“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.
“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.”
“Thank you.” The young man had his eyes on his clipboard. “He has his driver’s license and his Medicare card with him. According to the license he lives in Tullahoma. Is that correct?”
“As far as I know,” I said, “that is his permanent residence. He has been staying in an apartment in Athena, however, for the past few weeks.” I gave him the address, and he added it to the form.
“Are you his next of kin?”
I shrugged. “In a way, I suppose I am. I don’t know whether he has any other family. Whether he’s married, divorced, has children of his own, anything like that.”
“For our purposes, you’ll do, if you consent to that.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Do you have any other questions?”
“No, sir. Thank you for your help.”
I stood and nodded, smiling, then I walked back to the waiting room. The policeman was still with Laura and Frank.
Laura looked unhappy, and Frank looked aggravated. I gathered that perhaps telling the officer they thought the hit-and-run was deliberate hadn’t gone over well.
“What’s the matter?” I asked when I reached them.
“I don’t think he believes us,” Laura said, confirming my suspicion.
I stared hard at the policeman. “Officer, if my daughter tells you she saw that car swerve toward Mr. Delaney, then that car swerved toward Mr. Delaney.”
The policeman put up a hand as if to ward off a blow or to get me to be quiet. “Okay, whatever you say. Now, since you’re the only one here who seems to know the victim, what can you tell me about him? Other family? He seems to be from Tullahoma, according to his driver’s license.”
Once again I went through the bare list of facts I knew about Bill Delaney, omitting, of course, anything about his connection to the Barber case. If the police wanted to delve into his past, it wouldn’t take them long to find it out for themselves.