Claws For Concern

“I’m going to lie down, too,” I said. “Nap.”

Diesel meowed again and stretched out on the seat. He knew what the word nap meant. I twisted so that I could lie across the front seats and got myself into position. I didn’t turn the car off because it would get too hot. I hoped the SUV’s owner would be too upset to notice until it was too late.

I don’t think we had to wait more than six or seven minutes before Jack appeared with a striking woman in scrubs that did little to disguise a shapely figure. She was shorter than Jack and had bright red hair pulled back and twisted into a bun on the back of her head. She was gesticulating in an angry manner.

Jack maneuvered her into the area between my car and hers. He got on the other side of her and drew her toward the front of the SUV. That allowed me to sit up, open the door, and effectively trap her between the two of us.

She was in such a state, continuing to flap her arms about, that she evidently didn’t hear me open the car door. She was still facing Jack.

“. . . some sort of prank. You look way too old to be pulling this kind of crap. I’ve got work to do.”

“I’m sure you do.” Jack looked over her head toward me. “Charlie, I’d like you to meet Elizabeth Campbell. Elizabeth Barber Campbell.”

She whirled to face me, her expression furious. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you people?” She pulled a cell phone out of a pocket of her scrubs. She started to tap in a number.

“I’m a friend of Bill Delaney’s,” I said. “The man you tried to run down on the square in Athena recently.”

That hit home, I could see. She almost dropped the phone. Then she recovered. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’m going to call the police.” She started to tap on the phone again.

“Go ahead, by all means,” I said. “I’ll be happy to report to them that we’ve found the hit-and-run driver that the Athena police have been looking for.”

She stopped tapping and stared at me. I could see the fear creeping into her expression. I didn’t need anything more to tell me that she was guilty.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I was nowhere near Athena that day. You can’t prove any of this.”

“And what day would that be?” Jack asked.

She realized her slip but tried to bluster. “Whatever day you’re talking about, I wasn’t in Athena. I haven’t been in Athena in a long time.”

“Not even to visit your best friend, Leann Finch?” Jack asked.

Elizabeth Barber—I couldn’t think of her by any other name—backed up against her SUV and glanced wildly back and forth between Jack and me.

“You might be disappointed to hear that you didn’t kill Bill Delaney, though you did put him in the hospital,” I said. “That was a pretty dirty trick, you know. Going to see him that day, getting him drunk, and then trying to run him down.”

Her eyes widened again, and I took grim satisfaction in the fact that my hunch had proved true. She had been in Bill’s apartment that morning. The lipstick Diesel had found on the floor belonged to her, I was sure of it.

“Too bad you lost your lipstick while you were there,” I said. “My cat found it, but I left it there. I’m sure the police in Athena will be happy to test it for fingerprints. What do you want to bet they’ll match yours?”

All at once her legs seemed to give way, and she slid down the side of the SUV until she was sitting on the pavement. Tears started streaming down her face.

Jack and I exchanged startled glances. I hadn’t expected this. I thought she would continue to brazen it out. A cynical thought flashed through my mind, however. She might be trying this tactic in order to garner sympathy. Best not to be taken in by it. I glanced at Jack again, and I could see by his expression of disbelief that he’d had the same thought.

“Why did you do it, Elizabeth?” I asked, my tone gentler than she probably deserved. “Did you really want to kill him?”

THIRTY-THREE

While Jack and I waited for a response to my question, I could hear Diesel in the car meowing loudly and scratching at the window. Elizabeth Barber, her hands now over her face, continued to cry.

Since Diesel sounded more frantic as the seconds ticked by, I opened the door and let him out. He meowed again and climbed onto Elizabeth’s legs and butted his head against her hands. Obviously startled by the sudden weight on her legs and the pressure against her hands, she let her arms fall. Diesel butted his head against her chin. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around my cat and buried her face in the side of his neck.

Jack and I watched as the cat’s ministrations proved effective in calming the distressed woman. We waited as the sobs diminished in volume and Elizabeth’s breathing appeared to be normal again.

An unfamiliar voice from behind me startled me. “What’s going on here? Liz, honey, are you all right?”

A small woman, no more than five feet tall and whippet thin, pushed by me to get closer to Elizabeth. “Is something wrong with the cat? I got worried when you didn’t come back.”