Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

I smothered a laugh at the thought. Mrs. Cooper seemed genuinely serious, but there was nothing I could offer to comfort her, other than a platitude. Jack seemed at a loss for words, too. Really, I thought, how could you follow up a statement like that?

“Can you think of anyone that Betty Barber might have been close enough to that she would have confided in them about what was going on at home?” Jack asked.

Mrs. Cooper shook her head. “Not that I can think of, other than maybe one of her neighbors. I’d say you might try their church, but I think Hiram got angry with the preacher, and they stopped going.”

“Do you have any idea why he was angry with the preacher?” I asked. Could there be a clue in that? I wondered.

“Probably because Hiram wasn’t tithing the way he should, and the preacher probably complained.” Mrs. Cooper rolled her eyes. “Hiram always put on like he was so poor he couldn’t even pay attention. He sure didn’t spend money on his wife and kids. He wouldn’t hardly pay his hands much, either. I don’t know how he kept anybody working on the farm. Anyway, he had enough money to pay his share to the church. He was too cheap to do it.”

This was consistent with what we’d already heard about Hiram Barber. I wondered if he had always been so obsessed with money or had something happened to trigger this behavior?

Jack rose from the sofa and tucked his notebook in his jacket pocket. “Mrs. Cooper, thank you so much for talking with us this morning. You’ve been a great help.”

“Yes, you certainly have.” I rose, too, and Diesel returned to my side. I picked up the end of the leash, and he rubbed against my leg.

“Well, I guess I’m happy I could help,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Seems like Ronnie was more help than I was, but either way, I’m glad. You’re welcome to come back anytime.” She stood and walked toward the door. “I was able to retire thanks to Ronnie, so I’m at home most of the time nowadays.”

After a few more comments about how happy she was to help and how welcome we were to come back, we were able to get away from Mrs. Cooper and head to the car.

“Good grief, that woman can talk,” Jack said when we were seated inside with the air conditioner blasting. “And thank goodness she did. Ronnie, too.”

“Yes, thanks to Ronnie we know that Bill Delaney was out of the house for two hours that night,” I said. “What we don’t know, of course, is when the murders took place. We really need to find that out.”

Jack frowned. “According to the information released to the press, Elizabeth Barber came home from her friend’s house—Leann Finch’s house—around seven the next morning. That’s when she found the bodies. They could have been dead twelve hours or more by then, of course.”

“Unless they were killed between ten and midnight,” I said. “That would narrow down the time frame to between nine and seven hours, roughly. About how long would it take to get from here to where the Barber farm used to be?”

Jack thought about it for a moment. “At that time of night, with almost no traffic, and if he was driving fast, less than twenty minutes. Maybe even fifteen. As the crow flies, it’s only about ten miles, but it’s off the highway on country roads that are full of curves.”

“So that could put the time of death to between half past ten and half past eleven,” I said. “Give or take a few minutes. Is there any way you could get hold of the autopsy results?”

Jack shrugged. “All I can do is ask. But there might be an easier way.”

“And that would be?” I asked.

“Go straight to Elmer Lee Johnson and tell him what we’ve found out, maybe bargain a little with him to find out about the time of death,” Jack replied. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know the man,” I said. “You do. How do you think he’d respond to a proposition like that?”

“On a good day he might go for it,” Jack said. “I’m sure he’d like to be able to close the case. It would put him one up on his predecessor, his old boss.”

“And on a bad day?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the response.

“He’d cuss us out and threaten to throw us in jail for interfering in the official business of the law.” Jack grinned. “He’s not too fond of me, you see. I told Wanda Nell he’s jealous, because he’s had a thing for her for years, going back to when she was married to his best friend, Bobby Ray Culpepper.”

Even though it was none of my business, I was about to ask Jack what had happened to Wanda Nell’s first husband, but he saved me the trouble.

“Bobby Ray got himself murdered a few years ago. He and Wanda Nell were already divorced, and Elmer Lee had a big mad on over her dumping his best friend. He treated her like the chief suspect, but frankly I think the whole time he wanted her for himself. He was just too stubborn and too loyal to his dead best friend to do anything about it. He thought the world of Bobby Ray, who was, basically, a no-good good ol’ boy. He ran around on Wanda Nell most of the time they were married.”

Jack obviously didn’t think much of the late, unlamented Mr. Culpepper. Couldn’t say I blamed him, given what he’d told me. This was more than I really needed to know about his wife’s life, but I supposed it did help explain the sheriff’s potential attitude toward Jack and anyone associated with him.

“I have never understood men like that,” I said. “I know there are a lot of them out there, though. Look, about talking to the sheriff, it’s up to you. I’ll go along with what you think is best.”

Diesel, from his vantage point in the backseat, added his opinion. He meowed loudly. Jack laughed.

“Okay, I get the hint. Decision time. Let’s go talk to Elmer Lee,” Jack said. “The sheriff’s department is off the square in beautiful old downtown Tullahoma.”

“Off we go, then,” I said. “Just tell me how to get there.”

Jack gave me the directions, and in about ten minutes we pulled up in front of the sheriff’s department. We got out, and I took Diesel’s leash in hand.

“If he’s out of the office,” Jack said, “I’ll see if we can make an appointment with him for sometime today. I think it’s best to get this over with as soon as we can.”

“I agree.” Diesel and I followed Jack into the building. We hung back while Jack approached the desk and asked to talk to the sheriff. The woman at the desk picked up a phone and talked to someone. After about thirty seconds, she put down the receiver and nodded.

Jack turned and motioned for Diesel and me to join him. “We’re in luck,” Jack said, “he’s here and can see us now. Thanks, Thelma.” He smiled at the receptionist, and she grinned back at him.

“You’re welcome, Jack,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “Anytime.”

Jack chuckled, and I smiled at Thelma as we left the desk. Her eyes grew big when she finally caught sight of Diesel. I kept smiling and following Jack down a hallway.

He paused in front of an open door and knocked on the door frame. “Come on in,” a gruff-sounding voice said.

Jack entered, and Diesel and I went with him.

“Thanks for seeing us, Elmer Lee,” Jack said. “I know you’re busy, but we think this is important.” He stood aside and motioned me forward. “This is my colleague, Charlie Harris, and this is Diesel.”

Sheriff Johnson rose from behind his desk and walked around to shake my hand. Then, to my surprise, he squatted until his face was almost level with the cat’s. He held out a hand to Diesel and let him sniff. After a moment, Diesel butted his head against the hand, and the sheriff scratched the back of Diesel’s head. The cat responded with a couple of happy chirps. The sheriff rose from his squat and looked at me.