Chapter Eleven“Wait!” called Miles. “What about Red? Doesn’t he need to talk to you?”
“He knows where to find me,” called back Myrtle without turning around.
Puddin and Dusty didn’t exactly look pleased to see her, but they never did. Puddin was a pale, dumpy woman who avoided housework whenever a shortcut presented itself. Dusty was actually a half-decent yardman, but it was difficult to get him to regularly come by the house. Together...they were the best Myrtle could do.
Puddin appeared to be eating a fig and the juice was running unchecked down her chin. “Need a ride?” she reluctantly asked. “Dusty and me was going to your house just now.”
“Yes, Miles brought me, but he has a flat and it’s too hot for me to walk back,” Myrtle climbed into the backseat, pushing aside a laundry baske
