Chapter Eleven
Myrtle didn’t stay on the ground long. Injuries or no injuries, she was not going to be a sitting target for a killer. There was no sign of the cat and now she wondered if she’d imagined it. She felt around for her cane, grabbed it, got up, and hobbled to Miles’s house. His initial exasperation at being awakened in the middle of the night was replaced with concern when he saw how shaken Myrtle was.
“Did you see the car?” asked Miles as he put a mug of hot tea in Myrtle’s hands.
“No. I heard it, saw something rush off, but that was it. It didn’t have its lights on.”
“I guess not. This wasn’t someone with safety on their mind.” Miles put his teabag on his saucer. “Who would want to kill you? I mean, which of the suspects?”
Myrtle, fortunately, was not in an easily-insult
