Miranda James - Murder Past Due

Nodding as he got his feet, Justin went to the sink and splashed his face with water. After patting himself dry with a towel, he washed his hands.

“I’m ready,” he said as he turned to me.

I put a hand on his shoulder and kept it there as he preceded me out of the kitchen and to the living room. His steps were slow but steady.

We paused in the doorway of the living room. Godfrey stood, facing us as we came into the room.

Justin stopped several feet away from his biological father, and Godfrey drank in the sight of his son like a man who hasn’t had water for weeks.

“Justin, this is Godfrey Priest. Godfrey, this is Justin Wardlaw.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Justin said. He took a step forward, his hand out, but Godfrey didn’t move. Justin faltered.

Godfrey started to speak. He stopped to clear his throat. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He finally held out his hand, and Justin stepped forward to take it.

Godfrey shook his son’s hand, his eyes still fixed on the boy’s face. Now that I saw the two of them together, I spotted certain features they shared. Justin had Julia’s coloring and her eyes, but his nose and cheekbones were just like Godfrey’s.

Godfrey drew Justin toward the couch, and they both sat down, neither one of them speaking, each simply staring at the other.

“What happened to your face?” Godfrey asked.

I turned and stole away, leaving father and son alone together. I would let Justin explain the bruise.

Back in the kitchen, I picked up the phone and punched in Melba Gilley’s number. I had called her earlier, before I took Justin to the hospital, to tell her I might not be back this afternoon. As Diesel rubbed against my legs, I glanced at the clock. It was now almost two-thirty.

“Hey, Melba, it’s Charlie.” I listened for a moment as I leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure. I might be back a little later. Oh, so you’ve already heard about that?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that news of Ezra’s set-to with Godfrey had already hit the Athena grape-vine. And trust Melba to be one of the early grapes on the vine.

“Yes, I do know what it’s all about. I’m surprised your informant didn’t tell you that, too.”

Melba squawked a bit in my ear.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” I hated the fact that this scandal would be all over town, and all over the college, before long. Justin and Julia deserved some privacy, but thanks to Ezra and Godfrey, they had lost all chance of that.

“I’ll tell you more about it when I see you,” I said. She might as well have the real story from me instead of who-knew-what wild rumors were flying around.

Diesel had his paw on my thigh now. He chirped at me.

“Gotta go now. I’ll talk to you later.” I listened a moment longer and then hung up the phone.

“What is it, boy?” Diesel was talking away.

Then I heard the front door close.

Diesel followed me from the kitchen into the hallway. The living room was empty.

“Justin? Where are you?”

There was no answer. I went to the window and looked out in time to see Justin getting in the car with Godfrey.

“Well, they’re gone,” I said to Diesel. “That’s what you were trying to tell me, weren’t you?”

Diesel looked up at me as if to say, Of course .

“I really wish they hadn’t,” I said, heading back to the kitchen. “But nothing I can do about it now. Guess we’ll go back to work, okay, boy?”

About fifteen minutes later, back in my office, Diesel and I were settled in for the remainder of the afternoon. I planned to work till around six, then we would head home. I needed to change for the big dinner tonight, an occasion I did not anticipate with much joy.

I had hardly sat down in my chair before Melba popped in, eager to get the scoop from me. I gave her a bare outline of the facts, and her jaw dropped a couple of times.

“Poor Julia,” she said when I finished. “That Godfrey is a rat bastard, if I do say so myself. Running off and leaving her pregnant like that.”

I hadn’t needed to spell it out for Melba. Anyone who knew Godfrey in our high school days wouldn’t be a bit surprised.

Melba left after a few more comments on Godfrey and his behavior, and I was able to work for a while with no interruptions.

Around four o’clock I realized I was thirsty. I rummaged in my bag, but I had forgotten to bring any bottled water with me. Taking a large plastic mug with me, I headed downstairs to the staff lounge for the filtered water cooler there. Diesel yawned at me, declining to come with me.

The walk down and up the stairs would do me good. I spent so much time hunched over the computer that my back generally ached by the time I got home at night. I hardly ever remembered to get up and stretch the way I should.

I rounded the bottom of the staircase and walked down the short hallway to the back of the house. The room that had once been the study-cum-office of the master of the house had been converted into a congenial space where library employees could eat lunch, have some coffee, and relax.

I hadn’t expected to find anyone in the lounge at this time of the afternoon, but Willie Clark sat at one of the tables, frowning down at the legal pad in front of him. He put down his pen as he heard me enter and scowled at me.

Since this was Willie’s general greeting to everyone, I took no offense. He, too, had been one of my classmates in high school. He had never been friendly, but that probably wasn’t his fault. He was the kid who was always the butt of the joke, the one the football team—Godfrey was captain our senior year—never failed to harass. Even those who, like me, tried to be nice to him didn’t get very far. He hadn’t changed much as an adult, sad to say.

“How are you, Willie?” I regarded him with a smile as I filled my mug from the cooler.

“Fine,” he snapped back at me. For someone who served as the head of the library’s reference department, Willie was lacking in people skills. “Trying to work, if people will let me.”

As long as I had known him, Willie had been scribbling words on pieces of paper. I presumed he wanted to be a writer, but I never heard that he managed to publish anything.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you,” I said. I turned to leave, but Willie spoke again, and I turned back.

“Godfrey Priest came to see you,” Willie said. “Heard he got into a fight, too.” He smirked.

“Yes, he did,” I said. “I guess the whole town has heard about it now.”

“Too bad Ezra didn’t put Godfrey in the hospital,” Willie said, his face dark with hatred. “Or in the grave, where he belongs.”

SEVEN

Willie was so often the target of Godfrey’s bizarre practical jokes in high school, it didn’t surprise me that he harbored intense feelings against his old nemesis.

But wishing Godfrey dead?

“That’s a bit strong,” I said, trying to keep a mild tone.

Willie sucked at his prominent front teeth—an irritating habit—as he glared at me. I remembered that Godfrey started calling Willie “Bugs” because of those teeth. The nickname stuck, unfortunately for Willie.

“Godfrey’s a colossal jackass, and you know it.” Willie slapped a hand down on his legal pad. “He made you look like a fool more than once.”

“Yes, he did,” I said. “I don’t like him either, but that doesn’t mean I wish he was dead.”

“More fool you, then.” The contempt in Willie’s voice surprised me. “You don’t know everything he’s done. No one does. But I do.” He stood, pushing his chair back with a violent gesture, grabbed his pad and pen, and stalked out of the room.

The nickname “Bugs” was cruelly apt, because physically Willie was a rabbit-like specimen. Godfrey and I both towered over him, and I knew Willie resented us for that. Godfrey hadn’t been content with physical domination, however. He enjoyed tormenting Willie because Willie always reacted. That simply egged Godfrey on.