Her skin was almost translucent, and faintly mottled. She wasn’t much older than my daughter, but her face had aged beyond her time, and her teeth were tobacco-stained. The only parts of Reenie that looked strong were her thickly veined forearms and hands.
“Did Angus come back here the next day?” I asked. “Were they arguing? Did you see anything at all?”
Her eyes shifted away from me, and back down at the bucket. “I had the air-conditioning on. That window unit is real noisy so I didn’t hear a thing. Only thing I seen was Jimmy lying on the ground in the morning when I came out to milk the cows.” Her hand fisted against her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut.
I wanted to hug her, but dealing with Reenie was like approaching a fawn in the forest. I sensed that there was something she was hiding, something she could tell me, if only I could muster my meager supply of patience.
I glanced at the barn beam sitting near the doorway of the barn. A pile of them was stacked against the wall. I wandered over to take a closer look.
“Jimmy was planning on fixing some of the rotted parts of the roof,” Reenie said.
I bent down and tried to lift the end of one, but could barely budge it an inch. “He must have been pretty strong.”
“No one knows that better than me. Who’s going to fix this place now?” She stared up at the ceiling in despair. Sunlight slanted through the gaps in the wooden wall, and dust motes danced in the air around her head.
“Angus was going to help with the repairs. He and Jimmy moved the wood in here.”
I drew in a deep breath. “So Angus’s fingerprints are probably on every single beam in this place?”
She nodded.
“Did you tell the police that?”
“They didn’t ask.”
I stifled a heavy sigh. And why hadn’t Angus thought to tell me that himself? Yes, his fingerprints would still be on the “murder weapon,” but it painted a much better picture that he’d handled all the beams anyway while helping Jimmy with the construction.
Reenie wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “I don’t know how I’ll pay the mortgage. Jimmy didn’t have any life insurance. I make a little money from selling the milk and fresh eggs from the chickens, but it’s not enough to live on.”
My heart went out to her. She had no money, her husband was a drunk, and now he was dead, leaving her with two young children to care for on her own. I decided right then and there that I’d find a way to help.
She stood up and carefully placed the pail of milk to one side. She washed and dried the cow’s udder again and let her out of the stanchion and back into the field.
I didn’t want to outstay my welcome, plus I had groceries sitting in the car. It didn’t feel too hot outside today, but I didn’t want to push my luck.
“Well, I’d better get going.”
“Hold on, Daisy. I have something for you.”
She dashed over to the henhouse and came back a minute later with a wooden basket full of brown speckled eggs.
“Oh, that’s very nice of you, Reenie, but I couldn’t take these. Or at least let me pay you for them.”
She held up a hand.
“You’re the only person in this whole freaking town who’s bothered to stop by and see how I’m doing. You’re a real nice lady. Not like the rest of those snobs.”
I swallowed a prickle of guilt. My motive for coming wasn’t so pure. Yes, I wanted to make sure she was okay, but I was also on the lookout for any clues that could help me clear Angus.
I saw her gaze flicker to the bags stashed in the backseat of the station wagon.
“Look, I’m going to visit Betty again tomorrow,” I said. “Can I pick you up something—is there anything you need?”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
I opened my car door. The children appeared again as if by magic and peered at me from behind their mother, clutching at her thin dress.
Reenie ran her hand through her hair, making it stick up like tufts of thistledown.
“Actually, yeah, now that I think about it, I could use a carton of Marlboros and a six of Coors Light.”
I hoped I managed to keep my expression neutral. “Okay. Anything else? Anything for the kids?”
“Nah, they’re fine.”
As I pulled out of the driveway, my mind was already making a list for them anyway—some coloring books, crayons, games, and some fresh fruit and cereal.
The car hit a pothole and I groaned, hoping I hadn’t messed up the alignment.
I thought of how handy Joe was at our house, and for the umpteenth time in my life, of how lucky I was. Sometimes he didn’t say much, but his calm and reassuring presence was enough. I treasured him as carefully as any precious antique, which, he would laughingly say, he was one now.