Pretty is as Pretty Dies (A Myrtle Clover Mystery) by Elizabeth Spann Craig

I'm glad to see you're all right before I go out of town
for the next couple of days." She paused, a cue for Myrtle to ask
where she was going. Myrtle didn't comply.
    "I'm going to the casino. The one on the reservation? You need
to go with me some time. Sometimes I come back with ever so
much money. But then, I've always had good luck."
    Myrtle doubted that very much. Erma certainly hadn't won the
looks lottery. Finally able to get a word in, she said, "I don't gamble
though, Erma. So I won't be interested."
    Erma said, "But you'd have fun. The old folks' bus takes us. The
senior recreation program. Besides, lots of people gamble, Myrtle.
You'd be surprised."
    Myrtle's look said that she would be surprised, and Erma said,
"Even the rich folks gamble, Myrtle. I've seen Cecil Stockard there
many times." Noticing she'd finally gotten Myrtle's attention, Erma added importantly, "And he's a big roller. You know... one of
those..."

    "Yes, I know what a big roller is," said Myrtle impatiently. "You're
sure about that?"
    "Of course I am. I even hear that he gambles on the Internet,
too. I wonder if he's won a ton of money."
    Or lost a ton of money. That could provide a motive for murder.
    Myrtle jolted back to the present when Erma ran over a curb,
coasted diagonally into a parking place, and slammed on her
brakes.
    "Well, here we are. I'll see you later." Myrtle was about to open
her mouth to protest when the driver's door slammed. As abruptly
as she'd appeared, Erma disappeared, barreling through the "exit"
door of the grocery store.
    Stunned, Myrtle sat in Erma's car for a couple of minutes before fishing in her pocketbook for her cell phone.
    "Elaine? Thank God you're there! Can you run by the grocery
store and pick me up? I was hijacked by Erma Sherman. I was
planning on walking back home, but that woman sapped all the
energy out of me. You don't need anything from the store, do you?
No? Yes, five minutes would be great."
    Myrtle pulled herself out of the old Cadillac-which wasn't
easy since she was practically sitting on the pavement in the car.
She slammed the door in irritation behind her. Damn woman. She
walked to the front of the grocery store and leaned against the wall
to wait for Elaine.
    The day was a real scorcher with steam rising off the parking
lot pavement and Myrtle cursed, wishing she could perspire better
than she did and cool off a little. It was the kind of day where the ice cream truck trolled the streets for hot, thirsty kids. And the
kind of day where the kids' ice cream immediately melted on impact with the humid wall of air.

    A Mercedes sped into the parking lot and Benton Chambers,
the councilman, jumped out. Well, jumped out was an exaggeration, since he was carrying a crutch and had a large cast on his
right leg. Myrtle squinted at him. He seemed to be talking to himself in a very animated fashion until she noticed the cell phone
attachment clipped to his ear.
    He talked on his phone as he hobbled past Myrtle. She sniffed.
She was sure she hadn't been yelling when she'd called Elaine. She
couldn't stand people who bellowed into their phones.
    "I'm right on it, Don. Yes, the file is on my desk and I'm looking
at it as we speak." Benton met Myrtle's startled gaze and winked at
her. She supposed politicians spent a majority of their time fibbing.
    Elaine's green minivan pulled into a space and Myrtle climbed
into the front seat. Elaine looked frazzled. Her normally sleek bob
stuck up in places where she must have run her fingers through it.
Jean-Marc was smirking in the backseat, next to Jack in his car
seat. "Accidentally broke the coffeemaker," murmured Elaine. No
more explanation was necessary. Myrtle could envision a morning
in the Clover house without an immediate caffeine infusion. Red
without java? It wouldn't have been a pretty picture. Myrtle turned
a suspicious eye at the backseat (she was convinced Jean-Marc
knew more English than he was letting