awful about Doris May Culpepper?"
"Oh, terrible. Terrible! And what a way to go!"
"You know how bad beef vegetable stains," I said.
"Oh, I know," Bess agreed. "She got her hair done here, of course, so I know for a fact that her hair is very porous. It no doubt soaked that soup right in…and her a Champagne Platinum Number 42."
I tsked and shook my head. "Who do you reckon would've done such a thing?"
"I watch Court TV," Bess said, "and it's always the husband."
"But I thought they were divorced."
"They were, but he was still hung up on her. Betcha dollars to doughnuts it was him."
After Bess told me that the ex-husband's name was Donnie and that he worked at the furniture store, I headed on over. This detective stuff was getting hard; but, hey, I had my civic responsibilities, right?
I went to the furniture store on the guise of looking for an end table. I said a friend had recommended a salesman named Donnie Culpepper, but they said that Mr. Culpepper had had a death in his family and would be out for the rest of the week. When I asked for his home address and telephone number, I was told to leave the store. So that trip was a waste.
But that was okay. The funeral parlor wasn't so picky about giving out information. When I told them I was a friend of Donnie's mother—I had to ask God to forgive that little white lie—and said I wanted to take over a plate of food, they all but drove me over there. I stopped by the Piggly Wiggly deli and got him a little cake so that wouldn't be a lie, too. A little cake, a plate of food, same difference.
I had to knock on the door two or three times before Donnie Culpepper would show his face. When he finally did come to the door, he asked, "Who're you?"
I told him who I was and that I'd brought a cake over as a token of my sympathy.
He looked down at the cake and snarled up his nose. "Happy Birthday? It ain't my birthday."
"Well, it isn't mine, either, but they didn't have a cake that said, 'Sorry your wife is dead.' You are sorry, aren't you?"
He scratched his belly. "'Course I'm sorry. What do you mean by that?"
"I'm sayin' that looks like a vegetable beef stain on your tee shirt, that's what I'm sayin'."
He looked down at the stain and then back up at me. "I had soup for lunch."
"Was it from the same pot your wife drowned in?"
"Hey, lady! What're you sayin'? Who do you think you are?"
"I'm not saying anything…not to you anyway. Here's your cake." I shoved the cake at him and high-tailed it to the car. Not that I can high-tail it very fast these days, but I got in my car and locked the doors before I even looked around to see where he was. I needn't have worried. He was still standing on the porch lookin' down at that birthday cake.
On the way home, a new plan began to form. I knew just how to deal with Mr. Donnie Culpepper.
At precisely 7:42 p.m., I muted "Jeopardy," picked up my phone and called Donnie Culpepper.
He answered with a slurred "yeah" that made me think he'd been washing down my birthday cake with something a little stronger than milk.
"Mr. Culpepper, it's Myrtle Crumb. I brought you a cake today?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I just want you to know that I'd be willing to forget about that vegetable beef stain on your tee shirt for…well, for five hundred dollars."
"Five hundred dollars! Geez, lady, you're out of your mind!"
"Okay, then, I suppose I'll go to the police with everything I know."
"That's just it—you don't know nuthin'."
"I know plenty of things," I said. "For one thing, I know you were spotted coming out of the diner right before they found poor Doris May." I had to ask God to forgive that little white lie too because I just said that to trip Donnie up.
"That ain't so! They didn't find her until two hours later!"
"Is that right? So, you admit that you killed your ex-wife." My Jessica Fletcher-watching was paying off.
"And what if I did? Huh? What about it? You're just a senile old lady. Who's gonna believe you? It's your word against mine."
"The police already suspect you, you know. If I confirm what I know—"
"You ain't confirmin' nuthin'! You hear me?"
"There's no need to shout. I'm not deaf. Here's the deal. You killed Doris May, and I know it. For five hundred dollars, I'll forget what I know."
He made some sort of growly sound. "No, lady, here's the deal. I killed Doris May, and if you don't keep your mouth shut, I'll kill you, too!"
"Well, there you have it, folks," I said.
"Have what?"
"Your confession."
"That's your word against mine, and—"
"Nope," I said, "we all heard it."
"That's right," Tansie said.
"Me, too," Melvia chimed in, "and I have Officer Rudolph on my kitchen extension."
And that's how I, Myrtle Crumb, became the town sleuth. But then the telephone company came in and took away our party lines. So much for progress.
The End
If you enjoyed PARTY LINE, the party continues with the full-length books in the series.
Between A Clutch and A Hard Place
When Myrtle Crumb buys a purse at a consignment shop, she's surprised to find a note inside. The note says, "If anything happens to me, look to Jim. He did it." It's signed Flora Adams. It isn't long before Myrtle meets Jim Adams and learns he's a widower. Did the man she's dating murder his wife? Myrtle had better find out in a hurry!
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008YPI1KE
When Good Bras Go Bad
Myrtle Crumb, the sassy sixty-something sleuth from BETWEEN A CLUTCH AND A HARD PLACE, is back. This time she must go undercover in the middle school cafeteria to prove her granddaughter is not a thief. Still, Sunny knows more than she's telling; and it's starting to affect her relationship with her grandmother. Is Sunny's new friend Alicia the thief? If so, how far will Sunny go to protect her? Sunny might be fixing to learn a powerful lesson: that betrayal "is like when a good bra goes bad. First it lets you down, and then that underwire pokes you right in the heart."
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00AQ4IH96
Claus of Death
Myrtle Crumb, the sassy, sixty-something sleuth from BETWEEN A CLUTCH AND A HARD PLACE and WHEN GOOD BRAS GO BAD, is suspicious when the mall Santa is found dead "on the throne"--the Santa Land throne, that is. The police are saying it was suicide, but Myrtle knows no self-respecting Santa Claus would let himself die in front of the children! She goes undercover to investigate the suicide and uncovers more than she bargained for!
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00F8O4P2C
Soup...Er...Myrtle
Bettie Easton thinks the M.E.L.O.N.S. (Mature, Elegant Ladies Open to Nice Suggestions) need to ingratiate themselves into Backwater society by helping out at the soup kitchen/food bank. Myrtle agrees, as long as the weather cooperates--it IS January after all, and who wants to be out in the cold and snow? But Myrtle's heart quickly thaws when she sees the extent of the community's need. When it becomes apparent that an identity thief is using the soup kitchen/food bank to mine for victims, Myrtle kicks her sleuthing into overdrive!
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00L5JNHNM
Perp and Circumstance
Myrtle's granddaughter Sunny is getting ready to graduate middle school. But the happy occasion is marred by Sunny's favorite teacher being suspended for a crime he says he didn't commit. Was he framed? Or are Sunny's feelings clouding her ability to see clearly? It's up to Myrtle to find out!
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0153P116I
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