Claws For Concern

“Her church.” Mrs. Cooper grimaced. “One of those groups that don’t believe in doctors. Some mess like that. Beats me what some people will believe.”

“Are there any other family around? The Eatons, that is, who would know more about Betty Barber before she married?” Jack asked.

“Most of them have either died or moved away that I know of,” Mrs. Cooper said. “Though I can’t say for sure.”

“We’ll have to see if we can track any of them down,” I said.

“I’d like to talk to you about the night of the murders,” Jack said. “Do you remember that night?”

“I do,” Mrs. Cooper said. “It was a quiet night here, like most every night. This has always been a nice neighborhood. Things get a little rowdy on the Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve, people barbecuing and stuff. Setting off fireworks, even though it’s illegal.”

I was thankful that Mrs. Cooper was willing to talk but she was a bit too chatty about inessential details.

“Who was here in the house that night?” Jack asked.

Mrs. Cooper seemed to take a moment to think. “My heavens, who would be here. Me and my son. My husband died about a year before. Killed in a car accident out on the highway.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

Mrs. Cooper nodded. “My son was only seven at the time. He misses his daddy still.”

“I can imagine,” Jack said. “According to Mrs. Delaney’s testimony her son came home drunk that evening, passed out, and never left the house. Did you hear him come home?”

“I sure did, him banging on the door for poor Sylvia to let him in.” Mrs. Cooper sniffed. “Too almighty drunk to even find his own house key.”

“Do you remember what time that was?” I asked.

Mrs. Cooper tilted her head to one side and gazed at the wall while she considered the question. “Near as I can remember it was around seven, maybe a little earlier.”

“Did you hear anyone leave the house after that?” Jack asked. “For example, did you hear their car leave?”

“No, I didn’t,” Mrs. Cooper said. “I went to bed at nine like I always did back then, because I had to be up to get ready for work and get my son off to school.” She paused a moment, as if another thought had struck her. “I wouldn’t have heard anything, I reckon, because my bedroom is on the side of the house away from them.”

“What about your son?” I asked. “Did he hear anything?”

“My goodness gracious, I don’t know.” Mrs. Cooper appeared surprised at the idea. “Nobody ever asked him. I know I sure didn’t. I didn’t want him knowing too much about the whole thing. Didn’t want him having nightmares. He had trouble sleeping after his daddy was killed, and I can’t tell you how many nights I had to go into his room because he was having a bad dream.”

I felt great sympathy for the boy. Losing a parent at any age is tough, but especially so when you’re a child.

“Could we talk to your son about that night?” Jack asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Mrs. Cooper rose from her chair. “I’ll go call him. He’s working in his room.” She walked into the hallway and called out, “Ronnie, can you come here a minute? We need to talk to you.” She returned to her chair. “He’ll come if he doesn’t have those headphones on. Wears them a lot because it blocks out noise so he can concentrate.”

Jack and I exchanged glances. It sounded to me like Ronnie Cooper was in his room playing video games. I had expected Mrs. Cooper to tell us he was at his job.

Moments later a tall young man entered the room. He was so tall he had to duck his head to get in the door. I reckoned he must be about six foot six or seven. He was solidly built, dressed in athletic shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that showed off a muscular physique. I had been expecting a couch potato, but Ronnie Cooper looked like a pro athlete.

“Good morning.” He had a deep voice. “What’s going on, Mom?”

“Sit down, honey,” Mrs. Cooper said. “We don’t want our visitors getting neck strain looking up at you. These gentlemen are Mr. Jack Pemberton and Mr. Charlie Harris, and that big kitty there is Diesel.”

Ronnie seated himself in a chair near his mother. He leaned forward and extended a hand to Diesel. The cat rose from his relaxed stretch by my feet and went over to the young man. Diesel sniffed his fingers for a moment, then Ronnie began to stroke Diesel’s back. The cat started purring, and I knew Ronnie Cooper had passed the Diesel test.

“He’s beautiful,” Ronnie said. “Maine Coon, right?”

“Yes, he is.” I was surprised because not that many people I had encountered had seen one before, let alone knew the breed.

“Ronnie’s real smart,” Mrs. Cooper said, beaming. “He’s a computer programmer, and he works from here for a company in Memphis. He telly-somethings. What is it?”

“Telecommute,” Ronnie said. “I go into the office about three times a month for meetings, but most of the time I work from home. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

Jack took the cue and launched into an explanation before Mrs. Cooper could get going on one. He gave Ronnie a quick summary of our interest in the Barber case, and when he finished, Ronnie nodded.