Death at a Drop-In: Myrtle Clover #5

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Myrtle slept in later than she'd planned that morning. Considering that she didn't turn in until six a.m., she didn't feel too scandalized that she'd awakened at ten-thirty in the morning. What did scandalize her was the fact that her doorbell was ringing. 

She muttered a couple of choice words for the doorbell, pulled on a bathrobe (inside-out, as she unhappily discovered later), and patted at her white hair, which was standing up like Einstein's again. Myrtle staggered to the front door since she couldn't figure out in her sleepy stupor where her cane was. 

She peered apprehensively through the front window, saw Wanda, the psychic, and instantly relaxed. Wanda, or Wander, as her brother called her, lived off the old highway in a shack covered with hubcaps. The rotting sign on the highway advertised Wanda's services as: Madam Zora, sykick. No dressing up was needed. But Myrtle did feel a slight frisson of unease. Wanda, as much as Myrtle might pooh-pooh it, did seem to have some sort of gift, although she was rather too fond of giving Myrtle dire prophesies.  

Wanda looked steadily at her as she opened the door. "Rough night?" she grated in her cigarette-ruined voice.  

"I guess you could say that. A sleepless one, anyway. Come on in," said Myrtle, opening her door wide. 

Wanda was stick-thin with nicotine-stained hands. She was missing quite a few teeth, and wore nondescript clothing that hung on her bony frame.  

"Breakfast?" asked Myrtle, thinking that Wanda looked like she could use a good few meals. "Let's see. I have lots of cereal. Unless you want eggs, bacon, and toast?" 

There apparently was no question which Wanda would want. Myrtle quickly found herself breaking open some eggs and sticking slices of toast in the toaster. 

"How did you get here, anyway?" asked Myrtle. "I didn't notice a car out front." 

"The cars is broke," said Wanda with a shrug of a skeletal shoulder.  

"All of them? The cars in your yard aren't working?" Myrtle turned away from the stove to look at Wanda in surprise. "Why, your yard is filled to bursting with cars." 

"Them? They's up on cement blocks. Broke." 

"Oh." Myrtle did recall that there seemed to be a lot of cement blocks in the yard. She pushed the eggs around in the skillet. "So how did you get here?"  

"Walked," said Wanda calmly. 

Myrtle stared at her. "Walked? From the old highway? That must have taken you hours! Can't you pick up the phone to call?" 

"Phone is broke," said Wanda with another shrug. She raised a painted-on eyebrow. "Eggs need movin'." 

Myrtle jumped and quickly started scrambling the eggs again. Then, deciding they were done, she scooped them off onto plates, added a couple of pieces of microwaved bacon, and quickly buttered up some toast. She poured them both some milk, then sat down with Wanda at her kitchen table. 

Wanda made short work of the breakfast and Myrtle watched it quickly disappear, deciding not to question why she was here until Wanda had finished eating. In fact, Wanda finished so quickly that she never even got a chance to ask her a thing-Myrtle was still working on a slice of bacon. 

"Guess you was wantin' to know why I'm here," said Wanda, shifting in her seat. Myrtle guessed that she wanted to have a cigarette and was relieved that she didn't seem to have any with her. 

Myrtle nodded. "Although I believe I know why." She steeled herself. Wanda always provided her with dire predictions. 

"You're in danger," said Wanda, looking at Myrtle steadily.