Chapter Eight
Unfortunately, taking Cullen home was something like a thirty second drive. Fortunately, Cullen was wasted enough not to notice that Myrtle drove around the square four or five times so she could talk to him a little longer.
“I’m glad to get a chance to tell you, Cullen, how sorry I was about Jill. You might not know it, but she’d started cleaning for me and my house had never been that clean. Not ever.”
Cullen made a snuffling sound. “She was a good girl,” he said in a low voice.
“She did everything well, didn’t she? Your yard was always the neatest one on the street. And she cooked really well, I hear—I’ve heard the old ladies at the church bragging on her, and they hadn’t been impressed with anyone’s cooking since their mamas’.”
The snuffling was louder this time. “He
