Chapter Three
Myrtle was awake bright and early the next morning. She dressed, drank coffee, did the crossword, tidied up the house, and then looked at the clock. It was only 6:30 a.m. After her conversation with Miles, Myrtle had the feeling that it would be considered too early to pay a visit to Lyle Solomon.
She’d woken up certain that Lyle must be the annoyed neighbor that Clara had alluded to. He was the kind of man who believed that his yard had to be a masterpiece. Myrtle would frequently see him bearing scissors—yes, household scissors, not pruners—and making tiny little adjustments to his already-perfect landscape, one clip at a time. If Myrtle had to guess, she’d surmise that Lyle might even be upset over the condition of her yard.
She snapped her fingers. Her yard. That remin
