Pretty is as Pretty Dies (A Myrtle Clover Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

Myrtle.

    "Mama!" His face flushed. "Are you determined to screw up my
day? First a return to gnome-land followed by discovering murdered bodies in churches?"
    "Well, somebody had to discover the body, Red. At least you
know I'm not a suspect."
    Red looked menacing, which wasn't difficult considering his
big-boned six-foot-four-inch frame. "I'm not so sure I do know
that, Mama. Seems like I remember Elaine telling me about your
beef with Parke Stockard."
    Myrtle bristled. "Not a beef A... disagreement." Her yard gnomes
would be camping out for a while.
    Red turned to look at the body once again. "I've put out a call
to the state police. And I need to get both of y'all out of the way
and get your statements from you."
    Myrtle slowly moved toward the door, looking around her as
she walked.
    "Get a move on, Mama."
    "Don't be in such a hurry, Red," she responded huffily. "I need
to get my cane."
    Red looked around, squinting his green eyes. "Well, where is it?
It should be in your hand. Or if not, it should be right by the sanctuary door. Right?" He took a deep breath to control his temper,
strode over a yard from Parke's body, and picked up Myrtle's cane.
"Because we don't interfere with crime scenes, do we?"
    "For heaven's sake. I was just getting close to make sure the
poor woman wasn't still alive and needing an ambulance."

    Red snorted. "I hardly think there was any doubt as to her vitals,
or lack of them." He grabbed her cane from the pew near Kitty's
Bible and herded Myrtle toward the sanctuary door where Nathaniel was still anxiously hovering. His hand tightened on Myrtle's arm
and she looked up to see a figure ducking out of sight through the
door.
    "Hey! Stop-police!" bellowed Red, as he and his deputy moved
swiftly toward the exit. A moment later, Althea Hayes appeared,
well-dressed in a pale green jacket and flowing green skirt. She put a
trembling hand to her mouth when she saw Parke's body. Althea's
white hair was wound, as always, neatly in the back of her head in
what Myrtle supposed was a French twist, kept in place by a tortoiseshell clip. Myrtle was very envious of Althea's hair: it was thick
and well-behaved. Fine and uncooperative in her youth, Myrtle's
hair had become wispily contrary in her old age. She tamed it with
monthly perms that only succeeded in running more of her hair off.
Despite Althea's breathless appearance in the sanctuary, only a couple of tendrils had escaped her French twist. Myrtle was sure she
must resemble Einstein again by now-she'd run her hand through
her hair so many times since discovering Parke's body.
    "Mrs. Hayes," said Red with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
    "I-," Althea started, then swallowed hard, looking toward the
body in front of the altar. "I'm here for the United Methodist
Women meeting."
    "That would be over in the dining hall, though, wouldn't it?"
    Nathaniel Gluck stepped in. "Well, it is, but I'm sure Mrs. Hayes
was just checking on the floral display on the way to the meeting,
weren't you? Because you and Kitty Kirk share Altar Guild duties."
He looked searchingly at Althea's face.

    Althea nodded weakly, still looking toward the body.
    Red looked at her with a direct gaze. "Mrs. Hayes, did you see
or hear anyone when you came into the church?"
    Althea shook her head vehemently. She's hiding something,
thought Myrtle.
    "Come on now," said Red briskly, "we need to get away from
the crime scene. I need to make a phone call, then I'll need statements from all of you. It might be better if I get them at the station, since the forensic guys are going to need to check out the
church."
    "And find the fingerprints and DNA of everyone in the town,"
Myrtle said.
    "What the-" Red spluttered at what sounded like a parade of
cars and people outside the church. Striding to the stained glass
window, he peered through a red panel. Red started uttering a curse,
which he hastily changed into "Jiminy Cricket!" as he remembered
he was