Chapter 88

“I’ve always thought of drugs as more of an urban problem,” he said.

“I think we’re holding our own. We’ve got meth labs coming out the wazoo. Anything you guys can do, we can do, and a whole lot worse.”

“Surely in a religious state like Mississippi, you wouldn’t have the sort of problem with drugs that urban centers like Boston do.”

“Well, first, don’t call me Shirley, and second, if you’re going to run a meth lab, you need a bit of privacy, a little shack out in the woods—and we’ve got plenty of those. We’ve also got a lot of poor people. Poverty and drugs go hand in hand, and folks gotta make a living somehow.”

“It’s like an episode of Breaking Bad,” Mrs. Ledbetter offered, using a small plastic knife to cut cheese into small squares. “I’ve never understood drugs myself. Apparently they’re quite fascinating.”

“Apparently,” I agreed.

“So when are you moving back home?” she added.

“I’m not,” I said.