Claws For Concern

TWENTY-SIX

The Barber case might be solved tonight. Bill Delaney must be willing to tell me what he’s been keeping back, I thought. Otherwise why would he be so agitated and insist that he would leave the hospital if he had to in order to talk to me?

When I left the car in the hospital parking lot, I felt the heat close in on me. The humidity, even this late in the day, felt suffocating. I had to stop at a water fountain in the hospital and gulp down several mouthfuls of water before I began to cool down. I loved my life in Athena, but in the summer months I preferred to live as much of it as possible inside in the air-conditioning.

Thankful that the hospital was cool, I took the elevator up and soon I reached Bill Delaney’s room. The door stood wide open, and when I stepped into the room I was shocked to find several people in scrubs and white coats around the bed. One of the nurses turned and noticed me. She walked over to me and motioned for me to move out of the room.

“Are you Mr. Harris?” she asked when we were out in the hallway. “He had us list you as his emergency contact.”

“Yes,” I said. “What’s going on? Is he going to be okay?”

“He had a heart attack,” the nurse replied. “He was extremely agitated, and he kept asking for you. We assured him you were on the way, but the stress evidently triggered a cardiac event. He’s stable now. Luckily one of the attendants was with him and recognized the signs.”

“Will I be able to talk to him?” I asked.

“Not for a while yet,” the nurse replied.

“All right,” I said. “Can you at least let him know that I’m here? I don’t want him to get agitated again.”

“I’ll talk to the doctor,” she said. “Why don’t you go down to the waiting room near the nurses’ station and wait? Someone will come talk to you soon.”

I nodded, and she turned away to reenter the room. I walked down the hall and found the small waiting area. I had it to myself at the moment. I chose a seat and pulled out my cell phone to call Stewart and let him know I could be at the hospital much longer than I had planned.

“Don’t worry about Diesel,” Stewart said. “Is there anything you need? You’re not going to stay all night, are you?”

“Thanks, I’m okay,” I said. “How long I stay depends on how he’s doing. If at all possible, I’d like to talk to him. He obviously has something he needs to tell me, and I’m afraid he’ll upset himself again if he can’t talk to me.”

“Call me back if you do need me to bring you anything,” Stewart said.

I thanked him again and ended the call. I debated calling Jack Pemberton to let him know about this new development, but after brief reflection I decided I should wait until I knew what had upset Bill Delaney so badly.

A few minutes later a tall man in a white coat entered the room. He looked to be about forty, with dark hair graying heavily at the temples. “Mr. Harris?” he asked, and I nodded as I rose from my chair. “I’m Dr. Greenway, a cardiologist. I understand that you’re related to Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes, I’m his cousin,” I said. “How is he?”

“Not good, I’m afraid,” Dr. Greenway replied. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment?” He gestured toward the chair I had been occupying.

I resumed my seat, and he chose one across the small space from mine. “Mr. Delaney has been a heavy drinker for many years,” the doctor said. “That has done a lot of damage, and his heart is not in good shape. Neither is his liver. Right now he is stable, but I’m having him transferred to the ICU immediately. I don’t want to give you any false hope. The heart attack was relatively mild, and if he was in better physical condition, I’d say he had every chance of making a good recovery. As it is, however, I can’t say how well he might recover from this. He might not.”

“Thank you for telling me,” I said, saddened by this news. “He evidently got agitated because he had something to tell me.”

Dr. Greenway nodded. “Yes, he was mumbling until we sedated him. The same words, over and over.”

“What were they? Could you make them out?”

“He was saying, ‘Tell him to let it go,’ and then ‘I promised, can’t break a promise.’” He shrugged. “That’s what it sounded like to me. Do you have any idea what it means?”

“Some of it, perhaps,” I said. “Once he wakes up—if he wakes up—can someone please call me immediately? It doesn’t matter what time it is.”

The doctor stood. “All right. I suggest you go home for now. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Except pray,” I said.

The doctor nodded and smiled briefly before he left the room.

I sat there, still dazed by what had occurred, trying to assimilate everything and to make some sense of it. What did Delaney’s words mean?

I understood tell him to let it go. He was talking about the investigation into the Barber case. He wanted me to leave it alone.

I promised, can’t break a promise.

He was protecting someone, I thought. He’d made a promise not to reveal something. Whatever it was, it obviously meant a great deal to him. So much, in fact, that he had suffered a heart attack over it.

Who had he promised to protect with his silence?

Three candidates came immediately to mind: Sylvia Delaney, Elizabeth Barber, and Leann Finch.

What about X? The unknown person. There certainly could be one, someone Jack and I hadn’t discovered yet, who was linked to the case.

Time to head home, I decided. I left the waiting room.

A couple of minutes later, sweating profusely from the unrelenting heat, I unlocked the car and rolled down the windows to let the air inside dissipate. The sun had at last started to go down, but the night wouldn’t bring much relief from the heat.

I prayed for Bill Delaney on the drive home. I had begun to realize that Jack and I were partly responsible for Bill Delaney’s state of mind. His agitation over our interest in the Barber case had been significant enough to bring on a heart attack. Had we not been pushing him to confide in us, he probably wouldn’t have been so upset, and the heart attack might not have happened.

Jack and I had no way of knowing, however, that something like this would happen. Neither of us was responsible for the state of Delaney’s health. His poor condition was self-inflicted. A lifetime of drinking took a harsh toll on the body. Delaney’s own lifestyle choices were largely to blame, as was the unknown person who had tried to run him down. Still, I felt uncomfortable knowing that my actions had exacerbated the situation. Should I get the chance, I would apologize to Bill Delaney for upsetting him.

Despite my regrets, I did not intend to stop seeking the truth. I thought about those two young boys and their parents. They deserved to have their murderer named. If Jack and I could help find the truth, we would and be glad we had. If Bill Delaney was innocent, then he deserved to be vindicated.

By the time I reached home, I had decided not to call Jack. I would wait until I heard another report on Bill Delaney. If he made it to the morning, I would run over there, before Diesel and I needed to leave for Tullahoma, to see if he was in any condition to have visitors. I would share everything with Jack when I met him in Tullahoma.

Diesel greeted me at the back door. Stewart sat at the table, reading a magazine. He laid it aside while I was petting the cat. “How is he?” Stewart asked.

“They put him in the ICU,” I said. “He was stable, but the cardiologist said he’s in bad shape. He might not make it.” Diesel meowed and rubbed against my leg. He knew I was upset.

“I’m sorry,” Stewart said. “Will they call you?”

I nodded. “If I have to go out during the night, I’ll let you know.”

“Of course.” Stewart picked up his magazine and rose from the table. “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I think I’m going to head upstairs and wait for Helen Louise to call.”

“Okay. You know where I am if you need me.” Stewart left the kitchen, and I soon heard him jogging up the stairs.

“Come on, boy,” I said. “Upstairs.”

Diesel scampered out of the room ahead of me. I turned out the lights downstairs, except for a couple that stayed on, one in the hall and another in the kitchen. Upstairs I found Diesel on the bed, and after I undressed I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I emerged, Diesel appeared to be asleep. As I neared the bed, he opened his eyes and trilled at me.

I joined him on the bed and stretched out beside him. I stared up at the ceiling, and Diesel put a front paw on my arm. He meowed softly, and I turned my head to look at him.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him. He blinked sleepily and seemed to relax. His paw remained on my arm, however.

Gazing at the ceiling again, I couldn’t keep my thoughts away from Bill Delaney and my part in upsetting him to the point of a heart attack. I had always had a tendency to worry over things, particularly over something like this. I mustn’t let Helen Louise know about this when we talked tonight, though. She would be tired after a long day, and I didn’t want her to lose sleep over this. There would be time enough to talk to her tomorrow or the next day, depending on her schedule.

Despite my worries, I soon dozed off, to be woken later by Helen Louise’s ringtone on my cell. I answered, and right away I could tell by the sound of her voice she was exhausted. We talked only a few minutes, and then I told her to go to bed and rest. After a final exchange of endearments, we ended the call.

I turned out the light and waited to fall asleep again. I tried not to let my mind dwell on Bill Delaney and succeeded enough that I finally did drift off.

My alarm went off at five thirty, and I woke quickly, at first thinking it was the phone. When I realized that I had slept through the night without a call from the hospital, I felt better. I hoped this meant that Bill Delaney’s condition had remained stable. Surely they would have called if he had taken a turn for the worse.

The drive to Tullahoma would take about ninety minutes, and that meant I would allow an additional fifteen to twenty minutes in case of complications. As soon as I was showered and dressed, I hurried downstairs with Diesel at my feet. By then it was six o’clock, and Azalea would be here soon. I looked up the number for the hospital and called, asking for the ICU nurses’ station.

Moments later I was speaking with a nurse. I identified myself and asked whether I would be allowed to visit Bill Delaney this morning. The nurse put me on hold but was back in less than a minute.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the patient isn’t able to have visitors this morning,” the nurse said. “He’s still sleeping, but in stable condition. By the afternoon you might be able to see him. Just check back with us later.”

“Thank you, I will.” I hung up the phone and uttered a quick prayer of thanks that Bill Delaney had made it through the night.

Diesel, I noticed, was sitting at the back door, watching it intently. He was waiting for Azalea. He knew what her schedule was and often greeted her when she entered the house. Moments later the door opened, and she walked into the kitchen. Diesel chirped loudly, and Azalea laughed.

“Good morning, Mr. Cat, and how are you?” Azalea set her purse down on the counter while Diesel warbled and meowed to let her know he was starving and surely could eat some bacon. Azalea laughed again. “Good morning, Mr. Charlie. When are you going to feed this poor thing?”

“Good morning, Azalea,” I said. “He knows that when you’re here there could be bacon. You’ve spoiled him.”

“Seems to me you’re the one done all the spoiling,” Azalea said. “Don’t go pushing the blame on me.” She looked down at Diesel. “You hold on, Mr. Cat. At least give me time to cook. You’d be turning your nose up at raw bacon.”

As Azalea set to work getting breakfast ready, I told her that Diesel and I were heading to Tullahoma this morning. “We need to leave around seven thirty.”

“Then I reckon it’ll be toast instead of biscuits this morning,” Azalea said.

“That’s fine,” I replied.

I headed to the den to check e-mail. By the time I was done, breakfast would be ready. Diesel remained in the kitchen. As long as Azalea was frying bacon, he wouldn’t go anywhere.

I read my e-mail, surfed the Internet for a bit, then went back to the kitchen. Breakfast was on the table. Diesel and I ate alone this morning. Haskell was probably out the door before I got up, and Stewart was most likely at the gym.

After a quick trip upstairs to brush my teeth, I was ready to leave. Diesel and I bade Azalea good-bye, and soon we were on the road for Tullahoma.

As I headed out of Athena, I hoped that this day would bring new and helpful information. We needed a break in the case, and we needed it soon.