“Thank you.” Julia threw me a glance full of gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Now, anyone hungry? How about I order us a pizza?”
Both Julia and Justin shook their heads. “Not for me, thanks,” Justin said.
When a teenager turned down pizza, he was obviously worn out.
“Okay,” I said. “Why don’t you go on up to bed? And if you get hungry in the night, there’s plenty of food in the fridge.”
“Yes, sir.” Justin stood, his shoulders tensed. “Mama, will you come upstairs with me for a few minutes? I need to talk to you about something.” He glanced at me, and I nodded. He relaxed.
I knew he wanted to talk to Julia about the pen he found in Godfrey’s room. Julia could explain, and then they could decide what to do about it.
“If you need anything, let me know.” I watched as they left the room, Julia’s arm around her son.
Diesel started after them, but I called him back. “Not now, boy. Justin and his mother need to be alone. You stay with me.”
The cat looked at me for a moment, then sat down and started cleaning his left front paw.
I’ve never had a pet that seemed to understand what I said so well. Sometimes it freaked me out a little. I watched Diesel a little longer, until hunger pangs claimed my attention.
I decided against pizza and settled for scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and a couple of pieces of toast instead. When my meal was ready, I poured a glass of water and carried it with my plate to the table.
Diesel could smell the eggs and cheese, and approached my chair, chirping. He loved scrambled eggs, and I usually gave him a few bites. If I didn’t, I got a heavy paw on my leg as a reminder.
I took my time eating, and when I was done I cleaned up the kitchen. Azalea would be back in the morning, and I didn’t want her to find a mess. She would have enough to do with dusting, vacuuming, and laundry without having to clean up in here.
Julia still hadn’t come back down by the time I finished. I was tired and ready to climb into bed with a book, but I didn’t want to go upstairs without seeing Julia to her car. Aunt Dottie would haunt me if I neglected my duties as a host.
I went up for the book I was reading, planning to take it back downstairs while I waited for Julia. Diesel trotted along with me. I retrieved the book from my bedside table, and Diesel followed as I left my room and walked back to the stairs.
From above me I heard Julia telling Justin good night, and moments later she was coming down the stairs. I moved forward to intercept her as she reached the second-floor landing.
“You must be about ready for bed.” Julia paused, her hand on the banister. “What a day this has been.”
“Yes, it has.” Somehow it seemed three days long, but it was only this morning that Godfrey Priest had appeared in the archive. “I wanted to see you out and ask if there’s anything else I can do.”
Julia placed a hand on my arm as we walked down the stairs together. Diesel had zipped ahead and disappeared before we were halfway down.
“You’re a good friend,” Julia said. “And I’m so sorry if I was rude to you earlier. I’m just terrified of what’s going to come of this.” Her grip tightened on my arm. “I have to keep Justin safe.”
“How is he?”
“Very tired and confused, poor lamb.” Julia sighed. “Like both of us, I expect. We talked, and I explained about the pen.”
“Good.” I wanted to ask whether they decided to tell Kanesha about it, but Julia looked exhausted.
We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I turned to face her as her hand dropped from my arm. “I’ll keep my eye on him, and I’ll keep my ears open, too. Someone else had a powerful motive, and I’m sure the truth will come out. It’s just going to take some digging.”
“You’re a good man, Charlie Harris.” Julia surprised me with a peck on the cheek, and I could feel my face redden a bit. “I’ll get my purse and be right back.”
I waited, hoping my face had lost any vestige of red by the time she returned.
When Julia reappeared, purse clutched in her hand, I moved to open the door for her. I started to follow her down the walk, but she insisted that I not.
“It’s not that far to the car, and I’ll be fine. I’m going by the hospital to check on Ezra, and then I’ll head home and collapse.” She smiled before she turned and moved down the walk to the street.
“Good night, then,” I called after her. I waited until she pulled her car away from the curb before shutting the door.
I turned off the lights downstairs, watching for Diesel, but there was no sign of him. I found him sprawled across my bed when I got back upstairs.
After putting my book back on the nightstand, I undressed and got ready for bed myself. I was tired, but my brain was buzzing with all kinds of thoughts about the events of the day.
I read for a while, trying hard to concentrate on my book, and eventually I put it aside and turned out the light. Diesel snuggled close to my legs.
Praying that I wouldn’t have nightmares about dead bodies all night long, I did my best to fall asleep.
THIRTEEN
If I dreamed about corpses, I didn’t remember it when I woke the next morning. I came out of a sound sleep to feel a paw gently prodding my nose and then a head butting lightly against my chin.
With Diesel around I had no need of an alarm clock. He got me up most mornings by six-thirty, and today was no exception.
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.