Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) Read Online Free PDF Page A

I was an older mother, that’s all. A mature mother, I think they call it these days.”
    Miles said, “Forty when you married? I always just assumed you married young and then just…put having children off or something.”
    “Why on earth would I do that? It wasn’t as if I couldn’t teach and have a child at the same time.” said Myrtle in a cross voice. “No, I simply put off being married. I was picky, okay?”
    “Well, that I can certainly imagine,” said Miles. He laughed, “You’re even picky about peanut butter. I’ve never seen such loyalty to a particular peanut butter brand.”
    “Peanut butters vary widely,” said Myrtle. “As do people.” She was more than ready to move onto another topic, and fortunately, they were just approaching Greener Pastures. She raised her eyebrows. “This certainly looks different. And I was just here.”
    Where Greener Pastures had previously had a sad little sign out front that made it all too easy to drive past the retirement home, it now had a massive and grandiose sign consisting of two brick pillars with ironwork connecting them. Greener Pastures Retirement Village was written in script on the iron.
    Miles said, “It certainly doesn’t look like a dump, Myrtle.”
    “Appearances can be deceiving,” she answered with a sniff.
    They drove past carefully manicured beds with a variety of blooms. On their left was a newly constructed series of brick buildings with black shutters with Greener Pastures Villas on another iron sign in the front.
    “Villas?” asked Miles.
    Myrtle heaved a sigh. “I suppose they mean condos. Now they’re trying to evoke Italy. Pathetic.”
    Miles pulled into a parking lot and parked the Volvo. They walked toward the front door. “Automatic doors,” said Myrtle. “Hmm. Last time I was here I was battling a wooden door while holding onto my cane at the same time.”
    There was a chalkboard sign outside the automatic doors with Today’s Events listed in excruciatingly neat handwriting. Miles studied the sign as Myrtle continued walking toward the doors, her cane thumping on the sidewalk as she went.
    “Scrabble, checkers, chess, and a comedic play,” said Miles in a musing voice.
    “Come on , Miles!” said Myrtle testily. “Someone might be about to kick the bucket as we dawdle!”
    An old woman walked out of the door right at that moment and gave Myrtle a thunderous glare.
    Myrtle hissed to Miles, “You know what I mean. We’ve got to figure out who this victim is and stop the crime before it happens.”
    “Do we need to sign in?” asked Miles. He gave the front desk an apprehensive look. “I’d hate for us to have to state what our business here is.”
    “Nope. The front desk isn’t the type where you sign in—it’s the type where you ask directions. But I think we’ll wander around a little first before we ask for Ruby’s room number. Ruby might be in the dining hall—it’s lunchtime, after all,” said Myrtle.
    Myrtle glanced around curiously as they walked down a wide hall with handrails lining either side. “I’d noticed last time that they’d given the place an overhaul. New carpeting. New paint.” She stopped short and put her hands on her hips. “Wonder what they’re up to,” she said suspiciously.
    “Improving the place, clearly,” said Miles. “It seems very bright and cheerful to me.”
    “Hmm.” Myrtle wasn’t so sure. She frowned. “What’s this mob up ahead?” she asked, gesturing to a group of people in wheelchairs and pushing walkers.
    “Looks like a traffic jam,” said Miles. “Is that the entrance to the dining room?”
    “Unfortunately.” They approached the group and stood in line behind them. “They need a fast lane here. These folks are poky.”
    Miles raised his eyebrows. “Just because you’re so mobile doesn’t mean you should be smug, Myrtle. And people can hear you,” he said in a low voice as some residents turned to give Myrtle reproving looks.
    “It’s not