Murder on the Ballot

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Myrtle walked with some trepidation to the front door and peered out. She started smiling and pulled the door wide open. “Wanda! You’re here so early. And how on earth did you get here?” She poked her head out the door, looking in vain for some kind of vehicle, most likely one on its last legs. There wasn’t anything outside that fit that description. “You didn’t walk here?”

“Needed to think,” said Wanda solemnly.

“You must have been walking all night!” Myrtle bustled Wanda in.

Miles sighed. Wanda was a local psychic and a cousin of his. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her startlingly accurate predictions.

“Good morning,” said Miles politely.

“Yer in danger,” said Wanda in a level voice.

“Who is?” asked Myrtle. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Wanda. Is Miles in danger? Or am I?”

“You are, Myrtle,” said Wanda. She rubbed her eyes, looking exhausted.

“What is it this time?” asked Miles. “There hasn’t even been a suspicious death yet.”

Wanda intoned, “Myrtle shouldn’t run.”

Myrtle said soberly, “Shouldn’t run? For office, presumably. Is that because something awful will happen?”

Miles hid a smile. He could think of plenty of awful things happening if Myrtle were in charge of the town. Mostly to do with Red’s blood pressure.

Wanda nodded earnestly. “You’ll be stressed. Stress is bad for you.”

Myrtle said, “I don’t think stress has such an awful effect on me. After all, I solve murder mysteries and that’s stressful.”

Wanda gave her a look. “No it’s not. You like it.”

Miles smiled. “She does like it.”

Myrtle huffed. “Like it? All I get is a sense of civic satisfaction from ridding the town of murderers.”

Wanda said, “You like beatin’ Red.”

“Outsmarting him? Well, of course I do,” said Myrtle complacently. “Who wouldn’t?” She considered Wanda’s words for a few moments. “What Miles and I were discussing was my just influencing the town council’s direction and behavior. That I’d run for office, scare everyone into controlling themselves while representing the town, and then drop out. Would that be acceptable?”

Wanda carefully considered this. “Guess so,” she said slowly.

Myrtle clapped her hands together. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now let me get you something to eat. Do you want coffee, too?”

But Wanda had already nodded off on Myrtle’s sofa.

“She’s completely worn out, the poor thing,” said Myrtle in a hushed voice.

Miles took this opportunity to stand up. “As I was saying, Myrtle, I’m very tired, too. I’ll go home and try to take a nap. Wanda looks like she could use a nap too. Then give me a call when you’re ready to go to the town hall to see the clerk.” He hurried out while Myrtle was frowning in concern at Wanda, who had slumped to the side of the sofa.

Myrtle found her oldest, softest blanket and put it around Wanda. Then she found a pillow and shook Wanda awake for a second to place it behind her head.

Wanda gave her a serious look. “The rain.”

“Rain? What rain? It’s bone dry outside.”

“Just remember the rain,” mumbled Wanda before dropping back to sleep.

Myrtle muttered to herself as she turned off the living room lights and ensconced herself in the kitchen. It sounded as if the psychic was moving from regular predictions to weather predictions. But she knew better than to discount anything she said, so she tucked away the non-sequitur for future reference.

Myrtle worked on her crossword puzzle and tried to keep herself quiet in the kitchen as Wanda took some much-needed sleep. A couple of hours later, a sheepish Wanda appeared in the kitchen door.

Myrtle beamed at her. “Feel better?”

Wanda nodded and sank into one of Myrtle’s kitchen chairs in a fluid motion that was distinctly Wanda. A black feline face suddenly peered intently through the kitchen window and Myrtle quickly opened the window. “Looks like someone is wanting to visit with you.”

Wanda grinned and reached out for the black cat who bounded through the window onto the floor and then up into Wanda’s bony lap.

Myrtle said briskly. “All right then. All we need now is a nice, hearty breakfast.”

“But you done ate.”

“I was just using the pronoun ‘we’ to be inclusive. You’re right—I’m still stuffed from all the pancakes Miles made. I can’t think for the life of me why he made such a big batch and why we felt compelled to eat them all.” She groaned and put her hand tenderly to her stomach. “But that doesn’t mean that you can’t eat. After all, breakfast is the meal I cook best.”

Wanda gave her a crooked smile and didn’t say anything.

Myrtle busily emptied the remaining eggs out of her carton into a frying pan and made scrambled eggs. She had sausage links in the freezer and put those in another frying pan on the burner. There was a bag of hash browns in the freezer as well and she got those going on yet another burner. She frowned at everything on the stove. “I better stop here. That fourth burner doesn’t work all the time and we wouldn’t want to set the house on fire.”

She made another pot of coffee and poured herself and Wanda some as Wanda gently tickled Pasha under her chin, making the black cat happily close her eyes.

Myrtle put a veritable feast in front of Wanda. It took two plates to hold it all, but Myrtle had the feeling that not a bite of it would go to waste.

As Wanda hungrily attacked the food, Myrtle said, “You know, I’ve had time for a little contemplation while you were taking your nap. I’ve decided that having a psychic as a campaign adviser would be an excellent idea. Much better than Tippy.”

Wanda looked abashed. “Don’t know what one does,” she muttered in between bites.

“Well, they basically help the candidate make good decisions. I’ve asked Miles to be my campaign manager because he has all sorts of business background.” Myrtle waved her hand vaguely to indicate all the experience Miles had that she didn’t quite grasp or particularly want to. “But an adviser would help keep me straight and, perhaps, keep me safe, too. Especially since I have a talent for putting myself in danger, apparently.”

She paused, looking closely at Wanda. Wanda did still seem healthier than she had in a while. She’d stopped smoking and no longer was wracked with the deep coughs she’d had for so long. Myrtle also knew she’d taken an interest in gardening and was growing healthy vegetables to supplement her diet. Wanda made a decent income with her job writing horoscopes for the Bradley Bugle. However, Myrtle strongly suspected that her brother, Crazy Dan, might squander that money from time to time.

“Are you doing all right, Wanda?” she asked.

Wanda took a final gulp of her meal and sat sadly surveying Myrtle. “S’pose so.”

“I mean, that was a very long walk you took just to think things through. You walked for miles and miles. What was on your mind?”

Wanda shrugged. “Don’t know. Felt like takin’ a break from the house.”

The house was a hubcap-covered shack that seemed to have a shaky grip on utilities. It was rather dark and cluttered in the interior and Myrtle could well-imagine wanting to escape from it.

“Ain’t no electricity neither,” said Wanda in a conversational tone, as if commenting on something remarkably commonplace.

“No electricity? In this heat?” asked Myrtle. “No air conditioning? No fans? How on earth are you getting by?”

Wanda sighed. “It’s pretty hot.”

“Well, no wonder you felt like a walk in the middle of the night. It must have been a lot cooler outside in the night air than it was in your home. Isn’t Sloan paying you enough? I thought he increased your salary?”

Wanda nodded. “He pays good. But Dan has been usin’ the money for other stuff.”

“For other stuff? Not electricity?” Myrtle sat back in her chair at the table and stared at Wanda as if she’d stopped speaking English. “So, he’s siphoning it off for other pursuits?”

“Buyin’ stuff. Bought another couple of used cars,” said Wanda calmly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Myrtle gave a harrumph. “Ridiculous. He’s got a yard full of old clunkers up on cinder blocks.”

Wanda shrugged again. “Likes workin’ on cars.”

“He’s not thinking straight. Food and utilities are priorities over hobbies,” said Myrtle, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes. She planned on having a serious conversation with Crazy Dan at some point in the near future. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure how much effect that was going to have. He was called Crazy Dan for a reason.

Myrtle said briskly, “Well, you simply can’t stay over at that house in the broiling heat with no electricity. It’s barbaric. Let your brother roast there for a while and maybe he’ll put on his thinking cap the next time he chooses buying a used car over paying the electric bill. You can stay here with me. I have a small guest room.”

Wanda’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good.”

“All right. You can join Miles and me this morning to go to the town clerk’s office so I can register to be a candidate.” She frowned. “I suppose we’ll need to run you by your house, though, to pick up any necessary items. I’d take you out to buy new items, but I’m afraid my own budget doesn’t extend to that.” She snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. I know what we can do. We can go to the secondhand shop. That’s definitely budget-friendly and maybe I can even find something there, too. Elaine has been on a coupon-clipping kick and she has a huge number of toothbrushes and toothpaste and other things she can donate to us.”

Wanda looked doubtful. “Won’t she need that stuff?”

“She wouldn’t go through it all in a million years. Red will be glad to get some of it out of the house. Besides, Elaine told me that she was planning on donating a lot of it to the Goodwill or the homeless shelter or something. This will be perfect.”

And so it happened that Myrtle, Wanda, and Miles ended up at the town hall right when it opened at nine o’clock. The town clerk, BeeBee, gave them a wary look as they walked in. It was never a good thing when Myrtle Clover came into town hall. It ordinarily meant a complaint about garbage pickup, a pothole on her street, or any number of other issues. She didn’t usually come stand at the clerk’s desk and this was, in particular, what worried BeeBee.

“May I help you?” asked BeeBee, devoutly hoping she couldn’t. Myrtle had taught her English long ago and whenever she was in Myrtle’s presence, she felt like she was back in high school. And not in a good way.

“Yes,” said Myrtle, standing up proudly with her unusual entourage and said, “I would like to run for town council.”

BeeBee gaped at her.

Myrtle frowned. “The town clerk is the individual one sees to receive the filing paperwork, correct?”

BeeBee stammered a little before saying, “Of course. We just have to make sure you qualify.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

BeeBee gave a high-pitched laugh. “No reason. It’s just a formality before I give you the packet. You have to sign our provided statement and affidavit. There are certain requirements to run for office. An age requirement, for instance.”

Myrtle said, “Well, I assume I’ve met that.”

Miles made a strange coughing sound as BeeBee looked even more flustered. Wanda watched the proceedings laconically.

BeeBee explained the different documents as Myrtle signed them and then she handed over a final stack of papers. “This is your nominating petition. You’ll need to have ten signatures from voters to prove you’re a viable candidate for office.”

Miles raised his eyebrows. “Only ten?”

“You’re only surprised because you’re used to Atlanta, Miles. This is a small town. It doesn’t take much,” said Myrtle.

BeeBee continued in a rush as if desperate to get the little group out of there. “Then you’ll just return the packet to me before the deadline.” She paused. “The only problem is that the deadline is tomorrow.”

“That’s not a problem at all,” said Myrtle breezily. “There will be plenty of citizens delighted to support my candidacy.”

“Good,” said BeeBee, looking relieved. Their conversation appeared to be drawing to a close, at least for the day. “Then bring the petition back after you’ve finished and submit it.”