A Body at Book Club: Myrtle Clover #6

Chapter Sixteen

"Miles, how much money do you have?" asked Myrtle. She'd called him up just as soon as her soap was over. In fact, she'd found her mind wandering a bit during the soap opera, planning her next move.

"How much money do I have? Now that's a pretty personal question, isn't it, Myrtle?" Miles's voice was slightly indignant.

"No, no, I mean how much money can you spare? If I asked you to sponsor me in something?" asked Myrtle.

"Sponsor you? For what? Myrtle, you're not planning on signing up for that marathon I was reading about, are you?"

"Marathon? For heaven's sake, Miles. Have you been drinking? I'm in my eighties. The only time you're going to catch me running is if something really scary is chasing me. Even then, I'll probably just give in."

"Oh. Then this might have something to do with the book club meeting tomorrow, right?" Miles sounded wary now. "The auction?"

"Yes. How did you find out about it, by the way? Did Claudia tell you about it?" asked Myrtle. Was she the only one who didn't get an email?

"Tell me about it? Well, she emailed me, of course."

Myrtle gritted her teeth. But considering that she needed Miles, she decided that this time she was going to just shrug off her irritation. "Okay. Yes, it's about the auction. You know how we've been trying to take over book club for ages? A coup to convert the group to literary fiction or classical literature?"

"I know that you've been trying to take over book club with a coup," corrected Miles, with heavy emphasis on the replacement pronoun.

"I thought this might be just as good of a means to an end. So we'll be the highest bidder for the opportunity to pick the selection. You know this is the only way, Miles. Every meeting, book club selections are proposed. I always suggest an amazing title. Then we put it up to a vote with a show of hands. And my picks are never chosen. Never!" Myrtle spat the words out into the phone.

"Won't the bidding go super-high if they see that you're putting in a selection, Myrtle? I'm not sure how much money I want to devote to this scheme. What book are you planning to propose?"

Myrtle smiled to herself. This was the pièce de résistance. She knew that Miles was really going to come onboard as soon as he heard this particular author and title. "Oh, I thought I'd choose some good old Southern literature. From our friend William Faulkner. The Sound and the Fury."

She heard the indrawn breath on the other end of the phone and smiled again.

"Well, at least you've picked something I can stand behind. All right, I'm in. But I don't want to lose my shirt in this auction, Myrtle. I know the proceeds go to charity, but I am on a fixed income, you know."

Myrtle rolled her eyes. Miles may be on a retirement income, but she had the strong impression that he had plenty in the bank to draw on. "It's a silent auction, Miles. And the bidding won't go high because they won't see me filling out a card—they'll only see you filling out an auction card. That's the real beauty of the plan. And I'm sure, once they read a little Faulkner, that he will have a transforming effect on our club. We'll finally be able to ditch all those books with titles like Jennifer's Promise and end up reading some real books."

"All right," said Miles shortly. "I'll see you tomorrow at the book club then. And I'll take care of the book selection."

"You'll see me there, but don't hang out with me, all right? People might get suspicious that you and I are planning together. Besides, I'm going to be talking with Erma Sherman at the book club meeting."