Claws For Concern

Haskell nodded. “You’re one of the good guys, Charlie. I can understand why you feel like you have to help this man, and I certainly can’t tell you not to do it. I do think you ought to find out more about him, though, before you bring him into your home.”

“Charlie took me in,” Stewart said. “I came to him and begged him to let me move in because I was afraid for my own safety in my uncle’s house.” His expression turned grim. “For all he knew, I was the one who killed my uncle. But he trusted his instincts, and here I’ve been for several years now.”

I could feel my face redden even as I wanted to squirm in my seat. I had never felt comfortable in such situations.

“I know the story.” Haskell’s expression softened as he looked at his partner. “You’ve told it to me several times.”

Stewart nodded. “I can see your point, too, of course.” He grinned suddenly. “I knew I wasn’t a murderer when I moved in here, but we don’t know that this Bill Delaney isn’t.”

“We don’t,” Haskell replied. “That’s why I plan to check him out.” He turned to me. “You said he was from Tullahoma, right?”

I nodded. “He told me he’s lived there most of his life, except for a stint in the Marine Corps.”

“I’ve got a buddy in the sheriff’s department there,” Haskell said. “I’ll call him up and find out if there’s anything you ought to know about this guy Delaney.”

“I appreciate it,” I said. “I was planning to do some checking on him myself, actually, but I didn’t get a chance to mention that before.” I told them briefly about Jack Pemberton and Ernie Carpenter. “I figured one or both of them might actually know Delaney.”

“Glad to hear you had a plan.” Haskell flashed a rare smile. “Go on ahead and talk to them, and I’ll talk to my buddy. He’s been there for twenty years, so if there’s anything to know, he’ll know it.”

“One way or another,” Stewart said, “you ought to be able to find out whether this guy is safe to bring into the house.”

“I’ll text him now.” Haskell felt for his phone in the pocket of his gym shorts. He stood. “Left it upstairs. I’ll run and get it.”

When Haskell said run, he meant it. Moments later I heard him running up the stairs to the third floor. Not long after that I could hear him running down again. He arrived back in the kitchen less than two minutes after he’d left it. And, I noted with envy, he wasn’t even breathing hard. I supposed that if I went to the gym as religiously as he and Stewart did, I might be able to run like that.

I might also become emperor of China. Oh, well, I could dream, anyway.

Haskell texted a message right after he resumed his place at the table. Then he laid his phone aside and picked up his coffee cup. Stewart stood and began clearing the table. I still had a few bites of scrambled egg, and I finished them quickly.

By the time Haskell finished his coffee and got up to take the cup to the sink where Stewart was busy rinsing the dishes, his cell phone started ringing.

“It’s Steve, my buddy in Tullahoma,” Haskell said when he looked at the caller ID. He answered the call and greeted his friend.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Haskell said. “Guy named Bill Delaney.” He turned to me. “How old is he?”

“Sixty-six,” I replied.

Haskell relayed the information and then fell silent while his friend talked. His expression changed from intent to grim after a couple of minutes. Finally he thanked his friend and ended the call. He laid the phone aside.

“Something tells me the news isn’t good.” I felt suddenly tense because Haskell’s grim expression hadn’t changed. Diesel, sensing my unease, laid a large paw on my thigh and warbled. I patted his head to calm him while I waited for Haskell’s reply.

“No, it isn’t good,” Haskell said. “Steve says Bill Delaney got away with murder. Multiple murders, in fact.”

TWELVE

For a moment I couldn’t take in what Haskell had said. Then, as the import of his words finally sank in, I collected myself and was able to respond.

“Multiple murders?” I asked. “If he committed multiple murders, why is he not in prison?”

“Exactly,” Stewart said. “Something about that doesn’t add up.”

Haskell nodded. “I know. Thing is, according to Steve, Delaney was never convicted. Never even brought to trial, but Steve reckons Delaney was guilty all right. They just couldn’t prove it.”

“He seems like such a quiet, unassuming man,” I said, still shocked by the revelation.

“That’s no proof against someone being a killer, Charlie,” Haskell said. “You ought to know that by now.”

I nodded. “I do. But, I don’t know, somehow it just doesn’t seem right to think of my uncle’s son as a multiple murderer.”

“They were sure he was the killer,” Stewart said, “but they didn’t have the evidence to bring him to trial, you said.”

“Yes,” Haskell replied. “That happens. Police can be certain who did it, but for whatever reason, there’s no evidence that will stand up in court.”

“Are you at all familiar with the case?” I asked.

“Yes,” Haskell replied. “I remembered it when Steve told me the basic facts.”

“What are they?” Stewart asked.