TWENTY-FIVE
“Thank you for your time,” I said to Dr. Finch as she herded us toward her front door.
She made no response to this other than to jerk her door open and stand beside it, glowering as we departed. Jack preceded me, and I had barely cleared the door when it slammed behind us.
“She’s frightened,” Jack said as we walked to the car.
“Yes, she is,” I replied. “I think we succeeded in getting her rattled. I wonder, though, whether we’ll be able to get anything further out of her.” I unlocked the car and got in.
Jack waited until I had the car cranked and the AC blowing before he joined me. “I don’t think we will, until we can go back to her with new information that will shake her up even more.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Do you want to try Bill Delaney again this afternoon?” I drove down the street to the next intersection and idled there while Jack considered my question.
“I don’t know that we’d have any better luck with him this afternoon,” Jack said. “May be better to let him stew a bit longer, too, and go back to him with any new information we can get.”
“All right, then. We’ll go back to my house.” I turned onto the cross street and headed home.
Neither of us spoke again until we reached the house and I pulled the car into the garage. “Come on in and have something to drink,” I said. “Is there anything else you want to talk about today?”
Jack followed me into the kitchen where a happy, warbling feline met us right inside the door. “Stewart must have heard us drive into the garage, didn’t he, boy?” Diesel chirped, and I gave him the attention he wanted while Jack responded to my question to him.
“I think I might as well go on home,” Jack said. “We can make a fresh start in the morning. How about we meet at nine at the diner where Wanda Nell works? It’s called the Kountry Kitchen.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Diesel and I will be there.”
Jack gave me directions, and I offered him a bottle of water for the drive home. He accepted, and Diesel and I saw him to the door.
I turned to see Stewart standing halfway up the stairs as I closed the door.
“I saw your car,” he said. “I let Diesel out so he could greet you. I think he must have heard the car because he meowed at me until I opened the door.”
“He probably did,” I said. Diesel chirped in agreement, or so I interpreted it.
“Has Jack gone?” Stewart asked.
“Yes, we accomplished what we could today,” I replied. “I’m heading to Tullahoma in the morning. We are going to talk to various people and see what we can find out.”
“I presume you’ll be taking Diesel with you,” Stewart said.
“Definitely. He’s an excellent icebreaker.”
“That’s good, because Haskell is on duty tomorrow, and I need to be in Memphis for a good part of the day. Dante is coming with me.” Stewart cocked his head to the side, apparently listening to something.
Now I heard it also. From upstairs I could hear frantic barking, steadily increasing in volume. Dante was unhappy about being left alone.
“Good grief, it’s a wonder he doesn’t shred his vocal cords.” Stewart grimaced. “I’d better get back upstairs before he starts chewing something up. Talk to you later.” He turned and ran lightly up the stairs.
I looked down at Diesel. “For such a small dog, Dante sure can generate a lot of noise.” The cat weighed about three times as much as the poodle but was, despite his chatty nature, not really loud like the dog.
Going in and out of the summer heat today must have affected me more than I realized because I felt like lying down for a nap. “Let’s go upstairs for a nap,” I told Diesel.
The cat regarded me for a moment. He meowed twice and headed for the utility room. I figured he was going to the litter box and his water bowl. He would join me upstairs when he was done.
In the bedroom I kicked off my shoes, removed my belt, and stretched out on the bed. I intended to sleep no more than half an hour.
I fell asleep so quickly I never even knew when Diesel got onto the bed with me. I woke to the sound of knocking on the halfway open bedroom door.
“Charlie, it’s after six, and dinner is ready,” Stewart said.
I sat up on the side of the bed. “Thanks for waking me up. I didn’t mean to sleep this long. Is it really after six?” Beside me, Diesel meowed.
Stewart laughed. “Yes, it is. I came by earlier, and you were seriously sawing some logs. I didn’t know you snored like that.”
“Must have been Diesel you heard,” I said. “He snores.” The cat warbled and chirped as if to contradict me.
“Not even Diesel could snore that loud. Y’all come on down.” Stewart disappeared from the doorway, and a moment later I heard him going rapidly down the stairs.
I went into the bathroom and washed my face. That helped make me more alert. Making my way downstairs, I detected the scent of fried chicken as I descended. I quickened my pace. I would never tell Azalea this, but Stewart’s fried chicken was even better than hers.
Haskell, in civilian clothes, had already taken his place at the table. Diesel and Dante had their eyes on Stewart who was plating the chicken. There was a bowl of steaming rice, another of cream gravy, and a plateful of biscuits on the table. A glass of ice tea had been set at each place.
“Tonight I wanted good old Southern comfort food.” Stewart set the fried chicken on the table and took his seat. “I didn’t think either of you would mind.”
“Never.” Haskell grinned. “This is my all-time favorite meal.”
Stewart batted his eyelashes at Haskell. “I know.”
“I could never say no to a meal like this,” I said. “My waistline is proof of that.”
We began passing and trading the food, the cat and the dog watching every move. They both loved fried chicken and knew that they would get bites from Stewart. Haskell had been known to slip them each the occasional morsel as well. I needed to watch to be sure Diesel didn’t overeat and pay for it later.
Conversation lagged as we ate. I had to remind myself to eat slowly and not shovel the food in the way I sometimes did with a meal like this. Watching Dante and Diesel gobble down chicken without taking much time to chew served as a reminder.
After several minutes of steady eating, Stewart spoke. “I told Haskell about your plans for tomorrow, Charlie. He has something he wants to tell you.”
Haskell put his fork down and had a sip of tea. “Yeah, I reckon Pemberton knows this already, but if he hasn’t told you, I thought you should hear it from me. It’s about the sheriff over there in Tullahoma.”
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what Haskell was about to share. “What about him?” I asked.
“Name’s Elmer Lee Johnson,” Haskell replied. “He’s mostly a by-the-book kinda guy, and he’s not going to be too happy with you and Pemberton nosing around.”
“When you say not too happy, are you talking about Kanesha’s kind of not too happy or something worse?” Chief Deputy Berry had been reluctant in the beginning to trust or even tolerate me. She had never threatened me, not seriously, anyway. Would this sheriff take things further if we got in his way?
“I don’t think he’d arrest you,” Haskell said. “Unless you really step over the line, but I don’t think you’ll do that. I guess he’s more like Kanesha that way. At least, that’s what my buddy on the force there has told me.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said. “Jack told me that he and his wife have had some experience with murder cases there, so I suppose they must have had to deal with Sheriff Johnson. Jack hasn’t said anything about him that I recall.”