Chapter Seven––––––––
The incessant baritone baying made Myrtle turn on her bedside light. Who could sleep with the Hound of the Baskervilles roaming Bradley? No wonder Jack still needed afternoon naps. At home, used to wakeful nights, she had a pile of crossword puzzles and cryptogram books to plow through. She’d forgotten to throw her puzzle books in her suitcase. She missed her house. Stupid air conditioning company.
Surely the whole household would be up any moment. She peered at the red digital numbers on the clock radio. Two-thirty. Her stomach gurgled. But with that dog’s barking, it would only be a matter of minutes that everyone would wake up. Might as well go ahead and fry up some eggs for the household.
A flabbergasted-looking Red, stumbling into the kitchen fifteen minutes l
