Chapter Five
A smile pulled at Myrtle’s lips. Wanda, an impoverished psychic who lived with her brother Crazy Dan, was a gifted seer and had become a friend. She was also Miles’ cousin, much to his chagrin. “You’re too late,” said Myrtle crisply. “I’ve already had my home broken into and something important stolen.”
Wanda said, “Still in danger now. Should walk away.”
“You know better than that,” said Myrtle.
Wanda sighed, a sound that devolved into a deep cough.
“You haven’t started smoking again, have you?” asked Myrtle suspiciously.
“Naw. My lungs ain’t so good, that’s all,” said Wanda. Then, “While yer at Sloan’s, kin you give him my horoscopes?”
Wanda was writing the paper’s horoscopes. They were wildly popular because of their specificity. She’d tell one resident to get his
