Miranda James - Murder Past Due

“So the football team wouldn’t pick on him, as I recall.” Willie’s life in high school had to have been pretty miserable. “And Godfrey was one of the worst.” How ironic that was, if I was right about Willie being X.

“Yes, he was.” Julia sighed. “He really was an out-and-out bastard a lot of the time.”

“You need to tell Kanesha that you saw Willie at the hotel that day.”

“Of course. As soon as I get the chance.” Julia glanced at her watch. “Perhaps I’d better go hurry Justin along.”

“Are you going somewhere this afternoon?” I asked.

Julia nodded. “Godfrey’s memorial service. I promised Justin I would go with him.” She gestured at my clothes. “Doesn’t look like you were planning to go.”

The moment Julia mentioned it, I realized I had forgotten all about it. I checked my watch. It was 12:32. If I hurried, I could clean up and get dressed and still make it to the service just about on time.

“I can’t believe I forgot about it,” I said, rising. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll run upstairs and get ready. I’ll see you and Justin there.” So much for lunch. But there would be food after the memorial service, I remembered.

“Good. We’ll save a spot for you, if we can. I expect a lot of people will turn out, just out of curiosity.”

“Probably so,” I said. “See you soon.” I hurried up the stairs.

I met Justin on the second floor landing. He was wearing a dark suit and looking pale but composed.

“Hello, sir,” he said. “Are you coming to the service?” He eyed my clothes with doubt.

“Yes, just running a little late,” I said. “I’ll see you there. Was Diesel with you?”

“He was,” Justin said, pausing on his way down the stairs. “But he disappeared while I was in the shower.” He hesitated, as if he was about to add something, but then he turned and continued down.

Diesel was napping on my bed, his head on one of the pillows. He opened one eye when I came in the room, regarded me for a moment, then shut it again. His tail twitched a couple of times while I took off my clothes, but after that he appeared to be sound asleep.

Just as well, I thought. The memorial service was one place I shouldn’t really take him. I hoped he would stay asleep while I got ready.

I took a very quick shower, and as I was toweling off, I reconsidered my decision not to take Diesel with me. I remembered Justin’s hesitation before he went on down the stairs. This memorial service was bound to be difficult for him, and I guessed he might have been planning to ask me to bring Diesel. Cat and young man seemed to have a special bond, and Justin needed support right now.

Diesel could come with me after all. For Justin’s sake.

I dressed quickly into one of my own dark suits. Diesel woke up when I sat on the bed to tie my shoes. “Come on, boy,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Diesel hopped off the bed and was at the door in a flash. He knew those words too well.

I glanced at my watch as I hurried down the stairs, Diesel ahead of me. It was 12:52. I would just about make it.

I had Diesel in his harness in record time, and then we headed out the door. It would be just as fast to walk to the college chapel as to drive and try to find a place to park, I reasoned.

We set off at a brisk pace, and the carillon on campus was chiming one as we approached the chapel, which was down the street from the library buildings.

Campus police were in evidence, as well as members of the sheriff’s department and the city police force. I spotted all three uniforms moving among the crowd of reports and photographers on the lawn outside the chapel. I should have realized that Godfrey’s memorial service would attract the media. As far as I knew, however, they were still unaware of my role in the case. I really owed Kanesha Berry for that.

Diesel and I weren’t the only late arrivals, though I was the only one accompanied by a cat. Diesel’s presence occasioned a few frowns, but I didn’t care. Justin mattered more than what these people thought.

A couple of reporters tried to get my attention, probably because of Diesel. I knew cameras were busy snapping shots of us as we hurried up the walk toward the front door of the chapel. One reporter with a microphone and a cameraman tried to step around the cordon the police had placed, but a campus officer quickly stepped in and forced her back behind the barrier. Diesel and I scooted into the chapel. I hoped we could avoid them again after the service.

I paused at the entrance to the sanctuary, trying to find Julia and Justin in the crowd. There were very few open seats, and the sanctuary could easily hold three hundred people. I spotted Melba Gilley and Peter Vanderkeller near the front. Willie Clark was here too, in the back row to my left. Jordan Thompson sat nearby, two rows in front of Willie. Standing in the back to my right was Kanesha Berry, dressed in a black skirt and jacket instead of her usual uniform. She saw me and acknowledged me with a brief nod.

I scanned the crowd again and finally picked out Julia and Justin about halfway down on the right in the middle of a pew. There was an empty space next to Justin, and I led Diesel toward it.

I mumbled, “Excuse me,” several times as Diesel and I made our way to the middle of the pew. One woman hissed, “Well, I never.” A vaguely familiar man with her told her to hush. “That’s the cat I told you about,” I heard him tell her in an undertone.

I flashed him a quick smile, and then I reached the empty space. I sat, and Diesel moved between Justin’s legs and stared up at him.

“Thank you,” Justin whispered to me. He bent forward and began to rub Diesel’s head. I just hoped the cat wouldn’t purr too loudly and annoy the people sitting around us.

Julia glanced down and shook her head, but smiled. She had her arm around her son’s shoulders.

The organist began playing. The service had started.

The choir sang two hymns, and the chaplain spoke briefly about Godfrey’s accomplishments and lamented a life cut short by violence. The president also spoke and said a few words about Godfrey’s generosity to the school over the years. Godfrey had always given money on condition of anonymity, and that surprised me. He always seemed to want to be the center of attention. Knowing this made me think slightly better of him.

The president introduced Godfrey’s agent, a petite blonde named Andrea Ferris, who said a few words about the effect of his death on his millions of fans around the world. She herself didn’t seem all that grief stricken, however. Perhaps she was simply putting up a brave front. The president stepped back in front of the microphone to invite everyone to move into the chapel meeting room for a reception in the dear departed’s memory.

Then it was over. It was mercifully brief, but the whole time I had been aware of the tension coming from mother and son beside me. There had been no mention of Godfrey’s recently discovered son during the service, and I imagined that both Julia and Justin were greatly relieved. The last thing they wanted right now was that kind of attention, especially with the media waiting right outside.

I remained seated with mother, son, and cat while the pews around us slowly emptied. Julia was making no move to leave, and I wondered if she planned to go home now and skip the reception.

“Are you leaving now?” I asked when most of the people around us were gone.

“No,” Julia said. “We should put in an appearance at the reception. And I want to have a word with Godfrey’s agent.”

“So do I,” I said, smiling briefly. “Shall we?” I stood.

I exited the pew, leading Diesel on his leash, and Justin and Julia followed me through the sanctuary to the meeting room behind.