I was appalled, though not surprised, at the former sheriff’s response to Mrs. Finch’s report. There were still far too many people who were willing to overlook abuse in all its forms for the same reasons.
“He was pretty bad,” Jack said. “A lot of people were happy when he got voted out of office.” He glanced at me. “I don’t think I have any more questions. What about you, Charlie?”
“None that I can think of right now,” I said. “Mrs. Gillon, we really appreciate this. Your candor and willingness to talk to us has given us a much fuller picture of the family.”
“I’m glad to do it,” Mrs. Gillon said. “I’ve had those two boys and Betty on my conscience for twenty years. I want to see justice done for them.”
Jack and I rose, and Mrs. Gillon got up to see us to the door. “That cat of yours has better manners than my grandchildren and great-grands,” she said. “Where are y’all going next?”
“I thought maybe we would see if Mrs. Finch would talk to us,” Jack said. “They live on the other side of what used to be the Barber place, I believe.”
“Yes, go about four miles on down this same road. You can’t miss it. Great big, gaudy mailbox that looks like a sailboat,” Mrs. Gillon said. “Don’t ask me why it’s a sailboat, though.”
We thanked her again. I glanced down the hall before we walked out the door and saw Britney watching. I waved. She giggled and waved back.
Once we were in the car Jack said, “We’ve been lucky so far, finding people willing to talk. Let’s hope our lucky streak lasts with Mrs. Finch.”
“Amen to that,” I said.
We were destined for disappointment, however. When Mrs. Finch opened the door, she barely gave us time to mention our names. She looked at me, then at Diesel, and said, “My daughter said I can’t talk to you” and shut the door in our faces.
THIRTY-TWO
We got back in the car, and I headed for Tullahoma. There was no point in trying to get Mrs. Finch to come to the door again. Jack pulled the folder with the autopsy reports from beneath his seat and opened it. He started looking through the papers. I had decided that if there were any pictures included, I wasn’t going to look at them. I felt haunted enough already by the thought of those two innocent boys, their lives taken away.
I forced my thoughts away from autopsies. “We’ve learned a lot,” I said, “though it would have been helpful to talk to Mrs. Finch about that night.”
“Yes, it would have. We need to find out more about what went on with Elizabeth Barber and Leann Finch that night. I wonder if the Finches can really swear to the fact that neither of the girls left the house that night,” Jack replied. “We’ll have to try Dr. Finch again. After we, or maybe you, talk to Bill Delaney again, if that’s possible. We’re getting close to the truth, I can feel it.”
“Closer, anyway,” I said. “I wish we could find out where Hiram Barber was during those two hours.”
“That seems impossible at this point,” Jack said as he turned a page. “What do you think about Elizabeth Barber as the killer?”
“I’ve considered her, certainly,” I said. “What do you think her motive was?”
“Freedom from that family,” Jack said. “And probably money. According to Mrs. Gillon, Elizabeth wanted to be a veterinarian, and that means four years of college and four years of vet school. That’s a big investment in both time and money. Without her family’s support, she’d have had a tough time accomplishing any of it.”
“I can see her maybe killing her father,” I said. “He was the one who intended to hold her back. Again, according to Mrs. Gillon. I wish we could verify that with someone else. But her mother and her brothers? That’s much harder for me to grasp.”
“With her father dead, would her mother have been able to run the farm? Elizabeth might have been stuck there,” Jack asked. “Killing them all was a completely ruthless thing to do, but she might have seen that as her only choice to get totally free.”
“Say she did do it, and for the reasons you’ve stated,” I said. “Did she do it alone?”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “But why did Bill Delaney leave home for two hours? What was he doing? Maybe it was something completely unrelated to the murders.”
“Could have been,” I said, “though I’m having a hard time imagining what else it could be. Especially since Mrs. Gillon told us about Betty and Bill. I think he must have gone to the Barber farm that night.”
“Maybe.”
I glanced at Jack for a second then focused again on driving. He seemed intent on a particular page.
“Have you found something?” I asked.
“Possibly,” he replied. “Mrs. Barber, Matthew, and Mark were killed execution style, but Hiram was shot in the back.”
“Perhaps Hiram tried to flee from the killer, whereas the others were too afraid to try,” I said.
“Could be.” Jack suddenly closed the folder and stuck it back under his seat. “I hope whoever killed them rots in hell for eternity.” He seemed overcome with emotion. He turned his head away and looked out his window.
I gave him time to collect himself. I knew how he felt. As we approached the city limits of Tullahoma, I spoke. “Where do you think we should go next?”
Jack turned his head and faced forward again. He cleared his throat before he responded. “Let’s try the vet clinic. Stay on the highway. It’s on the edge of town to the west. Just about five miles from here. It’ll be on the right. You can’t miss it.”
“What’s the plan when we get there?” I asked.
“One thought I had was that we take Diesel in and tell them he needs to see the vet. You’ll have to think up why. I don’t know that much about cats and their habits.”
Diesel heard his name mentioned, and he meowed and chirped as if to ask what we were talking about.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said. “Jack, I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable with that. We’ll have to come up with something else. Why not just go in, ask if Elizabeth is there, and ask to speak to her?”
“Let me think about it,” Jack said. “I imagine Leann Finch has already warned her about us, though, so that approach might not get us anywhere.”
He fell silent, and I didn’t interrupt his ruminations.
A few minutes later we reached the western side of Tullahoma, and I easily spotted the vet clinic, thanks to its large sign. I turned off the highway into the parking lot. As I looked for a parking space, I noticed a large, dark SUV. With rising excitement I realized it matched the description of the SUV that had struck Bill Delaney.
I drove closer to it so I could see the make and model. Once I did, I saw that it was a match. I stopped the car and nudged Jack. “Look at that SUV,” I said. “It matches the one that hit Delaney. What do you want to bet that it belongs to Elizabeth Barber?”
“I think I’d lose that bet,” Jack replied. “I’ve got an idea. Park next to it. It’s parked away from other cars, so the owner has to be one of those people who can’t stand the thought of their car getting scratched.”
I did as Jack asked. “What’s your idea?”
Jack unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m going in there and tell the receptionist that I accidentally scraped the side of that SUV. I’ll ask to talk to the owner. I doubt Elizabeth Barber knows what I look like, so I won’t give my name. I’ll ask her to come out and look at the damage, and I’ll say my insurance information is in the car.”
“Then once you get her out here, I can tell her that her SUV matches the description of the one that hit Bill Delaney,” I said. “That ought to shake her up a little. I can hint that my daughter and son-in-law actually got a picture of it with part of the license plate.”