Chapter Nine
Miles, Myrtle reflected, seemed entirely too much at home. He was laughing with Fred Lee as his checker piece got crowned.
Myrtle cleared her throat and looked hard at Miles. He flushed and put his piece down on the board.
Fred Lee, who had looked more relaxed than Myrtle had seen him, now appeared cantankerous again. “Wait your turn if you want to play a game,” he said imperiously. “We’re busy.”
“Actually, Mr. Lee, I had a question for you,” said Myrtle smoothly. “I couldn’t help but notice when Miles and I were visiting the other day that you seemed upset with Mickey Pelias.”
The old man jutted his chin out. His gaze was combative. “What of it?”
“What of it is that she’s dead now,” said Myrtle.
“Lots of people are dead. It’s got nothing to do with me,” said Fred, eyes
