Miranda James - Murder Past Due

Not everyone who attended the service stayed for the reception. There were only about a hundred or so people in the room, and I was thankful for that. I tended to be a bit claustrophobic when a large number of people occupied a small space, and this room wasn’t really designed to hold as many people as the sanctuary.

Mindful of my lack of lunch today, I followed Julia and Justin as they joined the line of people at the buffet table. From my place in line I could see some of the food. It appeared to be mostly cocktail party-type snacks. Not ideal, but enough. I could easily fill up on cheese and crackers and fruit. There were also deviled eggs, a staple of this kind of gathering—at least in Mississippi. I would have to watch Diesel, though, in case he decided he wanted to investigate the food. When he stood on his hind legs, he was tall enough to reach out and scoop something from the table.

We made it through the line without incident, and along with Julia and Justin I found a place to stand against the wall. While the two of them nibbled at the few things on their plates, I had to restrain myself from gobbling it down. I was hungrier than I realized.

I was chewing my last bit of cheese and cracker when Kanesha Berry approached us.

“Good afternoon.” Her voice was low, her demeanor wary.

I returned her greeting, echoed by Julia and Justin. Diesel chirped at her, and she glanced down for a moment. I could almost swear I spotted a brief smile, but when she looked up, her expression was blandly official.

“Julia has something she needs to tell you,” I said, eager to the point of rudeness. Now that the solution to the murder was so close, I really wanted to see things happen. Once Willie was arrested—for at this point I had no doubt he, as X, had the best motive for murder, and according to Julia he also had opportunity—we would all rest much easier.

Kanesha turned to Julia with an expectant look.

Julia frowned slightly. “I’m not sure this is the place,” she said.

Justin surprised us all by interrupting. “Mr. Charlie, would you mind if I took Diesel for a walk?” He had a slightly desperate look, and I wondered whether the occasion was proving too much for him.

I handed over the leash. “Sure, but why don’t you just go into the sanctuary? It should be pretty quiet in there, and I don’t think going outside right now is a good idea.”

“Yes, sir,” Justin said. “Come on, Diesel.”

I watched boy and cat make their way through the crowd. Poor kid. So much had happened to him so quickly. No wonder he wanted to find a quiet place.

“You have something to tell me?” Kanesha spoke firmly to Julia.

“I suppose so,” Julia replied with a sidelong glance at me. “During a chat with Charlie before the service, I recalled something that happened when I went to the hotel to see Godfrey.”

“I see. What was that?” Kanesha shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“It was talking about the writers’ group that brought it back to mind,” Julia said. “I remembered that, when I was leaving the hotel that day, I saw someone in the revolving door, entering as I was going out.” She paused for a moment. “It was Willie Clark. Charlie seems to think that’s significant for some reason.”

“How so?” Kanesha could have been discussing today’s weather, I thought. She didn’t seem particularly interested in Julia’s revelation.

I thought I could get her interested, however. I said, “Willie is X.”

THIRTY

Kanesha flashed me a warning look, her head moving ever so slightly in Julia’s direction.

“X? What does that mean?” Julia frowned at me. “Are you telling me that Willie murdered Godfrey?”

I was relieved that she kept her voice down, otherwise the people nearby would have heard it all.

“I really cannot discuss that with you, Mrs. Wardlaw. Do not repeat this conversation to anyone.”

Julia nodded. “Certainly I won’t.”

Kanesha was clearly annoyed with me for speaking in front of Julia. She took my arm and started leading me away. “I need to speak to Mr. Harris alone.”

I went without protest. I should have restrained myself and waited until I could speak to her alone, but sometimes I got a bit carried away. I recalled an expression my grandmother used when I did something like this as a child: “His head knows better, but his feet can’t stand it.”

In other words, despite knowing better, I sometimes put my foot in it.

Kanesha led me back out into the sanctuary. I spotted Justin and Diesel in the choir loft, away from the few people sitting in pews, eating and talking. Kanesha found a spot a good ten feet away from anyone else and pointed to a pew.

I sat.

She sat down beside me, about a foot away on the pew. Her right hand gripped the back of the pew in front of us, and I saw her knuckles tighten. “You cannot blurt out things like that.”

“I know,” I said, feeling foolish. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, now that I know who killed Godfrey, I want this to be over.”

Kanesha closed her eyes for a moment, and I wondered whether she was praying for patience. Her grip on the pew didn’t loosen.

“You know who killed Godfrey Priest?” Her eyes opened. “I suppose you think Willie Clark did it.”

“Yes,” I said, eager to atone for my goof. “Once I found out he was part of the writers’ group, and knowing what we know about someone else writing Godfrey’s books, it all fell into place.”

“How so?” Kanesha let go of the pew and folded her arms across her chest.

“The attitude toward women in the books,” I said. “Look, have you ever read one of the books?”

“Yes, a few of them,” Kanesha said. “I like to read them and find all the mistakes in police procedure.” She shook her head. “His books were pretty bad in that respect. But I know what you mean about the women in his books. He didn’t like them.”

“Well, that wasn’t Godfrey. From what everyone says, Godfrey truly liked women. He just couldn’t settle down with one. It’s Willie who’s the big-time misogynist. You should hear him talking to female staff and students sometimes. He can be a real jerk.”

“Okay,” Kanesha said. “He’s a misogynist. I’d need more evidence than that, though. Even if he did write the books. I have to have something that links him to the actual murder.”

“According to Julia, he was at the hotel that day. He had to have gone there to talk to Godfrey.” I was feeling a bit deflated by her lack of excitement. I thought surely she would see the picture as clearly as I did.

But she was an officer of the law, and I was a librarian. This was her job, not mine.

“I will ask him about it,” Kanesha said. “But unless he admits to being there, I’m going to need more than Mrs. Wardlaw’s glimpse of him in a revolving door to go on.”

“Of course,” I said. “You need physical evidence for a stronger case.” I had read enough mysteries to know that. “But at least now you have motive and opportunity.”

“There are other suspects who have motives and who also had the opportunity,” Kanesha said, her logic relentless.

“Okay, you win,” I said. Here I thought I had come up with the answer, and she was refusing to accept it.

What if I was wrong? That was an unwelcome thought. There were things Kanesha knew that I didn’t—if her investigation had turned up any kind of evidence from the scene of the crime. I didn’t even know what the murder weapon was.

“You did help—a little. I found out some things faster because of your interference.” Her tone was grudging, but I knew better than to expect outright gratitude.

I nodded.

“But you’re done,” she said. “Back off now, and leave me to finish this.”