Claws For Concern

“He suddenly stumbled sideways,” Frank replied. “Two seconds, and he was in the street. Well, in the parking spots, actually. I started after him, and he kept moving, still mostly sideways. He cleared the parking spots and was almost two feet, I’d say, into the street. I lunged after him, but before I could get to him a car sideswiped him and knocked him to the ground. The car kept going. I tried to see the license but the sun was in my eyes. I recognized the make and model though.”

“You saw all this, too,” I said to Laura.

“Yes, and more than Frank because I was looking at the street.” She paused, frowning. “I know this might sound crazy, but I think that car swerved deliberately to hit the man.”

EIGHTEEN

Laura’s statement disturbed me. If she was interpreting what she saw correctly, that meant someone had deliberately tried to kill or injure Bill Delaney. Why on earth would someone want him dead?

“Think about it carefully,” I said. “Close your eyes and replay the scene in your mind. Tell us what you see.”

“All right, Dad.” Laura closed her eyes.

Frank and I watched her. She didn’t speak right away. She leaned back in her seat. I could see her relaxing her body, bit by bit. “Okay,” she said. “Frank and I are coming out of the bistro. He’s holding the door like he always does. Such a Southern gentleman.” She smiled briefly, then resumed her narrative. “I step out first and glance to my right because I don’t want to walk into anyone. I see an elderly man weaving his way toward us. He’s about thirty feet away, maybe.” She paused.

“That’s excellent,” I said in a low tone. “Go on.”

Laura nodded. “I’m worried the poor man might fall and hurt himself, so I tell Frank to look at him. Frank does and then he moves around me to walk toward the man to help him in case he does start to fall. Then the man kind of shambles sideways a few steps, and he’s off the curb now into an empty parking space.”

Laura paused for a deep, steadying breath. “I see that Frank is moving toward him quickly to try to catch him before he falls into the street. I’m afraid a car might hit him, so I glance toward the street. A car is coming kind of fast, a big, dark SUV of some kind. I want to shout and wave at the car, but I can’t. I’m too horrified. I watch as the car gets near the poor man who is now a little bit into the street. Frank is almost there.”

She frowned. “The car seems to jerk, hard to the right, as it nears the man. It hits him, and Frank reaches for him but he falls to the pavement. The car accelerated and disappeared down a side street.” She opened her eyes.

“Have you told this to the policeman?” I asked.

“I wasn’t sure I really saw it,” Laura said. “Now, though, I know I did.”

I believed her. She had an excellent visual memory.

“You know, I saw it, too.” Frank frowned. “I was visualizing it while Laura talked, and now I remember seeing the car come close and hitting the man. There was a kind of jerky motion to it. So I think Laura’s right. Whoever did it meant to do it.”

“Did either of you get a look at the driver?” I asked.

“Sort of,” Laura said. “The windows were lightly tinted, but I could see someone in profile. Whoever it was had longish hair, but I didn’t see them long enough to get an impression of gender.”

“I didn’t see that much,” Frank said. “I was focused on the victim.”

“Anything else about the car, other than that it was a large, dark SUV?” I asked.

“Yes.” Frank told me the make and model. “An expensive vehicle, probably less than two years old.”

“It’s not much to go on,” I said, “but there could be other witnesses. That’s up to the police, though.”

Laura nudged me. “Here’s the cop now,” she said in an undertone.

I stood to greet the officer. “Bizarre coincidence, as it turns out. This young couple who saw the accident are my daughter and son-in-law. My daughter has more information for you.”

“What would that be, ma’am?” the policeman asked.

“Excuse me.” I saw the woman from the front desk in the doorway to the waiting room waving at me. “I think I’m needed.”

I approached the woman. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“We’re hoping you can help us with more information about the patient,” she said. “Would you mind coming back to the desk with me?”

“Of course,” I said as I followed her. “I have to tell you, though, I may not be much help. I barely know Mr. Delaney despite the fact that we are somewhat related.”

“Anything you can tell us is helpful,” she said. “The person with the questions is at the end of the desk there.” She pointed toward a young black man with a clipboard.

I walked over. The young man stood and indicated a chair by the desk. I took it while he resumed his seat. “What can I help you with?”

“You’re related to Mr. Delaney?” the young man asked.

I nodded. “By marriage. His father was married to my aunt. Both of them are deceased. I didn’t meet Mr. Delaney until recently, and I don’t know many details of his life. I’m willing to answer whatever I can.”