Shadow of an Angle by Mignon F. Ballard

they want?"
    She bit into a cracker. "There are things that might be worth more than that to certain people."
    "Like what?" Gatlin asked. But Mildred wasn't talking.
    "I have to pick up Faye from a birthday party, and Lizzie will come home from Scouts at any minute," Gatlin said, glancing at her watch. I nodded in reply to her questioning look. Now that we were reasonably sure Mildred wasn't going to bow out on us, I felt capable enough to stay until Hank Smith could get there.
    The ginger ale and crackers seemed to have revived her some, for now Mildred began to fuss about her appearance. "I want to wash my face, brush my teeth…andfor heaven's sake, let me change out of this gown." She clasped a small, age-speckled hand to her bony chest as if to cover it. "Why, Hank Smith could see everything I've got!"
    It was a family joke that Mildred pinned handkerchiefs to the underside of her clothing so that no one would suspect she had a crease in that area. I could have told her she might save herself the trouble.
    Gatlin stood, arms folded, in front of her. "Consider it done," she said, but I could tell by her voice something was up. It was. "But first," my cousin continued, "you'll have to answer a question—just one!" She held upa warning finger to Mildred's silent protest. "And you have to promise to tell the truth."
    "For goodness' sake, have you no shame? Bullying an old woman, and as sick as I am, too!…Oh, goon, then. What is it you want?" Apparently Mildred could see she was on the losing end of this one.
    "Why didn't you tell us Otto had a girlfriend?" Gatlin asked.
    "There was nothing to that." Mildred should never play poker. It was clear she was holding something back.
    "That's not what I heard," I told her. "And what would it matter if he did? Otto was a grown man. He had a right to some kind of love life."
    "Maybe so, but there are those who might not agree with you."
    "Mildred, we know he was seeing Sylvie Smith. Why are you being so mysterious?" Gatlin looked around for her bag as a prelude to leaving.
    "I got the idea her parents disapproved," she said. "Our Otto wasn't good enough for their precious Sylvia."
    "What makes you think that?" Gatlin asked.
    "You mean other than the fact that Edna told me she thought Sylvie was making a big mistake to put off going back to London?" Mildred looked almost as upset as she did that time I actually dried my hands on her freshly ironed guest towel.
    "That doesn't mean she disapproved of Otto." Gatlin kissed our patient on the cheek and started out the door. "You behave now, and do as Minda says or I'll come back and bite you. I'll be home soon if you need me."
    The last was directed to me, but I hoped I wouldn't have to take advantage of it.
    "Was Otto still seeing Sylvie when he died?" I asked as I brushed Mildred's thinning hair. She seemed stronger now, but I was afraid she might be too weak to walk down the hall to the bathroom, so we had done the best we could with a washrag and a basin of water.
    "Hard to say, since he never brought her here." Mildred fastened the top button of her clean flannel gown, gave it a final pat, and held out her arms for her robe. "He had something on his mind, though. I kind a thought it might've had something to do with that woman, but Otto didn't talk to me about things like that."
    "Maybe they had a quarrel or something," I said. "Her mother would know, wouldn't she? Did Edna ever mention it?"
    "She was probably the cause of it." Mildred made a face.
    "Now, don't get me wrong… I've always liked Edna Smith. She's been a good friend to me, but I know for a fact Otto wasn't welcome in their home, and I can't help but hold that against her."
    I laid the hairbrush aside. "How do you know?"
    "Oh, just things he let slip—like once Sylvie had wanted to try her hand at cooking, have him over for dinner, but Edna decided to have the kitchen painted. And another time I think they had houseguests—relatives from out of town— and Otto said