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Back Murder Past Due Save as PDF
Chapters (36)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Acknowledgements
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE

“I’m fine,” Julia said as she came to the table. “We finished lunch a short time ago. Justin was anxious to get back. He has a paper due for his English class on Monday.”

I filled a glass of water from the tap and sat down at the table. “How are things?”

“Okay,” Julia said. “Though we had a visit this morning from Kanesha Berry.”

“I see,” I said. “I have an idea what you might have talked about.”

“How would you know?” Julia asked. “Is she taking you into her confidence?”

“Not exactly,” I said wryly. “But I did manage to find out a few things that she didn’t know.”

“Something to do with a writers’ group that I used to belong to.” Julia said it flatly. She looked annoyed, whether with me or Kanesha, I wasn’t sure.

“Yes,” I said.

“Why all the interest in something that happened twenty years ago?” Julia frowned. “I can’t see what my belonging to that group for a couple of years has to do with anything.” She paused for a moment, a faraway look in her eyes. “Though that is when I had my fling with Godfrey, the Lord forgive me, and got pregnant with Justin.”

“I can’t really say why Kanesha is interested, or why I am either,” I said. “But I do think it’s important. I never knew you were interested in writing.”

Julia shrugged. “I tried my hand at several things back then, trying to figure out what I could do besides being a preacher’s wife. I’d always made good grades in English, so I assumed—wrongly, as it turned out—that I had potential as a writer.” She laughed suddenly, a bitter sound. “I had visions of becoming the new Phyllis Whitney or Victoria Holt. Not only were books like that not being published anymore—unless you were Phyllis Whitney or Victoria Holt—but I wasn’t very good at writing them. Godfrey might have been a jerk in many ways, but at least he convinced me to stop wasting my time.”

“You weren’t interested in writing thrillers?” She had sounded sincere when talking about her writing, but I needed to be sure she wasn’t X and trying to put me off the scent.

“Heavens, no.” She laughed again, this time sounding amused. “I almost never read them. I never had a desire to write them, I promise you.”

“Good,” I said. “What about the other members of the group? Were any of them interested in writing thrillers?”