A Myrtle Clover Christmas

Chapter Five

That night, Myrtle slept restlessly, her dreams fraught with deadly champagne bottles, irascible aunts, and drunken wedding party guests.

Myrtle finally gave up on sleep and set about making breakfast at the improbable hour of four a.m.

Wanda staggered out into the kitchen, her hair sticking up on her head from having slept on it. "Kin I help?"

"Absolutely not. You're my guest, Wanda. Besides, breakfast is my specialty."

Wanda nodded. Breakfast was indeed Myrtle's specialty. In fact, it was the only meal she could prepare without ruining the food. Ordinarily.

Wanda drawled, "Didn't sleep last night?"

"Not much. And when I did, I had all sorts of really horrid dreams. Sometimes it's best to throw in the towel and just get up for the day." She frowned. "Besides, I have some business with Sloan to handle."

"That story?" Wanda yawned.

"Yes. I have the completed article for Sloan. I need to let him know it's being emailed over so that he can look for it. I should also send over your latest horoscope with that same email. That will ensure he opens it."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Ain't got no horoscopes yet."

"Haven't you? After breakfast, I'll jot them down as you dictate them. Then I'll call Sloan."

Wanda glanced over at the wall clock, which had a crowing rooster on it. "Ain't it sorta early to call him?"

"What?" Myrtle peered at the clock. "It's 4:30 now. Surely a newsman gets up early in the day."

Wanda didn't look convinced.

A few minutes later, they dug into their breakfasts. Myrtle had made scrambled eggs, bacon, and cheese grits. "Pretty good, isn't it?"

Wanda grunted in approval.

After they finished and cleaned up, Myrtle found a notebook and pen and Wanda gazed thoughtfully into space.

She said, "Tell Ben Pritchett not to put the roof decorations up this year."

"That sounds ominous," said Myrtle, jotting it down in the notebook.

Wanda nodded. "He'll come flyin' right off that roof if he does. Tell 'im to jest put 'em on the bushes." She continued, "Sarah Covington better git her furnace serviced afore it stops workin'."

"Excellent advice," murmured Myrtle. "Do you have any for me?"

Wanda looked somberly at her, a bit of sadness in her eyes. "You don't listen to it."

"What? I always listen very carefully to you. You're my friend."

Wanda muttered, "You listen and don't do anything."

"Not always true," said Myrtle. "Although perhaps somewhat true. I have the feeling you're about to tell me I'm in danger. I always pay attention when you tell me that. But you're right—I don't stop investigating. Is that what you were going to say?"

"Yer in danger." She hesitated. "An' if you want somethin' done, you gotta do it yerself."

Myrtle stared at her. "An interesting tip, for sure."

They finished with the horoscopes, and Myrtle looked at the clock again. "Well, we passed a little time, anyway. I think surely Sloan is up by now. I'm calling."

Sloan, however, didn't seem inclined to pick up.

"How annoying," murmured Myrtle as she hung up and tried again.