Chapter Ten
Miles and Myrtle stared at each other.
“You didn’t stuff a man’s suit and put a dummy out there?” asked Miles in an unsteady voice.
Myrtle shook her head.
“You didn’t ask someone to volunteer to be a body in order to reenact the tragic evening Cousin Charles died?”
Myrtle shook her head.
Miles took a deep breath. “Then this reception is over. I’ll go get Red. You make sure that nobody goes out there and messes with the crime scene.”
He dashed out the front door—it was more of a twisting, turning, pushing type of dodging dash—and Myrtle stepped outside into the backyard, closing the door behind her. She wouldn’t dream of tampering with the crime scene (well, not this time, anyway), but she did want to take a closer look at it.
It was Lee Woosley, her handyman. It looke
