Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

That one other person came into the office, an attractive woman about Jack’s age. He got up to give her a quick kiss and then introduced me to his wife, Wanda Nell.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” she said. “You, too, Diesel. Aren’t you about the most gorgeous cat I ever saw?” She extended a hand to the cat, and he sniffed it. Then he licked her fingers, and she laughed. “I had a piece of bacon a minute ago.”

“He loves bacon,” I said.

Diesel meowed and looked up at Wanda Nell.

“Sorry, sir, no more bacon.” She patted his head, then scratched it. He purred for her. “I guess I pass the test.”

“You do.” I smiled. “He’s your friend now.”

Wanda Nell smiled down at the cat. She petted him a moment longer, then turned to her husband. “Elmer Lee came in right before I headed back here. You want to talk to him?” She turned to me. “Elmer Lee Johnson is the sheriff. I’ve known him a long time. We don’t always get along real well, though.”

Jack laughed. “That’s because you’ve shown him up more than once, honey.”

Wanda Nell shrugged. “If he wasn’t so dang bullheaded most of the time, he’d do better. Gets his mind set on one thing and it gets stuck there. Now, do you want to talk to him?”

“I don’t think I’m up to dealing with Elmer Lee this morning,” Jack said. “We will have to talk to him at some point, but I’d rather wait until we have something concrete to go on.”

“All right, then,” Wanda Nell said. “I’d better be getting back out there before Melvin comes looking for me.”

“Please thank him for me for letting me bring Diesel in,” I said.

“I will.” Wanda Nell looked at her husband. “Y’all be careful today. Let me know how it goes.”

“We will,” Jack replied. “We’ll probably be back here for lunch.”

Wanda Nell nodded before she left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Before we do anything,” I said, “I need to fill you in on the latest with Bill Delaney. It’s not good news.”

“What happened? Did somebody try to kill him again?” Jack asked, obviously alarmed.

“No, no attempt on his life as far as I’m aware. He suffered a heart attack last night.” I gave Jack the details, and his expression grew grim as he listened.

When I finished, Jack said, “Obviously we upset him badly yesterday, and I feel like crap now. I never thought something like this would happen.”

“I feel bad about it, too,” I said. “We did get him upset, but if he was in better physical condition, I don’t think he would’ve had a heart attack. It’s a terrible combination of circumstances.”

“You’re right,” Jack said, “but that doesn’t make me feel much better.” He paused. “I think we need to go ahead, though, and try to see this thing through. If he’s protecting someone, that means there’s something no one knows about this case. We need to find out what it is.”

“And who it is,” I said. “They told me he was muttering about promising someone, over and over. I figure there are three candidates, his mother, Elizabeth Barber, and Leann Finch, for the person he was making the promises to. Of course, there’s always the possibility X is someone who has a connection to the case that we don’t know about.”

“I agree,” Jack said. “I thought we might start here in town this morning and go see Sylvia Delaney’s neighbors. There’s that one woman who still lives next door to the Delaney house. Her name is Jimmie Ann Cooper and she has a son who lives with her. Turns out she knows Wanda Nell, so I think we can get her to talk to us without too much of a problem.”

“That sounds good,” I said. “I hope she’s not allergic to cats or afraid of them, or you’ll have to interview her on your own.”

Jack rose from behind the desk. “We’ll figure it out as we go along. I hope you don’t mind driving again.”

“Not at all,” I said. “We want to stay cool, after all. We don’t know what hot water we might get into.” I grinned, and Jack laughed. Diesel trilled and chirped, as if he understood the joke himself.

While I put Diesel in the backseat, Jack retrieved his notebook from his car. He showed me a small digital recorder he had. “I always ask if I can record, of course. A lot of the time, they don’t mind, and it’s helpful later on. I take good notes, but it’s easy to forget to write something down.”

Jack directed me, and within a few minutes we pulled up in front of a white frame house with a neatly groomed yard. The lots in this neighborhood were not large but were wide enough to give the illusion of distance between the houses.

“That’s the Delaney house on the right,” Jack said. “Let’s get this thing started.” He opened the door and stepped out of the car.

“Come on, Diesel, time to get to work,” I said.

With Diesel on the leash, I followed Jack up the walk to the front door of Mrs. Cooper’s house. Jack rang the bell, and moments later a woman answered. I reckoned she was about my age, early fifties. Short, with dark hair and a wary expression.

Jack introduced himself. “I believe you know my wife, Wanda Nell. She was Wanda Nell Culpepper before.”

The wary expression disappeared and a warm smile replaced it. “I sure do know Wanda Nell. If she isn’t the sweetest thing the good Lord ever created, I don’t know who is. I heard she got married a while back but I haven’t run into her since I found out. It’s nice to meet you. Y’all come on in.”

She looked past Jack and saw Diesel and me. Her eyes widened at the sight of Diesel. “Heavens to Betsy, I swear that’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen. He’s not a bobcat, is he?”

I repressed a smile. I’d heard that question often. After I introduced myself, I said, “No, ma’am, he’s a Maine Coon.” I gave her the quick facts on Maine Coons. “He’s very well-behaved, and his name is Diesel. Would you mind if he comes in with us?”

“Not at all,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Y’all come on in. I hope y’all will ignore the state of my house. We don’t have a lot of company, and I’m inclined to let things slide a little.” She motioned for us to precede her into a room to the left of the entrance.

Based on years of experience of Southern housewives, I knew that when Mrs. Cooper asked us to ignore the state of her house that it would be pretty near immaculate. Even my late wife, Jackie, used to say similar things whenever we had company.

Sure enough, Mrs. Cooper’s living room looked perfectly clean and well organized. She motioned us to the sofa. “Would y’all like something to drink?” she asked.

We took places on the indicated sofa, and Diesel stretched out on the floor by my feet. He had allowed Mrs. Cooper to pat his head a couple of times, and he rewarded her with a couple of warbles.

“No, thank you,” I said. “I’m fine. Jack?”

“No, I’m good, Mrs. Cooper,” he said. “I really appreciate you inviting us in.” He waited for her to seat herself across from us before he continued. “I’m a writer, and Mr. Charlie Harris is helping me with the research for the book I’m working on now. The books I write are true crime, and I’m interested in a crime that happened here about twenty years ago.”

“The Barbers, has to be,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Oh my Lord, I haven’t thought about them in a long time, although I do sometimes see the Barber girl in the paper. She’s married to a businessman, Campbell’s the name, I think. So nice to know she made a good life for herself after all that tragedy, don’t you think?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. He shot me a glance. Obviously, getting Mrs. Cooper to talk wasn’t an issue here. “I don’t know if you knew the Barbers, but your neighbor’s son worked for them. Bill Delaney.”