To his credit, there was only a tinge of amusement in his voice. Apparently, she was the only octogenarian caller he received. "How can I help you, Mrs. Clover?"

"Here's the thing. I'm writing a story about Luther Cobb for the newspaper and I wanted to verify some of the facts about the case before the article ran. Is that something you can help me with?" asked Myrtle in her sweetest tone.

Perkins said politely, "I'd be happy to. Getting an accurate story in the press is always a good thing."

"Excellent," said Myrtle. "Could you verify that Luther died this morning? And do you have a particular time of death?"

"Luther Cobb did die this morning and the exact time is yet to be determined. I'd probably just go with 'morning.'"

Myrtle jotted down a couple of notes on one of the millions of pieces of paper that Sloan had in the newspaper office. "Got it. And would you say that his death was due to a poisonous pie?"

Perkins paused for a moment and then said, "I'd say that the cause of death is currently being investigated."

Myrtle made a face. "But you'd say that the cause of death appears suspicious."

Perkins considered this carefully. "I think that's fair to say. Let's word it this way: Lieutenant Perkins with the SBI said the cause of death is currently being investigated, but foul play has not been ruled out."

"A very cautious way of putting it," said Myrtle. She couldn't help but admire the way he managed to say very little while making an official statement.

"Was there anything else?" he asked politely.

Myrtle could hear a good deal of noise in the background wherever Perkins was. She said, "I think that's it. Thanks for your time, Perkins."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Clover."

Myrtle hung up and turned to Sloan. "Will that work?"

He nodded, looking relieved. "Good work, Miss Myrtle. I don't often get official statements from the state police."

"It's all about connections," said Myrtle in a self-satisfied tone. "I'll write the story for you as soon as I get home so that it can run in tomorrow's paper."

Sloan looked a bit more cheerful at this and was whistling to himself as Miles and Myrtle left.

"Home?" Miles asked again.

"For heaven's sake, Miles! You're obsessed with being at home these days. Yes, let's head back. I've got to work on this story now. It might be good to take a big-picture view on what I need to do in the next few days, too. I do have garden club tomorrow." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe Wanda should come along with me. She hasn't been for a while and she does love plants."

Miles looked uncomfortable, as he always did when Wanda was brought up. It was a combination of Wanda's surprising psychic abilities, her aching poverty, and the fact that he was inexplicably a cousin of hers and her brother, Crazy Dan.

Myrtle gave him a sidelong look. "Maybe you should come along, too. Guests are always welcome at garden club."

"Sadly, I'm going to be playing chess during that time."

Myrtle chuckled. "Oh, that's right. You and Elaine."

Miles seemed eager to change the subject. "Back to Ezra. What did you make of what he was saying?"

"He sounded pretty truthful to me. But I have to wonder if he's being truthful with himself. After all, there's quite a possibility that someone killed Luther, using Ezra's plants, because they wanted to set him up. Surely, he must have some real enemies and not just Olive Fuller seeking revenge because Ezra didn't want her to chop down a tree."

Miles said, "But you know how neighbors can be. We've seen some of that before. Squabbling over things that seem very insignificant and end up becoming major feuds. Besides, Olive seems like the type of person who might get her feelings hurt easily."

"True." Myrtle mulled this over. "I think I should give Lucinda a call at some point."

"Lucinda?"

"She's a good friend of Ezra's. Actually, she was a close friend of his all the way back in high school. They were just like two peas in a pod."

Miles raised his eyebrows. "Non-dating peas?"

"That's correct. People say men and women can't be just-friends, but they're absolutely wrong. Look at us. We have no intention of dating each other."

Miles quickly agreed with this.

"Anyway, Lucinda might have more of a clear-headed view of who might possibly want to set Ezra up to take the fall for a murder. I should speak with her." Miles pulled into Myrtle's driveway and Myrtle added, "But not today. I think that was entirely enough for today. Plus, I need to write this story so it can get into tomorrow's paper."

"And, apparently, feed the cat." Miles gestured to Myrtle's front porch where Pasha sat, blinking at them.

"What a darling girl! Yes, I need to feed Pasha. If I do, it should also curtail some of her bloodthirstiness. There have been far too many 'presents' on my front step lately."

Miles shifted uncomfortably and looked squeamish. "Feed her well, then. See you later, Myrtle."

Myrtle went inside to feed a grateful Pasha and write an extraordinary article for the paper.

The next morning, Myrtle called Wanda bright and early. She was never sure if Wanda's house phone was operational (her brother was lackadaisical about paying bills), so she called the cheap cell phone that the newspaper had purchased for Wanda's benefit. Wanda, as a psychic, wrote the horoscopes for the paper. Most of the newspaper's subscribers, actually, could likely be attributed to Wanda's incredibly detailed predictions.

Wanda quickly answered, "Thought you might call."

"Good morning, Wanda! You might have known I was planning on calling even before I did. It must be very convenient to know what's going to happen in the future. Anyway, I wanted to consult you on a couple of different things. One of them we can discuss later. The other is a bit more pressing . . . would you like to attend garden club with me today?"

Wanda responded with alacrity again. "Yes."

"Oh, good. You always seem to get a lot out of the programs—more than I do, as a matter of fact." Wanda would like to take notes during the programs, but there was a problem of limited literacy. Wanda dictated her horoscopes to Myrtle and Myrtle sent them in to Sloan. Myrtle said, "We can do what we did last time and I can tape the lecture portion so you can listen to it later."

Wanda sounded pleased. "That sounds good, Myrtle."

"Now there's just the matter of getting you over here." Myrtle sighed. The vehicles at Wanda's house were often up on concrete blocks and completely non-operational. Myrtle had no vehicle at all, although she was always quick to point out that she had a valid driver's license. "I could perhaps borrow Miles's car."

Wanda said, "Dan kin drive me. His truck is workin'."

"Is it? What an unexpected surprise! Is he available to get you here fairly soon?"

There was a raspy chuckle on the other end of the line. "He ain't doin' nothin' so I reckon so." She paused. "Gotta figure out what to wear."

Myrtle said, "Yes, that's always a conundrum, isn't it? This club meeting is at Tippy's house, which makes it even worse."

"Got one of the outfits you gived me. Might wear that one."

Myrtle and Wanda had gone on a clothes shopping extravaganza at the second-hand store and picked up a variety of different garments for Wanda. It was a relief to hear that they weren't all in the hamper. "That would be great, Wanda. I'll see you soon, then."

About an hour later, Myrtle heard the sound of a very loud truck. It made Dusty's truck sound quiet in comparison. She quickly walked to her door and opened it. Sure enough, Crazy Dan, Wanda's brother, was at the wheel of the truck. He gave her a jaunty wave and Myrtle returned it. Wanda slipped out of the truck and made her way to Myrtle's front door. She was wearing black slacks and a black and white top. She gave Myrtle an uncertain, gap-toothed smile.

"You look absolutely perfect, Wanda," said Myrtle.

"My shoes aren't great," said Wanda, sticking out one of the offending items for Myrtle's review.

"Hmm. Perhaps they just need a little scrubbing?"

"Naw, I think they're just scuffed up to death."

Myrtle snapped her fingers. "I have an extra pair of black shoes you can wear. In fact, I was about to take them to the Goodwill. Would you like to try those? It looks like we wear the same size."

They did. Myrtle studied the results. "Well, they're in much better shape than yours. But you might be too young to wear orthopedic shoes."

Wanda looked pleased, though. "Them's comfortable."

"That's about all they have going for them."

Wanda still seemed amazed by them. "Think I could stand on my feet all day in them things."

"They're yours if you want them. You'll be able to try them out, anyway, because we're going to need to walk to Tippy's house. Ready?"

They set out down the road. Pasha, always enamored by Wanda, slipped out of some nearby bushes and joined along.

Myrtle beamed at her. "Brilliant Pasha! She's here to accompany us."

Wanda reached down to rub the cat and Pasha lifted her chin so Wanda could gently scratch underneath. They set out again—an octogenarian, a psychic, and a brilliant black cat.

Tippy lived in a large white home with columns and a large veranda. She was involved in just about everything in the town of Bradley—not just involved, but often running it. She was part of Myrtle's book club, as well. Myrtle hoped Tippy had finally given up on trying to recruit her into her different organizations. It wasn't Myrtle's idea of a fun retirement to be on a bunch of different committees or attending meetings every week.

Tippy greeted them at the door looking elegant as always in white slacks and a silky black top. "Good to see you both! Wanda, I was wondering when you might be able to make another meeting. Come on in and help yourselves to some food. We have so much here that I'm worried Benton and I are going to end up with all the leftovers."

Looking at the tremendous spread of food that Tippy had prepared, it did seem to be likely. There were little sandwiches of all different sorts with the crusts cut off. But there were warm foods, as well, in chaffing dishes: shrimp and vegetable skewers, meatballs, and mini quiches. It was as if they were attending a wedding reception instead of a garden club meeting.

Tippy fluttered off to greet some other guests and Myrtle said in a quiet voice to Wanda, "She's gone over-the-top with the food again. Get as much as you want. We might do well to find a plastic bag and stick some food in my purse for later. This crowd doesn't do much eating."

It was true. The garden club members liked oohing and ahhing over the food, but very little of the victuals ever passed between their lips. Myrtle thought it was because the group spent too much time gossiping. Wanda looking longingly at the table of food but hesitated, seeming self-conscious.

Myrtle quickly walked over to the table, grabbed a plate, and heaped the food up high on it. She had the feeling that Wanda would feel uncomfortable holding such a plate, so glanced around for a good place to set it down. Fortunately, in Tippy's home, there was a variety of furniture just waiting for something to be put on it. Myrtle chose a tall table near the wall and a window.

They sidled up to the table and Wanda quickly ate. The only unfortunate part about their location was the fact that Erma Sherman, Myrtle's neighbor, was heading their way. Myrtle flinched, waiting for Erma to trap her there while she talked about whatever vile medical condition she had. She was greatly relieved to discover that Erma had a different target—Olive Fuller, a spindly woman who was looking around Tippy's fabulous home with discontent. Olive, of course, was someone who Myrtle wanted to speak with, as well, considering her squabble with Ezra over the tree in her yard.

Ordinarily, Olive was not the sort of person that Myrtle would seek out at garden club. She had an unhappy, dissatisfied face and had a belligerent manner when she spoke. She devoutly hoped that Erma would finish tormenting the woman soon and Myrtle would have her chance to ask her a few questions.

Myrtle noticed with satisfaction that Wanda had already quietly finished off half of the contents of the plate. Myrtle herself wasn't particularly hungry, so let her have the whole thing. She tried to tune out Erma's nasally voice, but it was like an earwig that wouldn't leave her alone.

"I guess you heard about your neighbor," Erma was saying to Olive. "Guess you must be feeling scared, living right next door to a murderer like that." She gave Olive a leering look.

Olive said dryly, "Absolutely nothing surprises me about Ezra Blake. Including murder."

Myrtle couldn't resist pushing her way into their conversation. In fact, she felt as if their conversation had bullied its way into her relaxing moment with Wanda, so she didn't feel bad about it whatsoever.

"Ezra Blake has more important things to do than poison people he doesn't even know," said Myrtle coldly.

Erma raised her bushy eyebrows. "Didn't realize you knew the man, Myrtle."

"I certainly do. I've known him most of his life. I taught him when he was a teenager. And he's my friend." Myrtle gave them a fierce look which seemed to cow Olive but had virtually no effect on Erma.

Erma said, "He does too know Luther Cobb. I've seen the two of them talking together."

"When?"

Erma shrugged. "Who even knows? I don't keep up with stuff like that. It was after one of Ezra's poison talks."

"Ezra doesn't hold 'poison talks.' He speaks about botanicals. Some of those botanicals happen to be poisonous. As a public service to our community, he explains which ones are so we won't go around accidentally poisoning ourselves."

This didn't seem to resonate with Erma, who was stuck on the idea of Ezra teaching poisoning. "Why, he even spoke here at garden club a couple of times."

"He did indeed," said Olive, giving Myrtle a look of dislike as if the entire Ezra Blake situation was her fault.

"Which was very good of him considering the fact that the club is full of a bunch of spiteful old biddies," said Myrtle with a sniff.

Perhaps fortunately, the meeting started at that very moment. Tippy called them all to order and they took their seats in various perches around the room. Myrtle waited until the dry part of the meeting, the minutes and so forth, were finished and then took out her phone and recorded the lecture, which was all about designing a sunny perennial garden. Wanda looked completely absorbed as the guest lecturer from the local extension service gave the talk.

After the lecturer finished up, everyone clapped and then started gossiping again. Myrtle glanced around for Olive. Although the woman had certainly irritated her, she still needed to speak with her about Ezra.

"Where did she go?" asked Myrtle with aggravation.

Wanda seemed to immediately know whom she was speaking of. She nodded across the room. "Over there with Blanche."

They walked over but Wanda didn't make it all the way to Olive and Blanche because she was beset upon by various garden club attendees who wanted to know their personal fortunes. Myrtle winced for her, but continued walking with determination over to Olive.

Olive gave her a frown as she joined them. That might have been because she was just saying to Blanche that Ezra must have killed Luther.

Myrtle pursed her lips and then said, "That's libelous, Olive."

"It's the truth, Myrtle. No one has nightshade in their gardens anymore. Only Ezra. And he's an odd man who keeps to himself."

Myrtle glowered at her. "He's an introvert, Olive. Many people are introverts and are completely harmless. Although, it occurs to me Olive, that you don't seem to care for your neighbor very much. Are you harboring a grudge against him?"

Olive sniffed. "And if I were?"

"Think about it. It's obvious that someone is trying to set up Ezra to take the fall for Luther's death. Like you said, hardly anyone grows nightshade anymore. Someone wanted to make it look as if Ezra murdered Luther. Considering your clear antipathy toward the man, it might have been you." Myrtle watched her coolly.

Blanche started chuckling. "Olive, did you really set up Ezra because of your tree situation?" With Blanche, you could never tell if she was joking or if she was serious. Blanche herself might not even have known.

Olive glared at Myrtle. "Of course I didn't kill Luther. Of course I didn't try to set Ezra up."

Myrtle said, "You don't sound particularly convincing. Do you have an alibi for Luther's death?"

"I don't even know when it happened!"

"In the morning. Where were you in the morning?" asked Myrtle.

"When in the morning?"

Myrtle said shortly, "All morning."

Blanche kept on chuckling, enjoying the exchange immensely.

Olive gave them both a furious look. "I was at home, rehabilitating a plant that another neighbor asked me to take care of. It's ailing."

"How charitable of you," said Myrtle dryly.

"I'm very proud that I'm able to help my neighbors with their problems. The plant wasn't doing well at all and now it's thriving. They're very relieved."

"I doubt that Red will think that's much of an alibi. Considering the fact that the plant isn't a sentient being."

"Red?" Olive was now looking alarmed.

"Yes, my darling baby boy and only child," said Myrtle fondly. "He's often misguided, however and tends to focus his energies in the wrong places. I'll be sure to redirect him since he doesn't appear to know about the Great Tree Issue that has created such antipathy between you and Ezra."

"Look, I don't know anything about Luther's death," said Olive hastily. "And, yes, Ezra has gotten on my nerves, but that's it. I surely wouldn't do anything to harm him."

"Even indirectly?" Myrtle quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course not!"

Myrtle gave her a considering look. "Well then, perhaps you'd better supply some other suspects. Because right now, you're looking fairly promising as a candidate."

Olive clearly enjoyed being an expert—whether it was on the subject of plants or determining suspects in a murder case. She took a thoughtful pose. "Funny you should ask that. I've been considering the topic, too. Since you're a friend of Ezra's, I presume you know about Lucinda."

"Lucinda has been Ezra's best friend since they were kids. I'm fairly certain she wouldn't be trying to set him up. Why not do it years ago, if she did? And what would be the motive?"

Olive looked cross. "No, no, I'm not suggesting anything like that. I've just noticed that Lucinda and Marshall seem to have an odd relationship. And Marshall doesn't seem to like Ezra at all."

The part about Marshall disliking Ezra made Myrtle prick up her ears. "Is that so? I guess I shouldn't be shocked, though—it must be hard for Marshall to accept that his wife has such a close relationship with Ezra."

Marshall Sanders was very different from Ezra. Either by accident or design, he looked quite a bit like a golf pro. Blond, tanned, and fit, he was just about the complete antithesis of academic Ezra.

Olive briefly looked concerned that she might have spoken out of turn. "Now, I'm not saying that Marshall would have wanted Ezra in trouble. Or that he killed Luther, mind you. I wouldn't want that kind of gossip to be circulating around on my behalf. I'm simply saying that I don't think Ezra and Marshall have the warmest relationship."

Myrtle said, "You also mentioned that Marshall and Lucinda have an odd relationship."

Olive now colored. "I might have spoken in haste. But it seems to me that Marshall isn't particularly warm toward Lucinda. I don't see the two of them holding hands and whatnot." She waved her hands dismissively. "Anyway, it was only an impression. Don't quote me on it."

For someone who liked to be in-the-know, Olive was apparently sensitive about spreading misinformation. Myrtle supposed she had the sort of mother who likely frowned on gossip.

Myrtle said, "Well, it was good talking with you, Olive." Myrtle had the sort of mother who frowned on lying, however it seemed polite to give white ones from time to time. Olive didn't really notice Myrtle's defection from their conversation since someone else came up to speak with her.

Myrtle was about to rescue poor Wanda from a veritable gaggle of garden club members when she felt a tug at her elbow.

She turned and found, to her horror, that she was face-to-face with Erma Sherman.