Foal Play: A Mystery (11 page)

“I know!” Colleen said louder than she had intended and checked to be sure nobody had heard her.

“I didn’t want to miss out on any more fun so I figured out how I wouldn’t have to. Remember how Sheriff Dorman thought you had a man over the night of the explosion? Well, I thought … what if you did? I found these clothes in a closet, cut my hair, got double-stick tape from your desk, snipped fur from Sparky and, voila, instant mustache.”

“You cut Sparky’s fur?” she asked, stunned.

“My hair wasn’t coarse enough for a mustache. Besides, he didn’t seem to mind. If you ask me, that dog needs a haircut.”

Myrtle rubbed Sparky’s ear. He groaned with pleasure. Colleen gave him a disapproving look. Traitor, she thought.

“Has anyone else seen you?”

“I don’t think so. I found the bike in your storage shed and pedaled right over. Haven’t missed Bingo Night in fourteen years.”

“You’re not actually thinking of staying.”

“Why not?”

“Because somebody might recognize you.”

“The sheriff didn’t and he’s the sheriff.”

“Yes, well, he has a lot on his mind right now, not the least of which is trying to solve your homicide.”

“I can help him—not as Myrtle Crepe, of course, but as Mitch Connelly. Being new in town, I’m free to snoop and ask questions.”

Colleen considered Myrtle’s plan. What her former teacher was proposing, despite the insanity of it, might just make sense. And by letting Myrtle out of the house, Colleen wouldn’t have to hear any more of the celebrity gossip Myrtle had been learning about from TV programs.

“What about your name? Connelly? How am I going to explain that?”

“Simple. I’m your uncle on your mother’s side.”

Colleen waved a hand in defeat.

“It’s settled then,” Myrtle said.

Before she had a chance to stop her, Myrtle marched straight to her usual bingo table, introduced herself to Nellie, and gave a deep bow. To Colleen’s amazement, Nellie actually blushed and invited Myrtle to join her. As Nellie made room for Myrtle on the bench, Myrtle winked at Colleen.

Bill joined Colleen outside. “I see Sparky’s not the only one that’s taken a liking to your uncle,” he said, cheerfully.

“Apparently not,” Colleen muttered.

“So you want help washing the dog?”

Colleen watched with dread as Myrtle helped Nellie search for the numbers on her bingo game cards.

Bill noticed Colleen studying Myrtle. “Ah, come on. Your uncle will be fine. He’s with Nellie.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said under her breath.

Colleen knew if she continued to protest her “uncle’s” presence she would only succeed in drawing more attention to Myrtle. Please behave yourself, Myrtle, Colleen silently prayed before disappearing with Bill to the side of the building where Sparky typically got his bath.

Bill helped her drag Sparky to the plastic tub near the outdoor faucet. Sparky was a rather unflappable dog, but there was one thing he hated above all else—bath time. “Come on, you big mutt,” she said, forcing him into the tub. “You sure you’re up for this?” she asked Bill. “You could end up wetter than the dog.”

“I can handle it,” he said, happy.

Colleen twisted the faucet. Sparky made a last-ditch effort to flee before the water hit his fur and he resigned himself to the fate of becoming a clean pooch. As she and Bill lathered the Border collie, she could hear Kenny calling the bingo game. They washed the dog in silence for a while, the water slapping at the tub’s edge and Sparky periodically snorting when it got too close to his nose.

“So, how’s the case going?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Which one?”

“John Doe on the beach. Myrtle’s homicide. Either.”

“We’ve got a couple leads.”

“Really?” Colleen asked, hopeful.

“No.”

Bill grinned mischievously. She splashed him with water. “Hey!” he said. “I thought we were washing the dog.”

“We are,” she said, pointedly.

Bill feigned indignant surprise and they both chuckled. It was good to be back on speaking terms.

“Seriously. How are things?” she asked as they rinsed Sparky’s back and tail.

“Not so good. We’ve got very little evidence to go on with Myrtle’s case. Your report helped with the
what
but not with the
who
of the incident. With the medical examiner’s office backed up, we’re stalled.”

Bill fell silent and his brows furrowed. Maybe she should tell him about Myrtle. But what exactly would she say? She didn’t even know what was going on herself anymore. Still, it seemed that having the three of them work on solving this together would be better than two or one. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you,” Colleen said.

“No, let me start,” Bill said, interrupting. “I meant what I said. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you and what turned out to be your uncle. It’s none of my business who you date. I should’ve trusted you. You’ve always told me the truth. It’s one of the things I value most about our friendship.”

“Apology accepted,” Colleen said and concentrated on washing Sparky. How could she tell him about her and Myrtle’s deception now?

Bill paused in his dog-washing duty. “So, what were you going to tell me?”

“Just that if you need any help with the case, let me know,” Colleen said. “Look. Sparky’s done,” she said, changing the subject.

Bill gave her a curious look, then smiled at the freshly washed collie. “How long before he’s dirty again?” he asked, helping Colleen rub the dog down with a towel.

“I give it fifteen minutes tops,” she said and released Sparky.

The dog ran a short distance, stopped, vigorously shook himself, and then ran off toward the game tables.

“Bingo!” came a cry from within the station.

“Sounds like we’ve got a winner,” Bill said. “Shall we see who?”

Colleen and Bill headed in to check on the game. As they rounded the corner, Collen’s eyes widened. Nellie was waving her hands in the air at the front of the room as Kenny inspected her card.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got ourselves a winner!” Kenny announced.

Nellie waved happily to Myrtle. Myrtle waved back, for a second as she normally would, then, remembering her disguise as Mitch, with a more masculine salute.

Colleen crossed to stand next to Myrtle. “How’s it going,
Uncle
?”

“Just grand. Nellie won the first game,” Myrtle said with pride.

“Maybe you’re her good luck charm,” Bill said.

“Perhaps we should be getting home,” Colleen said, taking Myrtle by the elbow.

Nellie skipped to them with her winnings. “I can’t believe I won. If only Myrtle had been here.” Her eyes welled with tears. The group fell silent.

Colleen’s heart dropped. She hated seeing Nellie upset. She hoped she didn’t have to keep this charade up for long. It was too cruel.

“There, there, Nell,” Myrtle said, rubbing Nellie’s back. “Maybe it was Myrtle who brought you this good luck.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Nellie said with a sniffle.

“Why not?” Myrtle asked, miffed.

“Because … we never won together,” Nellie said and burst out laughing despite the tears.

The group stared at Nellie a moment, surprised by the sudden change in emotion. Then Myrtle joined in Nellie’s laughter. Bill scratched his head, confused but amused. Colleen tried to smile but it came off as more of a snarl. Fortunately, everyone was too happy to notice.

“Would you like to join me at Big Mama’s to celebrate my winnings?” Nellie asked Myrtle.

“Why, I’d be—” Myrtle began.

“I’m afraid my uncle and I need to get back home. He’s had a long day,” Colleen said.

“And a longer week,” Myrtle said to Colleen. “It would do me good to get out.”

“I can drive Mitch home,” Nellie said.

Things were going from bad to worse. Colleen had to get Myrtle out of here immediately. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, “but I’m sure my uncle, being the gentleman that he is, wouldn’t want to impose on a lady so soon after meeting her. Isn’t that right, Uncle Mitch?”

Colleen glared at Myrtle, shooting invisible laser beams with her eyes. Myrtle shot back a few of her own. “My niece has a point,” Myrtle said with little conviction.

“Perhaps another time then? I’ll call you at the chief’s house, that is, if it’s okay with you, Colleen,” Nellie said.

All eyes fell on Colleen. She wanted to shout,
No, it’s not okay! The person you think is my uncle is really your friend Myrtle and given two more minutes with her you’ll see that!

“That would be fine,” she said. “We really must be going. It’s been a long day. Good night, Nellie, Bill.”

Colleen guided Myrtle away from the group.

“Nice meeting you, Mitch,” Bill said with a wave.

“Thank you for bringing me luck!” Nellie called after them.

“Anytime there, Nell!” Myrtle called back as Colleen dragged her around the corner to the parking lot, Sparky eagerly following behind.

Colleen opened the doors of her SUV, helped Myrtle and Sparky in, and then jumped in herself. As she started the engine, the Channel 4 news van pulled into the parking lot. She hit the gas. As the two vehicles passed each other, Myrtle leaned out her window and hollered to the reporter. “Loved your piece on the memorial service!”

“Thanks!” the reporter shouted back.

Colleen sped from the parking lot before Myrtle got them into any more trouble.

“What the hell
were you doing back there?” Colleen asked Myrtle as they raced away from the firehouse down Whalehead Drive.

“Watch how you speak to your uncle,” Myrtle said.

“You’re not my uncle or anyone else’s. You’re Myrtle Crepe and you almost got us into a boatload of trouble.”

“I just wanted to—”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it,” Colleen said, cutting Myrtle off.

Myrtle pursed her lips and stared out the passenger window. Colleen reached the end of Whalehead Drive and turned left onto Shad Street. She swung north onto Route 12, glanced at Myrtle sulking in the passenger seat, and sighed.

“You were flirting with Nellie,” Colleen said after a moment’s pause.

“I was what?!” Myrtle said, incredulous.

“Flirting. I saw you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You can’t do that, Myrtle. You know everything about Nellie and she knows nothing about Mitch. That gives you an unfair advantage. I don’t want you manipulating her so you can get out of the house.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me remind you that the reason you’re in that silly disguise is because someone tried to kill you and did a good job of it to someone else. Unless you want that person to recognize you and try again, I suggest you shape up.”

Myrtle tightened her lips and shifted her position away from Colleen. Colleen knew that it infuriated Myrtle to lose this argument. Still, Myrtle knew losing the argument was better than losing her life.

Colleen’s attention was drawn to a motorcycle rapidly advancing from behind. She watched the rider getting closer in the rearview mirror. “Uh-oh,” she said, recognizing the rider.

“What?” Myrtle asked, concerned.

Before Colleen had time to respond, Little Bobby pulled up behind them and revved his engine. Sparky sat up in the back seat and howled.

Myrtle peeked at the rider in her side mirror. “Really, now. Who raised that hooligan?” she asked in disgust.

“Yes, who,” Colleen said. Normally, she would have enjoyed Myrtle unknowingly chastising herself for her childrearing skills, but right now she was worried about Myrtle recognizing Bobby.

The traffic cleared and Little Bobby moved into the oncoming lane to pass. He approached Colleen’s side, gave a short wave, and roared off down Route 12. The SUV fell silent. Colleen swallowed hard. Myrtle sat pointing out the window, her mouth open in disbelief.

“Was that my Bobby?”

Colleen hesitated, then nodded.

“How long have you known about him driving around on that deathmobile?” Myrtle asked, her cheeks flushing red.

“Just since this morning. At the memorial service,” Colleen said and waited for what she was sure would be a tirade.

“He rode it to my service? How could he?”

“I was going to tell you when I got home tonight but then you showed up at the firehouse and—”

“But he doesn’t have that kind of money. How could he afford such a thing?”

Colleen met Myrtle’s gaze. “Well,” she said, carefully choosing her words, “I imagine he’s accessed some of your money.”

“The bank would never let him.”

“They would if you were dead.”

Myrtle opened her mouth but nothing came out. She glowered out the passenger-side window.

“You okay?” Colleen asked, genuinely concerned.

Myrtle shrugged. Colleen sighed. As aggravating as Myrtle was, Colleen felt empathy for her. Things couldn’t have been easy this week. And now this.

“He doesn’t even care that I’m gone,” Myrtle said so softly Colleen almost didn’t hear her.

“That’s not true. He was furious at Charlie for breaking up your service.”

“After all I’ve done for him, all I’ve sacrificed. This is how I’m repaid,” Myrtle said with a sniffle.

Uh-oh, Colleen thought. This was beginning to sound like a pity party. It was probably the Irish in her, but one thing Colleen couldn’t stand was someone feeling sorry for herself no matter how justified. She needed to snap Myrtle out of this. “Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that Bobby doesn’t seem to be grieving the way one would expect,” she said.

“He’s not grieving at all!”

“Everyone mourns differently. He could be in denial. Maybe getting the motorcycle is his way of avoiding dealing with the loss or making him feel alive or—”

“Spare me the psychological analysis,” Myrtle said.

“Fine. Have it your way. Let’s assume Bobby really doesn’t care that you’re gone. What does that tell us?”

“That he’s an ungrateful, spoiled, shin-warming, mooch of a child!”

Now Myrtle was angry. To Colleen that was much better than a pity party. “And I’m sure you’d like to tell him that,” she said.

“And then some!”