The Party Line, a Myrtle Crumb Mystery Prequel by GTrent

Lookin’ Back
    Mercy goodness! I just found a journal from
way back when Sunny was just a baby. Sunny is my granddaughter, you
know, and her given name is Crimson. I’ve never been able to figure
out why my daughter Faye hung that name on the child, though. I’m
guessing her Daddy gave it to her, and Faye just went along with
him to keep the peace. But, gracious, they weren’t celebrities who
could get away with naming their young ‘uns things like Moon Unit
and Apple, for goodness’ sake. Anyhow, I call my grandbaby Sunny
because ever since she came into my life, she’s been my
sunshine.
    Back when I was keeping this journal, Sunny
was only around three years old. Her daddy had died in an accident
when she was about eighteen months old, and Crandall passed not too
awfully long after that. I imagine I was still hurting too badly
from the loss of Crandall to realize how hard his death must’ve hit
Faye practically on the heels of losing her husband Steve.
    When you read this, you’ll realize that it
took Backwater quite a while to come on up into the modern world.
We still had party lines back then. If you’re as young as you look,
you don’t have a clue as to what’s a party line. Well, back in the
day, there weren’t enough wires or something to give every phone
their own private line. I don’t know why, but several people in a
community shared a phone line. If you picked up at the right time,
you could hear what your neighbors were talking about to each
other, the grocer, the bank…whoever they were talking to. And, by
the same token, they could eavesdrop on you too.
    Everybody whines these days about the
government listening in on their calls. Back then, we all did it.
And we all knew we did it. We didn’t particularly like it—having
our own calls listened to anyway—but it’s all we had.
    The story I’m getting
ready to tell you is about my first case. This is really before I
even officially became a detective. It’s not like I have my license
now or anything like that, but I do have a reputation…a reputation for getting to the
bottom of things.
    So sit back and put your feet up and let me
tell you how I kept Tansie Miller’s daughter out of jail.

Movin' In
    Ada's back. Forty-two years old and movin'
back in with her Mama. I saw it all from my picture window in the
living room. Didn't even have to leave my rocker-recliner. Didn't
have to turn down "The Young and The Restless" either. It wouldn't
have done me any good—I couldn’t have heard anything anyway. I’ll
wait to get the real scoop on the party line.
    Oh, yes, we here in Backwater still have a
party line. We're probably the only people left in the
country—heck, the world!—who has one, but we have one; and frankly,
I like it that way. It keeps me connected. You know…a party line.
Where you share a telephone line with your neighbors. Now, I'm not
saying I'm nosy or anything, but I think it's good to know what's
goin' on around you. Don't you?
    Who am I? Well, I'm Myrtle Crumb. Been
livin' in Backwater all my life. My dear Crandall died about ten
years ago, but I have a beautiful daughter, Faye. Unlike Tansie's
daughter, Ava, she doesn't live with me anymore. She's a good girl.
Has a good life…far as I know.
    I'm anxious to see what's
brought Ava home. She's married to a man who owns a construction
business. I guess she's still married; but if she's movin' back home with her
Mama, well, it looks like there's trouble in paradise, don't you
think? Anyway, they had it real good, from what I hear. Nice house,
two nice cars… Ava always looks like she just stepped out of a
bandbox. Not that she looks all that great today. Hair looks like a
hooraw's nest….
    [Click, click, click.]
    Ah, there's the phone. Let me mute my
program. Be real quiet now.
    "Ava?"
    "No, Bill, this is Tansie."
    "Tansie, lemme speak to Ava."
    "I'm not so sure she wants to talk to you
right now, Bill."
    "Well, I wanna talk to her. If you don't put
her on the phone