DINA WAS DELIGHTED to see them. Or to see Myrtle’s donations, at least. Dina raved about the progress she and other volunteers had made at the shelter.
“And,” she added, smiling shyly at Myrtle, “thanks for making me put the donation jar in Bo’s diner. We’ve gotten so much money from people’s spare change.”
“Everybody in town goes to that diner, and it’s the perfect way to get contributions,” said Myrtle.
Red broke in. “Dina, while I’m here, did you remember anything else from the night of the murder?” Dina pushed up her big glasses anxiously to get a better look at Red. “Sorry to bring it up again, but the investigation is still going on, and your memories of that night aren’t getting any fresher,” he explained.
Gone was the self-assurance and enthusiasm present when Dina gushed ove
