Swamp Island Part 14

"How far?"

"Oh, not more than three--four miles."

"Mrs. Jones drives a car?" Salt asked casually.

"Her?" The filling station man laughed. "Not on your life! She has an old rattle-trap her husband left her when he died, but she doesn't take it out of the shed often enough to keep air in the tires."

Penny and Salt inquired the way to the widow's home.

"You can't miss it," replied the station man. "Straight on down the swamp road about three miles. First house you come to on the right hand side of Crissey Road. But you won't likely find the widow up at this hour. She goes to bed with the chickens!"

On the highway once more, Salt and Penny debated their next move. Jerry's failure to show up at Caleb Corners only partially relieved their anxiety. Now they could only speculate upon whether the reporter had remained in Riverview or had driven past the filling station without being seen.

"Since we've come this far, why not go on to the Widow Jones' place?"

Salt proposed. "She may have seen Jerry. In any case, we can question her about that car she owns."

b.u.mping along on the rutty road, they presently rounded a bend and on a sideroad saw a small, square house which even in its desolation had a look of st.u.r.dy liveability.

"That must be the place," Salt decided, slowing the car. "No lights so I guess she's abed."

"I see one at the rear!" Penny exclaimed. "Someone is up!"

With a jerk, Salt halted the car beside a mailbox which stood on a high post. A brick walk, choked with weeds, led to the front door and around to a back porch.

Through an uncurtained window, the pair glimpsed a tall, wiry woman filling an oil lamp in the kitchen.

As Salt rapped on the door, they saw her start and reach quickly for a shotgun which stood in a corner of the room.

"Who's there?" she called sharply.

"We're from Riverview," answered Penny.

Rea.s.sured by a feminine voice, the woman opened the door. She towered above them, a quaint figure in white s.h.i.+rtwaist and a long flowing black skirt which swept the bare floor of the kitchen.

"Good evening," said Penny. "I hope we didn't startle you."

Slowly the widow's eyes traveled over the pair. She laid the shotgun aside and then said evenly:

"'Pears like you did. Hain't in the habit o' having visitors this time o'

night. Whar be ye from and what do you want?"

Salt told of their search for Jerry, carefully describing the reporter.

"Hain't seen anyone like that," the Widow Jones said at once. "No one been by on this road since sundown 'cepting old Ezekiel Hawkins."

"By the way, do you drive a car?" Salt questioned.

"Not if I kin keep from it," the widow retorted. "Cars is the ruination o' civilization! Last time I tried to drive to town, backed square into a big sycamore and nigh onto knocked all my teeth out!"

"So you sold your car?" Salt interposed.

"It's a settin' out in the shed. That no-good young'un o' Ezekiel's, c.o.o.n Hawkins, tried to buy it off'en me a year ago, but I turned him down flat."

"Didn't he offer enough?" Penny asked curiously.

"'Twasn't that. Fust place, I don't think much o' c.o.o.n Hawkins! Second place, that car belonged to my departed husband, and I don't aim n.o.body else ever will drive it."

"Then you didn't have the car out today or loan it to anyone?"

"No, I didn't! Say, what you gittin' at anyway with all these questions?"

"Your car was involved in an accident this afternoon in Riverview," Salt explained.

"What you sayin'?" the woman demanded. "You must be out o' yer mind! My car ain't been out of the shed fer a month."

"We may have been mistaken," Penny admitted. "The license number of the car was K-4687."

"Why, that's the plate number of mine!" the Widow Jones exclaimed.

"Leastwise, I recollect it is!"

"You're certain the car still is in the shed?" Salt asked.

"You got me all confused now, and I hain't cartain of anything. Come in while I get a lantern, and we'll look!"

Penny and Salt stepped into a clean kitchen, slightly fragrant with the odor of spicy catsup made that afternoon. On a table stood row upon row of sealed bottles ready to be carried to the cellar.

The Widow Jones lighted a lantern and threw a woolen shawl over her bony shoulders.

"Follow me," she bade.

At a swift pace, she led the way down a path to a rickety shed which stood far back from the road.

The woman unfastened the big door which swung back on creaking hinges.

Raising her lantern, she flashed the light on the floor of the shed.

"Hit's gone!" she exclaimed. "Someone's stole the car!"

Only a large blotch of oil on the cracked concrete floor revealed where the automobile had stood.

"Have you no idea who took the car?" Penny inquired.

Grimly the Widow Jones closed the shed door and slammed the hasp into place.

"Maybe I have an' maybe I han't! Leastwise, I larned forty years ago to keep my lips shut less I could back up my words with proof."

In silence the widow started back toward the house. Midway to the house, she suddenly paused, listening attentively.

From a nearby tree an owl hooted, but Penny and Salt sensed that was not the sound which had caught the woman's ear.