Regan O'Reilly, PI, Goes Undercover by Margaret Lake

Author:Margaret Lake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, historical romance, historical suspense, detective, world war ii, wwii, woman sleuth, undercover, black market
Publisher: Jobree Publishing
Published: 2011-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

As it turned out, Regan could have gotten a good night's sleep because Wilma hardly moved all night. She still hadn't woken up when Regan went in to check on her at ten the next morning.

Mabel was pretty bleary eyed, too. She hadn't gotten much sleep, either. They were on their second, very much needed cup of coffee when they heard Wilma cry out.

“Helen!”

Regan jumped up with Mabel right behind her and ran to her room. Wilma had managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed and was attempting to get up. All she'd been able to do was hold on to the bedpost and shout for help.

“What do you think you're doing,” Regan admonished her. “Get back in bed.”

She supported Wilma's shoulders while Mabel lifted her feet back onto the bed.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Wilma pleaded, embarrassed at her helplessness.

“We'll take care of that,” Mabel told her, producing the bedpan.

Wilma looked at it in horror. “Oh, no, not that,” she whimpered.

“Wilma,” Mabel said firmly, her free hand planted on her hip, “you're in no condition to get out of bed, so get on this pot and do what you have to do.”

“What is she, some kind of drill sergeant?” Wilma asked, shrinking back against the headboard.

“All I know is they wouldn't let her enlist. The army said she was too tough for them.”

Wilma looked at the petite blond and started to laugh. The laugh turned into a moan as she held on to her bruised ribs.

“You win,” she said. “But please, just leave the pan and the TP here.”

“I'll put it under you first and then we'll give you some privacy,” Mabel conceded. “Lift up your bum.”

Wilma knew an order when she heard one and lifted her bottom so Mabel could place the pan under her. It was with considerable relief that she watched the two women leave the room.

When she finished, Mabel cleaned up while Regan brought Wilma a tray.

“Scrambled eggs. We didn't think your jaw could handle toast just yet.”

“I hate eggs, Wilma declared, pushing away the plate. “What's this?” she asked suspiciously, holding up the glass straw.

“It's to drink your coffee with,” Mabel told her, fussing with the bed covers and adjusting Wilma's pillow. “Just for a few days until the swelling goes down. Then you can drink from a cup like a normal person. “Until then,” Mabel told her firmly. “you'll eat what we give you because you need to get your strength back, and you'll do what we tell you so you don't re-injure yourself.”

Wilma picked up her fork and started eating without saying another word. Inside her head she imagined little imps from hell stabbing their fiery pitchforks into Mabel's bum.

After breakfast, Regan and Mabel left their patient to pack up the rest of her things. On the way, Regan told Mabel about Wilma being a potential witness.

“That's wonderful!” Mabel enthused. “Are you going to call Eddie today?”

“No. I'm afraid Wilma might overhear and I haven't talked to her about it yet.

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