Miranda James - Murder Past Due

After I came out of the bathroom, wearing my robe over my pajamas, I went down to the kitchen, where I knew Diesel would be waiting. I filled his bowl with fresh water and replenished his food. He began eating his breakfast with enthusiasm.

I hadn’t remembered to fill the coffeepot last night and set it so that I would have coffee when I got up. And no wonder. I felt dazed as I recalled the events of the day before.

While I waited for the coffee, I went to the front door to retrieve the paper. Standing on the doorstep, breathing in the fresh, cool air, I began to feel more awake. I scanned the front page, but there was no mention of Godfrey’s death. Tomorrow’s paper would be full of it, I was sure. And there would probably be national news crews all over the place. The mysterious death of a bestselling writer would attract attention across the country.

I was working the crossword and sipping coffee when the back door opened. I looked up to greet Azalea Berry. Today, Wednesday, was one of her three weekdays at my house. She had other clients on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

At nearly six feet tall, Azalea was an imposing figure. She had a regal bearing and she rarely smiled, but she was kind, with a warmth that belied her reserve. She was only about three or four years older than I, but she possessed the poise of a grande dame in her eighties.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning, Mr. Charlie,” Azalea replied. She closed the door behind her and set her purse and keys on the counter nearby. “It sure is some beautiful morning.”

“Yes, it is.” I wondered whether she had heard about Godfrey Priest’s death. Surely Kanesha had mentioned it to her mother.

“Terrible thing about that poor man.” Azalea retrieved her apron from a hook by the back door and put it on.

“It sure was. It seems like a nightmare instead of something real.”

“And you finding him that way.” Azalea shook her head. “It’s a wonder you wasn’t up all night.”

“It was pretty grisly.” I took a sip of my coffee.

“How is Justin this morning?” She shook her head. “That poor child.”

“I haven’t seen him this morning. He was completely worn out last night.”

“Then he’s going to need a good breakfast. Build up his strength. You, too.” She went to the refrigerator and began pulling out eggs, sausage, and milk. Next she retrieved the flour canister, and I knew she was going to make hotcakes.

My mouth began watering. Azalea made wonderful hotcakes.

Diesel wandered into the kitchen and sat down a few feet away from Azalea.

She regarded him with a gimlet eye, and he stared back unfazed. “I don’t need no help from you,” Azalea said.

Diesel warbled at her, and Azalea turned her back on him, busying herself with preparing breakfast.

“Diesel, let’s go see if Justin is up.” I put my coffee cup aside and stood. “Come on, boy.”

Diesel was off like a streak. I followed at a much more leisurely pace.

When I reached Justin’s room, I found the door open and Justin sitting at his computer with Diesel climbing into his lap. I tapped lightly on the door, and Justin looked up at me.

The worn, frightened look had left his face, and this morning he appeared more his usual self, I was glad to see.

“Good morning.” I smiled. “Azalea’s downstairs making hotcakes for breakfast.”

Justin’s face lit up. “I sure am hungry.” His head ducked down for a moment. “Uh, about yesterday . . .”

“Yes,” I said when he paused.

“Thank you,” Justin said, raising his head to look at me. “I’m glad you were there, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” He seemed younger than eighteen right then. He’d had more than one deep shock yesterday, and the Lord only knew how it would all affect him in the long run. “Come on downstairs when you’re ready. Breakfast will be on the table soon.”

“Yes, sir. I will.” Justin rubbed Diesel’s head, and the cat chirped happily.

I reached the kitchen in time to answer the phone. The appetizing smells emanating from the stove made my stomach rumble. Justin wasn’t the only hungry one.

“Hello.”

“Good morning, Mr. Harris. This is Ray Appleby from the Athena Daily Register . I’d like to talk to you about the murder of Godfrey Priest.”

I glanced at the clock. It was only seven-fifteen.

“You’re calling pretty early, Mr. Appleby. I haven’t had my breakfast yet.” My tone was sharp, but I didn’t care.

“I apologize if I woke you,” Appleby said. He didn’t sound apologetic. “But I really need to talk to you as soon as possible. According to my sources you found the body.”

“If you want to call back at a more civilized hour, I might be willing to talk to you. Until then, I have nothing more to say.” I hung up the phone.

I turned to find Azalea regarding me, her expression inquisitive.

“Somebody from the paper, wanting to talk to me about yesterday.” I sat down at the table.

“That’s mighty rude, calling somebody this early.” She turned back to the stove. “People just ain’t raised right these days.”

“It’s only going to get worse,” I said. I picked up my coffee cup and, seeing that it was empty, got up to refill it.

“I guess he was pretty big news.” Azalea expertly flipped a couple of hotcakes as I poured the coffee.

“He was, and there’ll probably be news crews from all over the country here.” I stirred some sugar substitute into the coffee. “And it looks like your daughter may be center stage, since she’s in charge of the investigation.”

Azalea made a noise that sounded like hmmph .

“It’s a big chance for her.” I sat down at the table again and drank some coffee.

“That girl wanna be on TV, she should’ve been an actress.” Azalea set a plate with three hotcakes and three sausages on the table in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching for the syrup she had placed on the table, along with a napkin and cutlery.

Justin appeared a few minutes later when Diesel was begging for another bite of hotcake. Justin saw it and grinned.

“Good morning, child.” Azalea treated the young man to one of her rare smiles. “You set on down here and eat you some breakfast. You need your strength.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Justin said, eyeing the plate of hotcakes and sausage avidly. “Thank you, Miss Azalea. I’m starving.”

Azalea stood, arms folded, watching Justin eat for a moment. Then she inspected my plate. “How about some more?”

I groaned and pushed my plate away. “No, thank you. That was delicious, but if I eat any more I’ll have to go run around the track for two hours.”

The housekeeper cocked an eyebrow at that. She knew I was not a runner. “Just go up and down them stairs a few times. That’ll do it.”

The doorbell rang, and I started to get up from the table.

“You set still.” Azalea motioned me back into my chair. “I’ll take care of whatever heathen that is, ringing the bell this time of the morning.”

“Thank you,” I said. I knew better than to argue with her.

As I watched Justin shovel the food into his mouth with Diesel sitting hopefully by his chair, I heard raised voices come from the hallway. I recognized one of them and sighed.

The voices neared.

“I done told you, girl, you ain’t going in that kitchen. You go and set yourself down in the living room. Mr. Charlie’ll come in there when he’s done finished with his breakfast.”

“Mama, this is ridiculous.” Kanesha Berry sounded angry.

“Git on in there like I told you. Ain’t gonna hurt you to wait five minutes.”

“Oh good Lord. If this don’t beat all.”

Justin stared at me, round-eyed, and I tried hard not to laugh. The stern, commanding deputy of the night before was starting to sound like a petulant teenager.