Free Murder Past Due by Miranda James

walk around the couch and approach Godfrey’s body. I bent down and grasped his left wrist, lifting the arm just enough to get my fingers in the right spot. I detected no pulse, though I held the wrist for what seemed an eternity.
    As I put the arm gently back against the carpet, I caught a glimpse of something sticking out from under Godfrey’s waist. My brain didn’t register it for a moment. I was going to throw up if I didn’t put some distance between me and that horror on the floor.
    Out in the corridor again, I drew a deep breath of clear air. I closed my eyes for a moment, but all I could see was Godfrey, his head bashed in.
    And Justin’s cell phone by the body.
    It had to be his. The phone in that room was purple, and Justin had a purple phone.
    Justin had his arms wrapped around his body, and he was shivering. He looked at me, fear in his eyes.
    What had happened in that room between father and son? Had they argued? Over what? They hadn’t met before today.
    But as I looked at Justin, I couldn’t believe he was responsible. He wasn’t a killer, not this miserable, frightened boy.
    Even though I had already called 911, I took out my cell phone and punched in the number of the sheriff’s department. When the dispatcher came on the line, I gave him my name and a quick report. “I’ll be in the lobby, waiting for you.”
    Justin was crying now, quietly. I was torn. I wanted to comfort him, but I was also tempted to get back into Godfrey’s room and retrieve the cell phone. I couldn’t believe I was even considering doing something like that, but the last thing Justin needed right now was to be the chief suspect in Godfrey’s murder.
    The sheriff’s department was only three blocks away. They’d be here in five minutes or less. The EMTs should be here any second too, though there wasn’t anything they could do for poor Godfrey.
    As I wavered, the decision was made for me. The elevator opened, and an elderly couple stepped out.
    “Come on, son, let’s go downstairs.” I put an arm around Justin’s shoulders.
    The couple cast inquiring looks our way as we passed them, but I ignored them. I had to get Justin downstairs and find us both something hot and sweet to drink—my aunt’s favorite cure for any kind of shock.
    The elevator seemed to take forever, and the bland music playing in it stretched my already frayed nerves even further. Finally the door opened into the lobby, and I led Justin to the restaurant.
    The hostess took one look at my face and the crying teenager with me and asked, “What do you need?”
    “Hot coffee, two cups, with a lot of sugar.”
    I sat Justin down at the closest table, and the hostess returned right away with the coffee. “Here, son, drink this. You need it.”
    Justin stared at me for a moment, but with trembling hands he picked up the cup and began to drink. The hostess hovered, a worried look on her face.
    “Is he going to be okay?” she said.
    I nodded. “Just a bit of a shock.” I took a drink of my own coffee, feeling the welcome warmth spread through me.
    “Okay,” she said. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
    I thanked her, watching Justin as the color slowly came back into his face. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to him. He scrubbed at his face with it, drying away the tears, and then he blew his nose.
    “Thank you,” he said. He wiped his nose again. “I guess I kind of freaked out when I found him.”
    “I understand,” I said. “I don’t blame you. I’m kind of freaked out myself.” I took another sip of my coffee. “How long were you sitting out there on the square?”
    “I don’t know,” Justin said. “I’m not really sure.” He sipped at his coffee. “Who would kill him? It’s crazy.”
    “I know,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense right now, probably never will.” I debated whether to tell him about the cell phone. Would it be better for him to know now?
    If I told him, though, his