After skimming the report, Marc looked up, stunned. “Is she crazy?”
Finch shrugged his shoulders. “Could be. I’ve known Myrtle for about ten years—from the time Joe married her and brought her here to live. But I can’t say we’re friends exactly. I know Joe left her well enough off, but she’s always pinching pennies and hunting around for ways to make money. And as for all that religious fervor, it sure can wear on you. Mind, I got nothing against religion, but I like to keep perspective on it.”
“Well, I can’t believe Owen did any of what she’s claiming. He seems to be a peaceful animal-lover who’s been the victim, not the perpetrator in all this.”
“Maybe. Though he sure looked wild when I came to arrest him. Like he was in some kind of frenzy, slicing away with that scythe. Had meworried. And nobody around here knows him well enough to say for sure.”
They parked the car on the road and walked up the fence line between the two properties.