A Myrtle Clover Christmas

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, after inventorying her refrigerator and pantry, Myrtle said, "I suppose I should go to the grocery store. I'll need Miles to drive me."

"I could walk with you and hold half the bags," offered Wanda.

"Although that's most kind of you to offer, I think I might need substantially more than that. It's gotten close enough to Christmas that I feel I should do my yearly stocking-up. I get more than I usually buy in a week, so that I don't have to deal with crowds at the store. Or what qualifies as crowds in Bradley, anyway."

It sounded to Wanda like a big shopping trip, maybe even one long enough for her and Miles to slip away to the dollar store. "Elaine could take you."

"Oh, I don't think so. I've already troubled her for a lemon and three eggs, and that's likely enough for a while."

Myrtle called Miles. "Do you need anything at the store?"

Miles said slowly, "Are you offering to pick something up for me or asking if I can drive you and pick up something for myself?"

"Option two. I need a ride and I've pestered Elaine enough recently."

Miles made a noise that sounded as if he'd been pestered quite a bit himself. Then he said, "I'll be right over."

And, in the vein of someone wanting to get something over with, Miles was right there. Myrtle barely had time to pick up her purse when she heard the light toot of his car horn indicating he was outside.

"Gracious," said Myrtle. "All right. Wanda, you help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen. Do you have any special requests for my grocery outing?"

Wanda looked suddenly serious. "Jest to be careful."

Myrtle frowned. "That sounds ominous. Is Miles going to have a car accident in the parking lot?"

Wanda shrugged a thin shoulder. "Jest got a bad feelin'."

"Your bad feelings are worth taking note of. I'll watch my step," said Myrtle grimly. Then she hurried off to Miles's car.

When she climbed in, she carefully put on her seatbelt. Then she peered across to ensure Miles was wearing his own.

"Something wrong?" asked Miles.

"Wanda has a bad feeling about our outing."

Now Miles looked a bit panicky. "Maybe we shouldn't go. I have food at home. I can bring over sandwiches and we can go to the store tomorrow instead."

"That sounds rather silly. She didn't tell me not to go, only to be careful. Which we should fully intend on doing."

Miles set out for the short trip to the Piggly-Wiggly grocery store, driving about twenty miles an hour and looking around him as if expecting meteors to fall from the sky onto his sedan.

"I don't think we have to fear for our lives, Miles. That didn't seem to be the impression I got from Wanda."

"I don't know, Myrtle. Isn't this about the time when a second murder happens?" asked Miles glumly.

"What an odd thing to say!"

"It's an accurate thing to say. I just want to make sure the second murder isn't one of us. Or both of us." Miles knit his brows and continued driving with fierce concentration.

A few moments later, Myrtle said, "Stop the car."

Miles came to a skidding stop. "What is it? What happened?"

"I didn't mean for you to stop the car in the middle of the street, Miles! Here, turn off down that side street. I just saw something we should investigate."