Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

“Who was her boyfriend?” Jack asked.

“The one they thought killed ’em all,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Bill Delaney.”

I hadn’t seen that coming, but I remembered Bill telling me he’d joined the Marines. I explained my connection to Delaney to Mrs. Gillon.

When I finished, Mrs. Gillon said, “And now you want to know if he’s a killer. Can’t blame you for that.”

“What do you think?” Jack asked. “Did he kill the Barbers?

“I never thought so,” Mrs. Gillon replied. “He was a good man, he just couldn’t keep away from the liquor. Like to broke his mama’s heart, I’m sure.”

“How did he come to work for Hiram?” I asked. “Didn’t Hiram know about his wife and Bill Delaney?”

“Sure he did,” Mrs. Gillon said. “But Hiram didn’t pay much, and I’m guessing Bill Delaney, with his reputation, was desperate for work, so he was willing to work for next to nothing.”

“Plus he was able to see Betty again,” Jack said. “That’s interesting.”

“How long had he worked for Hiram?” I asked.

Mrs. Gillon frowned. “Let me see now. Seems to me that he started working there a year or so before the twins were born.” Her expression darkened. “Those poor little boys. Such a hard life. Hiram gave that girl anything she wanted while Betty and the boys had to beg for scraps.”

“We’ve heard she was pretty spoiled,” Jack said.

“She was,” Mrs. Gillon said. “She got paid back, though, for every thoughtless word or thing she ever did. She was like a different girl after she found her family murdered.”

“An experience like that was bound to have a profound effect,” I said.

“For the better, in this case,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Elizabeth realized she wasn’t the center of the universe, although even if her father hadn’t been killed when he was, she would have found out before long.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“She wanted to go to college to be a veterinarian,” Mrs. Gillon said. “But there was no way Hiram was going to let her go away from him. She would have spent the rest of her life on that farm unless she just up and ran away from him.”

“She didn’t end up as a veterinarian, though,” I said.

“No, she didn’t,” Mrs. Gillon said. “She was able to go to college, after all, once she sold the farm. But then she met that boy over at State and got married. I hear she helps out at one of the vet’s offices in town, though.”

“Yes, she does. Now, if we can go back to Hiram and the way he treated his wife and sons,” Jack said, “I’d like to ask you if you ever heard or saw anything that might lead you to think he was abusive.”

Mrs. Gillon glanced toward the door. “Excuse me a minute.” She got up from her chair and walked toward the door. “When I look out of this room, somebody better not be lurking in the hall.” She paused near the door.

I heard the sound of scurrying little feet. Mrs. Gillon certainly had sharp hearing. I hadn’t heard Britney sneaking down the hall.

Mrs. Gillon returned to her seat. “That child is nosy, and I have to be careful of what I say around her. Now, you were asking me if Hiram abused his family.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said.

“I don’t know that he ever laid a hand on a single one of them,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I never saw any signs of that. But he abused them in other ways. He was always running Betty down, and when those boys started second grade—that was right before they were killed—he started in on them. Always talking about how stupid they were. He quit going to church because he was too cheap to tithe, and he wouldn’t let Betty go, either. He kept her there on the farm most of the time. I hardly ever saw her the last year of her life.”

“What were the boys’ names?” Jack asked. “I don’t remember.”

“Matthew and Mark,” Mrs. Gillon said.

My heart ached for Betty Barber and the boys. The more I heard, the more Hiram Barber sounded like a monster. I wondered, however, whether he was mentally disturbed or whether he knew exactly what he was doing. I asked Mrs. Gillon that.

“Considering his mama died at Whitfield, I’d say there was a good chance he was downright crazy,” Mrs. Gillon said. “But there wasn’t much anybody could do, the way things stood. Nobody knew exactly what went on in that house except them. We had our suspicions, and Peggy Finch even talked to the sheriff about it one time. You know her daughter’s a doctor. She and Elizabeth Barber were real close back then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I actually know Dr. Finch. Did the sheriff do anything after Mrs. Finch talked to him?”

Mrs. Gillon shook her head. “Not a blessed thing. He patted her on the head and told her it wasn’t his business to come between a man and his wife. It was the husband’s right to run his household the way he saw fit.” She snorted. “Fool. After I heard that I never voted for the old jackass again.”

I was appalled, though not surprised, at the former sheriff’s response to Mrs. Finch’s report. There were still far too many people who were willing to overlook abuse in all its forms for the same reasons.

“He was pretty bad,” Jack said. “A lot of people were happy when he got voted out of office.” He glanced at me. “I don’t think I have any more questions. What about you, Charlie?”

“None that I can think of right now,” I said. “Mrs. Gillon, we really appreciate this. Your candor and willingness to talk to us has given us a much fuller picture of the family.”

“I’m glad to do it,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I’ve had those two boys and Betty on my conscience for twenty years. I want to see justice done for them.”

Jack and I rose, and Mrs. Gillon got up to see us to the door. “That cat of yours has better manners than my grandchildren and great-grands,” she said. “Where are y’all going next?”

“I thought maybe we would see if Mrs. Finch would talk to us,” Jack said. “They live on the other side of what used to be the Barber place, I believe.”

“Yes, go about four miles on down this same road. You can’t miss it. Great big, gaudy mailbox that looks like a sailboat,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Don’t ask me why it’s a sailboat, though.”

We thanked her again. I glanced down the hall before we walked out the door and saw Britney watching. I waved. She giggled and waved back.

Once we were in the car Jack said, “We’ve been lucky so far, finding people willing to talk. Let’s hope our lucky streak lasts with Mrs. Finch.”

“Amen to that,” I said.

We were destined for disappointment, however. When Mrs. Finch opened the door, she barely gave us time to mention our names. She looked at me, then at Diesel, and said, “My daughter said I can’t talk to you” and shut the door in our faces.

THIRTY-TWO

We got back in the car, and I headed for Tullahoma. There was no point in trying to get Mrs. Finch to come to the door again. Jack pulled the folder with the autopsy reports from beneath his seat and opened it. He started looking through the papers. I had decided that if there were any pictures included, I wasn’t going to look at them. I felt haunted enough already by the thought of those two innocent boys, their lives taken away.

I forced my thoughts away from autopsies. “We’ve learned a lot,” I said, “though it would have been helpful to talk to Mrs. Finch about that night.”

“Yes, it would have. We need to find out more about what went on with Elizabeth Barber and Leann Finch that night. I wonder if the Finches can really swear to the fact that neither of the girls left the house that night,” Jack replied. “We’ll have to try Dr. Finch again. After we, or maybe you, talk to Bill Delaney again, if that’s possible. We’re getting close to the truth, I can feel it.”