“I’m sure everything will be okay.” Jack rang the bell again.
This time an elderly woman, small, plump, with gray hair in a neat bob, opened the door. She looked at us and said, “That’s not a cougar. Come back here, Britney. It’s just a big ol’ kitty cat. No need to be afraid.”
The woman, whom I presumed to be Mrs. Gillon, looked at Jack. “You’re Mr. Pemberton. You taught my grandson, Larry, last year.”
“Yes, Mrs. Gillon, I did.” Jack smiled. “We’re sorry we frightened your granddaughter like that.”
“Great-granddaughter,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Larry’s older sister’s baby. And who are you?” She looked straight at me.
“My name is Charlie Harris, and this is my cat. His name is Diesel. I’m really sorry we frightened Britney. He’s very gentle and loves children.”
Britney peered around her great-grandmother’s skirts and gazed fearfully at Diesel. “Just a kitty cat?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“Yes, he’s a kitty,” I said. “He lives with me. He even sleeps on my bed with me. Would you like to say hello to him?”
The girl hesitated. Mrs. Gillon said, her tone patient, “Go ahead, honey. He’s a nice kitty. He’s just big.”
Britney moved from behind Mrs. Gillon and slowly approached Diesel. He eyed her warily, afraid she might scream again. She reached out a hand. Diesel extended his neck so that he could sniff at her fingers. Britney giggled. “He tickles,” she said as she drew her hand back.
Diesel chirped, and Britney giggled again. “What a funny sound.”
“He makes a number of different ones,” I said. “That’s a happy sound. He’s telling you he’s very pleased to meet you.”
“Can I pet him?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” I said. “He likes having his head rubbed.”
Britney extended her hand again and gave Diesel a tentative pat on the head. He chirped again, and she stroked more confidently. After a moment Diesel warbled for her.
“Funny.” Britney giggled.
“All right, honey, now that you see this big kitty is sweet and friendly, let’s ask these gentlemen into the house. It’s hot out there on the porch, and it’s not polite to keep company waiting,” Mrs. Gillon said.
“Yes’m,” Britney replied. “Please come in.” She moved behind her great-grandmother to let us inside.
“Thank you,” Jack said.
Along with Jack, Diesel and I followed Mrs. Gillon and Britney into the living room. I could see that Mrs. Gillon wasn’t obsessive about having everything appear immaculate like Mrs. Cooper, but this room had a more comfortable air to it. Clean, but not everything precisely in place.
We took the seats indicated, and Diesel stretched out beside my chair. Mrs. Gillon sent Britney to play in another room. When the child was out of earshot, she said, “Gentlemen, I’m an old woman, and I don’t think this is an ordinary social call. So I’m asking you up front what it is you’re here about.”
“I appreciate your directness, Mrs. Gillon,” Jack said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but in addition to teaching at the high school, I also write books.”
“Books about murder,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I’ve read all of ’em. You’re good. You make it all seem real, like I know the people in the book.”
Jack’s face reddened slightly. “Thank you, it’s very kind of you to say so.”
Before he could continue, Mrs. Gillon looked at me. “What about you? Do you write about murder too?”
“No, ma’am. I’m helping Jack research a cold case,” I said.
“You want to talk about the Barbers, don’t you?” Mrs. Gillon asked.
“Yes, we do,” I said. “If you don’t mind talking to us about it, that is.”
“Why should I mind?” Mrs. Gillon asked. “Happened twenty years ago. It was a terrible, terrible thing, but nothing I could do about it.” She shrugged. “I’ve wondered ever since who was to blame, and I’d like to know. If you can figure it out, I’d sure like to hear about it.”
“We are doing our best to solve the case,” Jack said. “You may be able to help us by telling us what you know about the Barber family. The more we know about them, the more likely we’ll be able to find clues that could solve the case.”
“Murder begins at home,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I reckon that’s what you mean.”
“In a way,” I said, pleased that Mrs. Gillon cut right to the heart of things. “Unless some stranger wandered by and decided to kill the family, they were murdered by someone they knew.”
“I reckon it’s possible a tramp happened by and did it,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Hiram kept cash in the house, and word got around. But if there’d been any indication of a tramp in the area, one of the farmers around here would have seen the signs and warned everybody. That didn’t happen.”
“So we’re back to the Barbers and someone who knew them,” Jack said. “How well did you know the family?”
“Tolerably well, I’d say. Knew Hiram since he was a boy, about the same age as my middle child, Larry’s daddy. They played together some, but Hiram was always accusing Larry of hurting him and cheating when they played games. Hiram’s mama would come storming up here, demanding an apology.” Mrs. Gillon chuckled. “She never got one from me, that’s for sure. That Hiram was a whiny, selfish brat, and his mama made him that way. I finally told Larry he couldn’t play with him anymore.”
“We’ve heard that Hiram was hard to get along with,” I said.
“He was that, and then some,” Mrs. Gillon said. “He took after his mama, unfortunately. His daddy was a good man. He just picked a lemon from the tree of life when he married that no-good woman.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Jack said. “It sounds like Hiram didn’t have a happy childhood.”
“No, he didn’t,” Mrs. Gillon said. “They finally had to put his mama in Whitfield, she got so bad. Died there when Hiram was about eighteen. His daddy died a year later and left him to run that farm by himself.”
The state mental hospital, I thought. That was bad.
“What about Hiram’s wife?” I asked. “Did you know her before she married him?”
“Betty Eaton,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Betty’s mama and me were good friends a long time ago. Betty was a pretty girl, sweet with it. She never should have married Hiram. Bad decision, but I guess she felt like she had to after her boyfriend up and joined the Marines and left her like that.”
“Who was her boyfriend?” Jack asked.
“The one they thought killed ’em all,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Bill Delaney.”
I hadn’t seen that coming, but I remembered Bill telling me he’d joined the Marines. I explained my connection to Delaney to Mrs. Gillon.
When I finished, Mrs. Gillon said, “And now you want to know if he’s a killer. Can’t blame you for that.”
“What do you think?” Jack asked. “Did he kill the Barbers?
“I never thought so,” Mrs. Gillon replied. “He was a good man, he just couldn’t keep away from the liquor. Like to broke his mama’s heart, I’m sure.”
“How did he come to work for Hiram?” I asked. “Didn’t Hiram know about his wife and Bill Delaney?”
“Sure he did,” Mrs. Gillon said. “But Hiram didn’t pay much, and I’m guessing Bill Delaney, with his reputation, was desperate for work, so he was willing to work for next to nothing.”
“Plus he was able to see Betty again,” Jack said. “That’s interesting.”
“How long had he worked for Hiram?” I asked.
Mrs. Gillon frowned. “Let me see now. Seems to me that he started working there a year or so before the twins were born.” Her expression darkened. “Those poor little boys. Such a hard life. Hiram gave that girl anything she wanted while Betty and the boys had to beg for scraps.”
“We’ve hea
rd she was pretty spoiled,” Jack said.
“She was,” Mrs. Gillon said. “She got paid back, though, for every thoughtless word or thing she ever did. She was like a different girl after she found her family murdered.”
“An experience like that was bound to have a profound effect,” I said.
“For the better, in this case,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Elizabeth realized she wasn’t the center of the universe, although even if her father hadn’t been killed when he was, she would have found out before long.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“She wanted to go to college to be a veterinarian,” Mrs. Gillon said. “But there was no way Hiram was going to let her go away from him. She would have spent the rest of her life on that farm unless she just up and ran away from him.”
“She didn’t end up as a veterinarian, though,” I said.
“No, she didn’t,” Mrs. Gillon said. “She was able to go to college, after all, once she sold the farm. But then she met that boy over at State and got married. I hear she helps out at one of the vet’s offices in town, though.”
“Yes, she does. Now, if we can go back to Hiram and the way he treated his wife and sons,” Jack said, “I’d like to ask you if you ever heard or saw anything that might lead you to think he was abusive.”
Mrs. Gillon glanced toward the door. “Excuse me a minute.” She got up from her chair and walked toward the door. “When I look out of this room, somebody better not be lurking in the hall.” She paused near the door.
I heard the sound of scurrying little feet. Mrs. Gillon certainly had sharp hearing. I hadn’t heard Britney sneaking down the hall.
Mrs. Gillon returned to her seat. “That child is nosy, and I have to be careful of what I say around her. Now, you were asking me if Hiram abused his family.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said.
“I don’t know that he ever laid a hand on a single one of them,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I never saw any signs of that. But he abused them in other ways. He was always running Betty down, and when those boys started second grade—that was right before they were killed—he started in on them. Always talking about how stupid they were. He quit going to church because he was too cheap to tithe, and he wouldn’t let Betty go, either. He kept her there on the farm most of the time. I hardly ever saw her the last year of her life.”
“What were the boys’ names?” Jack asked. “I don’t remember.”
“Matthew and Mark,” Mrs. Gillon said.
My heart ached for Betty Barber and the boys. The more I heard, the more Hiram Barber sounded like a monster. I wondered, however, whether he was mentally disturbed or whether he knew exactly what he was doing. I asked Mrs. Gillon that.
“Considering his mama died at Whitfield, I’d say there was a good chance he was downright crazy,” Mrs. Gillon said. “But there wasn’t much anybody could do, the way things stood. Nobody knew exactly what went on in that house except them. We had our suspicions, and Peggy Finch even talked to the sheriff about it one time. You know her daughter’s a doctor. She and Elizabeth Barber were real close back then.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I actually know Dr. Finch. Did the sheriff do anything after Mrs. Finch talked to him?”
Mrs. Gillon shook her head. “Not a blessed thing. He patted her on the head and told her it wasn’t his business to come between a man and his wife. It was the husband’s right to run his household the way he saw fit.” She snorted. “Fool. After I heard that I never voted for the old jackass again.”
I was appalled, though not surprised, at the former sheriff’s response to Mrs. Finch’s report. There were still far too many people who were willing to overlook abuse in all its forms for the same reasons.
“He was pretty bad,” Jack said. “A lot of people were happy when he got voted out of office.” He glanced at me. “I don’t think I have any more questions. What about you, Charlie?”
“None that I can think of right now,” I said. “Mrs. Gillon, we really appreciate this. Your candor and willingness to talk to us has given us a much fuller picture of the family.”
“I’m glad to do it,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I’ve had those two boys and Betty on my conscience for twenty years. I want to see justice done for them.”
Jack and I rose, and Mrs. Gillon got up to see us to the door. “That cat of yours has better manners than my grandchildren and great-grands,” she said. “Where are y’all going next?”
“I thought maybe we would see if Mrs. Finch would talk to us,” Jack said. “They live on the other side of what used to be the Barber place, I believe.”
“Yes, go about four miles on down this same road. You can’t miss it. Great big, gaudy mailbox that looks like a sailboat,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Don’t ask me why it’s a sailboat, though.”
We thanked her again. I glanced down the hall before we walked out the door and saw Britney watching. I waved. She giggled and waved back.
Once we were in the car Jack said, “We’ve been lucky so far, finding people willing to talk. Let’s hope our lucky streak lasts with Mrs. Finch.”
“Amen to that,” I said.
We were destined for disappointment, however. When Mrs. Finch opened the door, she barely gave us time to mention our names. She looked at me, then at Diesel, and said, “My daughter said I can’t talk to you” and shut the door in our faces.
THIRTY-TWO
We got back in the car, and I headed for Tullahoma. There was no point in trying to get Mrs. Finch to come to the door again. Jack pulled the folder with the autopsy reports from beneath his seat and opened it. He started looking through the papers. I had decided that if there were any pictures included, I wasn’t going to look at them. I felt haunted enough already by the thought of those two innocent boys, their lives taken away.
I forced my thoughts away from autopsies. “We’ve learned a lot,” I said, “though it would have been helpful to talk to Mrs. Finch about that night.”
“Yes, it would have. We need to find out more about what went on with Elizabeth Barber and Leann Finch that night. I wonder if the Finches can really swear to the fact that neither of the girls left the house that night,” Jack replied. “We’ll have to try Dr. Finch again. After we, or maybe you, talk to Bill Delaney again, if that’s possible. We’re getting close to the truth, I can feel it.”
“Closer, anyway,” I said. “I wish we could find out where Hiram Barber was during those two hours.”
“That seems impossible at this point,” Jack said as he turned a page. “What do you think about Elizabeth Barber as the killer?”
“I’ve considered her, certainly,” I said. “What do you think her motive was?”
“Freedom from that family,” Jack said. “And probably money. According to Mrs. Gillon, Elizabeth wanted to be a veterinarian, and that means four years of college and four years of vet school. That’s a big investment in both time and money. Without her family’s support, she’d have had a tough time accomplishing any of it.”
“I can see her maybe killing her father,” I said. “He was the one who intended to hold her back. Again, according to Mrs. Gillon. I wish we could verify that with someone else. But her mother and her brothers? That’s much harder for me to grasp.”
“With her father dead, would her mother have been able to run the farm? Elizabeth might have been stuck there,” Jack asked. “Killing them all was a completely ruthless thing to do, but she might have seen that as her only choice to get totally free.”
“Say she did do it, and for the reasons you’ve stated,” I said. “Did she do it alone?”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “But why did Bill Delaney leave home for two hours? What was he doing? Maybe it was something completely unrelated to the murders.”
“Could have been,” I said, “though I’m having a hard time imagining what else it could be. Especially since Mrs.
Gillon told us about Betty and Bill. I think he must have gone to the Barber farm that night.”
“Maybe.”
I glanced at Jack for a second then focused again on driving. He seemed intent on a particular page.
“Have you found something?” I asked.
“Possibly,” he replied. “Mrs. Barber, Matthew, and Mark were killed execution style, but Hiram was shot in the back.”
“Perhaps Hiram tried to flee from the killer, whereas the others were too afraid to try,” I said.
“Could be.” Jack suddenly closed the folder and stuck it back under his seat. “I hope whoever killed them rots in hell for eternity.” He seemed overcome with emotion. He turned his head away and looked out his window.
I gave him time to collect himself. I knew how he felt. As we approached the city limits of Tullahoma, I spoke. “Where do you think we should go next?”
Jack turned his head and faced forward again. He cleared his throat before he responded. “Let’s try the vet clinic. Stay on the highway. It’s on the edge of town to the west. Just about five miles from here. It’ll be on the right. You can’t miss it.”
“What’s the plan when we get there?” I asked.
“One thought I had was that we take Diesel in and tell them he needs to see the vet. You’ll have to think up why. I don’t know that much about cats and their habits.”
Diesel heard his name mentioned, and he meowed and chirped as if to ask what we were talking about.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said. “Jack, I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable with that. We’ll have to come up with something else. Why not just go in, ask if Elizabeth is there, and ask to speak to her?”
“Let me think about it,” Jack said. “I imagine Leann Finch has already warned her about us, though, so that approach might not get us anywhere.”
He fell silent, and I didn’t interrupt his ruminations.
A few minutes later we reached the western side of Tullahoma, and I easily spotted the vet clinic, thanks to its large sign. I turned off the highway into the parking lot. As I looked for a parking space, I noticed a large, dark SUV. With rising excitement I realized it matched the description of the SUV that had struck Bill Delaney.
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