“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, Coon 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’ Coon Hawkins! Second place, that car belonged to my departed husband, and I don’t aim nobody 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.”