Classified As Murder

When I reached the foot of the stairs, I looked up. Deputy Bates had a firm hold on Hubert Morris, who struggled to pull free. The deputy outweighed Hubert by at least thirty pounds of muscle, so Hubert wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to yell at his wife, who cowered in my son’s arms.

“How many times have I told you to stay out of other people’s rooms? Stupid, stupid, crazy idiot.” Everything Hubert yelled was some variation of those words.

“Quiet!” Sean and Deputy Bates roared in unison.

The word reverberated up and down the stairs and through the hall.

Hubert was apparently so startled that he shut up.

“And stay that way.” Bates growled in Hubert’s ear before he practically carried him down the stairs to where Diesel and I stood.

My poor cat had scrunched up against my legs as hard as he could, and I squatted down to reassure him. I didn’t like this yelling any more than he did.

When I looked up again, Sean was carrying Eloise up the stairs to her room, I guessed. She was no longer whimpering, and that had to be a good sign. I hoped she would recover quickly from Hubert’s verbal assault.

At least, I hoped it was only verbal.

I stood and examined Hubert, still in the deputy’s strong grip. “What was that all about?” I asked.

The doorbell rang, and Bates indicated that I should answer it. He had made no move to release Hubert.

I opened the door to Kanesha Berry. “Afternoon, Mr. Harris,” she said as she stepped into the hall.

I returned the greeting, but I didn’t think she heard me.

“Tell this gorilla to let go of me.” Hubert sounded on the edge of hysteria. “I’m going to sue the sheriff’s department for brutality. Let go of me.” He twisted hard, but Bates held on to him.

Kanesha addressed her subordinate, her voice sharp. “What’s going on here, Bates?”

“Mr. Morris here was assaulting his wife on the stairs up there,” Bates said, his expression stony. “I intervened, and I kept him in my custody until you arrived, ma’am.”

“Let him go, Bates,” Kanesha said. “No, Mr. Morris, you’re not going anywhere.”

Hubert stopped in his tracks and turned back to face Kanesha. “I was not assaulting my wife, I assure you. I will admit I was yelling at her, but I didn’t strike her.”

“Then why was she holding her left cheek and saying, ‘Don’t hit me again, please don’t hit me again’ when I found you two on the stairs? And why was she screaming?” Bates glowered at Hubert, who shrank away from him.

“Answer the questions, Mr. Morris.” Kanesha stared hard at Hubert. She seemed to have forgotten my presence altogether. “Now. Unless you’d prefer to go down to the sheriff’s department and answer them there.”

Hubert licked his lips, and his eyes darted back and forth from one deputy to the other. “I guess maybe I did slap her,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “But, my lord, Eloise is so crazy, sometimes the only way you can get any sense out of her is to, um . . .” He trailed off.

“I think we’ll continue this conversation in there.” Kanesha indicated the small parlor with a jerk of her head. She strode toward it, leaving Bates to shepherd Hubert along.

Diesel and I slipped into the room after Bates, and I moved quickly to the side of the room away from the two officers and Hubert. If Kanesha was aware of my presence, she gave no sign.

“Have a seat, Mr. Morris,” she said, pointing to a chair. “Bates, back to the library, on the double.”

“Ma’am.” Bates looked momentarily chagrined, but he nodded and disappeared out the door.

Hubert sat, and Kanesha moved closer until she stood maybe six inches from him. She also now blocked my view of Hubert’s face, but I decided to stay put.

I knelt down by Diesel and rubbed his head, hoping that he would keep quiet and not irritate Kanesha.

“How did this incident start?” Kanesha barked the question at Hubert, and I sensed, rather than saw, his start of surprise.

“Uh, well, I ran into Eloise on the stairs. I was looking for her anyway, because I thought I saw her earlier, coming out of someone’s room.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Maybe ten minutes ago,” Hubert said.

“And it took you ten minutes to find her?” Kanesha sounded skeptical.

“She gets around pretty quickly.” Hubert laughed. “You’d be surprised; she’s more nimble than you think in those crazy dresses she wears.”

“And where did you find her?”

“On the stairs,” Hubert said. “I was chastising her for snooping in a room that wasn’t hers, and she started whining and telling me she hadn’t been doing that. I told her I’d seen her, but she kept denying it. And, well, I guess I got mad. She’s so loony she can’t remember where she’s been or what she’s done when she’s in one of her states.”

Kanesha posed the question I was dying to ask. “Whose room had she been in?”

Hubert didn’t answer right away, and I wondered whether he was about to lie.

“The butler’s,” he said. “You know, Truesdale. He has a room on the same floor as some of the family, instead of in the servants’ quarters where he belongs.”

Hubert sounded rather indignant over that.