Page 73 of Evil Bones
I looked at Mona, surprised. She shrugged.
“Detective Slidell”—I tipped my head toward said detective—“is trying to catch the person responsible for these grisly displays.”
The nun looked at Skinny and me expectantly, perhaps curious about my use of the plural.
“I’m wondering,” I continued. “Might you have gotten a look at the person responsible?”
“Of course I did. I may be old, but I’m not blind.”
“How’d you know you was eyeballing the bastar—the person that nailed the thing up?” Slidell interjected far too sharply.
“He was walking away from the tree with a rope ladder slung overone shoulder and a leather bag hanging from the other. I told all this to one of the cops over there.”
“Can you describe the man?” I asked.
“You a detective, too?” Adelbert eyed me with suspicion.
“No, sister.”
“Figures. Because that’s one big assumption you’re making, young lady.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You thinking right off that the culprit is male.”
“Am I wrong?” I asked, embarrassed because she was right.
“No. But the guy wasn’t huge. And he wasn’t a real snappy dresser.”
“What does that mean?”
“Keep in mind, I only caught a glimpse of him from a distance.”
“Yes, sister.”
“His shorts were tan and baggy. His shirt was blue and black. He hadn’t bothered to tuck it in.”
She paused, perhapstsk-tsking inwardly at the flagrant affront to her dress code.
“Anything else?” I prodded.
“I remember his sneakers. They were such a bright lime green I thought my eyes might tear. And they had that black line on one side. Kind of like a long-tailed checkmark, I guess.”
“A swoosh? The Nike logo.”
“If you say so. It’s beyond me what people wear these days.”
“How old do you think this guy was?” Slidell spoke up again.
“Too old for such ridiculous footwear.”
“Not a kid?” he pressed.
“Definitely not a kid.”
“Did you notice anything else?”
“Like what?”
