Miranda James - Murder Past Due

“I think I can guess the gist of it,” I said. Justin was very different from my son, Sean, at that age. Sean had delighted in trying to shock his mother and me with rude language. “So that was it? Just those two phone calls?”

“Yes, sir,” Justin said. “Oh, I almost forgot. I did ask him about the guy and how he knew he had no talent if he wasn’t going to read the guy’s manuscript.”

“What did he say to that?” As big a bestseller as Godfrey was, aspiring writers who wanted his help probably approached him all the time. Knowing Godfrey, he probably wasn’t that gracious about it, either.

“He said he’d known this guy a long time, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Justin pushed a couple of beans around on his plate with his fork. “You don’t think somebody like that would get mad enough to kill him, do you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It depends on how desperate the man was. And how stable. Someone with mental health problems might respond violently to being thwarted.”

“That’s pretty freaky,” Justin said. He set his fork aside.

“Yes,” I said. There was something odd about that second conversation. “Which phone did Godfrey talk on? The hotel phone or his cell phone?”

“His cell phone,” Justin said.

“For both calls?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why would Godfrey give his cell phone number to someone he described as a pest?” That was what was bothering me about the second call. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“You’re right,” Justin said. “It doesn’t. He talked to me about his writing and stuff, and he said once his books started selling really well, he had people coming out of the woodwork all the time. He had his own security guards at his house in California to keep the crazies away from him.” Justin turned a bit pink again, and I figured Godfrey had used a much coarser term than crazies .

“I’m not surprised. I’ve seen it happen before when really big-name authors have signed at the bookstore here in town. I remember one woman who held up the signing line to tell the author in detail about the book she had written. It was sure to be a bestseller, if only she could get someone to read it—according to her. The author politely—and tactfully—declined, but the store staff had to intercede to get the woman out of the line. Even then, she hung around waiting to accost the author again. The staff finally had to eject her. It was embarrassing for everybody.”

“Sure sounds like it,” Justin said. His mouth twisted in obvious distaste. “But how would they find the person he was talking to?”

“They probably could get a record of his calls and trace the number that way,” I said. “Of course, we have no idea where the person was calling from. There’s no reason to think he was here in Athena.”

“That’s true,” Justin said.

“You told all of this—everything you told me just now—to Deputy Berry?” I wanted to be sure.

“Yes, sir,” Justin said. “I told her, but she didn’t say much, just kept asking questions.”

“As long as she received the information,” I said. “That’s the key thing.” I stood up, ready to clear the table.

Justin forestalled me. “I’ll clean up, Mr. Charlie. Why don’t you go relax?”

“Thanks, I think I will.” I smiled and looked down at Diesel, who had been napping on the floor near my chair during dinner. “What about you, boy? You want to come up with me or stay here and help Justin?”

Diesel sat up and warbled at me. He stretched a moment before getting to his feet and walking over to Justin’s chair. “There’s my answer,” I said. “See you later, then.”

I left the two of them and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I wanted to change out of my clothes and relax with a book—the history book, not Godfrey’s novel. I wasn’t in the mood for it right now.

But when I was comfortably in my pajamas, slouched into my chair, book in hand, I found I couldn’t concentrate on late antiquity. My mind kept returning to the murder.

Was there someone else who might have a motive for wanting Godfrey dead? The mysterious Mr. or Ms. X?

I needed to know more about Godfrey’s past. I needed dirt, if there was any. And I knew the right person to call. Putting my book aside, I retrieved my cell phone and settled in for a long chat.

TWENTY-THREE

The obvious person to call was Melba Gilley. With her healthy interest in the doings of her fellow Athenians and her long-term involvement in a variety of community activities, she was a prime source of information.

Calling her, however, meant that I would have to tell her why I was so involved in Godfrey’s murder. If she had somehow heard that I—really, Justin and I—discovered the body, she hadn’t let on, and such behavior would be totally out of character.

I found her number in my cell phone’s address book and initiated the call. She picked up after two rings.

“Good evening,” I said. “It’s Charlie. How are you?”

“Hey, Charlie, I’m doing fine. How about you?” She sounded as chipper as ever.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Is this a good time? Am I interrupting anything?”

“Only some lame show on TV,” she said, laughing. “Sometimes I don’t know why I even turn the dang thing on, except it’s company. What’s on your mind?”

“I need to talk to you about Godfrey,” I said. “I need to find out some things, and I figured you were the person to ask.”

She gave a hearty chuckle. “You mean you called the biggest gossip you know.”

I had to laugh. “Well, if you want to put it like that.”

“I’m nosy. I admit it,” Melba said. “So what do you want to know? But maybe I should ask why first. Godfrey wasn’t exactly a buddy of yours.”

“No, he wasn’t,” I said. “And if it weren’t for certain circumstances I’d be happy to keep my nose out of it.”

“And they would be?”

“First off, you know Justin Wardlaw is boarding with me,” I replied. “And I’m sure by now you’ve heard about his relationship to Godfrey.”

“Yes, I have,” Melba said. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I remember how hard Godfrey was running after Julia back then. And frankly, honey, if I had to pick between Godfrey and Ezra, I’d pick Godfrey. Even knowing he was a class A jerk most of the time.”

I started to speak, but Melba went on. “And her already engaged to Ezra. That’s what got me. Julia never seemed like the type, but I guess you never can tell, can you? When the baby was born, people started counting up, but it was close enough that no one knew for sure.”

Poor Julia, I thought. Having to be the cynosure of all those suspicious people in town, many of them gleefully assuming the worst.

“It was certainly a surprise to me,” I said. “I feel a certain amount of responsibility for Justin because he’s boarding with me, and I can’t help feeling concerned for him and Julia, naturally.”

“Of course,” Melba said. “They need support right now, because I’m sure the sheriff’s department is looking pretty closely at them.”

“They are,” I said. “But the other reason I’m concerned about this is . . . well, I found the body, basically.” I didn’t see any point in giving Melba the full details of the situation. This would be more than enough to make her eyes pop.

“You dog,” Melba said. “You never said a word to me.” She chuckled. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Trust me, I’d rather not have been the one. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” Melba said, her tone serious. “It’s one thing to read about it in a book, like one of Godfrey’s, but it’s something else to experience it for real.”