Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

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?”