Edit to Death : Myrtle Clover #14

Chapter Sixteen

A minute later they'd bustled Wanda into Miles's now-gleaming kitchen. Miles made coffee and Myrtle dug up leftovers that she heated and shoved in front of Wanda. Wanda watched them listlessly.

"Got to tell you somethin'," she grated.

"First, you must eat. For heaven's sake, you'd collapsed out there!" said Myrtle.

Wanda shook her head. "Napping."

"Well, it sure didn't look like napping. It looked like 'passed out.' Now go ahead and eat this stuff." Myrtle studied the food. "It looks like roast beef and potatoes and I'm sure it's good if Miles made it. He can only cook four things, but each one of them is like an art form."

Miles put the coffee, black as Wanda preferred it, in front of the woman. They watched as she inhaled the food and drank the hot coffee down, wincing as she did. Finally, she pushed the plate away from her.

"Feel better?" demanded Myrtle in a tone that suggested that the answer really needed to be 'yes.'

Wanda nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath. "She's dead."

"Nell? Yes. I'm sorry, but I'd have thought you'd have known that," said Myrtle with a frown.

Wanda shook her head. "No, the girl."

"Rose?" Miles looked horrified.

Wanda sighed. "No, the little girl. That Tara."

"I thought we'd established that earlier," said Myrtle, still frowning. "At least, you'd told me that was the case."

"She's dead an' I know where th' body is," said Wanda with effort. She shivered.

Myrtle's eyes widened. Then she turned on Miles. "Miles! It's freezing cold in here. Wanda is turning blue! Don't you have blankets or heavy coats or gloves or something for her?"

Miles hurried off and returned quickly with some old multi-colored afghans that looked like elderly relatives from long ago had made them. He slipped one gently around Wanda's skinny shoulders and then draped another one on her lap that hung to the floor.

Myrtle leaned in and said carefully, "Now, Wanda, is this something new? Because I'm pretty sure I don't remember this level of certainty from you the last time we talked about Tara Blanton."

Wanda gave a weary nod. "Knew she was dead, but didn't know where. Now I do."

Myrtle said, "Well then, we'll have to give Red a phone call."

Miles shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"

Myrtle stared at him. "Of course, it's the right thing to do! That's what we always do, Miles. When there's a body, we always call Red."

"Not immediately," pointed out Miles.

"Maybe not always in the first five minutes, but sometimes in the first five minutes," said Myrtle. "You're acting as if we're heading into new and uncharted territory."

Wanda looked down at the table and then looked back up at Myrtle. "He don't want Red to think I'm crazy."

"Crazy? Why on earth would he think that? You write an incredibly detailed column in the paper every week giving very specific horoscopes to various residents. If that's not proof of your gifts, I don't know what is," said Myrtle.

Wanda gave her a small smile that seemed a bit pitiful. As if maybe she knew what this future conversation with Red would hold.

Miles said, "All I'm saying is that usually there is a body directly in front of us when we make our call to Red. This is more of a hypothetical body." He held up his hands as if to ward off an onslaught from Myrtle. "Hypothetical to Red, at any rate."