“That’s great,” he said. He glanced at Myrtle. Wanda was functionally illiterate, and Myrtle provided the transcription of Wanda’s horoscopes for him. “Maybe y’all will have time to send those in soon?” His voice was hopeful.
Myrtle said, “As soon as we get my packet finished and back to town hall and after we get Wanda settled comfortably. Which reminds me; I need you to sign my packet, Sloan. You too, Wanda and Miles.”
Sloan looked uncomfortable again. “Are these signatures on public record? I feel like I’ve sort of got a conflict of interest. As a news guy, I’m supposed to be impartial with the election. I don’t want people thinking it would affect my reporting.”
Myrtle said, “Oh for heaven’s sake, Sloan. Nobody’s going to be digging through that packet. It’s not an endorsement; it’s supposed to simply indicate that I’m a viable candidate.”
Sloan nodded unhappily and picked up his pen again. Myrtle opened the packet and proffered the document to him and then Miles and Wanda in turn. Wanda took a long time making sure her signature was as perfect as she could make it.
“There,” said Myrtle in satisfaction. “I’m practically official now.”
Sloan said, “Okay, good. I’ll be sure to run a story on your candidacy tomorrow.” He scratched his head. “Reckon you’re setting some records in terms of candidate age. You do know who you’re up against, right?”
“Royce Rollins. He has no business running for office. I taught him high school English and it was a disaster. Anyway, I don’t think he’s much competition at all,” said Myrtle with a sniff.
“Maybe not, but he’s not exactly a fun person to have a run-in with, Miss Myrtle. He likes to have his own way and it seems to me that he thinks he’s already got this council seat in the bag. Like I said, he doesn’t like to be crossed and he doesn’t like to lose.” Sloan looked worried.
“I can take care of myself, Sloan, especially around the likes of Royce Rollins. Besides, I have my entourage with me for protection.”
Sloan eyed the ragtag group and looked even more worried. “You could let Red know. I mean, I know you wanted him to find out in the newspaper, but you might want to give him a heads-up so he can keep an eye on your house.”
Myrtle grimaced. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need Red watching my house and getting into my business any more than he already is. Besides, I live directly across the street from him—I think that’s enough of a deterrent.” She frowned at Sloan. “You’re not saying that you think Royce would do me any physical harm?” Her expression didn’t bode well for Royce the next time she saw him.
“I’m not saying anything, Miss Myrtle, except to watch out for him and stay out of his way. That guy’s mean as a snake.”
Myrtle looked thoughtful. “You know, I remember a good deal about Royce as a student. I’ll state again that he has absolutely no business being in local government.”
Miles said, “What was he like?”
“He was a cheater,” said Myrtle simply. “You’re right, Sloan, Royce doesn’t like to lose. If he knew he wasn’t prepared with a research paper, he’d pay someone to write it for him. I caught him a couple of times. I watched him like a hawk during tests because he’d have a crib sheet written on his arm or he’d be looking at someone else’s paper.” She mulled this over for a few moments. “I should expose him for that. Call him out.”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “When did these alleged incidents occur?”
“Not alleged. These were actual incidents. And they must have been . . . oh, thirty-four years ago.”
Miles said dryly, “The statute of limitations for a high school cheating episode has likely been reached.”
“Still, I think it speaks to his character. A person can only change so much. Who knows what kinds of unethical things he gets up to now? Maybe high school was just a warm-up. If he’s elected, he’ll have the opportunity for even more corruption.” Myrtle squared her shoulders as if on a mission. “We can’t let Royce win. Let’s go get the rest of my signatures so we can return the packet. Sloan, I’ll give you all the information you need later today when I formally announce my candidacy. Miles will take pictures.”
Miles sighed.
They piled into Miles’s car again, and Miles said, “Where are we heading?”
“Greener Pastures Retirement Home. I want to get this knocked out in a single visit. We’ll go in, announce to the staff that we’re putting on a special event, collect signatures, and then you’ll take pictures while I make a speech.”
Miles drove carefully down the street. “Have you let them know you’re coming?”
“Of course not, Miles. That defeats the purpose of a surprise event. This is supposed to be something of a bombshell.”
“It’s sure to be that,” murmured Miles.
Myrtle had made Wanda sit in the front seat with Miles and she sat there with perfect posture, hands folded in her lap. Myrtle craned her neck, looking out the windows from her new perspective in the back seat. She commented from time to time about whose yard was a real mess and who had a new car and whose cat wasn’t nearly as cute and smart as Pasha was.
“What’re you gonna say in yer speech?” asked Wanda curiously.
Myrtle said airily, “Oh, you know. The usual thing, but tailored to a retirement home audience. I want to assure them that I could make life better for them as they suffer under the tyranny of the administration at Greener Pastures.”
“This should be an entertaining morning,” muttered Miles.
As they pulled up to the retirement home’s campus, Myrtle sniffed. “Perhaps the staff could do something about the grounds here. They’re getting overrun with weeds and vines.”
Miles glanced over. “There’s just a couple of weeds poking up out of the driveway and a single honeysuckle vine on the sign that is actually somewhat attractive. It’s hardly overrun.”
“But right at the entrance? It reeks of a laissez-faire attitude. There’s no curb appeal.”
By the time Miles had parked the car, Myrtle already was taking her seatbelt off and opening her door.
For the second time that day, a front desk employee looked startled as Myrtle walked into the room. This time it was a stern-faced middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled back severely into a ponytail. Myrtle thought she looked like a warden.
“May I help you?” she asked as Myrtle, Miles, and Wanda approached the desk.
Myrtle beamed at her. “You certainly may. I need an announcement made over the intercom for a surprise event in the activity room.”
The warden pursed her lips. “What sort of activity?” she asked suspiciously.
“An important political event,” said Myrtle.
“Political,” said the woman, making a face as if the word tasted bad. “We have policies about that. We can’t have any rabble-rousing here. We have residents with bad hearts, and they might not be able to handle the stress.”
Myrtle decided to change tack. “It’s actually more on the educational side of things. Less political and more informative.”
Miles squinted doubtfully at her.
The warden frowned. “I’m going to have to ask my manager to okay that. It sounds as if the proposed activity is in one of our gray areas.” She stood up, straightening her already-perfectly straight jacket and stomped away toward some offices.
Myrtle scowled at her departing back. “This is most inconvenient.”
Miles said, “They’re trying to be cautious, Myrtle. You know you have a reputation here at Greener Pastures.”
“A reputation?”
“Yes. You stir up dissent. You agitate people here,” said Miles.
Wanda just looked thoughtful.
Myrtle said, “That’s just silly. All I’m doing is pointing out to the inmates here that Greener Pastures needs to make changes to make them more comfortable. That’s all.”
Miles said wryly, “Perhaps you’d better call them residents and not inmates if you want access to the
facility.”
Myrtle made a face. “That warden is decidedly unhelpful. I’m not even sure if she’s consulting management at all.”
“Maybe you need to think about a different place to announce your candidacy. Maybe the library’s special event room.”
Myrtle rolled her eyes.
Miles continued, “Maybe we could convene a special meeting of the book club there and you could make your speech. They’d love it.”
Myrtle said, “No, I want it to be here. We don’t have all day to call up a special book club meeting—I need those signatures now. Let’s wait and see what she comes back with.”
The woman returned and said, “My manager said no.”
Myrtle opened her mouth to give a blistering commentary on the authoritarian nature of this particular retirement community when a soft voice behind her croaked, “Tell ‘em I’ll read palms.”
The warden peered closely at Wanda. “Wait a minute. I thought I recognized you. You’re the psychic who does the horoscopes for the newspaper.” Her face lit up. She glared at Myrtle, “Why didn’t you tell me she was going to do readings? You threw me off with all that political mumbo-jumbo. Having Wanda here is a different story. Of course you can have the activity room. I’ll make an announcement right now.”
Wanda started unerringly loping in the direction of the meeting room as if she’d been in the retirement home a million times. “We need to git out of the way,” she told Myrtle and Miles earnestly.
Miles said under his breath as the announcement came over the intercom, “What did she mean by that? ‘Get out of the way?’”
Myrtle shrugged. “Who knows? But she always knows what she’s talking about.”
At that moment, there was a stampede of walkers and motorized wheelchairs speeding out of doors and heading to the activity room.
Miles and Myrtle gaped at the oncoming horde. “Let’s step it up, Miles.”
Myrtle’s cane thumped as they followed Wanda to the activity room.
Chapter Four
The room was bright and sunny, scattered with tables and chairs. There was everything from craft supplies to bingo games stacked neatly along the walls. Myrtle glanced around and said, “Wanda, we’re going to need to make sure they give you some space.”
Wanda nodded solemnly and Miles helped make a sort of barrier of chairs between Wanda and the door. Then Wanda settled at a small table, hands folded on the top.
The room filled up quickly and the excited chatter became deafening.
Myrtle clapped her hands and yelled out in her best retired-teacher voice, “Quiet, everyone!”
The room obediently hushed and looked expectantly to Myrtle.
“That’s better. Now, listen. Wanda is making this appearance out of the goodness of her heart. This will be an exhausting process for her so we’ve got to have some ground rules. When Wanda is all tapped out, then that’s all we’re doing today. Since so many folks came in here with canes and walkers, we’re going to use a lottery system instead of a line. Miles will give you each a scrap of paper with a number and we’ll draw numbers out of a hat.”
Miles gave her a baleful look.
“You’re my campaign manager,” hissed Myrtle. “It’s all about sacrifice.”
Miles found some printer paper and a pen and started scribbling down numbers.
“While you’re all waiting for the Amazing Wanda, you’ll be entertained by me regaling the group with a special announcement.”
Some of the attendees looked a little leery at this.
“This ain’t no pyramid scheme or something, is it?” asked an old lady wearing fake eyelashes and a suspicious look on her face.
“It isn’t, no. Now Miles will distribute the numbers.”
Miles slowly started around the room and found that the pieces of paper were quickly snatched from his hands, so eager were the participants to have their time with Wanda. As soon as he was done, he quickly pulled out his hand sanitizer and gave his hands a generous squirt.
Myrtle took the other halves of the pieces and put them in a plastic bowl and pulled one out. “Number fifteen.”
There was a whoop from the back of the room and a little old man with a cane hobbled over to Wanda, plopped down in front of her, and proceeded to thrust his meaty palm at her as Wanda peered gravely at it.
“Now, while you wait your turn, let me tell you some good news. I’m running for town council.” Myrtle beamed at the gathering. “I’ll be representing our long-ignored age group and making changes that are sure to impact us in a good way. I’m going to make sure that town council recognizes our needs and takes action to listen to our voices for once.”
“Tell them no more canned vegetables here,” yelled out one woman from the back.
Myrtle took a notebook out of her huge purse and jotted down a note. She sniffed. “As I’ve said for many years, Greener Pastures is not taking appropriate care of its inmates.”
A staff member standing at the door gave her a dour look, which Myrtle ignored.
“Are there other indignities you have to endure here?” prompted Myrtle, pen poised over her paper. “I’ll pass them along to the council.”
“They’re slow to answer the call button,” grouched an older man.
A trembly-voiced woman said, “They’ve thrown my hearing aids into the wash when they changed my sheets!”
The room suddenly became so loud that the staff member started looking nervous and Wanda had to lean over much closer to tell the man his fortune. Miles continued trying to take pictures, but most of the photos seemed to be of people yelling. Or of his own finger in the way of the lens.
The warden suddenly appeared, red-faced in the door. “Everyone back to your rooms and apartments, please!”
This resulted in even more cacophony from the assembled group.
“I want my palm read!”
“You can’t stop us from having activity time!”
The warden blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention. Then she said, as calmly as she could muster, “The problem with this activity is that it’s gotten everyone way too riled up. To make it up to you, I’ll make an announcement this afternoon for everyone to come back to the activity room for an ice cream social. I’ll make sure the kitchen supplies all the fixings.”
Everyone was mildly placated by this, although there were still plenty of grumblings. They started filing out of the room.
“Wait,” said Myrtle. “I haven’t gotten my signatures yet!”
But everyone ignored her as they left.
“Now what am I going to do?” asked Myrtle as they got back into Miles’s car. “This is incredibly aggravating. It’s the perfect example of what’s wrong with Greener Pastures. Red wonders why I erupt when he talks about sending me over there.”
Wanda drawled, “You could go to the beauty parlor.”
Myrtle snapped her fingers. “The Beauty Box! Yes, that’s a great idea, Wanda. I could just pop in and pass the document around for everyone to sign.”
Miles said, “You’ve already made your announcement, so all that’s left are the remaining signatures.”
“It was a very exciting announcement, actually, wasn’t it,” said Myrtle, sounding a bit smug.
“Practically riotous,” said Miles dryly.
“What kinds of pictures did you get from the event?”
Miles said, “Well, as soon as I stop driving, I’ll show you.”
He pulled up in front of the salon and parked the car. He handed his phone over to Myrtle and said, “If it’s all right with you, campaign manager or not, I’m not going into the Beauty Box.”
Myrtle said absently as she opened his photo gallery, “Fine, fine. It’s not really a man’s domain, anyway.” She glared as she swiped through the pictures. “Miles, most of these are pictures of your finger.”
Miles sighed. “I’m not exactly a professional photographer.” He took the phone back from Myrtle and peered at the photos. “You could crop my finger o
ut of most of these with no problem.”
Miles passed the phone to Wanda. “What do you think?”
Wanda hesitantly swiped at the phone, having never scrolled through pictures on a smart phone before. She studied one of them solemnly. “This one’s pretty good.”
Myrtle took the phone from her and peered at it. It featured Myrtle with her pencil poised over her notebook and a roomful of red-faced, excited seniors decrying the management at Greener Pastures. “Yes, she said, “I think that will do very nicely.” She looked at it even more closely. “The citizens in this picture might even be cheering me on instead of yelling complaints. At any rate, they all look very enthusiastic.”
Myrtle and Wanda walked into the Beauty Box. Wanda blinked, looking disoriented. Myrtle wasn’t sure if that was because of the fact that she’d never likely set foot in a salon, or because of the eclectic décor which hadn’t changed in many years, despite the fact that it had a new-ish owner. Multi-colored Christmas lights were strung year-round on the walls and dangled from the ceiling. There were large posters of hair models sporting ill-advised styles from the 80s and 90s. The walls were coated in a faux terra cotta.
A young woman with black hair and pink highlights and a ring in her nose glanced up from styling a middle-aged woman’s hair. “Miss Myrtle!” she called out.
Myrtle beamed at her and hurried over to give her a hug. “Kat. It’s so good to see you. How is Connor doing? And your two adorable little ones?”
“They’re all good,” said Kat with a grin.
“Great. I was wondering if I could make a very short announcement here in the salon and then send around a little document for everyone to sign?” Myrtle gave Kat a sweet smile.
Kat looked curious but said, “Sure, my salon is your salon.”
“Thank you, dear. Oh, and this is my friend Wanda. Wanda, this is Kat.”
Kat gave her a friendly smile and Wanda hesitantly gave her a gap-toothed grin back.
Myrtle said thoughtfully, “Kat, what’s the availability for walk-ins right now?”
Murder on the Ballot Page 3