“Yes, sir,” Justin said. “I told her, but she didn’t say much, just kept asking questions.”

“As long as she received the information,” I said. “That’s the key thing.” I stood up, ready to clear the table.

Justin forestalled me. “I’ll clean up, Mr. Charlie. Why don’t you go relax?”

“Thanks, I think I will.” I smiled and looked down at Diesel, who had been napping on the floor near my chair during dinner. “What about you, boy? You want to come up with me or stay here and help Justin?”

Diesel sat up and warbled at me. He stretched a moment before getting to his feet and walking over to Justin’s chair. “There’s my answer,” I said. “See you later, then.”

I left the two of them and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I wanted to change out of my clothes and relax with a book—the history book, not Godfrey’s novel. I wasn’t in the mood for it right now.

But when I was comfortably in my pajamas, slouched into my chair, book in hand, I found I couldn’t concentrate on late antiquity. My mind kept returning to the murder.

Was there someone else who might have a motive for wanting Godfrey dead? The mysterious Mr. or Ms. X?

I needed to know more about Godfrey’s past. I needed dirt, if there was any. And I knew the right person to call. Putting my book aside, I retrieved my cell phone and settled in for a long chat.

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-THREE

The obvious person to call was Melba Gilley. With her healthy interest in the doings of her fellow Athenians and her long-term involvement in a variety of community activities, she was a prime source of information.

Calling her, however, meant that I would have to tell her why I was so involved in Godfrey’s murder. If she had somehow heard that I—really, Justin and I—discovered the body, she hadn’t let on, and such behavior would be totally out of character.

I found her number in my cell phone’s address book and initiated the call. She picked up after two rings.

“Good evening,” I said. “It’s Charlie. How are you?”

“Hey, Charlie, I’m doing fine. How about you?” She sounded as chipper as ever.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Is this a good time? Am I interrupting anything?”

“Only some lame show on TV,” she said, laughing. “Sometimes I don’t know why I even turn the dang thing on, except it’s company. What’s on your mind?”

“I need to talk to you about Godfrey,” I said. “I need to find out some things, and I figured you were the person to ask.”

She gave a hearty chuckle. “You mean you called the biggest gossip you know.”

I had to laugh. “Well, if you want to put it like that.”