Claws For Concern

TWENTY-TWO

By nine thirty the next morning my impatience hit peak levels. I should have asked if Jack could arrive earlier than ten. I was eager to brainstorm with him, and I planned to suggest that we head to the hospital by noon instead of waiting until the afternoon. Thinking about the week ahead, I had realized that I wouldn’t have much time to assist Jack if I stuck to my usual schedule. With that in mind, I had e-mailed my boss last night to let her know I wouldn’t be in this coming week. I apologized for the short notice, but within a few minutes she responded, “No problem. Have a good week.”

Now I was free to focus on the Barber murders without the distractions of work. Helen Louise was back to a full schedule at the bistro because of Henry’s accident. He wouldn’t be back up to full speed for a week, perhaps longer. I felt bad for Henry, but I supposed accidents like his occurred even with professionals in the kitchen.

The doorbell rang, and Diesel meowed to make sure I’d heard. Then he darted out of the kitchen. One of these days I was afraid he would figure out how to unlock the front door. He already knew how to open the door onto the back porch, as long as it was already unlocked, of course. I glanced at the clock on my way to the front door. Jack had come early after all, nearly twenty-five minutes early.

Except that it wasn’t Jack at the door. “Sean, this is a nice surprise. I didn’t think I’d see you today. Come in.” I stood aside to let him enter.

He rubbed Diesel’s head, and the cat meowed in appreciation. “Morning, Dad,” he said. “I hadn’t planned on it, but after I had a talk with Laura last night, I decided I needed to talk to you.”

I knew that tone. Lawyer Sean had decided I needed a lecture. I rolled my eyes at his back as he preceded me into the kitchen. Diesel ambled along beside me. He stretched out on the floor by my chair when I resumed my place at the table.

Sean stood behind the chair across from mine. Any moment now he was going to fold his arms across his chest, fix me with a stern gaze, and lecture me. I settled back in my chair and awaited the inevitable.

“Now, Dad, about this Bill Delaney,” Sean began, his hands on the back of the chair. “As I understand it, he has no legal claim on Aunt Dottie’s estate. Has he been asking you for money?”

“He has not,” I said. “All he wants is information.”

“So far.” Sean frowned. “Are you sure he’s who he claims to be?”

“He has a birth certificate that looks legitimate,” I said. “He also looks just like Uncle Del. I’m sure.”

“Nothing I say is going to stop you from getting further involved in this, I suppose.” I saw his hands tighten their grip on the chair back.

“There are things you could say to stop me,” I replied. “But they wouldn’t be worthy of the man I know you to be.”

He smiled at that. “You don’t always play fair, you know.” He shook his head. “I would never, I hope, say those kinds of things to you. As always, I’m concerned about your welfare. Keep this in mind, if nothing else: Whoever killed those people twenty years ago may still be around, and they’re not going to be happy to discover you’re trying to find them, whoever it is. You need to be really careful.”

“I know that,” I said. “I’m not going to be working on this alone. Jack Pemberton is actually taking the lead in this.”

“I’ve read his books,” Sean said. “He’s good at what he does, so he must be pretty smart.” He laughed suddenly. “Maybe the two of you can keep each other out of trouble.”

Diesel warbled, and Sean laughed again. “Make that the three of you. I know Diesel will help, too.”

That last statement elicited another warble and a couple of chirps. “Diesel agrees,” I said. “Now, the really important thing is: How is Alex?”

Sean grinned and let go of the chair back. “Ready to be done with it and have the baby, but she’s got another five or six weeks to go. I’m ready, too. I want to hold my baby in my arms.”

“Same here,” I said. “Have you settled on any names yet?” So far neither Sean nor Alex would reveal their choices.

“Not yet,” Sean replied. “We’ve got it narrowed down to about five. We’ll know when the time comes, I hope.” He checked his watch. “I’d better get going.”

I got up from the table to escort him to the front door with Diesel’s assistance. Right before I opened the door Sean gave me a hug. “Be safe, Dad.”

I knew he worried about me. His mother’s death had hit him particularly hard, and after some difficulties in our relationship, he and I were closer than ever. I didn’t like having him upset or concerned, but I couldn’t stop living my life the way I saw fit. He understood that, and he was always ready to help me in any way he could.

The doorbell rang again five minutes after Sean left, and once more Diesel reached the door ahead of me. This time my expected guest stood on the doorstep. I invited him in and suggested we talk in the kitchen. He had a backpack with him, no doubt containing his files on the Barber case. I wondered if there was any material he hadn’t already shared with me.

“Would you care for something to drink?” I asked.

Jack looked up from scratching Diesel’s head and chin. “Ice tea if you have it, otherwise water, thanks.” Diesel stretched out by Jack’s chair. He often did that, stayed near a new person, once he decided that person was okay.

“Ice tea coming up,” I said. “I’m ready for some myself. It’s unsweetened, though.”

“No problem.” Jacked smiled. “As long as you have some kind of sweetener, I’m good to go.”

“I have several kinds.” I reeled off their names, and Jack chose the natural sugar substitute that I myself preferred.

Once I served the tea, I was ready to focus on plans for our investigation. I told Jack I had the coming week free, with the exception of Friday, my usual day at the public library.

“That’s great,” Jack said. “We can get a lot done over the next few days. Now, I’ve been thinking about our strategy. Let me outline it to you, and you tell me if you agree.”

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

“We obviously will talk to Bill Delaney today,” Jack said. “We need him to open up and talk to us about the case, and about the hit-and-run. I feel sure it’s connected. If possible, we also need to talk to Leann Finch today. She was Elizabeth Barber’s best friend, and she might know things about the family that didn’t surface during the investigation. Or at least things that didn’t make it into the newspaper.” He paused for a sip of tea. “Depending on what we find out from Delaney and Leann Finch, we can move on from there. I think we need to talk to people in the community around the Barber farm. I’ve done some research, and most of them are still there.”

“I agree. We need to find out everything we can from the neighbors. I feel sure there’s something that got overlooked,” I said. “Some incident, some piece of information that people at the time may not have realized was significant.”

“Definitely,” Jack said. “We have to do the same with Sylvia and Bill Delaney’s neighbors. Several of the families closest to the house are no longer there, but there is one woman, a widow, who still lives next door.”

“What about the Delaney house?” I asked. “Does Bill own it?”

Jack shook his head. “No, from what I gather, it had to be sold to help pay for his mother’s care. Another family lives there now.”

“I wonder where Delaney’s been living in Tullahoma then,” I said. “I never asked him because I sort of assumed he had inherited his mother’s house.”

“I don’t know where he was,” Jack said. “Apparently he turned up out of the blue a week or so before his mother died. Nobody except maybe his mother had heard from him in years. That’s what a friend at the sheriff’s department told me.”

“How did he find out that his mother was dying?” I asked.

Jack shrugged. “That I don’t know. Could be that his mother knew how to get in touch with him, and the nursing home called or wrote to him.” He reached for his backpack and extracted a notebook and a pen. “That’s a great question.” He flipped the notebook open and began writing. “It might not be important in the long run, but we don’t know that it won’t be.”

“I agree,” I said. “I also wonder where he’s been all these years and what he’s been doing? Did he maintain contact with anyone in Tullahoma besides maybe his mother?”

Jack scribbled in his notebook. “More good questions.” He looked over at me. “Would you consider him our chief suspect?”

“After reading all the newspaper articles and other things you sent,” I said, “frankly, I find it hard to believe that anyone else did it, based on what I’ve recently learned. He had a history of drunkenness and violence, he was overheard having a blowout with Hiram Barber not long before the murders, he felt he had a grievance against Barber.” I shrugged. “Add to that Barber’s reputation for being cheap, and I can see him refusing to pay Delaney his back wages and Delaney snapping.”

“I agree,” Jack said. “I can see Delaney killing Barber without much problem. What really gets me, though, is killing the wife and the two boys.”

“Yes, that part is hard for me, too,” I said. “But if they witnessed Barber’s death, then Delaney might have felt he had to kill them in order to protect himself.”

“I know,” Jack said, “but killing those two boys . . . Well, it makes me sick to think about.” He grimaced.

“The murders of children are beyond comprehension,” I said. “I don’t know whether you have children yourself, but I have two, with one grandchild recently born and another one on the way. A parent’s worst nightmare is violence against their child.”

“I don’t have any children of my own,” Jack said. “My wife has three, a son and two daughters, and two grandchildren. I understand how you feel, though.”

“All the more reason that the monster responsible should be identified and made to pay the price for what he did.”

“What monster are you talking about?”

Stewart walked into the kitchen, and I hastily introduced him to Jack. Diesel let Stewart know that he was available for attention, and Stewart took a chair and began scratching Diesel’s back.

“The monster who killed the Barbers,” I said. “Particularly the deaths of those two boys.”

“Horrible,” Stewart said. “I’ve been doing some reading about the case. I found a fair number of newspaper articles on the Internet. It’s a fascinating case. The chief suspect had an unshakable, but unprovable, alibi. Evidently Mrs. Delaney was fiercely protective.”

“She had to have been,” Jack said, “to stand up to the kind of pressure the sheriff’s department would have exerted. They wanted Bill Delaney for the murders.”

“Interesting thing about alibis.” Stewart glanced first at me, then Jack, then back to me again. “They work both ways. Mrs. Delaney gave her son an alibi. Said he was passed out drunk all night.”

“Yes, that’s right.” I suddenly saw where Stewart was going with this, and I was angry with myself for not realizing it before now. I let Stewart have his moment, however.

Jack started to speak, but Stewart got in first. “Sylvia Delaney’s only alibi was her dead-to-the-world son. That’s no alibi at all.”