Godfrey had accumulated several boxes full of fan mail, not to mention other kinds of correspondence. I scanned each letter as quickly as I could, looking for evidence of some kind of threat to—or ill feeling toward—Godfrey. There were indeed some of the latter but none of the former. If he ever received a threatening letter, Godfrey hadn’t kept it, apparently. I also skimmed any notations that Godfrey made on the letters, but I gleaned nothing worthwhile.

By five o’clock I had achieved nothing more than a bad headache and a case of eyestrain. There was still the other correspondence to go through, chiefly business stuff, but that would have to wait. I needed a break, and Diesel was more than ready to go home. I usually spent only half a day in the archive on Thursday anyway.

The walk home helped my headache. Being out in the cool late-afternoon air, plus getting some exercise, made a difference. By the time Diesel and I reached the house I was feeling quite a bit better.

After filling Diesel’s food and water bowls and cleaning out the litter box—something I had neglected to do this morning—I contemplated preparing dinner. I found a fresh package of ground beef in the fridge and decided that hamburgers were just the thing. A check of the pantry turned up a large can of baked beans. Add a salad to that, and I’d have a pretty tasty and filling meal for both my boarder and me.

Justin, with Diesel right on his heels, appeared in the kitchen as I was finishing up the burgers. “Good timing,” I said. “I’ll let you fix your hamburgers for yourself.” I pointed with the spatula toward the table. “There’s salad there and baked beans in the pot.”

“Thank you, sir,” Justin said with a shy smile. “I’m really hungry.”

“There’s plenty.” I returned his smile.

Justin never had much dinner-table conversation, and tonight was no exception. I waited until he had dispatched one burger, a large helping of salad, and two helpings of beans before I ventured a question.

“How are you doing?” Still hungry, I reached for the salad bowl, thinking more salad would be better for me than another round of beans.

Justin shrugged. “I’m okay, I guess. It all seems like a really bad dream, you know?”

“I do,” I said. “I know it might be difficult to talk about, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind telling me a few things.” I had been thinking about the time Justin spent with Godfrey, wondering whether Justin had heard or seen anything that might be a clue to the murder.

“I don’t mind,” Justin said. He got up from the table to fix himself another burger.