The next morning, Myrtle set the Bereavement and Illness committee into motion. Myrtle smiled when the doorbell rang. That should be Blanche now, food in tow. This suspect interview couldn’t possibly end badly; even if Myrtle didn’t get any information at all, she’d at least end up with a delicious casserole. Her only worry, as she thumped across the living room with her cane, was that someone else from the church was subbing for Blanche. What if it was Prissy Daniels at the door instead? Myrtle shuddered.
It was Blanche. Myrtle sighed with relief. She was wearing black slacks and a silky green blouse and a beautiful scarf held in place with a pin. Myrtle, who had always wanted to be able to carry off wearing a scarf, eyed it jealously. Blanche sure looked a lot jauntier since Jill’s murd
