Claws For Concern

I always felt sorry for Betty Barber. Never could figure out what she saw in a man like Hiram.

I laid the pages aside. I would go back to them later. All these terrible things people had to say depressed me. Now that I knew more about Bill Delaney’s past—and his reputation for drunken violence—I began to believe Sylvia had forsworn her very soul to keep her son from being convicted of four murders.

Would Jack and I be able to prove or disprove that after all this time?

TWENTY-TWO

By nine thirty the next morning my impatience hit peak levels. I should have asked if Jack could arrive earlier than ten. I was eager to brainstorm with him, and I planned to suggest that we head to the hospital by noon instead of waiting until the afternoon. Thinking about the week ahead, I had realized that I wouldn’t have much time to assist Jack if I stuck to my usual schedule. With that in mind, I had e-mailed my boss last night to let her know I wouldn’t be in this coming week. I apologized for the short notice, but within a few minutes she responded, “No problem. Have a good week.”

Now I was free to focus on the Barber murders without the distractions of work. Helen Louise was back to a full schedule at the bistro because of Henry’s accident. He wouldn’t be back up to full speed for a week, perhaps longer. I felt bad for Henry, but I supposed accidents like his occurred even with professionals in the kitchen.

The doorbell rang, and Diesel meowed to make sure I’d heard. Then he darted out of the kitchen. One of these days I was afraid he would figure out how to unlock the front door. He already knew how to open the door onto the back porch, as long as it was already unlocked, of course. I glanced at the clock on my way to the front door. Jack had come early after all, nearly twenty-five minutes early.

Except that it wasn’t Jack at the door. “Sean, this is a nice surprise. I didn’t think I’d see you today. Come in.” I stood aside to let him enter.

He rubbed Diesel’s head, and the cat meowed in appreciation. “Morning, Dad,” he said. “I hadn’t planned on it, but after I had a talk with Laura last night, I decided I needed to talk to you.”

I knew that tone. Lawyer Sean had decided I needed a lecture. I rolled my eyes at his back as he preceded me into the kitchen. Diesel ambled along beside me. He stretched out on the floor by my chair when I resumed my place at the table.

Sean stood behind the chair across from mine. Any moment now he was going to fold his arms across his chest, fix me with a stern gaze, and lecture me. I settled back in my chair and awaited the inevitable.

“Now, Dad, about this Bill Delaney,” Sean began, his hands on the back of the chair. “As I understand it, he has no legal claim on Aunt Dottie’s estate. Has he been asking you for money?”

“He has not,” I said. “All he wants is information.”

“So far.” Sean frowned. “Are you sure he’s who he claims to be?”

“He has a birth certificate that looks legitimate,” I said. “He also looks just like Uncle Del. I’m sure.”

“Nothing I say is going to stop you from getting further involved in this, I suppose.” I saw his hands tighten their grip on the chair back.

“There are things you could say to stop me,” I replied. “But they wouldn’t be worthy of the man I know you to be.”

He smiled at that. “You don’t always play fair, you know.” He shook his head. “I would never, I hope, say those kinds of things to you. As always, I’m concerned about your welfare. Keep this in mind, if nothing else: Whoever killed those people twenty years ago may still be around, and they’re not going to be happy to discover you’re trying to find them, whoever it is. You need to be really careful.”

“I know that,” I said. “I’m not going to be working on this alone. Jack Pemberton is actually taking the lead in this.”

“I’ve read his books,” Sean said. “He’s good at what he does, so he must be pretty smart.” He laughed suddenly. “Maybe the two of you can keep each other out of trouble.”

Diesel warbled, and Sean laughed again. “Make that the three of you. I know Diesel will help, too.”

That last statement elicited another warble and a couple of chirps. “Diesel agrees,” I said. “Now, the really important thing is: How is Alex?”

Sean grinned and let go of the chair back. “Ready to be done with it and have the baby, but she’s got another five or six weeks to go. I’m ready, too. I want to hold my baby in my arms.”

“Same here,” I said. “Have you settled on any names yet?” So far neither Sean nor Alex would reveal their choices.

“Not yet,” Sean replied. “We’ve got it narrowed down to about five. We’ll know when the time comes, I hope.” He checked his watch. “I’d better get going.”

I got up from the table to escort him to the front door with Diesel’s assistance. Right before I opened the door Sean gave me a hug. “Be safe, Dad.”