A Body at Bunco : Myrtle Clover #8

Chapter Eight

Myrtle and Miles entered the dark house. An ancient fan was slowing rotating and blowing the hot air back and forth around the shack. There was a dirty window on the back of the house allowing a modest amount of sunlight through. Wanda plopped full-length onto a slipcovered sofa. She seemed very lethargic, her movements much slower than usual.

Myrtle said briskly, "Okay, let's get on with it then. Go ahead and give me my special message."

Wanda narrowed her eyes at Myrtle. "Don't see no point innit, since you never do listen."

"But traditions must be observed, Wanda."

Wanda first gave a prodigiously rattling cough. Then she fixed Myrtle with a baleful expression. "Yer in danger."

"Noted. Naturally, however, you won't give me any details as to the quadrant from which this latent danger arises," said Myrtle briskly.

Wanda shook her head. "It don't—"

"I know...work that way. We've done this little song and dance before, Wanda. Do you at least have some sort of clue to point me in the right direction?" asked Myrtle.

Miles was surreptitiously spreading out a pocket-handkerchief on a portion of a chair and again gingerly sitting down. He looked longingly at the door.

Wanda nodded. "I can give you a clue. Yer totally wrong."

Myrtle stared at her. "Totally wrong. What on earth does that mean? My outlook toward life is wrong? My politics or religion is wrong? I'm hanging out with the wrong people?" She glanced over at Miles, who was removing what appeared to be hand sanitizer from his pocket.

"Yer wrong about the case. Dead wrong. Ain't nothin' personal with that Luella," croaked Wanda in her gravelly voice.

"Ain't nothin' personal..." Myrtle gave a frustrated sigh. "I believe Luella would say it was personal. After all, she's dead. It doesn't get any more personal than being killed by someone you know." She paused. "Unless...are you saying that the wrong person was murdered?"

"It was pretty dark outside," offered Miles.

"But Luella was fairly distinctive. She wore strong perfume and vibrantly-colored clothes. I find it hard to believe that someone would have mistaken Luella for someone else," said Myrtle. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Wanda shrugged a skeletal shoulder. "Up to you. Just sayin' yer wrong." She grimaced, placing a hand on her stomach. "Not feelin' so hot."

Miles leapt up with alacrity. "I believe that's our cue, Myrtle. We should let Wanda rest now to recover." He hurriedly pulled some bills out of his wallet and placed them on a cluttered table. "For the phone bill."

"Phone's broke," said Wanda laconically.

Miles pulled out some extra money. "For the phone bill and for a new phone."

Wanda added, "There's broke cars. Everywhere."

Miles looked a bit nervous about this pronouncement and peered doubtfully into his wallet. "You do have quite a few vehicles up on cement blocks, Wanda. Unfortunately, I don't appear to have enough cash on me to counteract this problem."

Wanda shook her head. "Not here. Well, yes, here. But there will be broke cars everywhere soon. Everywhere. I got visions of 'em."

Miles coughed. "Yes. I see." It was clear that he didn't.

Wanda nodded and gave him a fond, if fairly toothless smile. "And Miles. Don't worry about bein' sick. It don't last long."

Miles's eyes widened in alarm.