Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

“Ronnie’s real smart,” Mrs. Cooper said, beaming. “He’s a computer programmer, and he works from here for a company in Memphis. He telly-somethings. What is it?”

“Telecommute,” Ronnie said. “I go into the office about three times a month for meetings, but most of the time I work from home. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

Jack took the cue and launched into an explanation before Mrs. Cooper could get going on one. He gave Ronnie a quick summary of our interest in the Barber case, and when he finished, Ronnie nodded.

“I remember it now,” he said. “Haven’t thought about it in years, though.”

“All Ronnie’s ever been interested in is computers and cars,” Mrs. Cooper said. “You should see what’s parked in my garage right now. He won’t tell me what he paid for it, but I know it must be expensive. I’d be afraid to drive it.”

“I told you I didn’t pay full price for it, Mom,” Ronnie said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. “I took over the payments from a guy at work who got overextended.” He looked at Jack and me. “Lamborghini. I wouldn’t have bought it, but the deal was irresistible.”

Jack whistled, and I almost did. Lamborghinis were some of the most expensive cars made. Ronnie must be doing well to be driving one, even if he had taken over the payments from someone else.

“I hate to hurry you guys along,” Ronnie said, “but I’ve got to get back to work soon. What is it you want to ask me?”

“It’s about the night of the Barber murders,” Jack said. “Do you remember when it happened?”

Ronnie shrugged. “Sure, kids at school were talking about it.”

“They want to know if you heard anything from next door that night,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Ronnie’s bedroom is on that side, next to their driveway.”

I watched as Ronnie ceased petting Diesel and leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. After a moment his eyes popped open. “I remember,” he said. “They had an old banger of a car. The engine made a whistling noise.” He turned to his mother. “Remember, Puck used to bark when she heard it.”

“Puck was our rat terrier,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Lord, I loved that dog. Smartest thing on four legs I ever saw.”

“She was a great dog,” Ronnie said. “She slept with me back then. I used to have a lot of trouble sleeping, but I grew out of it eventually. Anyway, like I said, Puck would bark if she heard that car going in or out of the driveway next to my room.” He frowned. “I think that was the night she woke me up twice because of the car.”

“Can you be sure?” I asked, excited that this could really shake things up if he had heard the Delaneys’ car leaving during the night. “That was twenty years ago.”

“I’ve got a good memory,” Ronnie said. “But if you want proof, I can probably show you.”

“How?” Jack said.

“Notebooks.” Ronnie got up from his chair and headed from the room, once again ducking to clear the doorway.

Jack and I looked to Mrs. Cooper for an explanation.

“He’s been writing in his notebooks since his daddy died,” Mrs. Cooper said. “The counselor at school said it might help him, and I guess it must’ve done because he still does it. Except now he does it on his computer, I think.”

Jack and I nodded. One of Laura’s friends in elementary school had done the same thing, I remembered, after her mother died.

“It might take him a minute or two,” Mrs. Cooper continued. “He probably knows exactly where that old notebook is. You should see his room. Everything neat, always, never anything out of place. I guess he learned it from me.” She glanced around the room with what I took to be a complacent air. The room was indeed neat. She obviously took great pride in her housework.

Mrs. Cooper again offered us a drink, but we both declined. Before she could get started on another anecdote or long-winded observation, Ronnie returned, papers in hand. He resumed his seat and brandished the pages.

“I scanned all the old notebooks and converted them into searchable PDFs,” he said. “Makes it easier to find things, like what you’re looking for. I checked the date of the murders online, and then I found the corresponding date in my notebook. It’s all here, in case anybody needs proof.” He leaned forward to hand me the pages.

I accepted them, and he said, “The part you’re interested in starts near the bottom of the page.”

I leaned toward Jack so we could read together. I found the section Ronnie indicated and began to read the precise but childish scrawl.

9:53 pm Puck barked and woke me up. Heard the car next door go by. Engine whistles. Wish old man Delaney would let me look at it. Could probably fix it for him but he won’t listen. Wonder where he’s going? Out to buy beer, maybe. Mom says he gets as drunk as Cooter Brown all the time. I asked her who Cooter Brown was and she didn’t know.

There was another entry on the second page that occurred about two hours later.

12:18 am Puck barking again. This time I heard old man Delaney coming back in the car. Hope he stays home now so Puck stops waking me up.

That was the extent of it. Proof that either Bill or Sylvia Delaney left the house that night.

Bill Delaney’s alibi just went up in flames.

TWENTY-NINE

Either way you looked at it, I decided, Bill Delaney had no alibi. That is, of course, if the murders occurred between ten and midnight. I realized that we were ignorant of one of the most important facts in the case. What time were the Barbers killed?

“Can we keep these?” Jack brandished the two pages.

Ronnie Cooper shrugged. “Sure, I don’t think there’s anything I don’t want anyone to know.”

“You might be questioned about them again by official investigators,” Jack said. “At some point Charlie and I will have to share what we’ve found out with them.”

“No problem,” Ronnie said. “Now, if that’s all, I’d like to get back to work.” He looked at me and Jack.

“I can’t think of anything else at the moment,” I said.

“Neither can I. Thanks for your help. This is an amazing find,” Jack said. “I can’t believe no one knew about this before.”

“Nobody ever asked,” Ronnie said. “I never thought about it myself.” He rubbed Diesel’s head. I marveled that my cat had remained near Ronnie the entire time. Ronnie rose from his chair.

“Hang on a sec,” Jack said. “Sorry, I just thought of something. You wrote these things in your notebook as if it was Bill Delaney driving the car that night. Did you actually see him in the car?”

“It had to be,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Sylvia couldn’t see well enough at night to drive. She was scared to death to even try.”

Ronnie shot an exasperated glance at his mother. “I can answer for myself, Mom. Yes, it was Bill Delaney. My bed was right under the window back then, and I looked out right after Puck woke me up. Both times. There’s a streetlight nearby, and there was enough light for me to see him at the wheel of the car.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” Jack said.

“And thank you, Mrs. Cooper, for telling us about Sylvia Delaney’s problem with driving at night,” I added. “All this information is a great help.”

“I’m going back to work,” Ronnie said. “You know where to find me if you have any more questions.” He left the room, and his mother gazed fondly after him.

“He’s such a hard worker,” she said. “Puts in I don’t know how many hours every day. Between going to the gym and work, he doesn’t have time for much else.” She sighed. “I don’t reckon I’ll ever be a grandmother unless that computer of his can have a baby.”