Chapter Eight
“For heaven’s sake! I haven’t been here for months, Crazy Dan. You act like I’m down here every week panhandling or something.” Myrtle frowned at the scraggly man who indeed was not wearing a shirt. “Is Wanda in today?”
The man tilted his head to the side. “Whassat?”
“I said is Wanda in,” said Myrtle loudly. Noting the look of confusion still on the man’s face, she said again, “Wand-er. Your sister.”
“Need a for-toon r******w Crazy Dan looked cunning.
Myrtle knew she hadn’t brought any money with her. She turned to give Miles an inquiring stare.
Miles sighed. “I suppose so.”
Crazy Dan nodded and took to gazing at Miles’s carefully pressed golf shirt, khaki pants, and nice shoes. “Wander!” he hollered. With the shack as tiny as it was, it was hard to imagine that a rai
