She slowly stood. “How did it happen?” she asked walking toward a nearby table to sit.
I removed a cigarette, lit it and followed. “Her body showed signs of be’n hit by a car.”
“A person doesn’t get multiple stab wounds by get’n run over.”
“Was she raped?” She asked, interrupting me. She looked me square in the eye demanding the truth no matter how twisted and painful it might be. That part of Rosa was nothing like Ruthie, who’s favorite past time was lies and head games.
“No…she was not raped,” I said opening the manila package to examine its contents. “And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
She glared at me. “What does murder have to do with God? You incest bastards wrap yourselves around an invisible Deity and most of ya’s are descended from criminals. Everyone on this Island is crazy. I told Ruthie that, but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted ta find out if an Ausie might treat her better than the American Joe’s did. I guess she found out…didn’t she?”