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

their fault they’re poky. But it’s the management’s fault for allowing these traffic jams. The same thing happens outside the health room and the chapel—they block up the halls with their walkers and wheelchairs and other contraptions. They’re all lining up to go through the dining hall door like jockeys in the starting gate,” said Myrtle.
    An old woman with Coke-bottle glasses turned and gave Myrtle a baleful look, which Myrtle carefully ignored.
    Miles scrutinized the dining hall as they finally entered. Then he smiled. “Reminds me of my old college dining hall,” he said, a gleam in his eye. “Look—there are even little bouquets of fresh flowers on every table.”
    Myrtle snorted. “The food will remind you of your old college dining hall, too. The meatloaf is particularly treacherous. It should be avoided at all costs.”
    “What are the rules here?” asked Miles, still surveying the room. “Are we allowed to sit wherever we want?”
    “Of course we are! I even saw it in their manual one time,” scoffed Myrtle.
    “Manual?” Miles looked bemused.
    “Manual, welcome guide…whatever the thing is called. Point being, there are no reserved seats at Greener Pastures. It’s supposed to be a bastion of friendly camaraderie. Let’s just put my pocketbook down on one of the tables to hold our spot since I don’t see Ruby in here right now. It can get very busy very quickly.”
    They approached one of the round tables covered with jaunty yellow tablecloths.
    A thin woman with high cheekbones glared at Myrtle as they approached. “No room!” she said sternly.
    “Why, there’s plenty of room!” said Myrtle hotly, feeling suddenly a lot like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
    “No room for you,” said the thin woman rudely. She must have realized how she sounded because she tried again, still sounding ungracious, “I mean—these seats are taken.”
    “No worries. I wouldn’t have wanted to sit at this table anyway,” said Myrtle, eyes narrowed. She flounced away, glancing around to see if there were another free couple of spots somewhere.
    “The nerve,” muttered Myrtle, her feelings a bit stung.
    “What about the Greener Pastures owner’s manual forbidding reserved seats?” murmured Miles.
    “I’ve half a mind to report her to the retirement home authorities,” said Myrtle. “Here we are, hapless visitors, and we’re rejected and dejected.”
    “You can sit here if you like,” a reedy voice piped up behind them. “Or not, if you’d rather not. Either way is fine. No one cares at this table. At least, we don’t care.”
    Myrtle turned to see a woman at a large round table. She had perfect posture and was gazing steadily at them. She sat with two other friendly looking ladies wearing brightly colored tops.
    “The gallant ladies of the round table, saving me from embarrassment,” said Myrtle with a smile.
    Miles gave a small cough behind her.
    “Miles is with me,” said Myrtle. “It’ll ruin the hen party—is that okay?”
    Apparently, it was more than okay. The ladies all beamed at Miles and quickly moved their chairs to make room. Myrtle sighed. It was obvious why they’d gotten the table. Well, she didn’t mind capitalizing on Miles’s supposed sex appeal, either. Not if it meant they had a place to eat lunch.
    They stood in line, sliding their trays along the metal shelf and pointing out what food they chose to the staff. There were chicken fillets filled with sage and onion, roast pork with applesauce, leek and cheese bake, and a quiche Lorraine. Myrtle remained stoic through the line. She’d made the mistake of having high expectations of the Greener Pastures food before, only to be disappointed.
    This time, though, she was pleasantly surprised, although she wasn’t about to let on that she was.
    Miles took a cautious bite of his chicken. His eyebrows shot up. “Myrtle, this food isn’t half bad.” He took a second, more enthusiastic bite. “Actually,