Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

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.

In the bedroom I kicked off my shoes, removed my belt, and stretched out on the bed. I intended to sleep no more than half an hour.

I fell asleep so quickly I never even knew when Diesel got onto the bed with me. I woke to the sound of knocking on the halfway open bedroom door.

“Charlie, it’s after six, and dinner is ready,” Stewart said.

I sat up on the side of the bed. “Thanks for waking me up. I didn’t mean to sleep this long. Is it really after six?” Beside me, Diesel meowed.

Stewart laughed. “Yes, it is. I came by earlier, and you were seriously sawing some logs. I didn’t know you snored like that.”