Claws For Concern

TWENTY-FIVE

“Thank you for your time,” I said to Dr. Finch as she herded us toward her front door.

She made no response to this other than to jerk her door open and stand beside it, glowering as we departed. Jack preceded me, and I had barely cleared the door when it slammed behind us.

“She’s frightened,” Jack said as we walked to the car.

“Yes, she is,” I replied. “I think we succeeded in getting her rattled. I wonder, though, whether we’ll be able to get anything further out of her.” I unlocked the car and got in.

Jack waited until I had the car cranked and the AC blowing before he joined me. “I don’t think we will, until we can go back to her with new information that will shake her up even more.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Do you want to try Bill Delaney again this afternoon?” I drove down the street to the next intersection and idled there while Jack considered my question.

“I don’t know that we’d have any better luck with him this afternoon,” Jack said. “May be better to let him stew a bit longer, too, and go back to him with any new information we can get.”

“All right, then. We’ll go back to my house.” I turned onto the cross street and headed home.

Neither of us spoke again until we reached the house and I pulled the car into the garage. “Come on in and have something to drink,” I said. “Is there anything else you want to talk about today?”

Jack followed me into the kitchen where a happy, warbling feline met us right inside the door. “Stewart must have heard us drive into the garage, didn’t he, boy?” Diesel chirped, and I gave him the attention he wanted while Jack responded to my question to him.

“I think I might as well go on home,” Jack said. “We can make a fresh start in the morning. How about we meet at nine at the diner where Wanda Nell works? It’s called the Kountry Kitchen.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “Diesel and I will be there.”

Jack gave me directions, and I offered him a bottle of water for the drive home. He accepted, and Diesel and I saw him to the door.

I turned to see Stewart standing halfway up the stairs as I closed the door.

“I saw your car,” he said. “I let Diesel out so he could greet you. I think he must have heard the car because he meowed at me until I opened the door.”

“He probably did,” I said. Diesel chirped in agreement, or so I interpreted it.

“Has Jack gone?” Stewart asked.

“Yes, we accomplished what we could today,” I replied. “I’m heading to Tullahoma in the morning. We are going to talk to various people and see what we can find out.”

“I presume you’ll be taking Diesel with you,” Stewart said.

“Definitely. He’s an excellent icebreaker.”

“That’s good, because Haskell is on duty tomorrow, and I need to be in Memphis for a good part of the day. Dante is coming with me.” Stewart cocked his head to the side, apparently listening to something.

Now I heard it also. From upstairs I could hear frantic barking, steadily increasing in volume. Dante was unhappy about being left alone.

“Good grief, it’s a wonder he doesn’t shred his vocal cords.” Stewart grimaced. “I’d better get back upstairs before he starts chewing something up. Talk to you later.” He turned and ran lightly up the stairs.

I looked down at Diesel. “For such a small dog, Dante sure can generate a lot of noise.” The cat weighed about three times as much as the poodle but was, despite his chatty nature, not really loud like the dog.

Going in and out of the summer heat today must have affected me more than I realized because I felt like lying down for a nap. “Let’s go upstairs for a nap,” I told Diesel.

The cat regarded me for a moment. He meowed twice and headed for the utility room. I figured he was going to the litter box and his water bowl. He would join me upstairs when he was done.

In the bedroom I kicked off my shoes, removed my belt, and stretched out on the bed. I intended to sleep no more than half an hour.

I fell asleep so quickly I never even knew when Diesel got onto the bed with me. I woke to the sound of knocking on the halfway open bedroom door.

“Charlie, it’s after six, and dinner is ready,” Stewart said.

I sat up on the side of the bed. “Thanks for waking me up. I didn’t mean to sleep this long. Is it really after six?” Beside me, Diesel meowed.

Stewart laughed. “Yes, it is. I came by earlier, and you were seriously sawing some logs. I didn’t know you snored like that.”

“Must have been Diesel you heard,” I said. “He snores.” The cat warbled and chirped as if to contradict me.

“Not even Diesel could snore that loud. Y’all come on down.” Stewart disappeared from the doorway, and a moment later I heard him going rapidly down the stairs.

I went into the bathroom and washed my face. That helped make me more alert. Making my way downstairs, I detected the scent of fried chicken as I descended. I quickened my pace. I would never tell Azalea this, but Stewart’s fried chicken was even better than hers.

Haskell, in civilian clothes, had already taken his place at the table. Diesel and Dante had their eyes on Stewart who was plating the chicken. There was a bowl of steaming rice, another of cream gravy, and a plateful of biscuits on the table. A glass of ice tea had been set at each place.

“Tonight I wanted good old Southern comfort food.” Stewart set the fried chicken on the table and took his seat. “I didn’t think either of you would mind.”

“Never.” Haskell grinned. “This is my all-time favorite meal.”

Stewart batted his eyelashes at Haskell. “I know.”

“I could never say no to a meal like this,” I said. “My waistline is proof of that.”

We began passing and trading the food, the cat and the dog watching every move. They both loved fried chicken and knew that they would get bites from Stewart. Haskell had been known to slip them each the occasional morsel as well. I needed to watch to be sure Diesel didn’t overeat and pay for it later.

Conversation lagged as we ate. I had to remind myself to eat slowly and not shovel the food in the way I sometimes did with a meal like this. Watching Dante and Diesel gobble down chicken without taking much time to chew served as a reminder.

After several minutes of steady eating, Stewart spoke. “I told Haskell about your plans for tomorrow, Charlie. He has something he wants to tell you.”

Haskell put his fork down and had a sip of tea. “Yeah, I reckon Pemberton knows this already, but if he hasn’t told you, I thought you should hear it from me. It’s about the sheriff over there in Tullahoma.”

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what Haskell was about to share. “What about him?” I asked.

“Name’s Elmer Lee Johnson,” Haskell replied. “He’s mostly a by-the-book kinda guy, and he’s not going to be too happy with you and Pemberton nosing around.”

“When you say not too happy, are you talking about Kanesha’s kind of not too happy or something worse?” Chief Deputy Berry had been reluctant in the beginning to trust or even tolerate me. She had never threatened me, not seriously, anyway. Would this sheriff take things further if we got in his way?

“I don’t think he’d arrest you,” Haskell said. “Unless you really step over the line, but I don’t think you’ll do that. I guess he’s more like Kanesha that way. At least, that’s what my buddy on the force there has told me.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said. “Jack told me that he and his wife have had some experience with murder cases there, so I suppose they must have had to deal with Sheriff Johnson. Jack hasn’t said anything about him that I recall.”

“Then maybe it won’t be a problem,” Haskell said. “I just thought I should tell you what I know.”

“I appreciate it,” I said. “I don’t plan on doing anything rash, and Jack strikes me as pretty level-headed.”

“That’s good,” Stewart said. “It would be so embarrassing to have to call Sean to bail you out of jail.” He laughed.

“Yes, it would be,” I replied, repressing a shudder. Sean would not mince words with me, either. I felt a paw on my thigh and looked down into a winsome expression, that of a cat in need of chicken. I pinched off a bit of the breast I was eating and gave it to Diesel.

Stewart changed the subject, telling us about the latest scandal in the chemistry department at Athena College. One of his colleagues had earned a reputation for the number and abbreviated length of his dalliances with women on campus and in the town. I listened but my mind soon focused on another subject—tomorrow’s activities.

I wondered what we might be able to elicit from the people we planned to interview. I knew, based on my recent experiences, that sometimes small details slipped by the attention of otherwise vigilant investigators, and those small details could lead to significant information. One or more of the people Jack had on the list to interview might have seen or heard something that could put a new twist on the case. I hoped fervently that Jack and I might uncover one or more of those details.

Stewart wrapped up his anecdote, and I came out of my reverie when he suggested fresh apple pie with ice cream for dessert. I badly wanted to say yes, but after the meal I had finished, I knew I’d regret it before the night was over. I declined politely, and Stewart didn’t push me to change my mind.

“If you leave the dishes,” I said, “I’ll clean up the kitchen once you’ve finished with dessert. In the meantime, I’m going to the den to watch a little television.”

“Thanks,” Stewart said. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“Come on, Diesel.” I pushed back from the table. “I’m going to wash my hands, and then we’re going to the den.”

The cat meowed twice, and I wondered whether he was complaining about having to leave people eating or whether he was saying he was ready to join me. He did not need any bites of apple pie nor any ice cream, no matter what he might think.

In the den Diesel and I got comfortable on the sofa. He stretched out, his head against my leg. I turned the television to a channel that showed old comedies from the fifties and sixties, the ones I grew up with. They were comfort whenever I was upset or preoccupied with a problem. I could watch and listen to the familiar antics but still mull over whatever was troubling me.

Tonight, while Lucy and Ethel got themselves into yet another scrape, I thought about the Barber case. There had to be details the original investigators either missed completely or did not recognize as significant. I wondered if Jack knew who had worked the case twenty years ago. If one of them was retired by now, might he be willing to talk about it? Or maybe even an officer still in the department? Since Jack wanted to write about the case, maybe one of them would want to be in the book badly enough that he would cooperate.

I was certain Jack had already considered that, although he hadn’t mentioned it to me. If he didn’t bring it up in the morning, I would mention it to him and see what he thought. We needed to know more about the original investigation, that was all there was to it. Even if we had to ask the current sheriff himself.

The house phone rang and interrupted my thoughts. I reached for the handset on the end table beside me. “Good evening, this is Charlie Harris.”

“Mr. Harris, sorry to bother you this evening,” a female voice responded. She identified herself as a nurse at the hospital. “Mr. Delaney is asking for you. He’s pretty agitated, and he threatened to leave the hospital and come to your house if we didn’t call. Can you come?”

“Certainly,” I said. “Tell Mr. Delaney that I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you,” the nurse replied. “I’ll tell him right away.”

I hung up the phone and patted Diesel’s side. “Sorry, buddy, but I’ve got to go somewhere, and you can’t come with me. You’ll have to stay here.”

Diesel meowed but followed me from the den without further complaint. Stewart and Haskell, along with Dante, were finishing their desserts. I explained that I had to go to the hospital and why.

“Don’t worry about Diesel,” Stewart said. “You go and see what’s got the poor man so upset.”

“Thanks,” I said on my way to the back door.

As I backed the car out of the garage, I could feel my heart rate pick up. Was Bill Delaney finally ready to talk to me about the Barber case?