A TAPPING SOUND WOKE her up the next morning. For once, it was Miles tapping on her front door that woke Myrtle up, instead of the other way around.
And, even more shocking, the normally polite Miles didn’t even seem to notice that he’d woken her up despite Myrtle’s appearance at her front door with sheet lines all over her face and wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe.
“Hi Myrtle,” he said solemnly. “I’ve been worrying over last night and I thought I’d pop over and we could talk over a cup of coffee.”
“Sounds good,” she grated in her early-morning voice. “As long as you’re the one making the coffee, that is.”
As Myrtle sat at her kitchen table, her gaze kept drifting over to her backyard. Although she enjoyed investigating, the fact that someone had murdered one of her guests was truly app
