Chapter Eleven
It was most disappointing how efficient Elaine’s new cleaner was. Myrtle’s mind had clearly been poisoned by the indolent Puddin and her sluggish housekeeping. She’d expected that she and Jo would have a little chatting time while Jo stalled. Myrtle was used to stalling. What was truly baffling was Jo’s highly-developed work ethic.
Myrtle drummed her fingers on the kitchen table as Jo energetically attacked the kitchen floor—on her hands and knees, no less. She’d tried to bring up a little conversation, but Jo was so focused on the task at hand that she either grunted a response or offered something monosyllabic in reply.
Jo didn’t even glance up as Myrtle’s cell phone rang. “Hello?” Myrtle demanded, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. “What?” It was Red.
Red
