’s nearly your age!”
“That’s what I mean. I’m too old for her,” said Miles.
Myrtle stared at him. “You know something, don’t you?”
“I might have seen her leaving a tryst,” he said in a grudging voice. “I was driving by the motel, so I couldn’t identify the person. But I got the impression he was really young.”
Myrtle asked, “When was this? You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”
“Earlier it just would have been gossip. And now I’m not sure it’s more than that, either. But now that I’ve thought of it, I guess I should tell Red or Lieutenant Perkins what I saw. Then they can decide if it’s relevant or not.”
“Now, Miles, let’s not be hasty. There’s no point in telling the police anything about Bootsie’s little indiscretion. You’re right—it’s probably not important at all. Just in case, though, you and I should go check it out.”
“How are you planning to do that?” asked Miles, his tone very polite.
“We’ll have a stakeout. Complete with doughnuts. I’ll buy them. We were going to do surveillance anyway, and it sure is a lot easier now that we know where Bootsie has been going for her tryst.”
“Myrtle, I really don’t want to hang out in a second-rate motel all day, waiting for a rendezvous that might not even happen.”
“No, no, it’ll be fine. You’ve given me the place and Jo has given me the time that Bootsie leaves for her assignations. It’s going to be an easy-peasy stakeout. So you could pick me up tomorrow before lunch.”
Miles nodded glumly.
“Oh. And, by the way, I need to borrow your car.”
Miles closed his eyes, looking pained. “Please don’t tell me you’re going off on another joyride in the country. Last time, it took me forever to get all the mud off my car.”
“No joyrides. I just need to go visit my…spiritual advisor.”
Miles looked ridiculous with his mouth hanging open like a fish. Myrtle felt a flash of irritation, which she squashed since she hadn’t gotten the car yet. “Plenty of people have them, Miles.”
“So, you’re going to see a minister? He’s giving you Biblically-based guidance?”
Miles’ eyes were just a little too widely innocent. She was sure he knew exactly what she was referring to, but was trying to embarrass her. He should know that most elderly ladies were beyond embarrassment. “No,” she gritted through her teeth. “I mean a seer. A clairvoyant. A psychic.”
Miles grinned at her. “You’re not seeing that Madam Zora person off the old highway, are you? The same place that sells tires and boiled peanuts? She’s got to be a total quack.”
“It’s not tires, it’s hubcaps. And I think they stopped selling boiled peanuts a long time ago.”
Miles frowned thoughtfully. “You’re not at all gullible, though. You don’t mean—”
“That she has the sight? Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. She’s legit.”
“You mean she can really predict the future?” Miles squinted skeptically.
“She apparently has a gift.” Myrtle shrugged as if psychic gifts were something one encountered every day.
“Maybe I’d like to go with you then,” said Miles slowly. “When are you heading over there?”
“Right now.”
“Now?” Miles glanced at his watch. “But I’m about to have to wait around for my plumber to come over. Can’t you go later?”
“Not in the interest of justice, Miles, no. I’m on a timetable here. What if the killer strikes again? Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on all the details when I get back.”