Murder Past Due Page 4

  Justin cleared his throat. “Um, guess I should explain why I said he isn’t my father.” He pushed some potato chips around on his plate. “Not my biological father anyway. But Mom is really my mother.” He watched my face carefully for a reaction.

  Feigning surprise at this point would be ridiculous. Justin deserved the truth.

  “I know,” I said. “Your biological father came to see me this morning.”

  “You know him? I suppose you would, you and him both being from Athena.” Justin tried to appear nonchalant, but his curiosity was obvious.

  “We grew up together. Same class in school and at the college, too.”

  “That’s cool.” Justin ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

  I could have volunteered information, but I thought it was better to let Justin ask me what he wanted to know. I’d have to be diplomatic, though. I didn’t want to tell the boy his biological dad was a jerk, in my opinion.

  Finished with my first sandwich, I started on the second one after a sip of my drink. By this time Diesel had come back. He crawled into the chair opposite mine and sat, looking back and forth between Justin and me.

  “It’s so funny how he does that.” Justin laughed. “Do you ever let him eat at the table?”

  “No, because he doesn’t get people food very often.” I arched an eyebrow at my boarder. “Remember?”

  Justin nodded, a guilty expression flashing across his face. “Yes, sir, I promise I won’t do it again unless you say I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Diesel trilled a few times.

  “Yes, we’re talking about you,” I said. “And don’t think you can con any ham or potato chips out of me or Justin.”

  If cats could frown, I’d swear Diesel frowned at me then.

  Justin snickered. After drinking some of his Coke, he set the can down and looked at me. “What’s he like? Godfrey Priest, I mean. I’ve, like, seen him on TV, and I even read some of his books. But I don’t know much about him.”

  Definitely the time for tact. “We always knew Godfrey would do something big.” I sat back in my chair and regarded Justin. “Even as a boy, he made plans. Talked about traveling all over the world. At first he was going to be a reporter, and by the time he was a teenager, he decided he was going to be a famous writer.”

  “That’s pretty amazing,” Justin said. His eyes glowed with the beginnings of hero worship. Godfrey might have a lot to live up to with Justin.

  “When Godfrey set his mind to do something, he did it.” No matter what it cost anyone else, I added silently. “He always had the drive and the ambition. I don’t think anyone who knew him doubted he’d succeed.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “Not really. I was pretty competitive too, and we were always vying for the same honors in school.” With a rueful laugh I admitted, “Godfrey usually won. The only thing I ever beat him in was math.”

  “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” Justin shook his head. “This girl in my class was always beating me for things. I hated coming in second.”

  “I did, too,” I said. Odd how the memories of those many defeats still rankled on occasion. “But I had plenty of other accomplishments to be proud of. You will, too.”

  Justin nodded his thanks. I could see he was burning to ask another question but was probably afraid to.

  I wanted to set his mind at ease. “He’s looking forward to meeting you. I know he wanted to talk to your mother first, but I’m sure he’ll come to see you as soon as he can.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Justin said. “But he’s this rich, famous writer, and I’m a hick from a little town in Mississippi.”

  I suppressed a smile. “He’s from this same little town. He knows he has a son now, and that’s the only thing that matters. You could be purple with seven eyes, and he wouldn’t care.”

  Justin laughed at that, and Diesel joined in, chirping. The sound of a ringing phone interrupted their merriment.

  “Excuse me,” Justin said. He stood and pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. “It’s my mom,” he said after glancing at the display. “Be right back.”

  Justin walked out of the kitchen as he answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”

  That was the last Diesel and I heard. Diesel stared hopefully at the potato chips left on Justin’s plate.

  “No, siree,” I said. I picked up the plate and took it over to the sink. “That’s not Diesel food.”

  I walked back to the table where Diesel sat. As I scratched his head, his rumbling purr started.

  “Mr. Charlie.”

  Justin stood in the kitchen doorway, a stricken look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My father—Ezra, I mean—is in the hospital. He got in a fight, and now he’s in bad shape.” He paused, his body trembling. “Can you take me to the hospital?”

  FIVE

  I hate hospitals. I have spent far too much time in them, first with my parents and then with my wife. As I parked my car in a visitors’ lot at Athena Regional Medical Center, I remembered the last time I was here—when Aunt Dottie succumbed to pancreatic cancer. I was at her side, trying to see not her ravaged face and body, but the happy, healthy woman I adored.

  Beside me, Justin unbuckled his seat belt, the sound breaking into my reverie. “I don’t like hospitals,” he said. “But I guess I have to go in.” He made no move to open his door, but he touched his bruised cheek a couple of times.

  “I don’t like them either,” I said. “But your mother wants you to be here. She needs your support.” I opened my door. “Come on, let’s go in.”

  Justin sighed heavily, but he did as I instructed.

  He followed me, lagging a little behind, to the emergency room entrance. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go inside, not after what Ezra had done to him earlier.

  I had no idea how serious Ezra’s condition might be. “Bad shape” could mean any number of things. Julia hadn’t given her son any details, but I doubted Ezra was in critical condition.

  And if Ezra had been fighting, who was his opponent? The logical answer was Godfrey Priest. Was he injured as well?

  Inside the ER, we paused at the desk to inquire about Ezra, but before I finished speaking, Julia appeared beside us.

  She was better dressed than I remembered seeing her for a long time. Her usual shapeless cotton or polyester frock was gone, replaced by a serviceable black dress. Probably the one she wore to funerals, I decided. It gave her a certain dignity, offering a sharp contrast to her gray hair, pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck.

  “Thank you for bringing him, Charlie,” Julia said. She touched Justin’s arm. Then she gasped as she saw the bruise on his cheek. She touched it gingerly, and Justin shied away. “Sweetie, what happened?”

  “He hit me.” Justin glared at his mother.

  Julia whirled to face me. “What on earth do you mean, striking him like that?” By the fire in her eyes I could see she was about ready to strike out at me.

  “Not me,” I said, holding up a hand. “Calm down, Julia.”

  “Then who?” Julia asked, turning back to Justin.

  “Ezra.” He said the word with such loathing, even Julia flinched. “A little while ago. He came to try to make me go back home with him. But I told him I wouldn’t go, Mama. I said he wasn’t my father, and he couldn’t make me. That’s when he hit me.”

  Julia threw her arms around him and hugged him close. “My poor little lamb. I don’t know what’s gotten into the man, I swear to the Lord. He was very upset this morning, honey. It’s my fault. I should have handled him better.”

  Justin pulled away from his mother. “I don’t want to see him ever again.”

  “Honey, that’s foolish,” Julia said. “He is your father, in all the ways that count. Even if he struck you like that. You have to give him the chance to apologize to you. By now he must be very upset with himself for doing it.”

  Justin had a mulish expressi
on on his face. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”

  “Just do what I tell you.” Julia’s sharp tone surprised both Justin and me.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Come with me.” Julia turned and walked away. Justin, after a quick glance at me, trailed after her. I wasn’t sure forcing Justin to talk to Ezra right now was a good idea, but Julia would no doubt have brushed aside any objections I could raise.

  I moved to the small waiting room and sat down. Resigning myself to an indeterminate period of twiddling my thumbs, I wished I had brought a book with me. Or Diesel.

  Diesel was confused when I told him he had to stay home. He went almost everywhere with me, except to church, and he knew today wasn’t Sunday. He sat in the kitchen, watching as Justin and I went out the back door to the garage. I knew he’d still be sitting there when I came home again.

  I glanced around me. There were only a couple of other people in the waiting room, an anxious-looking elderly woman and a man who had to be her son. He had the same nose, the same angles to his face. He kept patting his mother’s hand, speaking in low tones, but she didn’t seem to be hearing him. Who were they here for? I wondered. Her husband, his father? I hoped whoever it was would be all right.

  Julia appeared in front of me, blocking out the harsh fluorescent lighting for a moment. I looked up into her face, not surprised to see the weariness and anger there.

  “How is Ezra?” I asked as I stood. I motioned Julia to the seat next to me, and she sank into it like a woman twice her age.

  “Are you okay?” The stiffness of her movements worried me.

  Julia grimaced. “Just getting old, Charlie. And tired.”

  “You’re the same age I am. You’re not old.” I tried to keep my tone light, but Julia heard the concern in my voice.

  “It’s not the years, it’s the mileage. Isn’t that what they say?” The specter of a smile passed across Julia’s face. “I’m okay. Tired is all. The past couple of months have been pretty rough.”

  “Ever since Justin left home.”

  Julia nodded. “Ezra has been beside himself for months. He loves that boy with all his heart, and Justin defying him the way he has, well, it’s about broken his heart.” She paused. “But I’m about ready to wring his neck over what he did. He should never have struck Justin like that. He almost cried, though, when he saw the bruise he made.”

  I forbore commenting on Ezra’s behavior at the moment. “Justin has the right to live his own life.” I probably should have kept my mouth shut, let Julia talk.

  “I know that as well as you do. I had to make a choice when Justin told me he didn’t want to be a preacher, and I made it.” Julia’s angry tone didn’t offend me. I was treading on ground where I had no business stepping.

  “Do you regret it?” I was prying, but instinct told me Julia needed to talk about all this.

  “No, I don’t.” Julia closed her eyes and leaned back in the hard plastic chair. “You’re a parent. Would you?”

  “No.” I waited a moment, but she didn’t reply. “How did Ezra wind up in the hospital? Justin mentioned a fight.”

  Julia turned her head and looked me in the eye. “Godfrey told me he came to see you this morning. Told you everything.”

  “Yes, he did. I’m sure you’d rather he kept this private.”

  “He’s bound and determined to make this some kind of public spectacle. But if he thinks he’s going to take Justin away from me, just because of all his money and his fame, he’s going to get a rude awakening.” Julia sat up. The loathing in her tone didn’t surprise me. Godfrey had that effect on people, at least in my experience.

  “If I can do anything to help, you know I will.” I wasn’t thrilled about being dragged into this mess, but for Justin’s sake, I wanted to do what I could.

  “Thank you. You always were a good man, even when you were a boy. Did the right thing, and stood by your friends.” Julia smiled, some of the tension and anger draining out of her. She sounded fatigued as she continued. “It’s such a nightmare. I was sitting in a restaurant having lunch with Godfrey so we could talk about Justin. And then Ezra walked in. He and Godfrey started arguing. I tried to get between them, but I couldn’t.”

  “I doubt you could have done anything to stop Ezra,” I said, recalling the scene at my house. “When a man’s that angry . . .”

  “Ezra has a terrible temper. He has prayed for so long, asking the Lord to help him overcome it. But he never can.”

  Did he take that terrible temper out on his wife as well as his son? After what I witnessed earlier, I was afraid he did. Could that explain the stiffness in Julia’s movements?

  Julia perhaps sensed my concern. She looked at me again. “Ezra has never struck me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it. But he struck Justin this morning. Very hard.”

  Julia’s hands clenched, and her breathing grew labored. From the glint in her eye, I figured it was just as well Ezra was already in the hospital or Julia might have put him there herself.

  “How badly is Ezra hurt?”

  “Not as bad as he’s going to be if he strikes Justin again.” Julia made an effort to regain control of herself. For a moment I thought she might go flying into Ezra’s room. “Sorry, Charlie, this is all so sordid.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that with me. We’ve known each other too long.” I took her right hand and patted it. “Now, tell me what happened to Ezra.”

  “It was ridiculous, a man his size laying into Godfrey like that. Godfrey hit him twice, once in the nose and once in the eye, and it was all over. I don’t think Godfrey did anything except bruise his knuckles a little.”

  “Did he break Ezra’s nose? Or injure the eye badly?” I could picture the scene all too easily. I fought Godfrey a couple of times myself in the folly of adolescence. Godfrey won both times, but thankfully my face didn’t suffer lasting harm.

  “Ezra’s nose is pretty swollen. So is his eye. I don’t think there’ll be permanent damage, except to his pride. There were several of our church members in the restaurant. Ezra shamed himself in front of them.” The grim satisfaction in Julia’s voice didn’t bode well for Ezra. Any sympathy I could have felt for him evaporated the moment he struck Justin. “What can I do for you?” I said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Julia replied. “I’m sorry that you got dragged into this, but I know you’ll help Justin if you can. Just be there if he needs someone to talk to, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t.” I paused for a moment. There was a question I felt I had to ask, but Julia might not want to answer it. “What made you decide to get in touch with Godfrey after all this time and tell him about Justin?”

  Julia threw me an odd look, but any answer she might have given me was forestalled by Justin’s abrupt entrance into the waiting room.

  His stormy face said it all. The time spent with his father had not gone well.

  Julia stood and held out her arms. Justin walked into them, and they embraced. I turned away to give them some privacy. The elderly woman and her son were gone now. I got up and moved to the other end of the room. Julia and Justin conversed in low voices.

  After a few minutes, while I stared out a window into the parking lot, Julia called my name. I strolled back to her and Justin.

  “Thank you for coming,” Julia said, one arm still around her son. “I think Justin’s ready to go. I really appreciate your bringing him here.”

  Mother and son both appeared worn to the bone now. The best thing I could do was to get Justin home and let him have some privacy or maybe some time with Diesel. My cat had a tonic effect on people, and Justin needed that now.

  “Glad to do it,” I said. I took her free hand and held it between both of mine for a moment. Julia smiled, and I released her hand. “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

  Julia nodded. “Put some ice on that bruise if it hurts very much.” Justin gave her a
quick kiss on the cheek, and I walked out of the waiting room with him a couple of steps behind.

  In the car, Justin didn’t say anything. After he buckled his seat belt, he leaned back and closed his eyes. I kept silent. If he wanted to talk, I’d listen.

  Justin stirred, opened his eyes, and looked out the window. “He apologized for hitting me.” He touched his cheek briefly and then let his hand slide back down to the seat.

  I left the car in park. “I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

  “He said he’d never hit me again. He was crying.” Justin turned to look at me. “You think he means that?”

  “I sure hope so.” Faced with alienating his son completely, perhaps Ezra was trying to change his behavior.

  “He kept telling me he was my father, that he had taken care of me for eighteen years. Like he wanted me to be grateful, I guess.”

  “In his way I think he’s trying to tell you that he loves you and considers you his son,” I said, choosing my words with care. “I don’t think he’s really looking for gratitude. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he might not be able to find the right words to tell you that.”

  Justin frowned. “He won’t listen when I try to tell him things. He just preaches at me and tells me what I ought to do, instead of trying to understand me. I’m not him.”

  “No, you aren’t. But sometimes fathers have a hard time letting their sons be their own men. I think some fathers feel their sons have to be just like them in order to justify their own choices in life. Does that make sense?”

  Justin’s eyes had grown big. “I never thought about it like that. That’s why he wants me to be a preacher too, huh?” He turned to gaze out the window again, his head against the glass.

  I had given him enough to think about. I backed the car out of the parking space and headed for home. Justin stayed silent the whole way.