“That’s possible, certainly,” I said. “Now, the reason I wanted to talk to you is to find out whether you know a man called Bill Delaney. He grew up in Tullahoma, and he’s sixty-six. Do you know anything about him?”
“Yes, I know who he is, and if I were you I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”
FIFTEEN
The import of Ernie’s words surprised me. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s a drinker, a heavy one, more often drunk than not in my experience,” Ernie replied, her tone harsh. “I have no use for men who waste their lives like that.”
“I see. How well do you know him?”
“We are not friends, though I have known him for over fifty years. He was several years behind me in school,” Ernie said. “How do you know him?”
I explained that he was now living in Athena and that he frequented the public library. “He told me that Uncle Del is his father but that Uncle Del never knew about him.”
“Good heavens,” Ernie said. “Why didn’t he ever try to make contact with Del?”
“He, Delaney that is, only found out about it when his mother died a few months ago,” I said. “He somehow tracked Uncle Del to Athena, and he came here to find out more about him.”
“I knew Sylvia Delaney,” Ernie said. “I thought Delaney was her married name. When did she and Del get divorced?”
“According to their son, six months after they married. His mother didn’t know she was pregnant until after Uncle Del left her, or so she told Bill Delaney. Apparently she wanted nothing more to do with her ex-husband so she never bothered to tell him he had a son.”
“In this case the sins of the father have truly been visited upon the child,” Ernie said grimly.
I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “Could you explain that? I don’t follow you?”
“Delbert Collins was a heavy drinker,” Ernie said. “He kept it hidden from Dottie for the first year or so of their marriage, but he came home roaring drunk one night and she discovered the truth.”
“I had no idea,” I said. “Aunt Dottie never said a word about it. I suppose she might have told my parents.”
“I imagine they knew,” Ernie replied, “but, of course, it wasn’t something they would have talked about in front of you.”
“No, I guess not,” I said. “Poor Aunt Dottie, having to deal with that.”
Ernie chuckled, surprising me again. “You, of course, didn’t know your aunt in her younger days. I have to tell you, Dottie had enough steel in her spine to withstand just about anything. She put her foot down, as they say. Told Del Collins that he had two choices. He could continue drinking and going his own way or he could stay married to her and give it up. She wasn’t going to put up with his coming home drunk all the time.”
As Ernie talked, I remembered occasions when I had experienced that steel. Aunt Dottie was the sweetest, most loving aunt I could have wished for, but when I misbehaved at her house, I soon realized the error of my ways.
“Was the drinking the reason for Uncle Del’s health problems?” I asked.
“To a degree, I expect it was,” Ernie said. “He had a couple of heart attacks before you were born, I’d say, and later on a stroke that left him considerably diminished.”
“Mostly what I remember about him is that he spent just about all of his time in his room,” I said. “I actually didn’t see him much except at mealtimes when I stayed with them.”
“He was in pretty bad shape,” Ernie said. “If he had been on his own, he probably would have died long before he did, frankly. Dottie took exceptionally good care of him. On top of working and earning a living for both of them. A good living, I have to say.”
“Thank you for telling me all this,” I said. “As I said, I never knew any of it.”
“You’re certainly welcome. I don’t think Dottie would mind your knowing. Now tell me, other than being a drunk like Del, what kind of proof does Bill Delaney have to back up his claim that he’s Del’s son?” Ernie asked.
“A birth certificate from Tullahoma County that lists Uncle Del as the father. It appears authentic to me.”
“I suppose that could be faked,” Ernie said, “but it’s probably authentic. I know someone in the county clerk’s office in Tullahoma. I’ll get her to check it out on Monday.” She paused for a moment. “This really isn’t any of my business, but I’m a nosy old woman so you’ll have to bear with me. Has he hit you up for money? He isn’t entitled to any of Dottie’s money, and he certainly has no claim to her house.”
“I don’t mind your being nosy.” I chuckled. “He hasn’t asked for anything from me, except for information. My impression so far is that he simply wants to know about his father, and I can understand that. The problem is that I don’t have much to tell him.”
“No, you really wouldn’t have,” Ernie said. “If Dottie had known about the relationship, she would have taken him in. That was her way.”
“Yes, she would have,” I said. “And that is my dilemma. Knowing what Aunt Dottie would do, how can I not try to help him? It’s what she would want.”
“Yes, she would,” Ernie said. “I would counsel against it, frankly, but then I have never been as bighearted and accepting as Dottie was. I would have told her the same thing. You’ll have to follow your conscience on this.”
“Yes,” I said. “What else can you tell me about Bill Delaney?”
“Let me see,” Ernie replied. “Now, I know he spent some time in the Marine Corps. Probably should have made a career of it, but he didn’t. He came back to Tullahoma and did mostly manual labor. I think he was smart enough to have gone to college and would have done well, except for the drinking. He started that as a teenager, and that ruined him. He had a hard time keeping a job for long because sooner or later he went on a bender and disappeared for days, even a week or two, at a time.”
“That’s sad,” I said. “You mentioned that you knew his mother, I believe.”
“Yes, I did. Sylvia Delaney was a good woman. Worked hard all her life, was a devoted member of her church. A good woman in every respect. She was no plaster saint, mind you. She had a temper, and you didn’t want to get her angry, believe you me.” Ernie paused. “I didn’t get to know her, mind you, until Bill was in high school. By that time I myself was fresh out of college and in my first or second year teaching at the high school in Tullahoma.”
“Was Bill one of your students?” I asked.
“I had him for sophomore English,” Ernie replied. “He had potential, but even then he was slipping around drinking. I had to send him to the principal’s office on several occasions because he came to class high as a kite. I met Sylvia for the first time when she came to school to talk to his teachers and the principal about his escapades. The principal threatened to expel him more than once.”
“But he did manage to finish high school?”
“Yes, he did. By some miracle he managed to stay sober through his junior and senior years, and after that he joined the Marines,” Ernie said. “I suspect, but I don’t know this for sure, that he was dishonorably discharged.”
“Then he came back to Tullahoma?”
“He did,” Ernie replied. “Stayed there until about twenty years ago, then he disappeared. If Sylvia knew where he was, she never said.”
“That was after the Barber murders,” I said.
“I wondered if you knew about that.”
“Jack told me about the case,” I said. “Bill’s mother was his alibi, Jack said.”
“Yes, and that was what saved him. They tried hard, the sheriff’s department did, but they could never shake Sylvia,” Ernie said. “Some people still believe to this day he killed the Barbers, despite Sylvia’s swearing up and down Bill was with her all that night and never left the house.”
“What do you think?” I asked. “Did she lie
to protect her son? Or was she telling the truth?”
“Let me put it this way,” Ernie said. “The Sylvia Delaney I knew wouldn’t tell a lie to save her own life, and I don’t believe she would lie to save her son’s, either.”
I thought I detected a note of doubt in Ernie’s voice. “But?” I asked.
“But Bill was her son, and she had done everything she could all her life to take care of him. She was like a tigress where he was concerned,” Ernie replied. “But, in the end, I can’t be sure she didn’t lie.”
“I have learned over the years that, no matter how well you think you know someone, you can never really know everything about them. They always have the capacity to surprise you.”
“True,” Ernie said. “We would all do well to remember that.”
I had been so absorbed in my conversation with Ernie that I had shut out everything else. Now, however, I came out of my fog of concentration to hear Helen Louise speaking to me and Diesel meowing at the same time.
“Excuse me a moment,” I said into the phone. “Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”
“I’ve been trying to get your attention for two minutes, I swear,” Helen Louise said. “I want you to ask her a question.” She rubbed Diesel’s head to quiet him down.
“What is it?”
“Ask her what happened to the daughter,” Helen Louise replied. “The one child who survived the murders. I’ve been wondering about her.”
“Good point,” I said. “Ernie, Helen Louise, who is here with me, has a question. What happened to the one Barber child who wasn’t home when the murders took place? What was her name?”
“Elizabeth Barber,” Ernie said. “She was sixteen or seventeen at the time. A junior in high school, and a girl with a bit of a reputation. Too beautiful for her own good, if you ask me. She was spending the night with a friend. She’s still in Tullahoma, married now with several young children of her own. She’s Elizabeth Campbell now, and her husband is a prominent businessman in town.”
“I didn’t realize she was that old,” I said. “For some reason I thought all the children were younger.”
“Elizabeth was about ten years older than her brothers, who were twins,” Ernie said.
“Were you acquainted with their parents?”
“To my regret, yes,” Ernie said. “At least in Hiram Barber’s case. He was a petty, disagreeable man who thought the whole world was against him. His wife was a quiet, sweet woman, and I never could figure out what she saw in Hiram. Perhaps when he was younger and they were first married, he was a nicer man. Somehow I doubt that, though.”
I loved the way Ernie didn’t mince words when it came to assessing someone’s character. Miss An’gel didn’t hold back, either, though in typical Southern grande dame fashion she could deliver a devastating set-down in such a polite way that the person involved was never quite sure he or she had been snubbed.
“Sounds like you had personal experience of him,” I said.
“I had Elizabeth for junior English,” Ernie said. “A beautiful, headstrong girl, bright, but lazy. If she didn’t want to do an assignment, she wouldn’t no matter what I did. The result was that, by the end of the first six weeks, she was failing the class. The next thing I knew, Hiram Barber was in my face, chewing me out for being unfair to his precious baby.” Suddenly Ernie chuckled. “At least he tried to chew me out. I don’t think he’d ever had a woman talk back to him the way I did. By the time I was finished with him, he couldn’t apologize enough. Evidently he went home and had a good talk with Miss Elizabeth. After that she made more of an effort. Never to her full potential, in my opinion, but enough to make more than passing grades.”
“I had a similar problem with my son,” I said. “Because he was mooning after a girl in his class who wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”
“That was part of Elizabeth’s problem,” Ernie said. “She was too beautiful for her own good, and she loved male attention.” She paused for a moment, and when she continued she sounded sad. “The horrible thing was, it wasn’t long after the incident with her father that her family was murdered.”
SIXTEEN
“That poor girl,” I said. “I can’t begin to imagine how she felt, losing her whole family like that. Did she have any other kin?”
“As I recall,” Ernie replied, “she had an aunt on either side. Her mother’s unmarried, younger sister lived in Tullahoma at the time, though I believe she has since passed away. The father’s sister lived in Alabama. Elizabeth wanted to stay in Tullahoma and finish high school there, and her maiden aunt agreed to take her in.”
“With everything that happened,” I said. “I think I would have wanted to get as far away from it all as I could have. For a while, anyway.”
“I was frankly surprised myself by her decision,” Ernie said. “And the murders seemed to have changed her. When she came back to school, she was like a different girl. She paid attention in class, did all the assigned work, and her grades improved dramatically.”
“An event like those murders probably had a profound psychological effect on her, I suppose,” I said. “Sometimes great shocks can really change a person.”
“That definitely happened with Elizabeth Barber,” Ernie said. “She even went to college. Started out at the local community college and then finished up at Mississippi State. I believe someone told me she wanted to be a veterinarian, but she met her future husband while they were both students at State. They married when he started working on an advanced business degree, and she never went on to vet school.”
“I hope she has a happy life now after such a horrible tragedy,” I said. “What happened to the farm? Do you know?”
“Yes, I do,” Ernie replied. “Barber left a will. I don’t know the terms, but the end result was that Elizabeth inherited everything. She didn’t want to go back there to live, though, and one certainly can’t blame her for that.”
“No, I can understand that,” I said. What terrible memories there would be in a house where four people had been murdered, I thought. If any place was ever haunted, surely that house would be.
“Elizabeth sold the farm to one of those farm corporations,” Ernie said. “They razed the house and turned the area into a field. I think that was the right thing to do because I don’t think anyone else would have wanted to live there, either.”
“I certainly wouldn’t,” I said. “You’re a gold mine of information, Ernie, and I appreciate all you’ve told me.”
“I’m glad I could answer your questions,” Ernie said. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
“I can’t think of anything else right now,” I said.
“Feel free to call me if you do,” Ernie said.
“I will.” I thanked her again, and we ended the call.
“You look a little dazed,” Helen Louise said. “Overwhelmed by everything Ernie told you?”
“A little, I guess.” Diesel had come over and put a large paw on my thigh. I scratched his head, and he chirped. “I’ll fill you in once Laura and Frank have gone. They should be here any minute with the baby.”
Right on cue, the doorbell rang, and Diesel took off for the front door. I think he knew that Laura and Frank would be there with little Charlie. “Be back in a minute,” I said to Helen Louise before I left the room.
Diesel was pawing at the door when I reached it. He was anxious to see the baby, I guessed. “Stand back and let me open the door,” I told him. He meowed at me once before he complied with my request.
When the door swung open I beheld Laura with the baby in her arms. Behind her stood her husband, Frank, laden with bags. “Hi, Dad,” Laura said. “Here we are, right on time.”
“Yes, you are. Come in. Diesel is having a fit to see the baby.” I moved aside and they entered.
“Isn’t that Helen Louise’s car in the driveway?” Frank as
ked. “I figured she would be at the bistro all day.”
“I decided to follow the advice of a very sensible and quite attractive man I know,” Helen Louise said as she came toward us from the kitchen. “I’m learning to delegate and let my capable staff take care of things.”
“Good for you,” Laura said as she gave me baby Charlie to hold. “He finished a meal right before we left the house, so he should be content to sleep for a while.” She kissed my cheek.
“Thanks for looking after the baby while we have some time to ourselves,” Frank said. “I’ll go put the bags in the living room.”
“You know I’m always happy to see this little guy.” I gazed adoringly down at my sleeping grandson. I felt like my bones would melt every time I looked at this small miracle in my arms. The same way I had felt with my children when they were infants.
Diesel warbled loudly to let everyone know how happy he was to see the baby. Frank, returning from the living room, laughed at the sight of the cat reared up on his back legs, his front legs braced against my side, as he tried to get a look at little Charlie.
“That cat just about kills me,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a little person in a fur suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an animal so in love with a baby before.”
“Diesel is a cat with extraordinarily good taste,” Laura said. “Aren’t you, boy?”
The cat meowed and reached out a paw to tap my arm.
“All right, come on,” I said to Diesel. “Let’s go put Charlie in his crib, and you can keep an eye on him, okay?”
That question elicited happy chirps, and Diesel followed me into the living room. I got the baby situated comfortably in the crib. I gazed down at him a moment, drinking in those perfect tiny features. Then I somehow managed to tear myself away, though I could have stood there for an hour or more to watch him.
When I left the room, Diesel was up on his back legs, looking into the crib. Since the cat was a bit over four feet long from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, he could easily see the baby. I knew he wouldn’t try to get into the crib. He would be content to watch the baby sleep, and the moment the baby stirred, he would let us know.
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