I picked up my reading glasses and the book and settled into a comfortable armchair near the window. Diesel appeared to be sound asleep, for which I was grateful. Sometimes he insisted on sitting in my lap while I read, and that could get uncomfortable because of his weight.
Godfrey’s book was titled Moon of the Hunter. I skipped reading the jacket blurb because sometimes it gave away too much of the plot. I turned past the title page and started reading his acknowledgments. I always found them interesting. Occasionally an author gushed, thanking everyone he knew. Others made poignant remarks about loved ones. Sometimes they were just plain funny.
Godfrey was pompous. He thanked his various agents—in New York, Hollywood, and London—along with members of his staff in California, including Gail Enderby, for ensuring that his life ran smoothly. He mentioned a couple of technical experts he had consulted, and that was it.
The last time I’d read one of his books was probably six or seven years ago, and as I read the first page, I remembered why I stopped. The graphic violence in the opening paragraphs was shocking in its intensity, but somehow compelling. I didn’t like the fact that I found it compelling and wanted to read further. But I ignored that and kept turning the pages. Godfrey knew how to pace a story.
A hundred pages later I remembered to check my watch. It was now almost quarter to two. By the time I reached the archive, the boxes of Godfrey’s books and papers should be waiting for me. I stuck a bookmark in the book and laid it aside, albeit a bit reluctantly. Moon of the Hunter was the story of a serial killer who lured young women to his isolated cabin in the mountains of east Tennessee and the determined sister of one of his victims who was intent on tracking him down and killing him.
I could easily have sat in the chair and finished the book in another couple of hours, but my curiosity over Godfrey’s boxes won out. I got up from the chair, stretched, and approached the bed.
“Come on, boy, let’s go.”
Diesel yawned and rolled over on his back. I reached down and rubbed his stomach. He purred loudly in appreciation.
“I’m not going to stand here and do this for the next two hours.” I gave him a final rub and withdrew my hand. “Come on.”
A few minutes before two, I unlocked the door to the archive storeroom. Rick’s assistants had delivered the boxes, and there was little open space left in the room now. I did a quick count while Diesel sniffed around the boxes. There were forty-four of them, all numbered. Boxes one through ten should be in the office.
I pulled Diesel away from his perusal and headed down the hall to the archive. Inside, the lights on, I dropped Diesel’s leash, and he began inspecting the boxes stacked on the floor in three piles in front of my desk. Diesel hopped on top of the first pile of three, and then I realized there were eleven boxes, not ten. The other two piles had four boxes each.
Then I noticed that ten of the boxes were numbered, one through ten, but the eleventh box didn’t have a number.
That was interesting. It had to be part of the shipment, because Rick didn’t mention any other delivery for the archive today.
I moved forward to pull the eleventh box from the bottom of the center stack but my cell phone rang. I pulled the phone out of my pocket and glanced at the number display. It was the sheriff’s department. I answered and identified myself.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Harris.” Kanesha Berry’s voice was cool and professional. “I’d like to talk to you right away. Can you come down to the sheriff’s department please?”
Dang. I really wanted to delve into the boxes, especially the oddly unnumbered one. But I didn’t think putting the deputy off would be a good move. I might as well get it over with.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I ended the call, stuck my phone in my pocket, and got Diesel down from atop the boxes.
“Come on, boy. Off to jail we go.”
SEVENTEEN
I parked a few spaces down from the front door of the Athena County Sheriff’s Department. If I had ever been inside the building, I didn’t remember it. The building dated from before the Second World War, but there was a new jail behind it, built about five years ago.
“This will be a new experience for both of us,” I told Diesel as we approached the door. Diesel’s nose twitched in anticipation. He was always curious about strange places.
Inside, the chilled air and fluorescent lighting reminded me of a hospital. Diesel strained against his leash several paces ahead of me. He had spotted the reception desk and a uniformed man sitting behind it. He wanted to go say hello.
“Good afternoon,” I said as I approached. “I’m Charles Harris. I’m here to see Deputy Berry. She’s expecting me.”
The officer behind the desk was too busy staring at Diesel to acknowledge me at first. I cleared my throat a couple of times, and he finally looked up at me.
“Sorry, sir, what did you say?” Before I could respond, he continued. “What kind of cat is that?”
“He’s a Maine coon. They get to be pretty big.” I smiled at his reaction to my cat. I repeated my name and the purpose for my visit.
“Sure,” the deputy said. “She’s got someone with her right now. Why don’t y’all have a seat over there, and soon as she’s done, I’ll take you back to her.”
“Okay,” I said, disconcerted. I led Diesel to the chairs the deputy indicated and sat down. Diesel climbed onto the chair next to me and looked around.
If Kanesha wanted to see me right away, why was I being made to wait? Was this some little power trip on her part? Or had someone turned up to talk to her before I arrived?
I kept checking my watch as I waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen.
Finally, twenty-one minutes after I sat down, I looked up to see Julia Wardlaw coming out of door behind the reception area.
The deputy let her through the security gate, and she came straight to me. I stood to greet her.
“Hello, Charlie.” Dark circles under her eyes told me she’d had little sleep since last night. She reached down to stroke Diesel’s head.
“Are you okay? You look exhausted.” Not the most gallant thing to say, but it was the truth.
“I am,” Julia said. “I was up most of the night at the hospital with Ezra. They moved him to a room yesterday, and he’s not doing very well at the moment.”
“I’m so sorry.” Such inadequate words.
“Thank you.” Julia gave me a weak smile. “I’m going home for a bit now to try to get some sleep.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Did Kanesha call you in? She did me.”
Julia nodded. “She had more questions. And I told her about going to the hotel to see Godfrey yesterday. She wasn’t happy, but it’s done.”
“Did you tell her about seeing Jordan Thompson there?”
“I did.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t hold you up. You need some rest.”
Julia gave me a quick peck on the cheek and another tired smile. “I’ll talk to you later. I want to come by to see Justin.”
“Of course,” I said. “Anytime.”
As she turned to leave, the deputy on duty called me. I approached the desk, Diesel in tow.
“Come on back. I’ll show you the way.” The deputy let us through the security gate before escorting us part of the way down a corridor. “Deputy Berry’s in the last room on the left, sir.”
I thanked him, and Diesel and I moved on toward the room he indicated.
I paused at the open door and knocked. Kanesha Berry looked up from a computer and frowned when she spotted Diesel with me. She stood. “Come in, Mr. Harris. Please have a seat.” She indicated a chair in front of her desk.
The office, about ten by ten, held two desks, bookshelves, a few chairs, and stacks of paper. Kanesha’s desk appeared orderly, in contrast to the haphazard piles on her office mate’s desk.
I pulled another chair next to mine for Diesel, and the cat and I sat. On the way over from the library I spec
ulated why Kanesha had waited so long to question me when she’d had several opportunities already. This morning, of course, she had been effectively routed by her mother, because I doubted she had come to my house simply to tell me to avoid the news media.
“What can I do for you, Deputy?” I squirmed a bit in the hard chair, probably chosen for its discomfort factor. Beside me Diesel sat up and watched Kanesha, his head almost level with my own.
Kanesha seemed not to be able to take her eyes off the cat for a moment. Then she shook her head and focused on me.
“When we questioned you at the hotel, why didn’t you tell us Justin Wardlaw was with you?”
I had to choose my words with care, because I didn’t want to give her the impression I suspected Justin of killing Godfrey. “Justin had a pretty rough time of it yesterday. I don’t know how much he might have told you about the events of the day, but I was concerned. I thought he needed a little time to get himself together before talking to anyone.”
“That was very thoughtful of you.” Kanesha’s jaws clenched for a moment. “You were obstructing an investigation. You do realize that?”
She was definitely pissed.
“Yes, I suppose so,” I said. “But I did what I did for the boy’s sake. If you have to charge me with something, go right ahead.”
“Believe me, I’m very tempted.” She paused. “I’m not happy about it, but I’ve got to live with it. You, Justin, and Mrs. Wardlaw had time enough to collude on your stories by the time Bates and I got to your house last night. I’m not happy about that either, but if I find out one of you lied to me about anything—any thing—I will come down hard on you.”
“Understood.” She was angry already, so I might as well ask for an answer to something that had puzzled me since last night. “Why didn’t we do this last night?”
“Because I chose not to.”
In other words, I thought, you goofed and won’t admit it. The murder rate in Athena County was very low, and Kanesha probably had little real experience investigating homicides. The last murder here—that I knew about—occurred seven or eight years ago when an outraged husband killed the man who’d been sleeping with his wife. Since he did it in plain sight of several people, there wasn’t much to investigate.
Kanesha picked up a pen from the desk and put a notepad in front of her. She scribbled something. “Take me through your day yesterday, starting with Godfrey Priest’s arrival in your office.”
Suppressing a sigh, I complied with her request. Diesel curled up and went to sleep, and I talked for what seemed like half an hour.
Kanesha interrupted me only twice before I reached the point when I decided to go to the hotel to check on Godfrey and Justin.
“Why were you so concerned about a man you barely knew anymore? A man you said you didn’t really like. And, according to your statement, one you hadn’t seen in nearly thirty years. I’m not sure I understand.”
I thought for a moment. “I suppose I was really more concerned about Justin and the fact that he was still gone. He was under a considerable emotional strain yesterday, even before he found Godfrey dead. Plus, Godfrey probably never missed any opportunity for people to pay lots of attention to him. It just seemed odd somehow.”
“Why are you taking such an interest in Justin? He’s not your son.” Kanesha leaned back in her chair, her gaze cool, as if she were eying a specimen of some kind.
“No, he’s not. But he is in my care, in a way. He boards with me, and naturally I take an interest in the welfare of someone who lives under my roof. He’s also the son of an old friend.”
“I see” was all she said in response.
I decided to venture a question of my own. “Are you aware of how much Godfrey was disliked by people who knew him?”
A faint smile played on the deputy’s lips. “I’ve picked up on that, yes.”
“Then you must realize there were probably people who had far stronger motives to kill him than either Julia or Justin. Or me.” Mindful of Azalea’s plea to me this morning, I decided I had better share the gossip I had gleaned. I didn’t like having to implicate someone possibly innocent of Godfrey’s murder, but I had little choice if I was to help Justin.
“Such as?” She put her pen down on the desk and leaned back in her chair.
“Jordan Thompson for one. I spoke to Julia just now, and she said she told you about seeing Jordan at the hotel yesterday when she was leaving.”
“She did,” Kanesha said. “But I have no proof as yet that Ms. Thompson saw the victim yesterday.”
“Well, I have it,” I said, trying not to sound triumphant. “A signed copy of Godfrey Priest’s new book. It’s dated, too. Yesterday’s date.”
Kanesha blinked. That interested her. She picked up her pen and jotted something down. “How did you get this signed and dated copy?”
I told her about my visit to the bookstore this morning, including the gossip from Patty Simpson about Jordan’s affair with Godfrey. Kanesha scribbled more notes as I talked.
“Since Jordan saw Godfrey after Julia did, it seems to me she’s a better suspect. And one with a pretty strong motive, perhaps.”
“Possibly.” Kanesha laid the pen down again. “I’ll check it out, of course, but that doesn’t mean anyone else is off the hook now.”
“Of course,” I said, refusing to be nettled by her dismissive tone.
“Any other little tidbits you want to share?” Kanesha’s lip curled. “Especially since you seem to be so up on the latest dirt.”
She wasn’t making this easy.
With a quick mental apology to my boss I told her what I knew about Peter Vanderkeller’s intense dislike of Godfrey and the cause of it.
Once again she took a few notes, but this didn’t appear to impress her any more than the information about Jordan Thompson.
“I think that’s all, Mr. Harris. If I have further questions, I’ll be in touch.”
That was a bit abrupt, I thought. “Good day, then.” I stood, and Diesel jumped to the floor. Kanesha turned to her computer and started typing.
Azalea would be appalled at her daughter’s lack of manners, I thought. Kanesha could have at least thanked me for coming in after her peremptory summons.
Diesel and I left her office and headed back up the corridor to the reception area. We paused at the desk for the deputy to open the security gate. I could tell Diesel wanted to explore around the desk and visit with the deputy, but I couldn’t wait to get away from here.
“Come on, boy,” I said, tugging lightly at the leash. “Time to go back to work.”
“Bye, kitty,” the deputy said. Diesel rewarded him with a few trills as we moved toward the door.
Outside I blinked a few times, adjusting to the afternoon sunshine. Kanesha’s manner still rankled, but I supposed I shouldn’t have expected anything different. At least I had given her two new potential suspects to consider.
Back in the car, I drove to the college library and parked in the lot behind it. Diesel and I entered the house through the back door, near the staff lounge. I was thirsty, and I figured Diesel might be also. I led him into the lounge, unoccupied at the moment. I found an oversized mug in the cupboard and filled it from the cooler. I drank it down quickly and then refilled it and set it on the floor. Diesel lapped at the water. When he was finished I would wash out the mug in the sink.
“Hello, boys. What are you two doing here this afternoon?”
I looked up to see Melba Gilley in the doorway of the lounge. She advanced with a smile, a mug in her hand.
“There’s something I want to check on upstairs,” I said.
After she exchanged further greetings with Diesel, Melba filled her mug with coffee and took a sip. She made a face. “This has been sitting here awhile. But it’ll have to do.” She sipped again. “You talking about all those boxes? What the heck are they anyway?”
“They’re full of Godfrey’s papers,” I said. “He had them shipped last week.”
“Yes, it is.” Diesel was finished drinking. I took the mug to the sink and turned on the hot water. Raising my voice over the sound of the water, I continued. “The whole thing is really bizarre. Godfrey probably ticked off a lot of people, but who hated him enough to kill him?”
“The Lord only knows.” Melba moved closer to the sink. “Maybe one of his ex-wives sneaked into town and did it.”
I squirted a little dish soap in the mug and scrubbed it with a brush. I gave it quick rinse and set it upside down on the draining board.
As I dried my hands on a towel, I said, “That’s possible, I guess, but why would one of them have waited until now to do it? I think it’s somebody right here in Athena.”
“You’re probably right.” Melba poured the remains of her coffee out and set the mug in the sink. “You think you’ll find anything interesting in Godfrey’s papers?”
“I might. I’m sure they’ll be interesting,” I said.
“Maybe there’s a clue to his murder.”
Before I replied, we both heard a floorboard squeak out in the hall.
Melba and I exchanged glances.
I waited a moment to see if whoever was in the hallway entered the room. No one did.
I took a step toward the door. “Who’s there?”
There was no answer.
EIGHTEEN
The floorboard creaked again, and then we heard the sound of footsteps in rapid retreat.
I strode over to the door, about six feet away, but whoever was listening to our conversation had disappeared. I walked down the hall and around by the stairs, but I still didn’t see anyone. Nor did I hear anything other than the muted sound of street traffic.
Melba and Diesel had followed me out of the staff lounge.
“That was peculiar.” Melba frowned. “And kind of creepy.”
“It was definitely odd.”
Murder Past Due Page 12
