“What happened to your husband, Mrs. Jones?” Without hesitation, she says, “Killed the sucker. Don’t harm me none to say it. That was thirty-two years ago. All I’m givin’ you is hearsay. Means nothin’ in court. Anyway, I carry a chicory root in one pocket at all times.” His puzzlement seems to exasperate her. “To ensure good luck, of course, and guard against the evil of men.” “How did you kill him?” She smiles. “With a hammer.” “How’d you get away with it?” “Claimed self-defense ’cause of how he beat me.” “He beat you?” Her smoked face twists in scorn. “Hell, no, not that wuss. We lived in a
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