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Murder on the Red River. Marcie R. Rendon
Читать онлайн.Название Murder on the Red River
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781941026533
Автор произведения Marcie R. Rendon
Жанр Ужасы и Мистика
Издательство Ingram
Cash looked at the woman, then back at the girl-child hiding, peeking out from down the hallway. Looked like there was a bathroom and probably three bedrooms that way. A tattered couch that had suffered one too many jumps from some child. A blue-and-white yarn god’s eye hung above the couch.
Cash pulled the pack of Marlboros out of her pocket. Offered the pack to the woman who took one. Cash reached into her back jean pocket and pulled out a book of matches from the previous night’s bar. Lit her own cigarette, then handed the book to the woman.
“You have other kids?” Cash asked.
The woman’s eyes softened for a second and she answered, “Yes, five more. The bigger ones are out in the woods right now gathering pine cones.”
“I saw the stand at the driveway. They sell to white folks?”
“Yeah, those white women paint ’em silver and gold for Christmas decorations. Buy ’em from the kids. The money helps out. Our baby’s sleeping in the back bedroom. She’s the reason Tony O went to drive truck this year. More mouths to feed. Most of the time we just get by with him fishing and trapping. Works on cars sometimes. But this year he decided to go to the Valley. You haven’t said yet whether you seen him or not.”
Cash took a drag of her cigarette. Blew the smoke out before answering. “I didn’t meet him. And I’d hate to tell you something and be wrong.”
The woman’s eyes went back to wariness. “Tell me what you know. Long way to drive for not knowing me or him. Know you didn’t just come for breakfast.”
Cash looked at her and didn’t know of any way to not say what she knew. She had never told anyone before that her husband was dead. She had never been the one to catch someone’s first tears of rage or grief. She didn’t know facts. What she knew was a knowing that had brought her to this woman’s kitchen table. As she sat there and smoked and formed the words she would say, fear and tears built in the woman’s eyes.
“Has he been hurt?” she asked. She stood up from the table and walked to the counter and to the sink and back to the table. “Is he in the county hospital? Is he hurt?”
Cash said, “I don’t know. There was a man killed.”
The woman flung her coffee cup into the sink. It shattered. Out of the corner of her eye, Cash saw the young girl skitter toward one of the back bedrooms.
“What the hell?” the woman yelled. Then she sat back down at the table. Put her head in her hands. Took a drag of her cigarette. Looked at Cash with eyes even blacker with rage, even blacker with fear. “What the hell you got to tell me?” The words breathed out with smoke.
Cash said, “I don’t know anything for sure. There was a man killed. The county sheriff, name’s Wheaton, said there was no identification on him. There’s some federal agents coming up this way today. I imagine they’re over in Red Lake right now asking questions. They probably took some pictures and will be asking around trying to identify who died back there.”
“So what are you doing here? How the hell did you get here? You don’t even know it’s him.”
“No, I don’t. Wheaton, the county sheriff, thought it might be a good thing if I drove up, tried to find out some things.”
“You don’t even know if it’s my husband. Lots of men from here go down and work the fields.”
“I know. I told you I don’t know anything for sure. What I do know is that I dreamt that pinecone stand down at your driveway. Guess that’s why I pulled in here.”
“You dreamt that?”
“Yeah. Sorta. Maybe more like I went to the field where this guy died and saw the stand.”
Tears ran down the woman’s cheeks. “Saw it?” she asked. She fumbled for the cigarette in the ashtray only to realize all that was there were the butts. Cash took out another Marlboro, lit it and handed it to her before lighting one for herself.
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