Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

I hit the call button. When someone answered, I said, “Get in here fast. I think Mr. Delaney might be having another heart attack.”

I wasn’t sure whether Bill was actually in distress. He had a peculiar expression. His eyes were closed, but they popped open when I leaned over and called his name.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

He didn’t answer my questions. All he said was, “You didn’t have to stop her.”

• • •

The experience with Elizabeth Barber shook me pretty badly. It would be a long time before I could get that scene out of my mind, if ever. Even with her arms behind her, cuffed, she still struggled to get to Bill Delaney. Her ranting, obscenity-laden words sounded like those of a madwoman. Her paternal grandmother’s legacy to her and her father, no doubt. Blocked from being able to kill Delaney, she seemed to lose all contact with reason.

I stayed at the hospital until nearly eight o’clock, answering questions for both the police and the sheriff’s department. Kanesha Berry was there herself, and Elmer Lee Johnson turned up halfway through my session with Kanesha.

I told them what I thought happened on that night twenty years ago when the Barber family was murdered. They were somewhat skeptical, but I was pretty sure I was right. The only two people who could confirm my suspicions were Bill Delaney and Leann Finch. I wondered whether they would be willing finally to tell what happened that night.

• • •

After a rough night with not much sleep—sleep haunted by Elizabeth Barber’s mad ranting—I got up the next morning hollow-eyed and tired. Azalea’s breakfast perked me up. By the time I arrived home the night before, I couldn’t eat anything. And for me, not being hungry or wanting to eat was a definite sign of abnormal distress.

I made up for those lost calories with a second helping of grits and a fifth biscuit with grape jam. Diesel feasted happily on bites of bacon. Azalea didn’t press me to talk. She could tell I wasn’t in the mood to discuss the events of the previous night.

By nine I was dressed and ready to go. I explained to Diesel that, once again, he would have to stay home. I was going to the hospital, and I couldn’t take him. He protested with the usual indignant meows and trills, but Azalea offered him a little more bacon to distract him. For once he didn’t fuss. I slipped out the back door and drove to the hospital.

Jack was waiting for me in the lobby. We were going to see Bill Delaney to ask him if he would tell us the whole story.

“I’m sorry that you had to witness such a terrible scene,” Jack said. “I can only imagine how bad it was.”

I nodded. I didn’t really want to talk about it right now, and Jack appeared to sense that. He let it drop. He did ask, however, whether I thought Bill would talk to us.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m hoping that he’s thought about it and decided to let the truth be known. I think I know what happened, but I want him to confirm it.”

“What do you think happened?” Jack asked as we stepped into the elevator. I had checked earlier, and Bill Delaney was still in room 227. I took that as a good sign. I was afraid he would be back in the ICU.

I answered Jack’s question without going into any details. To my surprise, he didn’t scoff at my solution. “Interesting,” was all he said.

We strolled down the hall to Bill’s room. The door was open, and I could see Bill sitting up in bed watching television. I knocked on the door, and his head turned toward us. He shrugged when he saw us, but he didn’t tell us to go away. Instead he turned the television off and motioned for us to come in.

We bade him good morning, and he returned the greeting, though he eyed us a bit warily, I thought.

“Mind if we sit?” Jack asked.

“Help yourselves,” Bill said.

Jack brought chairs to the bedside for both of us, and we sat.

“You know why we’re here,” I said.

Bill nodded. “You want the whole story.” He sighed. “I spent a lot of last night thinking about it, and I guess I should set the record straight. I realized I wasn’t quite ready to die after all. I keep thinking about my mama. She hated to lie, but she went along with it. I didn’t tell even her the whole truth. I reckon I’ll tell you, though.”

“We’re listening,” Jack said. “Do you mind if I record you?”

Bill shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Go ahead.”

Jack pulled out his digital recorder and turned it on. He placed it on the nightstand next to Bill’s bed. “Interview with William Delaney,” he said, then added the date and the location. He also included the fact that I was there as a witness. “Go ahead.”

Bill looked at me. “Do you already know what I’m going to say?”

“I think I know some of it,” I replied. “I know that you didn’t murder anybody. I think you still loved Betty Barber too much to harm her or her children.”

“No, I didn’t kill them,” Bill said. “I was trying to rescue them from Hiram. That son of a bitch deserved to die, and I’m not sorry he did.”

“You were trying to rescue them?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Bill said. “Betty was desperate to get away from Hiram and get the boys out, too. Hiram treated her bad, and the boys, too. He was getting crazier all the time, like his mama did before they sent her to Whitfield. I was going to get them that night after Hiram fell asleep. Betty was going to put something in his milk to make sure he slept.”

“Was Elizabeth in on the plot?” Jack asked.

“She was,” Bill said. “Told me she wanted her mama and the boys to be safe.” He scratched his chin. “She arranged to spend the night with her friend Leann so she’d be out of the house. We didn’t want her father to know that she knew anything about it.

“I’d arranged to get there about ten thirty. Hiram was usually in bed by eight, and I figured by ten thirty he should be sound asleep. Mama knew about this part of the plan, of course. I pretended to be real drunk when I got home that night, and Mama would tell everybody I passed out and never left my room—in case Hiram came nosing around.

“I parked my car a couple hundred yards down the road leading to the house.” He reached for a cup off the nightstand and drank from it. “When I got to the house, I had this feeling something was wrong. Everything was too quiet. I let myself in the front door like I’d said I would do. Betty and the boys were supposed to be waiting for me just inside. They weren’t there, so I started looking for them. I walked into the kitchen, and the first thing I saw was Elizabeth standing there, looking at her father, this horrible expression on her face. Hiram was sitting in a chair with a shotgun across his knees. He seemed dazed.

“Then I caught the smell. Blood. So bad it gagged me.” He paused to drink again from his cup. His hand trembled a little. “Elizabeth saw me. ‘Look what he did,’ she said. She pointed, and I looked over. Betty and the boys. Dead.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know this is painful for you.”

Bill nodded. “For a minute there, I didn’t know where I was, or who I was. All I could think of was killing Hiram. I went for him. Elizabeth grabbed the shotgun. I pulled Hiram out of the chair. He came to enough to realize I meant to hit him. He twisted himself out of my arms and turned away. Had his back to Elizabeth. That’s when she shot him.”

Jack looked at me. So far everything I had told him earlier matched Bill’s account.

“Do you believe Hiram actually killed his wife and sons?” Jack asked. “Couldn’t it have been Elizabeth?”

“No, I know he did it,” Bill said.

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.