PUDDIN HAD DONE A SURPRISINGLY thorough job with the cleaning. She might have been so distracted thinking about the case that she accidentally did more cleaning than usual. She was even perspiring quite a bit by the time she left.
“Hot as the hinges in here,” Puddin growled as she pushed her way out Myrtle’s door.
“Hang on—those are mine!” Myrtle grabbed back her floor cleaner, ammonia, and furniture polish. “You never bring your cleaners, remember? And it’s not all that hot in here.”
“It is if you’re not a hundred years old,” said the vengeful Puddin as she kicked through the door.
“I’ve got years to go before I’m a hundred! Years!” hollered Myrtle behind her.
It pained her to admit that Puddin was right. It was a little on the warm side in her house. She irritably plopped onto her
