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  “Hello?” she asked briskly as she and Miles headed down the street toward her house.

  A wretched coughing emanated from the phone, causing Miles to shrink away from Myrtle as if he could be somehow contaminated.

  Myrtle frowned. “Wanda? Is that you?”

  Wanda croaked out, “Me.” Then she set about to coughing again.

  “You sound terrible,” scolded Myrtle. “You need to see a doctor.”

  Wanda’s response to this was to engage in another fit of coughing.

  “We’ll pick you up and take you to the doctor,” said Myrtle. “They will need to check that out.” She paused and then asked cautiously, “Do you have insurance of some sort?”

  Wanda finished coughing and then croaked again, “I got somethin’ they’ll take.”

  “I suppose that will have to do, whatever that is. Which doctor do you see?” asked Myrtle.

  “Don’t regularly see one,” said Wanda in an offhanded way.

  “All right. Not the right way to go about it, though. When you do, sporadically, happen to see someone, who do you see?” Myrtle fumbled for her keys as she and Miles reached her doorstep.

  Some more coughing. Then Wanda said, “Ain’t seen nobody since I was a kid.”

  “For heaven’s sake! All right. Let me call up my own physician and explain the circumstances. Maybe he can fit you in. I taught the man and it’s the least he can do for the trouble he caused me in the classroom. Miles and I will pick you up.”

  Miles looked panicked at this and shook his head violently. “Germs.”

  Myrtle sighed. “Never mind. I will drive over and pick you up in Miles’s car and we’ll go to the doctor.”

  Wanda gave a chuckle that rapidly turned into a hacking cough. Finally, she said, “Germs.”

  “That’s right. And I’ll have to give you a piece of my mind about that horoscope when you’re feeling better. I’ll call you back as soon as I’ve talked to the doctor’s office,” said Myrtle.

  She hung up and pushed open her door. “Coming in?” she asked as Miles hesitated in the doorway. “Oh, come on, you don’t think that my house is contaminated, do you? Wanda should have had the foresight to give a much more detailed prediction, especially considering the recipient.”

  “Wanda never gives detailed predictions,” said Miles wearily as he entered the house and pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer from his pants pocket.

  Myrtle said, “Let’s face it, Miles. If my house were to confer germs on you, it would have already happened. You’ve spent a good deal of time here and haven’t yet fallen ill.” She plopped down in her armchair and pulled out her phone, frowning at her contact list. “Here we are.”

  Miles cautiously sat in the next armchair as if the piece of furniture might bite him. “You know Dr. Frazier isn’t taking any new patients.”

  “Well, that’s a completely ridiculous mindset for a small town. Where are the sick people supposed to go, then? There’s only one other doctor and he’s also limiting new patients. If it keeps going on like this, the sick people won’t have anyone to see and they’ll just circulate among us, infecting others. Like zombies,” said Myrtle in a distracted voice as she punched the keyboard to dial the doctor.

  This was perhaps not the ideal image to draw up in Miles’s mind. He seemed to sink farther into himself.

  The receptionist picked up the phone at the doctor’s office. “Mabel? This is Myrtle Clover. I’m fine, thanks. Never been in better health. But I have a good friend of mine who has a cough that needs to be looked at and I’d like Dr. Frazier to see her.”

  There was a pause while Myrtle listened to Mabel. Then Myrtle said, “No, she’s not an existing patient. But she is ill and I would like her to see a doctor that I trust.”

  Another pause and then Myrtle said tersely, “Put Doctor Frazier on the line.”

  Chapter Eight

  MILES’S EYEBROWS SHOT up. He muttered, “Myrtle, it isn’t done. The doctors have nothing to do with scheduling.”

  “Pooh. That’s a myth. This is his office, and he’s the one in charge. I’m pretty sure that he knows a good deal about what goes on with the scheduling there. It’s a small town. I’ve no doubt that things didn’t work this way when you were in Atlanta, but I can assure you they work this way here.”

  She turned her attention back to the phone. “Yes, Tommy, it’s me. I know you’d rather limit the number of patients you’re seeing, but this is a special case. She hasn’t been to the doctor since she was a child and you’ll likely never see her again unless I can persuade her to return.”

  Myrtle’s voice had that same authoritative ring to it that it did when she was in charge of her classroom. It had always surprised Miles how people responded with alacrity to it. It was how she got most things done.

  Myrtle glanced at the clock. “I most certainly can have her there in 45 minutes. Thanks, Tommy.” She hung up looking smug.

  Miles, however, looked worried. “Not to argue, Myrtle, but Wanda lives some distance away.”

  “I can get there and back to town in 45 minutes,” said Myrtle. She made a quick phone call to Wanda to let her know she was coming. Then she pulled out her pocketbook and rifled through a fat wallet until she found her driver’s license. Satisfied that she’d located it, she put it back in her purse.

  Miles continued, “It’s just that you don’t drive very fast.”

  “Speed limits are there for a reason,” said Myrtle as she picked up her cane and headed for the door. Miles trailed along behind her.

  “Most people don’t treat them as a limit. They’re just careful to go only seven or eight miles an hour over them,” said Miles.

  “I’m not most people,” said Myrtle with a shrug. “But I’ll make sure I get there on time. The doctor is working her in.”

  They stepped outside and Myrtle locked the door. Then she waited for Miles to hand over his car keys. He slowly did so.

  “Thank you. I’ll fill you in when I get back home,” said Myrtle.

  Miles nodded and miserably watched as she climbed into his car, gave a jaunty little honk of the horn as a goodbye, and took off at a sedate ten miles an hour.

  It took a while to reach Wanda’s hubcap-covered shack. She was waiting outside in a plastic chair that had seen better days. The bony woman stood up as Myrtle approached in Miles’s car.

  “Done run him off, ain’t we?” asked Wanda as she got into the front seat.

  “Well, it was all that talk of germs, wasn’t it? Miles would hardly want to go to the doctor’s office after hearing that. Unless that was your intention all along? To keep him home?”

  “He’d-a caught somethin’ in the waiting room. Or somewhere else,” said Wanda with a distracted shrug. She gave another grating, heaving cough, which made Myrtle frown.

  “This is completely ridiculous. You cannot let coughs get the upper hand. Otherwise, the next thing you know, you end up with pneumonia.” Myrtle clicked her tongue. She glanced over at the time and was surprised to see that there was less time to reach the doctor than she’d thought. She gently pressed the accelerator and frowned in concentration as the needle climbed up another five miles an hour.

  Wanda gave her a look that was even more serious than Wanda’s usual somber countenance. “Have somethin’ to tell you.”

  “I’ve already gotten the message, loud and clear. I’m in danger. I now accept that this is a consistent issue in my life,” said Myrtle. She glanced again at the time and then again at the speedometer in consternation. She pressed the accelerator gently and winced at the responding speed. “Don’t want us to be late,” she muttered. At least now she was approaching downtown Bradley.

  Wanda grasped the door. “Nope. It’s somethin’ else. It’s sad. That missing girl.”

  Myrtle, still very distracted with the driving, frowned. “What on earth are you talking about? What missing girl?”

  “That one from long ago. That teen.”

  Myrtle said, “You mean
the one that ran away all those years ago? Who was friends with Pearl’s children?”

  “Or didn’t run away,” said Wanda. “And that friendship?” She gave a descriptive shrug.

  Myrtle said, “Are you saying that that girl was murdered? And that the Epps family might have something to do with it?”

  She was so caught up with this new information that she didn’t even notice the blue lights behind her.

  Myrtle added, “Are you sure that you don’t have any other information? What happened to her? Who was responsible for her death? Where her body is? Because what you’ve given me isn’t much, Wanda.”

  Wanda said grimly, “Better pull over.”

  Myrtle gave her a narrowed sideways look. “You’re not about to be sick, are you? Miles would never let me borrow his car again.” She abruptly pulled over.

  Wanda shook her head. “Yer bein’ pulled over.”

  “What?” Myrtle looked in her rear-view mirror disbelievingly. “Well, this certainly takes the cake. You’d think Red would have better things to do with a murder on his hands.” She rolled down her window.

  Wanda gave a deep sigh that quickly turned into a cough.

  Red walked up and said, “Now Miles, I don’t know where you’re headed . . .” He gaped at Myrtle. “Mama! What on earth are you doing?”

  Myrtle gave him a prim look. “I am driving Wanda to the doctor. I’m simply trying to get there on time, which is difficult when pulled over by the police.”

  At this point, Wanda gave a creaking, croaking cough that turned into something more full-bodied.

  Red pressed his lips together and glanced around him to make sure no one was watching. “Okay. Get her to the doctor. But slow it down and get her there in one piece.”

  “Naturally,” said Myrtle coolly.

  Wanda gave Red a crooked grin that showed off her various missing teeth before dissolving into coughing again.

  Red sighed. “Let me give you a police escort, for safety’s sake.”

  Tommy Frazier finished his quick exam of Wanda and then sat back. “You came in at a good time. You have bronchitis, but it’s a hair away from being pneumonia. If you’d continued to hold off coming in, it could have been worse. I’m sure you don’t want to go to the hospital.”

  Wanda, seeing that the doctor was waiting for a response, shook her head.

  He gave her a kind look. “It’s not so bad here, is it? I hope that you’ll come in more frequently now. If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.”

  Tommy typed on his computer. “I’m going to send a prescription to your pharmacy.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “Under the circumstances, you should ascertain that there is a pharmacy.”

  The doctor glanced wordlessly over at Wanda, who shook her head.

  He nodded. “I’ll print it out and Myrtle can take you over to her drugstore.”

  As he was doing that, Myrtle tilted her head to one side. “It’s been a while, Tommy, but if I remember correctly, you were good friends with the Epps family.”

  Tommy gave her a surprised look. “You have a good memory. Yes, I was friends with Boone.”

  “And you dated his sister, Rose?” asked Myrtle.

  He sat back from his computer, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “An exceptionally good memory, Miss Myrtle. That wasn’t a very long relationship. We realized we were better suited to being friends.”

  Wanda shook her head again, this time apparently in response to Myrtle’s continued involvement in a murder case. She gave a deep-throated cough.

  “I suppose you’ve heard the news about Pearl?” asked Myrtle.

  Tommy sighed. “I’m afraid so. As her physician, I was informed about her death. I was sorry to hear it. I spent a good deal of time at their house growing up.”

  “Do you still see Boone and Rose?” asked Myrtle. He continued looking at her curiously and she continued, “I’m simply wondering if you believe that they’ve changed throughout the years.”

  He said cautiously, “I can’t speak to this as a doctor, you understand. Only as a friend. Or former friend.”

  “So you don’t spend much time with them anymore?” asked Myrtle.

  He said, “I’m afraid not. I’ve been very busy with work and, to be honest, they are different. Or maybe I’m different, I’m not sure.”

  Myrtle leaned in. “In what way are they different?”

  Tommy pursed his mouth in thought. “Boone was always fun-loving, but there came a point where he became reckless. I know he’s a prominent local businessman now, but that reckless element is still there. In my career, I can’t really allow any . . . imprudent actions.”

  “And Rose?” asked Myrtle.

  Tommy looked reluctant. “As I said, I’m not speaking as a physician. But I will say that Rose is a ghost of herself. She’s just extremely delicate and fragile. I’ve been concerned about her, but there’s not much I can do unless she comes in for a visit.”

  A few minutes later, Myrtle and Wanda were leaving the building with a paper prescription. Myrtle said, “We’ll just run by the pharmacy and get them to fill this before I run you back home.”

  Wanda gazed morosely at the prescription. “Don’t it take a while?”

  “At the pharmacy? Not for me.”

  Wanda grinned her gap-toothed grin at her. “Reckon you taught the pharmacist.”

  “That I did,” said Myrtle.

  Only ten minutes later, Myrtle was driving Wanda back home with the prescription in hand.

  Myrtle, now driving much more sedately, gave Wanda a sideways glance. “I thought I might just stick my head in and make sure everything is going all right at home. How is your brother?”

  Wanda made a face. “Dan’s same as always.”

  This was not welcome news. There was a reason Wanda’s brother was called Crazy Dan.

  Sure enough, when Myrtle pulled up to the hubcap-covered home, she saw signs that Dan had been collecting again. It didn’t seem quite as bad as hoarding she’d seen on television shows, but it was messier than a regular messy house.

  They walked inside the house and Myrtle’s head instantly started hurting. Wanda’s stuff was carefully arranged in shelving. Dan’s things were stacked on the floor and piled up on surfaces. Myrtle sighed and said, “I’m sorry, Wanda. Sure does look like Dan is up to his old tricks again.”

  Wanda shrugged an emaciated shoulder. “Reckon it’s why we can’t pay the electric bill half the time. Dan likes going to the dollar store and buying stuff.”

  “At the dollar store?” Myrtle glanced around her.

  Wanda nodded. “But even shopping at the dollar store can make a dent in yer budget if you buy this much.”

  Myrtle followed a path on the floor to the kitchen. There she saw the little plant that Miles had given her the last time that Wanda’s house had been cleared out. Amazingly, it was blossoming here. The kitchen itself was clean, at least by Myrtle’s standards. Miles may not have wanted to touch anything. And yet the relentless clutter was apparent here, too.

  Myrtle said, “Will Dan be upset if we just get rid of some of this stuff?”

  “Probably won’t even notice. All he cares about is the buying of it,” said Wanda laconically.

  “I’ll take a couple of bags to the Goodwill, if you can put them together. I don’t want to handle a full carload, but each time I come here, I’ll take some stuff away.” She hesitated and looked at the prescription bottle.

  “Don’t worry—I’ll take all the pills,” said Wanda with a wink as she took out a garbage bag and started throwing things in.

  “And stop reading my mind,” said Myrtle in a bossy tone.

  As Myrtle drove toward the Goodwill, she reflected on the fact that perhaps Wanda should have chosen better-smelling items to give away. She wasn’t entirely sure what was in the bags, but they had a rather odd aroma.

  Wanda had at least pointed her in an interesting direction with her remarks earlier on Tara Blanton. My
rtle frowned. She’d taught that little girl, and she bristled at the thought that it hadn’t been the cut and dried runaway case that the police had apparently dismissed it as. It was a pity that Red hadn’t been a cop then. And that Myrtle had been a schoolteacher instead of a sleuth. Could the Epps family really be involved? Her doctor seemed to have thought they’d changed dramatically since he was friends with him. Of course, who didn’t change when you’re talking about a matter of decades?

  Myrtle coasted into the Goodwill to the drive-through donation lane. A vehicle was in front of her, so she rolled down the windows to let some air in . . . and some of that odd aroma out.

  With the windows down, Myrtle could hear the sound of arguing. She saw the man who helped with unloading donations step back and then glance her way, eyes rolling. She listened and heard a familiar voice.

  Rose Epps wailed, “You just can’t give all this stuff away! I had no idea what you had in this car. You said you were just going to bring bags of clothes!”

  Hubert’s voice was pleading in return as he leaned against the car. “Rose, baby, you can’t expect me to hold on to all this stuff. This helps with the grieving process.”

  “What grieving? All you want to do is to get rid of everything and forget about her,” said Rose, voice rising to a pitch that made Myrtle wince.

  “Sweetheart, listen. Sometimes it’s better to just get the bad stuff over with first. Like ripping off a bandage. I would think about your mother whenever I walked past her things in the house,” said Hubert, trying to sound reasonable.

  “You didn’t love her!” sobbed Rose. And with that, she hopped into the car and drove away, tires screeching.

  Hubert watched as she disappeared, shaking his head.

  The attendant gestured to Myrtle to drive up in the lane and she did. She leaned out her window and said to Hubert, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear that. Can I give you a ride home?”

  He blinked in surprise when he saw her. “Myrtle! Yes, that’d be great, if you could.” There was a pause while he took in the picture of Myrtle sitting behind the wheel. “Somehow, I didn’t realize that you were still driving.”