‘She moved in quite recently. I don’t know who she bought it from, sorry.’
‘Myrtle and Roy, the Edelsteins,’ Myrna said confidently. As if anyone would ever dare to question her. ‘They were there a very long time. There was another family in there between them and the Goldfarbs, I forget their names, they didn’t stick around long, and before that it was the Salgado family.’
I couldn’t not smile, it was just like talking to Gran. She always knew everyone’s comings and goings, oftenbefore they did. ‘You know a lot about the area. Have you lived here a long time?’
‘Is sixty-two years a long time?’ she asked and I was sure it was a test.
‘It’s a decent amount,’ I replied.
She responded with an almost imperceptible nod. ‘Gabriel Salgado built your sister’s place the same time my Wally built this house for me,’ Myrna said, gesturing around the beautiful room. How much of it had changed since then? My best bet was nothing but the telly. ‘I was twenty-one, just married, desperately in love and without a single clue as to how the world works. What I wouldn’t give to go back to those days. You must be around that age?’
God bless the good people at Olay.
‘Not quite, I’m thirty-three. Almost thirty-four.’
She gave me another look, scrutinizing the fine lines around my eyes I spent too much money trying to plump out. ‘It’s impossible to tell these days. The fifteen-year-olds look like they’re forty and the forty-year-olds could pass for fifteen. The only thing that doesn’t change is that women are never happy.’ She reached over to a brass bar cart and one by one, transferring a bottle of red, two wine glasses and a corkscrew onto the table between us. ‘On the bad days my arthritis gets the best of me and I have to make do with a screw top. Be grateful today is not one of those days.’
‘I can help,’ I offered, but not quickly enough. Clearly, Myrna had enjoyed plenty of practice opening bottles in her time. She pulled out the cork with a satisfying pop.
‘Let me do it while I still can,’ she said. ‘Once theyhide me away on the old folks’ farm, I doubt I’ll be allowed to serve myself so much as a cup of coffee.’
I held out my glass as she poured, steady as a rock, and even though I was sure I would regret asking, I couldn’t help myself.
‘Old folks’ farm?’
‘They would prefer I call it an assisted living facility but, as I said, I’m too old for lies.’ She clinked her very full glass against mine and sat back. ‘Now you tell me, Phoebe Chapman of 4001 Parva Avenue, what possessed you to trespass on to my property yesterday?’
‘I was just trying to drop off your packages,’ I replied, licking the delicious red wine from my lips, Myrna nursing her glass in both hands without drinking. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t see another way in.’
‘And you weren’t afraid I might have attack dogs or security guards?’
‘To be honest, I didn’t really think about it,’ I admitted. ‘You don’t get that many attack dogs or security guards where I live.’
‘Luckily for you, I have neither.’ She held my gaze, looked at the wine on the table and then back at me. ‘I prefer to deal with enemies in my own way. They say poison is a coward’s weapon, but I prefer to think of it as a ladylike way to kill, don’t you agree?’
My eyes opened wide as I choked on my wine, spilling half of what was still in my glass. Myrna tossed back her head and laughed so hard I was afraid she might break a rib.
‘Sorry, that was cruel but too good an opportunity to pass up,’ she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Really the joke’s on me, I’ll never get the red wineout of that rug.’ She reached for the box of chocolates and popped off the lid. ‘Truffles, wonderful, my favourite.’
Leaning back against her chair, she dropped one in her mouth and chewed.
‘So to be extra clear, you haven’t poisoned me?’ I asked, swabbing my mouth with the back of my hand.
She shook her head. ‘Too hard to dispose of a body these days.’
Shaking, I put the rest of my wine down, oddly enough not in the mood for it any more. I couldn’t decide who was worse, the terrible children who tried to finish me off that morning or Myrna who was surely old enough to know better.
‘Quite impressive, the way you got over the wall,’ she said, helping herself to another truffle. ‘You remind me a little bit of me when I was your age. Perhaps a decade or so younger; by the time I was thirty-three I dressed like an adult.’
‘What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?’ I pulled at my black linen jumpsuit, searching for a flaw. It was one of the fancier items I’d shoved in my suitcase an hour before I left for the airport, and one of my all-time favourite outfits. I loved it.
‘You look like a toddler in mourning. I don’t know whether to offer my condolences or offer to change your diaper.’
I hated the jumpsuit and I would never wear it again.
‘You said you’re a movie star?’ I said, utilizing my spectacular talent for changing the subject. ‘That must be exciting.’
‘You missed out the word faded. I haven’t acted in sixty years,’ she drawled. ‘But yes, it was until it wasn’t.’
