When I failed to respond, Peter continued. “Before I came to Athena College to assume the position as director of the library, I lived for many years in California. In Los Angeles, to be exact. I was also married then, and my former wife had personal ambitions centered upon writing for the cinema.”

I decided to speed things up a bit. “And somehow she must have met Godfrey and hoped to use his connections to break into screenwriting.”

“Yes, that is more or less what happened,” Peter said with a pained look. “Not content, however, simply to approach that detestable man for assistance and befriend him, my former spouse decided the only way to achieve her goal was to marry the man. After divorcing me first, naturally.”

“I see. One couldn’t blame you for not liking Godfrey,” I said, “though your ex-wife certainly bears a lot of the blame.”

“Oh, most definitely, the balance of the opprobrium lies with her,” Peter said. “But one cannot exculpate Priest. He encouraged her and, after all, he did marry her once our divorce was final.” He snickered. “The marriage lasted little more than two years, I believe.”

Time to steer the conversation back onto the right track. “We’ve established your reasons for despising Godfrey,” I said. “Now what about your talking to him and getting the message that he was too ill to attend the dinner?”

“Ah yes,” Peter said with a frown. “As I have mentioned already, I yielded to impulse and decided to confront the man. Having no wish to make an ass of myself in front of anyone else, I decided that the best place for such an affray was his hotel. There, one assumed, one could be assured of some privacy.”

“You went to Farrington House to talk to Godfrey,” I said, holding on to my patience because he was actually approaching the point. “What time was that?”

Peter considered for a moment, his head cocked to one side. “Around five-thirty,” he said. “Yes, I waited until I was through with my day here, which is generally around five or five-fifteen. Then I proceeded directly to the hotel.”

“How did you know where he was staying?”

“I was privy to the arrangements,” Peter said. “The president’s office consulted me, perhaps because the man was a writer. Had he been an alumnus of the athletic type, they no doubt would have consulted the athletic director.”

“And you knew what room he was in?” Things couldn’t have been more convenient for Peter, I thought. And surely Peter realized that his having gone to the hotel put him high on the list of suspects.

But with Peter one never knew what tortuous path his thought processes might take.