31. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Myrtle Jenkins was not a fast driver. She was methodical and careful and very few other drivers seemed to appreciate that; there was always some young idiot tailgating her. This morning though, her foot was on the gas.

“Get out of my way, ” she groaned as she peered through the windscreen of her little Nissan at the tractor sputtering along the road ahead of her. “Come on, come on, come on!” This was torture! Finally they reached the long straight stretch of road past the bridge and Myrtle floored it, passing old Jack Mackey who waved apologetically as she fanged it past him, almost tempted to give him the finger.

She wasn’t usually in such a hurry to get to her weekly Mah Jong game with the girls. Oh, it passed the time, kept her brain active, got her out of the house and gave her a break from Alfie. But it was so competitive. Not the Mah Jong part. But socially. Every Thursday morning they all got together, always the same seven women - and Doug - and over their boards they told each other stories about their week. And the thing was, no matter what anyone else had to say it was always Dottie Parsons who stole the show.

Dottie just had that kind of life. Her children all lived in exotic places like Dubai or Tasmania. Her husband Bob volunteered for the SES and always knew the grisly details of every tree fall or flood. And then her granddaughter was born premature and every week she had an update on a new milestone the little girl was beating. Honestly, it was terribly unfair. Even the same week that Alfie had a close encounter with a red-bellied black snake in the garden, Dottie trumped her with a recounting of the time bloody heroic Bob found a brown snake coiled up in the downstairs toilet. But this morning, Myrtle had a tale to tell.

She hit the main road and had to slow to fifty. She was tempted to speed through the town; honestly there were so few residents out and about it seemed silly. But Myrtle was on record in the Silverboom Post complaining about hoons - got her picture in the paper and all - so it wouldn’t do her reputation any good to be seen speeding. She gritted her teeth and slowed down to forty-five. She looked around her as she cruised, but the only people she saw were Shirley’s nephews Connor and Reuben noodling along on their bikes.

Then, she slowed down even further. Because there was Lara Bennett and where there was Lara, a tale always followed. Lara was lingering outside her store, even though it was well past the time she should have opened shop. Honestly, the woman just made up her own rules as she went along, it was entirely aggravating. And who was that with her? Viola Gabrielli, again. Myrtle wondered if Lara realised exactly what the town was going to start thinking if she kept hanging around a known lesb- oh good lord! Lara had just kissed the Gabrielli girl on the mouth!

Well. Look at that, Myrtle thought, thrilled, as she watched the kiss continue in her rearview mirror. Today was going to be the best Mah Jong game in history.

“Wait, what? ” cried Dottie, twenty minutes later, her eyes round and rapt, just hanging on Myrtle’s every word, apple cake forgotten on the table before her.

“And that’s not even the real story,” Myrtle told the girls. And Doug. Oh victory was sweet. “There’s a police investigation over at Chloe Perkins’ place!”

“Hang on a minute, when you say kissed her, do you mean kissed her?” Sylvia butted in.

“Of course she meant kissed her,” Dottie jumped in. “What other way could she have meant it?”

“Well, young women can be affectionate with one another without it being something suspicious-”

“Suspicious? They’re having sex , Sylvia, not robbing a bank. ”

“I said there’s a police investigation!” Myrtle used her teaspoon to bang on the table like a judge’s gavel. They weren’t getting it. “At Chloe’s place. I’m talking crime scene vans, police divers, the lot. An investigation. I drove right by it this morning. You’ve never seen such a circus.”

“Drugs?” asked Barbara with relish, taking a large sip of her eleven a.m sherry.

“With divers?” Dottie frowned. “Who’d hide drugs in a dam? No one wants soggy marijuana.”

“No,” Myrtle agreed. She took a deep breath and comprehensively won Mah Jong forever. “I think they’re investigating a murder. ”