“. . . lunch at the bistro,” Frank was telling Helen Louise when I walked back into the front hall. “Then a movie. One of Laura’s friends has a small part in it, and Laura has been wanting to see it.”
Laura cast a longing glance in the direction of the living room.
“Have a good time,” I said. “Now, go and enjoy yourselves.” I put my hands on my daughter’s shoulders and turned her toward the front door. “Go.”
Laura laughed and gave me another quick kiss. “Thanks, Dad.” She gave Helen Louise a hug. “I promise we’ll call and let you know if the bistro is in a shambles because you aren’t there.”
Helen Louise made a shooing motion with her hands. “Get out of here before I call Henry and tell him to charge you triple for whatever you order.”
Frank grinned and took hold of Laura’s arm. “We poor academics can’t afford that, so we’d better leave. Come on, honey.” He opened the door and ushered his wife out.
I closed the door behind them. Helen Louise headed for the living room, and I followed.
We stood in the doorway. Diesel hadn’t moved since I’d left him and the baby. The cat’s gaze seemed to be focused intently on the sleeping infant. Helen Louise and I looked at each other and smiled. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and took a picture of the scene to share with Laura and Frank later.
Then Helen Louise and I returned to the kitchen. I was hungry, more than ready for the lunch she had brought.
I refreshed our wine while Helen Louise retrieved the hamper and began to unpack it. I felt my mouth begin to water as I watched. First came the brie, followed by grapes. Next she uncovered a bowl of vichyssoise, the only cold soup I liked. After that, a plate of baked chicken. Finally, a container of French bean salad.
Flourishing the latter, Helen Louise said, “Let me warm this, and lunch will be ready.” She took the container to the microwave. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t do this, but this is best served warm.”
While she attended to the bean salad, I set the table. We started with the cold soup, then moved on to the chicken and the bean salad. Our final course consisted of brie and grapes. During the meal I shared with Helen Louise all that Ernie Carpenter had told me about Bill Delaney, his mother, and the Barber family.
“Horrible,” Helen Louise said when I finished. “Just horrible. I wish they had found the killer. I’d hate to think that person is still walking around free and unpunished.”
“Yes, me too,” I said.
Diesel came into the kitchen, meowing. Over that I heard baby Charlie crying. “Probably needs his diaper changed.” I pushed back my chair and moved toward the hallway. “I’ll go check on him. He can’t be hungry already.” I stopped suddenly as something occurred to me. “What would we feed him if he is hungry? Surely Laura and Frank brought milk.”
Helen Louise said, “Yes, they did. Frank put it in the fridge while you were in the living room with the baby.”
“Thank goodness.” I hurried to the living room as my grandson’s volume began to increase. Diesel trotted right along with me to supervise.
The bawling ceased when I touched the baby. He looked up at me with such trusting eyes, and I smiled, my face now only about twelve inches from his. “It’s okay, Charlie. Grandpa’s here, and so is your nursemaid.” Diesel warbled loudly, and the baby smiled.
He had really smiled. It wasn’t just the reflexive smile all babies have in their first month or two. He smiled in response to my smile. He was also making eye contact with me. Two milestones in a baby’s life, and today of all days. Laura hadn’t mentioned to me that Charlie could do either one of these things.
“We’ll have big news for your mama and daddy when they come to pick you up.” I examined the diaper, and my nose wrinkled at the smell. “You definitely need a change, mister.”
Diesel meowed loudly, no doubt intrigued by the smell. He watched as I cleaned the baby and put him in a fresh diaper. I talked to Charlie the whole time, using every chance I had to get him accustomed to my voice. It shouldn’t be long now before he started cooing.
Helen Louise joined Diesel and me beside the crib. “He is the most perfectly beautiful child I’ve ever seen,” she said.
I heard the wistful note in her voice. We had talked once about having children, and she admitted during that conversation that she would have loved to be a mother. Trying to establish her law career and working the long hours that entailed gave her no opportunity for motherhood. Then when she decided she’d had enough of the legal career and moved to France to pursue her culinary dream, she’d been too busy learning. Back in Athena again, she was working hard to establish a new business. By the time she thought about having a child, she was over forty with no good prospect for a father in sight. Now that I was in the picture, with us both in our early fifties, we were too old to have a child. Nor did either of us any longer have the energy to adopt and rear one.
“Yes, he is.” I put my arm around her and drew her close. We stood that way for a minute or two, Diesel as entranced by the baby as we were. He smiled again as we both talked to him. Then he yawned, ready to go back to sleep. I wrapped him up again, and Helen Louise and I returned to the kitchen. The ever-vigilant feline nursemaid remained on duty.
“There’s a bit of brie left.” Helen Louise gestured toward the cheese as she resumed her seat. “I know it’s your favorite, so it’s up to you to finish it off.” She picked up a grape and popped it in her mouth.
I sighed. “Yes, it is. I’ve already eaten too much, but I can’t resist that lonely piece.” I picked it up and was enjoying it when the house phone rang. I hurriedly swallowed so that I could speak clearly into the phone. I grabbed the receiver and greeted the caller. “This is Charlie Harris.”
A woman’s voice sounded in my ear. “Good afternoon, Mr. Harris. I’m calling from the emergency room at Athena Medical Center.”
SEVENTEEN
My heart rate increased dramatically as my mind conjured up terrible images of family members in distress.
Before I could speak, she gave me her name, which I promptly forgot. She continued, “We have a Mr. William Delaney here who’s been badly injured in an apparent hit-and-run. He is asking for you. He says you’re his cousin.”
“Yes, I am.” There was no point in arguing over the technicalities of the relationship. “I’ll be on the way in a minute. How badly is he hurt?”
“It would be better to talk about it here,” the woman said. “Please come as soon as you can.” She ended the call.
I hung up the phone and turned to Helen Louise. Noting her expression of concern, I quickly relayed the gist of the call.
“You go,” she said. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things. Call me and let me know how he is when you know more.”
I made sure I had my cell phone in my pocket. I gave her a quick kiss, grabbed my keys, and headed into the garage. The last thing I wanted to do today was spend time in a hospital. I had spent more time than I ever cared to remember in hospitals, thanks to my parents’ health issues in their later years, though they both died relatively young, in their sixties. I clocked many an hour in Houston hospitals because of my late wife Jackie’s diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.
By the time I found out, a few months after Jackie died, that Aunt Dottie had been diagnosed with the same cancer, Aunt Dottie had only a week to live. She hadn’t wanted to worry me, she said, because she knew I was grieving the loss of my wife. Because Azalea thought I should know my aunt was dying, I managed to see her the last day of her life, in this same hospital, long enough to say good-bye to her.
No, I wasn’t fond of hospitals, but I felt I had no choice. I couldn’t ignore Bill Delaney’s request.
The hospital wasn’t all that far from my house, but with traffic and stoplights it took me almost twenty minutes to get there. Once I parked and locked the car, it took me several more minut
es to get to the emergency room. By the time I reached the desk, I reckoned half an hour had passed since the call. I feared the worst when I inquired about the status of Bill Delaney.
“I’m his cousin, Charlie Harris,” I said. “Someone called and told me he has been asking for me.”
The woman at the desk nodded. “I called you. He’s in room six. You can go on back. The doc wants to talk to you. I think she’s with him now.” She pointed the way.
I hurried to Delaney’s room, surrounded by the sounds of people talking in quiet tones along with the hums and beeps of machines. A baby cried nearby, and my heart constricted. I hoped the child wasn’t the patient.
I found room six and knocked on the door. A woman’s voice called for me to come in, and I did. The first thing I saw was Bill Delaney, his head bandaged, lying on the bed. On either side of him stood a woman and a man in scrubs. The woman wore a white jacket. Once I closed the door behind me, I also noticed another person in the room, a police officer who was standing in the corner. The chill air of the room made me all too conscious of my thin-cotton short-sleeved shirt.
“I’m Charlie Harris, Mr. Delaney’s cousin. How is he?”
“Stable.” The doctor, whom I recognized from a previous visit here a few years ago, introduced herself as Leann Finch. “I remember you, Mr. Harris. You’ve been here before.”
I nodded. “Yes, I remember you, too, Dr. Finch. Will he be all right? The woman who called said he’d been injured in a hit-and-run.”
“We’ve checked for internal injuries, and I’m thankful to tell you that there don’t seem to be any. Just external wounds. Badly scraped head and arms. The real problem is his legs. He has broken both of them. The officer here can tell you more.”
The policeman stepped forward. “I spoke to a couple of witnesses who said they saw him a few seconds before the car hit him. He was walking down the sidewalk about twenty feet away. Husband said Mr. Delaney seemed unsteady on his feet and stepped into the street. Into the path of the car.”
“I see,” I replied. “Thank you.”
The policeman nodded and moved back to the corner. I turned to the doctor again.
“Does your cousin have a history of alcohol abuse?” Dr. Finch asked.
“From what I know of him,” I said, “yes, he does.” I explained quickly that I had only recently met my so-called cousin and only knew a little about his history.
“His blood alcohol level indicates that he’s inebriated, well over the limit,” Dr. Finch said. “That accounts for him being unsteady on his feet.”
“No doubt.” I shook my head as I regarded the unconscious man. “I went by to see him this morning and found him passed out. He roused for a moment but then went back to sleep.” I turned to the policeman. “Did anyone catch a glimpse of the driver who hit him?”
“The two witnesses who saw it happen said they thought the driver was a woman, but it might have been a man with long hair, too.” He shrugged. “They’re actually in the waiting room if you want to talk to them. Young couple just finished eating at that place on the square, you know, the French café.”
“I know it well,” I said. “I would like to talk to them. Thank you, Officer.”
“We need to set the patient’s broken legs, Mr. Harris,” Dr. Finch said. “There’s nothing else you can do at the moment.” She glanced at Bill Delaney, sound asleep on the bed. “The pain medication knocked him out. He’ll be able to talk to you later this afternoon when we have moved him to a regular bed.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said. “I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me.”
Dr. Finch nodded, already turning back to tend to Delaney. I left the room and made my way back to the waiting room. I was anxious to speak to the young couple who had witnessed the accident. I felt compelled to know everything I could about what had happened.
I passed the desk and walked into the large waiting area. I hadn’t gone more than three steps when I heard my daughter’s voice. Shocked, I turned to see her and Frank in the far corner of the room to my left. I walked over to them, and they rose from their seats to greet me.
“Dad, what on earth are you doing here?” Laura laid a hand on my arm and regarded me closely, her expression anxious. “Is it Charlie?”
“Is everything okay with Charlie? You didn’t bring him here, did you?” Frank asked at the same time.
“Everything is fine. Helen Louise is at home with little Charlie.” I watched them both relax, the worry draining from them. They sank back into their seats and looked up at me. I took an empty seat next to Laura. “Let me ask you two a question. Are you here because you were witnesses to a hit-and-run outside Helen Louise’s place?”
“How on earth did you know that?” Frank stared at me and shook his head. “You’re not psychic, are you?”
“I know because the man who was hit is Bill Delaney,” I said. When they continued to look blank, I realized they had no idea who I was talking about. “Sorry, I need to tell you a few things.”
I gave them the short version about Bill and his parentage. The rest of the story that included the Barber murders could wait till later.
“So he told the staff he’s your cousin, sort of?” Laura’s nose wrinkled, an habitual sign of confusion with her.
“By marriage only,” I said. “I’m the only person he knows here, I guess, and I’m certainly the closest thing to family he has left. At least that I know about.”
“The poor man,” Laura said. “He was stumbling along, and I told Frank I was afraid he was going to end up in the street. Sure enough, he did, and that car hit him.”
“Rotten break for him, though I can’t say I’m surprised. He reeked of beer,” Frank said. “Is he going to be okay?”
I relayed what the doctor had told me, and they both looked relieved. “The broken legs will be problematic, once they release him from the hospital. He has a second-floor apartment, and I don’t think he’ll be able to get up and down the stairs in his condition.”
“No, he won’t,” Laura said. “What about one of those skilled nursing facilities? Frank’s grandmother went to one after she fell at home and broke both arms. They took good care of her until she was able to go home again.”
“That’s an excellent idea.” I had been envisioning bringing Delaney to my house and looking after him with Azalea’s assistance. A skilled nursing facility was obviously the better option.
“If he has Medicare,” Frank said, “I believe they’ll cover it, depending on how long he needs to stay.”
“He’s sixty-six,” I said. “I assume he has it. That takes a load off my mind, I can tell you.”
“Why? Were you thinking you’d have to look after him?” Frank asked.
I nodded. “I couldn’t in all conscience let them send him back to that apartment on his own.”
Laura patted my arm. “No, you wouldn’t, Dad, but most people wouldn’t go that far out of their way for a stranger.”
I smiled my thanks for her sweet words. “There’s something else I have to tell you about him, I’m afraid.”
“This doesn’t sound good, judging by your tone,” Frank said.
“It’s not.” I told them about the Barber murders, and while I talked, I caught an odd expression on my son-in-law’s face. I supposed he must recall the case since he grew up in the delta not far from Tullahoma.
“How horrible,” Laura said. “People really thought he did it?”
I nodded. “His mother was his alibi. According to her he came home drunk that afternoon, and he stayed in his room all night and never left the house. The police tried to shake her, but she never wavered. That’s what I was told, anyway.” I glanced at Frank. “You obviously know something about this case.”
“Yes, I do,” Frank said. “I was twelve years old when the murders occurred. I’ve never brought this up before, not ev
en to Laura, because it’s not exactly the kind of thing you casually introduce into a conversation.”
“What are you talking about, honey?” Laura asked, obviously puzzled.
“Elizabeth Barber is a cousin of mine,” Frank said. “My second cousin, actually. We share a great-grandmother through my father and her mother. We never had much to do with the family, though, because my dad couldn’t stand Hiram Barber. I wouldn’t have recognized him if I’d met him on the street.”
“Talk about a weird coincidence,” Laura said. “Your cousin is the only survivor of a multiple homicide.” She shook her head. “Creepy and weird.”
This turn of events fascinated me, and I wanted to talk to Frank more about the Barber family and his family’s take on the case. Before we got into that, however, I wanted to bring the subject back to Bill Delaney and his accident.
“I want to talk to you more about it, if you don’t mind,” I said. Frank nodded. “At the moment, though, I want you to tell me about the hit-and-run. How much did you see?”
Frank and Laura looked at each other. Then Frank nodded again, and Laura turned to me and began, “We had barely walked out of the bistro’s door and onto the sidewalk when I glanced to my right and noticed this elderly man kind of tottering along. I told Frank to look at him because I was afraid the man was going to fall any second.”
Frank took up the account. “Laura’s right. He was stumbling badly, and I moved around her so I could get to him quickly if he started to fall.”
“How far away from him were you?” I asked.
“Maybe twenty feet,” Frank said.
“About,” Laura said. “Maybe a little farther away.”
“What happened next?” I asked.
“He suddenly stumbled sideways,” Frank replied. “Two seconds, and he was in the street. Well, in the parking spots, actually. I started after him, and he kept moving, still mostly sideways. He cleared the parking spots and was almost two feet, I’d say, into the street. I lunged after him, but before I could get to him a car sideswiped him and knocked him to the ground. The car kept going. I tried to see the license but the sun was in my eyes. I recognized the make and model though.”
Claws for Concern Page 11