“I’m surprised you remembered her at all.”
“Somebody tries to run out without paying? You better believe I remembered. Especially when she turned up dead.” She paused to stub out one cigarette and light another. “Pardon my manners. I hope this doesn’t bother you. Do you smoke?”
“No, but we’re outside and I’m upwind. What else do you recall? Anything in particular?” I wondered how anyone could remember so brief an encounter after so much time had passed.
“Like what? Ask me questions. It’s easier that way.”
“How old would you say?”
“Twenties.”
“Not in her teens?”
“Could have been. She was a good-sized girl.”
“You mean fat?”
“I wouldn’t say fat, but she was big. Big wrist bones, big feet. Had what Pop would call good child-bearing hips.”
“You remember her clothes?”
“Oh lord, I think I gave that sheriff’s detective all this same information at the time. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I thought I’d go back over and see if anything new comes to light,” I said.
“Pants and a blousy shirt—you know, big sleeves.”
“Belt?”
She feigned irritation, giving me a mock cross look. “You get right down to the nitty-gritty, don’t you? Scars, moles, other identifying marks? What do you want? I only saw the girl up close once.”
“Sorry. I take it she wasn’t wearing a belt.”
“Don’t think so.”
I could feel her withdraw and knew I needed to pull her back. “What about her shoes?”
“I’d say boots if I had to guess.”
“It’s not multiple choice. Just whatever comes to mind. Take the pants. Were they patterned or plain?”
She brightened. “Now, that I do know. It’s what I told the cops back then. Daisies.”
“You remember the color?”
She shrugged. “Daisy colored. You know, yellow and white. Probably some green in there someplace. Is that important?”
“I’m just groping around. What about the shirt?”
“Plain. I hope you don’t intend to ask me every little thing.”
I smiled. “Really, I don’t. Was the shirt dark or light?”
“Dark blue voile.”
“Which is what? Sorry, but I don’t know the term.”
“I’m not sure myself, but I know that’s right because I went back and looked it up.”
“You kept notes?”
“I kept the clipping from the paper. It’s in the other room.”
I could hear a dim alarm bell ring. What I was getting was rehearsed. “Did you get the impression she was local or on the road?”
“Traveling, definitely. I saw her hitchhiking earlier when I was coming in to work. I’m sure she hadn’t eaten in a while. She wolfed her food right down.”
“She could have been stoned,” I said.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. She probably was, come to think of it. That might explain where her money went. She spent it all on dope.”
“Just a possibility. I wonder how far she managed to travel without funds. Or do you think she had the money and just didn’t choose to spend it on food?”
“Hard to say. If I hadn’t volunteered to pay, she’d have tennis-shoed the place so I’d’ve been stuck either way. Bet she panhandled, too. Your age, you probably don’t remember those days.”
“Actually, I do. I was in my late teens.”
“Point is, all those hippies hung out, cadging any change you had. Smoking these big fat joints. I forget now what they called ’em. Thumbs, I think. Me, I wasn’t into that. Well, maybe a little grass, but never any LSD.”
I murmured a response and then said, “Was she wearing jewelry?”
“Nope. Don’t think so.”
“No watch or bracelet? Maybe earrings?”
“Oh. I remember now. No earrings. Her left earlobe was torn through. Like somebody’d grabbed a hoop and ripped it right off.”
“Was the injury recent?”
“Nope. It was all healed up, but it was definitely split.”
“What about her fingernails?”
“Bitten to the quick. Nearly made me sick. She wasn’t all that clean, and she’d picked at her cuticles until they bled. You ever see that? Nails so short the fingertips look all puffy. It’s enough to make you lose your lunch.”