Chapter Twenty
It was fairly dark when Myrtle left Bonnie’s house, and there wasn’t as much traffic on the road. It wasn’t far into her trip home when a car pulled up alongside her.
Tippy Chalmers rolled down her passenger window. “Myrtle! What on earth are you doing walking around at this hour?”
“I frequently walk around at night,” said Myrtle with some irritation, “it’s just that I’m usually closer to home than this.”
“Well, hop in. I’ll drive you back to your house. For goodness sake.”
Myrtle climbed into the leathery luxury of Tippy’s Cadillac.
Tippy said, “Couldn’t someone have driven you over and back? Elaine or maybe Miles?”
“I don’t really mind walking,” protested Myrtle. She was about to go on a rant about how people underestimate seniors when she suddenly decided to sp
