Claws for Concern

by Miranda James

  “They have been,” Delaney said. “About an hour ago. Some woman deputy and a man.”

  “Did they ask you where you were the past twenty years?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah,” Delaney said. “Told ’em I was in Montana, working on a ranch until I got word that Mama was dying and asking for me.”

  “How did the nursing home know how to find you?” I asked.

  “Mama knew where I was,” Delaney said. “In case you’re wondering why I didn’t come home sooner, well, Mama didn’t want me to. Thought I ought to stay away.”

  “Because of the Barber case,” Jack said.

  “If you say so,” Delaney replied in an indifferent tone.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

  Jack and I turned to see a nurse, a stocky woman around my age, standing in the doorway. She came into the room and approached the bed. “Are we doing okay, Mr. Delaney? Do we need another pain pill? You’re not due for about another hour.”

  “No, ma’am,” Delaney said. “I was hoping you would show these men out. I’m tired, and I want to sleep.”

  The nurse turned to face us, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry. I need for you to leave now so my patient can rest. He’s recovering from a real bad accident.”

  “Yes, we know,” I said. “We’re sorry, Nurse. We’ll go now, but we’ll come back another time when Mr. Delaney is feeling more rested.” I smiled at the nurse before I walked out of the room. Jack was right behind me.

  While we waited for the elevator, I said, “He was pretty cool, but he’s hiding something.”

  “Agreed,” Jack said. “I think it has to do with his mother. He didn’t want to talk about her.”

  “No, he didn’t,” I said. We stepped into the elevator, and I punched the button for the ground floor. “I’m beginning to think Stewart was right on the money about Mrs. Delaney.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “Who else would he be trying to protect, other than himself?” I asked.

  “I agree with you, up to a point,” Jack said. “He doesn’t want to talk about his mother, but there could be someone else he wants to protect. After all, it wasn’t his mother who tried to run him down.”

  “True,” I said. “The only other person I can think of is Elizabeth Barber. Why would he be trying to protect her, though?”

  “She could have killed her family,” Jack said.

  The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened. Jack and I stepped out. I examined the signs to be sure I remembered the way to the emergency room from there.

  “This way.” I turned to the left. Jack followed me through the corridors until we emerged near the main desk in the emergency room. I saw only a few people in the waiting room, and no one stood in line at the desk.

  “I’ll ask about Dr. Finch,” I said.

  Jack nodded and stood near the entry to the waiting room as I approached the desk. “Excuse me.” I smiled at the young man on duty. “I was wondering if Dr. Finch is on duty today. I need to talk to her about my cousin. She saw him here yesterday.”

  The young man said, “No, she’s not here today.”

  “Do you know when she will be on duty again?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow, I think,” the young man replied. “Let me look at the schedule.” He focused on the computer, tapped a few keys, and perused the screen. “Yes, tomorrow, seven a.m. till five p.m.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “If your cousin was admitted, you can talk to the attending,” the young man said.

  I nodded and repeated my thanks.

  “No luck?” Jack asked when I joined him.

  “No, she’s off today. Won’t be in again until tomorrow morning,” I said. “Looks like we’ll have to leave her until later, unless you want to try to track her down at home.”

  “Let’s at least see if we can turn up her address or a phone number.” Jack pulled out his cell phone and began to tap on it.

  “We can sit in the waiting room.” I was aware that the young man at the desk was watching us, and I didn’t feel comfortable with that.

  Jack followed me, phone in hand, to a corner of the waiting room. We took seats next to each other against the wall. I watched as he continued his search for Leann Finch.

  “I subscribe to one of the websites that gives you phone directory type of information,” Jack said. “I found our Dr. Finch.” He frowned. “The phone number must be unlisted, but I have her address.” He showed me the screen, and I read the address.

  “That’s only a few blocks from here.” I checked my watch. “It’s not quite eleven thirty yet. She could be at church if she’s a churchgoer. Since it’s on the way, though, why don’t we go there and see if she’s at home? If she’s not, we can go have lunch and come back afterward.”

  “Works for me,” Jack said.

  The drive to Leann Finch’s street took only about three minutes. The neighborhood was a modest one with homes built mostly in the late 1940s, after the war, when Athena had a small growth spurt. Dr. Finch’s street featured one-story bungalows with lots that kept the neighbors from getting too close. Most houses had plenty of trees shading them, and the whole block appeared to take pride in their yards. Every one on Dr. Finch’s block looked manicured and well kept.

  “Nice neighborhood,” Jack said. “Reminds me of my former neighborhood in Tullahoma. I sold my house when I got married. My wife’s place was actually bigger.”

  “They certainly do keep things looking neat and tidy,” I said.

  Most of the bungalows had carports, and Dr. Finch’s was no exception. Her carport was empty. I pulled into her driveway in order to turn the car around.

  “On to lunch,” I said. “How do you feel about eating at the bistro?”

  “Fine with me,” Jack said. “The food there is great. If we lived in Athena, we’d be eating there a lot. Wanda Nell loved it the two times we ate there together.”

  “The bistro it is,” I said. “It probably won’t be crowded now. After the churches let out, there’s often a wait for a table.”

  We arrived a few minutes later, and I found a parking spot on the square across from the bistro. I didn’t see Helen Louise when we walked in. With Henry out, she was probably stuck in the kitchen. I hoped Henry had recovered and was back up to speed soon.

  Jack and I both opted for a small salad and a serving of Helen Louise’s signature quiche Lorraine. I recommended a favorite wine of Helen Louise’s choosing. We each had one glass, though I could happily have had a second. With driving on the agenda in the immediate future, I had to limit myself to the one.

  During the meal Jack and I talked about our strategy for tomorrow. I mentioned that I planned to bring Diesel with me, since he always accompanied me. “He can be an excellent icebreaker,” I said. “People are always curious about him because of his size, and since Elizabeth Barber is a vet tech, he might help us get her to talk.”

  “I like that idea,” Jack said. “From what I’ve heard, he’s also a pretty good judge of character.”

  “I’ve discovered that when he doesn’t want a person to touch him or won’t go near them, that’s an indicator there’s something off about that person. Interestingly, he seemed fine with Bill Delaney.” I paused for the final sip of my wine. “That’s the one thing that holds me back from utter conviction that he killed the Barbers.”

  “That is interesting,” Jack said. “But he’s not one hundred percent infallible, surely.”

  “No, he isn’t,” I said. “Every once in a while, he likes someone who turns out not to be a good person, but I like to think he senses something good in them.”

  We soon finished our meal, and as always I was tempted by Helen Louise’s rich, delicious cakes and pastries, but Jack declined. His waistline, I noted, was much trimmer than mine, pro
bably due in part to his turning down incredibly fattening desserts.

  Helen Louise left the kitchen briefly while I stood at the counter paying the bill—over Jack’s objections, but I insisted. I introduced Jack, and then we had to go. The after-church crowd was arriving in full force, and Helen Louise had to get back to the kitchen.

  We drove back to Leann Finch’s house, and this time there was a car, a large dark SUV, in the carport. I parked the car on the street in front of the house, and Jack and I headed up the walk toward the front door. When we were close enough I glanced over at the SUV. I remembered the make and the model of the vehicle that hit Bill Delaney, thanks to Frank. Dr. Finch’s SUV didn’t match.

  Jack had his finger on the doorbell but he didn’t press it. “I hope she isn’t in the middle of a meal. If she is, she might be ticked off and refuse to talk to us.”

  “There’s nothing we can do about that,” I said. “We’ll have to take our chances and hope that she will be cooperative.”

  “Right.” Jack pressed the bell, and we waited.

  No more than thirty seconds after Jack rang, the door opened. Leann Finch, dressed in knee-length shorts, a sleeveless blouse, and sandals, appeared not in the least surprised to see us. Perhaps she had spotted us coming up the walk and was prepared for us.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Finch,” I said.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Harris,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

  “We apologize for disturbing you at home on your day off,” I said, “but my friend, Jack Pemberton, and I would like to talk to you about my cousin, Bill Delaney, whom you treated in the ER yesterday.”

  Dr. Finch frowned. “I can’t discuss a patient with you without the patient’s permission, Mr. Harris. Besides, he’s in the care of another physician now, who will know more about his status.”

  “I should have been clearer,” I said. “We actually want to talk to you about my cousin’s past.”

  “The Barber case,” Jack added.

  “Why do you want to drag all that up?” Dr. Finch scowled. “It all happened a long time ago, and it’s best forgotten.” She stepped back in order to close the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

  “Wait, Dr. Finch.” I put a hand on the door to keep her from closing it. “The case was never solved. It can’t be forgotten. Four people, two of them children, were murdered in cold blood. They deserve justice, don’t you think?”

  Leann Finch glared at me, and I knew she was angry now. I had hoped to avoid getting her riled up, but this might be the only way to get through to her and get her to talk about the events of twenty years ago.

  “Come in, then.” Dr. Finch stepped away from the door to let us enter the house. The interior was blessedly cool. I had begun to perspire, standing out on the doorstep with the midday sun blazing down on us.

  The door closed behind us, and Dr. Finch led us into the room to the right off the short hallway. She motioned toward the sofa, and Jack and I seated ourselves. She chose a straight-backed chair on the other side of a low coffee table directly across from us.

  “Thank you for talking with us,” I said.

  Dr. Finch shrugged. “Whatever. You claim to be Mr. Delaney’s cousin. What’s his connection to all this?” She pointed to Jack. “Your name sounds familiar.”

  Jack said, “I live in Tullahoma, and I’m a writer. I write true crime books. I’ve been interested in the Barber case for a long time. I recently met Charlie and discovered his connection to Mr. Delaney, and we’re working together to try to solve the case.”

  “I know that Bill Delaney was the chief suspect in the early stages of the investigation,” I said. “He had a strong alibi, however, and the police had to look elsewhere. They never did find out who the killer was.”

  “Yes, I know all that,” Dr. Finch said. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden? Is there new information on the case?”

  I noticed that she tensed slightly on the second question. Was she afraid of new information? If so, why?

  “There’s no new information that we’re aware of,” Jack said. “But the attempt on Bill Delaney’s life has to mean that someone is a little rattled, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Attempt on his life?” Dr. Finch shook her head. “It was a hit-and-run, nothing more. Mr. Delaney was inebriated and stumbled in front of someone, and the coward drove off.”

  “There’s more to the story,” I said. “There were two witnesses to the hit-and-run.” Did I imagine it, or did she tense up again? I waited for her to respond to my statement. When she didn’t, I continued. “The witnesses were my daughter and son-in-law. My daughter, who is an observant person, was watching the street, and she saw the car coming down the street. According to her, it swerved in order to strike Mr. Delaney.”

  I watched Dr. Finch closely, and she maintained a blank expression. Nor did she protest again that the hit-and-run was only an accident. Instead she simply watched me and Jack, her glance moving back and forth between us.

  “So you see,” Jack said, “we have every reason to believe that Bill Delaney’s life is in danger. You must have recognized him, at least by name, if nothing else. Can you think of anyone who would want to kill him?”

  “I think you’d better ask Mr. Delaney that question. Yes, I recognized the name, but he was my patient. My immediate concern was to assess his injuries and do what was necessary to stabilize him.” She rose from her chair. “Now I really must ask you to leave. I have a lot to do, and there’s nothing more I can tell you.”

  I felt certain that she had plenty she could tell us, but at this moment, I didn’t think we’d get any further. Still, I decided to ask another question.

  “When was the last time you saw Elizabeth Barber or talked to her?”

  This time I wasn’t imagining the flash of fear I saw in her expression, though she did her best to disguise it quickly. “You have to leave, immediately, or I will call the police. Get out of my house.”

  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.