Claws For Concern

“I know because the man who was hit is Bill Delaney,” I said. When they continued to look blank, I realized they had no idea who I was talking about. “Sorry, I need to tell you a few things.”

I gave them the short version about Bill and his parentage. The rest of the story that included the Barber murders could wait till later.

“So he told the staff he’s your cousin, sort of?” Laura’s nose wrinkled, an habitual sign of confusion with her.

“By marriage only,” I said. “I’m the only person he knows here, I guess, and I’m certainly the closest thing to family he has left. At least that I know about.”

“The poor man,” Laura said. “He was stumbling along, and I told Frank I was afraid he was going to end up in the street. Sure enough, he did, and that car hit him.”

“Rotten break for him, though I can’t say I’m surprised. He reeked of beer,” Frank said. “Is he going to be okay?”

I relayed what the doctor had told me, and they both looked relieved. “The broken legs will be problematic, once they release him from the hospital. He has a second-floor apartment, and I don’t think he’ll be able to get up and down the stairs in his condition.”

“No, he won’t,” Laura said. “What about one of those skilled nursing facilities? Frank’s grandmother went to one after she fell at home and broke both arms. They took good care of her until she was able to go home again.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” I had been envisioning bringing Delaney to my house and looking after him with Azalea’s assistance. A skilled nursing facility was obviously the better option.

“If he has Medicare,” Frank said, “I believe they’ll cover it, depending on how long he needs to stay.”

“He’s sixty-six,” I said. “I assume he has it. That takes a load off my mind, I can tell you.”

“Why? Were you thinking you’d have to look after him?” Frank asked.

I nodded. “I couldn’t in all conscience let them send him back to that apartment on his own.”

Laura patted my arm. “No, you wouldn’t, Dad, but most people wouldn’t go that far out of their way for a stranger.”

I smiled my thanks for her sweet words. “There’s something else I have to tell you about him, I’m afraid.”

“This doesn’t sound good, judging by your tone,” Frank said.

“It’s not.” I told them about the Barber murders, and while I talked, I caught an odd expression on my son-in-law’s face. I supposed he must recall the case since he grew up in the delta not far from Tullahoma.

“How horrible,” Laura said. “People really thought he did it?”

I nodded. “His mother was his alibi. According to her he came home drunk that afternoon, and he stayed in his room all night and never left the house. The police tried to shake her, but she never wavered. That’s what I was told, anyway.” I glanced at Frank. “You obviously know something about this case.”

“Yes, I do,” Frank said. “I was twelve years old when the murders occurred. I’ve never brought this up before, not even to Laura, because it’s not exactly the kind of thing you casually introduce into a conversation.”

“What are you talking about, honey?” Laura asked, obviously puzzled.

“Elizabeth Barber is a cousin of mine,” Frank said. “My second cousin, actually. We share a great-grandmother through my father and her mother. We never had much to do with the family, though, because my dad couldn’t stand Hiram Barber. I wouldn’t have recognized him if I’d met him on the street.”

“Talk about a weird coincidence,” Laura said. “Your cousin is the only survivor of a multiple homicide.” She shook her head. “Creepy and weird.”

This turn of events fascinated me, and I wanted to talk to Frank more about the Barber family and his family’s take on the case. Before we got into that, however, I wanted to bring the subject back to Bill Delaney and his accident.

“I want to talk to you more about it, if you don’t mind,” I said. Frank nodded. “At the moment, though, I want you to tell me about the hit-and-run. How much did you see?”

Frank and Laura looked at each other. Then Frank nodded again, and Laura turned to me and began, “We had barely walked out of the bistro’s door and onto the sidewalk when I glanced to my right and noticed this elderly man kind of tottering along. I told Frank to look at him because I was afraid the man was going to fall any second.”

Frank took up the account. “Laura’s right. He was stumbling badly, and I moved around her so I could get to him quickly if he started to fall.”

“How far away from him were you?” I asked.

“Maybe twenty feet,” Frank said.

“About,” Laura said. “Maybe a little farther away.”

“What happened next?” I asked.