Only a little while ago, the room seemed quaint and alive with history. Lying in the darkness, it seemed oppressive and full of unsettled ghosts. I tossed and turned as sleep eluded me, and stared into the black night for what seemed an eternity. My mind drifted into a dreamlike state.
I stood in the town square. An angry mob was making its way to the courthouse. My heart rate accelerated as I realized they were headed for Dee Dee, who stood holding a pickaxe in her bloodied hands.
The mob drew closer and closer, familiar as well as unfamiliar faces appeared. Sheriff Wheeler, Deputy Ray, Joyce, and her nephew, Leroy Roberts, stood out from the others. Contorted faces and furious, bulging eyes indicated they had not come to help.
What was worse, a lifeless, pale, zombie form of John Tatum, with a gaping hole in his chest, led the pack. A devious grin covered his face.
Death was closing in!
Chapter Five
Seconds before death’s hand closed around my throat, I shot straight up, a scream on my lips. Darkness shrouded the eerily still room. Fear had drenched my night clothes in sweat as if I’d completed a mini-marathon.
After a few breaths, the cobwebs cleared my mind. I strained to get my bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings, clutched the covers tight under my chin, and sent up a prayer. Please Lord, keep us from harm. May my sleep be free from nightmares.
I fluffed up my pillows and lay down. Dee Dee’s familiar snores wafted from the next bed, and lulled me to sleep.
Morning came way too soon.
Dee Dee sat on her bed, legs crossed. “Trixie, please tell me I dreamed I found a dead man.” Her gaze pleaded for me to agree.
“More like a nightmare. Let’s hope the sheriff has found the person responsible.” Images of the handsome Jake Wheeler flashed in my head. I smiled. After had Wade left me, I had thought I would never be able to admire another man. Moisture filled my eyes, and I blinked hard and changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
Dee Dee’s eyes lit up like a night star. “Is a black bear black?” She giggled at her own joke, and patted at her midsection. “Let’s go see what they have in the dining room. Those crackers are long gone.”
Both dressed in slacks, short sleeve shirts, and comfortable shoes, Dee Dee and I prepared to meet the challenges of the day. The colorful combination of Dee Dee’s ensemble, next to my own blend-in-with-the-crowd khakis, put a smile on my face. The beaded, multi-colored necklace and the copious bangles on her wrists completed the fashion in true Dee Dee style.
Outside, the cool mountain air was a balm to my spirit. The sweet smell of gardenia pleased my nose. “The sun is trying for all its worth to peep out. I predict a beautiful day.” I gave her a poke, longing to cheer Dee Dee up. But it was going to take more than a perfect fall day to work that wonder.
In the cozy lobby a few people stood scattered around, some looked at brochures, while others relaxed on overstuffed sofas. Arrows pointed down the hall and to the right, and the smell of bacon lured. Crammed with tables, the area looked more like a breakfast nook than an actual dining room. People crowded around the breakfast buffet like pigs at feeding time. We lined up for our turn at the trough, me committed to sticking with whole grains and yogurt.
With Dee Dee blocking like a Bulldogs linebacker, we hurried to beat a little old couple to the only empty table by the window viewing the town square. At the last minute we acquiesced. It wasn’t long before another table by the window became available.
Outside, merchants and artisans lined both sides of the streets. Participants set up their various booths, getting ready for the enormous crowd guaranteed that weekend. Soon, you’d be lucky to see daylight between the excited tourists.
“Wow, I guess Gold Rush Days brings in the crowds.” Dee Dee buttered a homemade biscuit. Golden yellow liquid slid off the sides of the hot treat. I stared at my granola and yogurt. Now my mouth watered.
Dee Dee must have misunderstood my expression. “I know. I know. We planned on a fun weekend. I’m sorry.”
I leaned in closer to Dee Dee, my attention focused on the biscuit. “You can quit apologizing Dee; it’s not your fault someone killed Mr. Tatum.” Temptation overpowered me. I sneaked half a biscuit from her plate, and jammed it into my mouth. “Sorry.” I spoke through the crumbs.
Dee Dee moved the other half out of my reach. “I’m always getting into some sort of trouble. Losing my temper. Causing a scene.”
“Not your fault,” I muffled through a mouthful. “If the attitude he portrayed yesterday is normal behavior, then I suspect a few people wanted to murder him.” I surveyed my plate, then hers. My granola and yogurt looked unappetizing next to Dee Dee’s plate of sausage, biscuits, gravy, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.
“Back in a second,” I murmured and headed back to the breakfast buffet. While there, I overheard a couple of women talking about the murder.
I grabbed two biscuits, put them on my plate, and lingered by the packets of jelly and jam to eavesdrop.
The taller of the two women spoke, heaping a steaming scoop of scrambled eggs to her plate. “It was probably the wife. Well his ex-wife.”
Her companion chimed in with a wag of the grits spoon, and went on about how his ex-wife, Tammy, should really be on the suspect list.
I screwed my lip and selected a handful of strawberry jams. Interesting how she didn’t hold back when it came to telling people how she felt about him. And it wasn’t complimentary either. They moved forward toward the drink dispensers.
Someone gave me a gentle nudge from behind. My cue to move on down the line. I eyed my plate on the way back to the table. My new choices, hash browns, sausage, and buttered biscuits, supplied enough grease for a lube job on a small car. Oh well; what’s a girl to do on vacation? Besides, yesterday’s stress probably added up to some calorie use. At least it made me feel better to think so.
We were quiet as we crammed food into our mouths, much like everyone else in the room. I looked up between bites and spotted Joyce across the crowded room. Her eyes widened. She threw up her hand in greeting and veered our way.
“Here comes Joyce,” I stage whispered.
Dee Dee looked up and scowled. “Well, she can walk on by for all I care. I’m not in the mood to talk.” She stuffed another bite of egg into her mouth, guaranteeing she wouldn’t be able to say a word.
“Grouchy,” I whispered as Joyce approached, but I knew how Dee Dee felt. I wanted to eat in peace, and I especially didn’t want to be reminded of the previous night.
“Hi! How are y’all doing this morning?” Without waiting for an invitation, Joyce plunked down in an empty chair and made herself at home. Dee Dee’s eyes glittered with irritation. “I guess after yesterday’s happening, y’all aren’t doing too good.”
Dee Dee and I exchanged a glance. Her expressive eyes spoke volumes. Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. I fake-wiped my mouth to stifle a giggle.
“You might say that. But breakfast is helping. The food is great. I don’t want it to get cold.” I shoveled some hash browns in my mouth, hoping Joyce would get the message, but she didn’t. Instead she planted her elbows on the table, oblivious to our emotions.
Dee Dee heaved a sigh and ate more sausage. Joyce glanced around the room then leaned in toward us. “I thought I should warn you.”
Dee Dee stopped chewing. “Warn us?” she asked through a mouth full.
“About what?” I flicked a glance to the ladies I’d overheard in line, and saw them staring. Were people already talking about us?
Joyce took a deep breath. “Sheriff Wheeler came by this morning, and we had a long talk. He asked me what took place between Dee Dee and John Tatum. I told him what I knew. I didn’t want to get you girls in trouble, but I felt obligated to tell the truth. The truth is always the right thing to say, don’t you think?”
Joyce squirmed in her chair.
I took a quick gander at her. Petite and downright skinny. Wrinkles lined her face, but they faded next to her beauti
ful smile. She exuded friendliness that bordered on annoying. That friendliness just might allow us an intimate look inside the community.
Dee Dee’s plump hand reached over and patted Joyce’s skinny one. I recognized the wide-eyed, insincere look on her face. I knew a false endearment was coming. “Sure, Sugar, you did the right thing.”
“It’s terrible.” Joyce’s gray bob swung as she shook her head. “I still can’t believe John Tatum is dead. He was such a leader in the community.” Someone from the front of the room called for her. She scooted her chair back and excused herself. “Be right back, girls.”
Dee Dee folded her napkin and laid it on top of her empty plate. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“I have, too.” I put my fork down, noticing the way the grease from the sausage was congealing on my plate.
“So much for your theory, Trix. I’d wager the sheriff is looking at me as a suspect.” An un-lady like burp erupted from her mouth. “Excuse me.” She blotted the soiled napkin to her mouth.
“And you said I made unpleasant noises?” I crossed my arms and leaned back to stare at her.
“Well, I’m entitled. I could be jailed for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, come on,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “That sheriff looks like a smart man. Surely he can figure out you’re no murderer.”
Dee Dee snorted. “Looking smart doesn’t count for anything. Time will tell.” A slight smile came to her lips. “He is good looking. If not for the circumstances, I wouldn’t mind him looking at me.”
I forced a laugh along with her. My breakfast churned in my stomach, and Dee Dee eye’s were dark with concern. Good looking or not, the sheriff and his new information made me nervous. Perhaps we should keep our ears open and learn a little more about John Tatum, just to help the sheriff along.
Chapter Six
Before I could tell Dee Dee my plan, Joyce hurried back to our table and sat down. I heard Dee Dee groan, and I kicked her under the table, sure that Joyce had heard her. Now that I had gone into information collecting mode, I didn’t want to discourage the innkeeper, but once again she was oblivious to anything but herself and began to talk as though she’d never stopped.
“As I was saying, he did a lot of things to help the community. Not everyone liked him, but Mr. Tatum always pitched in if the need arose.” Joyce waved to an older couple across the room and hollered out a hardy ‘hello.’ “He could be overpowering when he exerted his authority and that rankled some feathers.”
My ears perked up like a coon dog on a scent. “Are you saying he made enemies around town?”
“I guess you could say that. He was known for using strong-armed tactics to get what he wanted.” Joyce started stacking plates and swiped up several empty jam and sugar packets. “As you experienced first-hand, he had the personality of Attila the Hun. I suppose you could say he had a heart of gold and a fist of steel. Nonetheless, I felt sorry for him. He was going through some hard times.” Her tone didn’t match her words. I wondered if she really felt sympathy for him.
Dee Dee and I looked at each other, her brows rose and fell. I felt pretty sure we thought the same thing. It was possible that several of the town’s folk wanted John Tatum dead.
“What bad things?” I watched Joyce clatter a cup full of silverware and restack the plates, and tried again. “What had he been going through?”
“His father, John senior, died about six months ago.” She kept moving the plates from one place to another. “He was patriarch of the family business. After his death, everything was left to John—including all the problems his father left behind.
“And it’s common knowledge he’s recently gone through a nasty divorce.” Joyce lifted, dropped her shoulders with a sigh. “His ex-wife, Miranda, made sure everyone knew. Anyway, Miranda found out he’d been messing around with his secretary. He was gone from their house faster than he could say, ‘I’m sorry.’
“You go girl!” I shoved a fist in the air for emphasis.
Joyce looked at me, eyes wide with surprise. Dee Dee, however, just shot a knowing look to my pain. I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud my thoughts. Heat warmed my cheeks. “Uh, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Honey, you just voiced what I was thinking.” Dee Dee squeezed my arm.
Dee Dee, no stranger to loss, stood by my side as staunch supporter and friend this past year during my own divorce. When her husband, Gary, died suddenly after an undiagnosed heart problem several years ago, Dee Dee’s enduring faith through the tough times, as well as the good, set an example for me to follow.
To lighten the mood, Dee Dee asked Joyce, “What happened after she turned the two-timing, low-down, scum-sucking, no-good son of a snake out of the house?”
I choked on a mouthful of lukewarm coffee. Joyce’s startled gaze darted between me and Dee Dee. I laughed out loud. “Well, Dee Dee, why don’t you tell us how you really feel.”
“I just did.”
Joyce finally laughed and patted Dee Dee’s arm. “Miranda went for where it hurt the most—the wallet. I heard it got nasty in court. Miranda’s attorney exposed all of John’s indiscretions. A woman judge sat on the bench that day, and she made John pay through the nose.” Joyce shook her head as she spoke, her bob bouncing back and forth.
“How did you learn about the court proceedings?” Dee Dee asked.
“We’re a small town. Everybody knows somebody who knows somebody, and news travels faster than butter on a hot biscuit.” Joyce wiped the crumbs off the table and smoothed the tablecloth. “Miranda is president of the Historical Society. I was at the meeting where she spent the majority of the time enlightening the members of John’s affair. She was mad as a wet setting hen!” Joyce had a faraway look and her shoulders shuddered.
I couldn’t blame Miranda. Being betrayed by the one person in life you trusted, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was devastating.
Joyce voiced my sentiments. “Yeah, but you can’t blame her. I’d be mad, too.” She stood and gathered the stacked dishes, cups, and utensils. “Time to go see about my customers; got to keep them happy. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Joyce!” I Columbo’ed her and smiled as she turned around. “One more thing. Where can we get in touch with Miranda? I might want to interview her for my magazine article since she’s in the Historical Society.”
“She owns an antique shop on the square, The Antique Boutique. She works most of the day. She’ll probably be busy today though, it being Gold Rush Days and all.” And with that, she hurried off to take care of business.
Dee Dee shot a shark-toothed grin. “Are you really going to interview Miranda for your article, Trixie?”
“Sure, why not? And while I’m interviewing her I might happen to ask her a few questions about her ex-husband. I’d say she had a motive for murder. Since I’ve found out about Wayne, there’s been more than one occasion I dreamed of doing bodily harm to that two-timing cheater.”
My poor heart ached talking about it. I quickly prayed for forgiveness for such angry thoughts. I’d begun to recover, but was still in the healing process. Band-aids of hurried prayers and half-hearted pep-talks held my fragile heart together.
What if John’s ex-wife had taken her red-hot anger and humiliation to the extreme and acted out those feelings? It was possible.
Dee Dee’s expression softened. She put her arm around my waist. “Trix, you know it’s all right to have thoughts and feelings that aren’t in our best interest. It’s what we choose to do with those emotions that can get us in trouble. Why, I don’t know how many times I’ve said, ‘If Gary hadn’t died, I’d have killed him for making me a widow.’” She gave me a squeeze as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
I’d just blown my nose when Sheriff Wheeler sauntered up with his sidekick, Deputy Ray. I stashed the Kleenex in my pants pocket.
“Good morning, ladies.” The sheriff touched the tip of his hat, like any good southern gentleman’s mama taught
him to do. “I hope you slept well last night.”
His Cheshire-cat grin stepped on my last nerve. “Well, of course we didn’t sleep well, Sheriff. My friend did find a dead body yesterday.” Like, I needed to remind him.
He shot me a wickedly handsome smile. “You’re right, Ms. Montgomery—may I call you Trixie?” I nodded, and he continued. “Both of you experienced a traumatic affair. Maybe this job has left me a little too jaded. Please accept my apologies.”
I nodded at his honey covered words, and felt the hard shell of my resistance begin to melt.
“We do accept your apologies, Sheriff.” Dee Dee pushed me aside. “And you can call me, Dee Dee.” She giggled like a schoolgirl and offered her hand. As they shook, the bangles on her wrist played a jaunty, chinging melody. “I reckon that means we can call you Jake.”
He didn’t answer. I guess not.
Sheriff Wheeler turned and gestured towards a man dressed in a Sunday go-to-meeting suit. “Let me introduce Agent Jeff Cornwall from the Georgia Bureau of Investigations. Any time there’s a crime on state property, the GBI is called in to perform an investigation.”
Agent Cornwall, light pole thin, loomed over Sheriff Wheeler. I had a mental picture of the agent as Abe Lincoln on stilts and almost burst out laughing. I quickly covered my mouth to hide my mirth. I could tell my nerves were frayed like an old electric wire.
“We’ve questioned several witnesses present in the lobby yesterday when Dee Dee had the unfortunate confrontation with John Tatum. There might be more to it than she suggested.” The sheriff looked directly into Dee Dee’s eyes. “We’d like for you to come down to the station so we can question you further.”
Dee Dee’s nostrils flared. “If I’d’a known you intended to arrest me, I sure wouldn’t have accepted your apology much less shake your hand.” Her flirtatious smile gone, she shot him a scathing look.
Death in Dahlonega (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 3