Miranda James - Murder Past Due

“Thank you for coming,” Julia said, one arm still around her son. “I think Justin’s ready to go. I really appreciate your bringing him here.”

Mother and son both appeared worn to the bone now. The best thing I could do was to get Justin home and let him have some privacy or maybe some time with Diesel. My cat had a tonic effect on people, and Justin needed that now.

“Glad to do it,” I said. I took her free hand and held it between both of mine for a moment. Julia smiled, and I released her hand. “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

Julia nodded. “Put some ice on that bruise if it hurts very much.” Justin gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and I walked out of the waiting room with him a couple of steps behind.

In the car, Justin didn’t say anything. After he buckled his seat belt, he leaned back and closed his eyes. I kept silent. If he wanted to talk, I’d listen.

Justin stirred, opened his eyes, and looked out the window. “He apologized for hitting me.” He touched his cheek briefly and then let his hand slide back down to the seat.

I left the car in park. “I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

“He said he’d never hit me again. He was crying.” Justin turned to look at me. “You think he means that?”

“I sure hope so.” Faced with alienating his son completely, perhaps Ezra was trying to change his behavior.

“He kept telling me he was my father, that he had taken care of me for eighteen years. Like he wanted me to be grateful, I guess.”

“In his way I think he’s trying to tell you that he loves you and considers you his son,” I said, choosing my words with care. “I don’t think he’s really looking for gratitude. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he might not be able to find the right words to tell you that.”

Justin frowned. “He won’t listen when I try to tell him things. He just preaches at me and tells me what I ought to do, instead of trying to understand me. I’m not him.”

“No, you aren’t. But sometimes fathers have a hard time letting their sons be their own men. I think some fathers feel their sons have to be just like them in order to justify their own choices in life. Does that make sense?”

Justin’s eyes had grown big. “I never thought about it like that. That’s why he wants me to be a preacher too, huh?” He turned to gaze out the window again, his head against the glass.

I had given him enough to think about. I backed the car out of the parking space and headed for home. Justin stayed silent the whole way.

When I turned onto my street, I glanced ahead and swore under my breath. A strange car, a late model Jaguar, sat on the street in front of my house. It could only be Godfrey.

SIX

I was tempted to drive right by. Justin needed some time to himself, I thought. But this meeting with Godfrey was inevitable. Maybe it was better to get it over with.

As I passed the car I looked inside. Sure enough, Godfrey waved as I turned into the driveway. I clicked the garage door opener. Justin stirred as I drove inside.

I turned off the car and clicked the opener again. The door came down behind us.

In the dim light provided by two windows high in the wall in front of us, I examined Justin’s face. He still bore signs of strain from his time with Ezra.

“That’s him in the car out there, isn’t it?” Justin unbuckled his seat belt.

“If you’re not ready to talk to him, you don’t have to.”

Justin blinked a couple of times. “No, I want to talk to him.” He paused. “But what do I call him?”

“Only what you feel comfortable with. He’ll understand if you call him Mr. Priest. You both need to know each other better before you decide anything else.” I smiled at him.

Justin nodded. He opened his door and got out.

I followed him into the house, and sure enough, Diesel was waiting near the kitchen door. Justin knelt on the floor beside the cat and rubbed Diesel’s head.

“You talk to Diesel for a few minutes,” I said. “I’ll let Godfrey in. I want to have a word with him first if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, sir,” Justin said. Diesel climbed into his lap and was butting the boy’s chin with his head.

For a moment Justin looked much younger than eighteen, and I worried about the burdens piling up on those boyish shoulders.

Godfrey was waiting on the doorstep. I motioned him inside.

“Hi, Charlie. Where have y’all been?” As he stepped past me into the hallway, he showed no signs of his fight with Ezra.

“At the hospital,” I said, closing the door behind him. “Julia called and asked Justin to come.”

“The hospital?” Godfrey shook his head. “Man, I didn’t hit Ezra that hard, did I?”

“They wanted to make sure his nose isn’t broken,” I said. I led the way into the living room and motioned for Godfrey to sit down in one of the two overstuffed armchairs. I sat in the other, and we regarded each other for a moment.

“Ezra will probably be fine,” I said. “Though I don’t think Julia’s very happy with him at the moment. Or with you.”

“Julia.” Godfrey leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t have recognized her, she’s changed so much since the last time I saw her.” He was frowning.

“We’re all fifty years old,” I said, my tone deliberately harsh. “You don’t look like you did thirty years ago either, you know.”

Godfrey scowled at me. “You think I don’t know that? I wasn’t criticizing Julia, anyway. It was just a bit of a shock.”

“Forget about Julia and Ezra for the moment. Let’s talk about Justin.”

“Where is he? I really want to see him.” He turned in his chair, half rising, and looked toward the door.

“He’s in the kitchen with Diesel. He’ll be here in a minute. I wanted to talk to you first, though.” I held up a hand, and Godfrey sat back.

“So talk.” Godfrey folded his arms across his chest. “What are you going to lecture me about now?”

“I’m not going to lecture you,” I said, wanting to add an epithet or two but restraining myself. “Julia has entrusted Justin to my care, and I simply wanted to tell you to move slowly with him. He’s had a rough day so far, and he doesn’t need you charging into his life like a bull in a china shop. You need to focus on what Justin needs, and not so much on what you want.”

“Yes, Mr. Harris. Thank you for telling me what to do.” Godfrey’s tone mocked me, but I ignored that.

“I have no reason to expect that you’ve changed much in thirty years, Mr. Priest,” I said just as mockingly. “You never did think much about anyone but yourself. But you have a son now, and that has to change.”

Godfrey stared at me. “Lord, I had no idea you despised me so much. What did I ever do to you?”

I almost laughed in his face. The man had a colossal ego. “We don’t have enough time to go into that. Just stop and think for a moment about what you did to Julia nineteen years ago. Walking away and leaving her pregnant, knowing she would probably marry Ezra. You have a lot to answer for.”

Godfrey’s face whitened, and I knew I was right. He had lied about not knowing Julia was pregnant when he left her. To his credit, he didn’t try to deny it now.

“I’ll go get Justin,” I said, rising from my chair. “And you take it easy with him.”

Godfrey didn’t answer. I left him gazing at the wall.

In the kitchen, Justin and Diesel were still on the floor. Justin’s face was buried in Diesel’s neck, and Diesel was muttering away. “Are you okay?” I stopped a few paces away from the pair.

Justin looked up at me, his face slightly tearstained. “Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you wash your face and hands?” I said. “Do you still want to see Mr. Priest?”