five or six days a week. But still, come Sunday afternoon, she'd be out there in the yard push-in' that big old mower around, while Clyde'd be sittin' there on his backside on that porch of his like King Tut hisself, tellin' her what part she mighta missed and where she maybe needed to go over it again. If he'da been my husband, I think I woulda found a way to drive that mower right smack over his big toe. Maybe that woulda shut him up.
"About the last time you saw Clyde . . ." Joanna urged.
Ignoring Joanna's polite hint, Sarah continued her tirade. "On the other hand, I always say it takes two to tango. Much as I'd like to, I can't lay the whole thing at Clyde's door. Not all of it. I figure if'n a woman sets out to spoil a man like that, she pretty much deserves what she gets. You can't hardly blame the man for takin' advantage. And Belle's no fast learner. Matter of fact, believe it or not, even after all these years, she's still doin' Clyde's wash. Up till a few months ago, every once in a while he'd fill that camper shell of his plumb full up with dirty clothes and drag the whole mess over to her place. Next thing you know, he'd be comin' back with it all washed, ironed, and folded neat as you please. Lately, though, Belle's been pickin' it up and bringin' it back. Some people never do learn."
Joanna remembered what Belle had said about not allowing Clyde to run a tab for his meals. Maybe the woman had turned doing her ex-husband's laundry into a money-making enterprise as well. Considering the dirty clothing scattered all over the dead man's house, Clyde must have been closing in on another laundry trip when he died.”
"Mrs. Holcomb," Joanna urged again, "about List week. Did you see any strange comings or goings?"
"Well, Clyde always did have people in and out at odd times of day, although that's slowed down quite a bit lately. It wasn't like he ran a store with reg'lar hours or anythin' like that. And then sometimes he'd go on the road and be gone for a week or more. I always tried to keep an eye on things whilst he was gone that way—on his house, I mean—not 'cause I liked the man so much, but just 'cause it was a neighborly sort of thing to do."
"Could you give me the names of any of the people who might have dropped by?" Joanna asked.
"His customers, you mean?"
Joanna nodded. "We're going to need to speak to as many of them as possible."
"Why's that?"
Joanna sighed. "Solving a homicide is a lot like unraveling a knot of yarn. You have to take each single strand and follow it all the way to the end. As far as an investigation is concerned, all the people who knew the victim are separate strands of yarn. We'll be talking to all of them—friends, neighbors, customers—the same way I'm talking to you."
"I see." Sarah became thoughtful. "When is it that you think old Clyde croaked out?" she asked.
"Sometime over the weekend," Joanna replied. "We won't have more detailed information until after the autopsy. That's one of the reasons I'm trying to learn when you last saw him alive."
"You mean he didn't just die last night or this morning?" "I'm not sure. Why?"
Sarah grimaced and pursed her wrinkled lips. "I pro'ly shouldn't even say this," she said, "but Belle was here bright and early Sunday morning when I was getting ready to leave for Tucson. I was mighty surprised she come by at that hour. Clyde was one of them night owls and a real late sleeper as a consequence. Right after Belle moved out on him, that just got worse and worse. Like he got his days and nights all turned around. He partied a lot back then. When he wasn't workin', he'd stay up most of the night, drinkin' and carryin' on; then he wouldn't never show his face much before early afternoon. The partyin's pretty much dropped off the last year or two, but he still slept real late. Them kind of habits is tough to break."
"Do you remember what time it was when Belle came by?" Joanna asked.
"Not exactly," Sarah returned. "But it musta been
"About the last time you saw Clyde . . ." Joanna urged.
Ignoring Joanna's polite hint, Sarah continued her tirade. "On the other hand, I always say it takes two to tango. Much as I'd like to, I can't lay the whole thing at Clyde's door. Not all of it. I figure if'n a woman sets out to spoil a man like that, she pretty much deserves what she gets. You can't hardly blame the man for takin' advantage. And Belle's no fast learner. Matter of fact, believe it or not, even after all these years, she's still doin' Clyde's wash. Up till a few months ago, every once in a while he'd fill that camper shell of his plumb full up with dirty clothes and drag the whole mess over to her place. Next thing you know, he'd be comin' back with it all washed, ironed, and folded neat as you please. Lately, though, Belle's been pickin' it up and bringin' it back. Some people never do learn."
Joanna remembered what Belle had said about not allowing Clyde to run a tab for his meals. Maybe the woman had turned doing her ex-husband's laundry into a money-making enterprise as well. Considering the dirty clothing scattered all over the dead man's house, Clyde must have been closing in on another laundry trip when he died.”
"Mrs. Holcomb," Joanna urged again, "about List week. Did you see any strange comings or goings?"
"Well, Clyde always did have people in and out at odd times of day, although that's slowed down quite a bit lately. It wasn't like he ran a store with reg'lar hours or anythin' like that. And then sometimes he'd go on the road and be gone for a week or more. I always tried to keep an eye on things whilst he was gone that way—on his house, I mean—not 'cause I liked the man so much, but just 'cause it was a neighborly sort of thing to do."
"Could you give me the names of any of the people who might have dropped by?" Joanna asked.
"His customers, you mean?"
Joanna nodded. "We're going to need to speak to as many of them as possible."
"Why's that?"
Joanna sighed. "Solving a homicide is a lot like unraveling a knot of yarn. You have to take each single strand and follow it all the way to the end. As far as an investigation is concerned, all the people who knew the victim are separate strands of yarn. We'll be talking to all of them—friends, neighbors, customers—the same way I'm talking to you."
"I see." Sarah became thoughtful. "When is it that you think old Clyde croaked out?" she asked.
"Sometime over the weekend," Joanna replied. "We won't have more detailed information until after the autopsy. That's one of the reasons I'm trying to learn when you last saw him alive."
"You mean he didn't just die last night or this morning?" "I'm not sure. Why?"
Sarah grimaced and pursed her wrinkled lips. "I pro'ly shouldn't even say this," she said, "but Belle was here bright and early Sunday morning when I was getting ready to leave for Tucson. I was mighty surprised she come by at that hour. Clyde was one of them night owls and a real late sleeper as a consequence. Right after Belle moved out on him, that just got worse and worse. Like he got his days and nights all turned around. He partied a lot back then. When he wasn't workin', he'd stay up most of the night, drinkin' and carryin' on; then he wouldn't never show his face much before early afternoon. The partyin's pretty much dropped off the last year or two, but he still slept real late. Them kind of habits is tough to break."
"Do you remember what time it was when Belle came by?" Joanna asked.
"Not exactly," Sarah returned. "But it musta been
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