Death in Dahlonega (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 1) (2 page)

“If you need anything, ask Tony or Rebecca, and they’ll help you,” Teresa offered. After she escorted me to a bench where I could sit and wait, she left to find one of her assistants to run the projector.

I wiggled on the hard bench. We were upstairs where the film room was located. I hadn’t seen this part of the museum yet, so I took advantage of the time. Getting up, I walked over and studied some of the old mining claims incased in glass. Outside onto the balcony, I could see the General Store across the way. I couldn’t wait to explore the shops. But work came first, and I needed this article to shine.

I looked at my watch. It was five.
Where could Dee Dee be?
Shortly, I heard laughter floating up the staircase. Rebecca and Dee Dee entered the room.

“Trixie, you won’t believe the deals out there!” Dee Dee held up both hands festooned with shopping bags.

“You feel like watching a mining movie?”

“Of course. Let’s go!” Dee Dee said as if she’d been waiting for me instead of the other way around.

Rebecca directed us into a small auditorium behind a curtain on the other side of the display case. “I’ll let Tony know you’re ready for him to start the film.” She gave us a brief salute and left the room.

Dee Dee stashed her bags on the empty seats beside her, and then we sat and waited quietly. A blast of music, accompanied by images of bedraggled, work-worn men and women, appeared on the screen.

The appearance of poverty-stricken workers dispelled the myth that all gold miners struck it rich. Large companies made most of the money. Backed by investors, these companies could provide the heavy equipment needed to find buried gold in the mountainous terrain. Many of the mountain people worked for these gold companies and never hit pay dirt themselves.

I was typing on my laptop when Dee Dee leaned over. “I’ve got to go tinkle. Where’s the bathroom?”

“I saw one downstairs.”

“OK, save my place.” She nudged me with her elbow. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I watched her scoot down the aisle past empty chairs. I had no doubt her place would be safe.

The majority of the movie passed with no sign of Dee Dee. Just as I was deciding to go see if she had fallen in, a blood-curdling scream jarred me from my thoughts, and triggered a thousand volts of electricity though my body.

I knew that scream! I maneuvered through the darkness, graceful as an elephant in a ballet, and hurried downstairs. Teresa, Rebecca, and Tony stood side-by-side blocking my line of sight. All three were on their cell phones. I squeezed in between them.

Dee Dee, pale as a ghost, gaped at me, eyes wide, squealing in horror. John Tatum, the man we’d literally run into in the Inn earlier, lay prostrate on the floor in a lake of coppery blood and scattered bills. And Dee Dee held a dripping pickaxe.

Chapter Two

Dee Dee, what happened? Are you all right?” I looked inside the mining room I had been in earlier.

I stepped forward and felt a tug. I turned around.

Teresa shook her head no. When she spoke, her voice sounded far away. “Ma’am you can’t go in there.”

“She needs me!” I said. Teresa didn’t budge her hand from my elbow. A short time earlier, her authoritative character seemed like such an asset. Now it was just a pain in the asset.

“I’ve called 911. They’re sending a deputy and an ambulance. They should arrive any minute. Why don’t you go sit down? There are some chairs in the front area.”

“I can’t leave Dee Dee. But, I don’t think I can stand up much longer.” My lungs felt as heavy as that old safe in the lobby, and my legs wobbled like Jell-O.

Tony brought two chairs. I assumed one was for me and the other for Dee Dee. She wasn’t going to need it. Dee Dee slid to the floor in a dead faint, dropping the axe.

As she hit the floor, two paramedics, dressed in blue uniforms and hauling red tackle boxes, rushed in.

One yelled, “I’ll get the pass-out.”

The other one replied, “I’ve got the trauma.”

The minutes ticked by slower than the last drop of ketchup escaping from a bottle before Dee Dee opened her eyes and tried to sit up. The most inappropriate thought popped into my mind—
That’s the quietest I’ve ever seen her.

“Whoa there, take it easy.” The young, blond paramedic gently steadied Dee Dee. Once she regained consciousness, he hurried over to where his partner worked on the lifeless body of John Tatum.

“Where is he?” barked a voice from behind. Two uniformed deputies barreled down the hallway.

“Jack, what’ve we got here?” The older of the two deputies addressed the paramedic.

“Well, sir, I suggest you call in the coroner. There are no vital signs.”

The deputy walked over to where the paramedics attended the body and turned to his partner. “Secure the area, Ray, and don’t let anyone in without my permission.” He knelt down, and glanced at the lead ranger. “Teresa, don’t leave them alone. I’ll be there shortly to get everyone’s statements.”

I looked around to see who “everyone” was, and the only people I saw without the benefit of a uniform were me and Dee Dee.

Teresa helped Dee Dee up, and I took her other arm. “We’ll go into my office. She can rest there until the sheriff gets through.” She led us down the hall and into a sparsely furnished, wood paneled workspace. “Are you ladies okay?”

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be fine.” I didn’t feel fine. And Dee Dee sure didn’t look fine.

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” Dee Dee rocked back and forth in her chair as her vacant eyes stared straight ahead.

“Dee Dee, look at me! What’s going on?” I placed my hands on her shoulders and leaned in towards her face. “What happened?”

A faint light of recognition appeared in her eyes. “Oh, Trixie, what are we going to do?” The rocking motion started again, and the light in her eyes dimmed.

“Dee Dee! Focus! And tell me what happened.” My firm voice reverberated off the office walls. Her eyes filled with tears and spilled down her cheeks. I felt like a heel, and tried again. “It’s all right. I’ll stick by you no matter what happens.” I reached over, grabbed a wad of Kleenex and handed them to her. I took deep breaths as I desperately tried to remain calm. My insides churned, and bile rose in my throat.

I was acutely aware that Teresa was in the room and could hear everything we said. I didn’t care. Dee Dee might have been angry with him, and had called him a lummox and a brute, but murder him? Absolutely not.

“After I went to the bathroom I decided to check out the different rooms.” Dee Dee’s voice quavered. “I was going from room to room looking inside.” Her chin quivered. “When I came to the mining room, I entered to get a closer look at the assortment of strange tools on the wall. I was half-way in the room when I saw that atrocious man lying in the corner with the pickaxe in his chest.” She wiped a fresh stream of tears, then blew her drippy nose. “Oh, Trixie, it was horrible. What was I supposed to do? Let him lay there with an axe sticking out of him?”

I wanted to say,
Maybe call 911 and let them take it out
? But I bit my tongue instead, and shrugged.

“How did I know he was dead? I thought I was helping.” She looked so sad. Her brown eyes under hooded eyelids reminded me of a Basset Hound. “Out of all the people who could have found that horrible man dead, why did I find him?” She foghorned into her tissue. “This doesn’t look good does it, Trix?” Dee Dee voiced my thoughts.

“No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

The door squeaked, and our heads turned in unison as it opened, revealing the larger of the two deputies. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and that dusting of gray hair gave him a distinguished look. I exhaled, long and slow, and for a moment forgot why we waited to speak with him.

“Ladies,” he addressed us in a deep voice, rich with authority. “I’m Sheriff Jake Wheeler, and we have a murder on our hands.”

Chapter Three

Dee Dee and I looked at each other. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it in a death-grip. I managed a little squeeze in return.

“This is Deputy Sonny Ray.” The sheriff gestured toward a man so skinny that, if he turned sideways, he’d be hard to find; that joke about Frank Sinatra disappearing behind his microphone flashed into my mind. But, this wasn’t the time to think about jokes.

The handsome sheriff bore little resemblance to his deputy. Sonny Ray then smiled a ray of positive sunlight, sure to make someone confess to a crime they didn’t commit. His mama hit it square on when she named him Sonny.

Sheriff Wheeler escorted Dee Dee from the office to unknown parts, leaving me with his sidekick. A chill ran through my body. I hugged myself for warmth. “Is she in trouble?” I fast scrubbed my arms. “How long ‘til he brings her back?”

Deputy Ray rolled the office chair from behind the desk and took a seat.

“Whoa there Ms… Ms. Montgomery, right?”

“That’s right, but you can call me Trixie.”

“Trixie.” He sunbeam smiled again. “I think I’m the one who’s supposed to ask the questions.”

That hundred-watt smile didn’t fool me. I knew he was as serious as a riled up hornet’s nest.

“I’ll tell you what I can,” he offered. “Sheriff Wheeler will bring your friend back as soon as he finishes questioning her.” Deputy Ray adjusted his lanky frame and leaned back in the chair. He spaced out his words, long and deliberate. “Tell me what your business was at the museum and when you arrived.” He held a poised pen over a notebook, ready to write.

“I’m here for a work assignment,” I explained. “I work for
Georgia by the Way
, and I’m writing an article about Gold Rush Days.”

“Go on.” He wrote furiously in his notebook.

I wondered what he could be writing. I hadn’t even said that much yet. Clearing my throat, I continued. “Teresa—Ranger Duncan, gave me a tour of the museum and then I went outside and took more pictures.”

“Was Ms. Lamont with you during his time?” He stretched out his hand as if it had a cramp, his pen hovering above his pad.

“No, she was shopping. She came back around five.” I checked my watch. I couldn’t believe it was such a short time ago. “She came upstairs, and we were watching a movie on gold mining when she had to go to the ladies room. I told her there was one in the lobby.”

His face turned a healthy shade of pink, “So, she left to use the ladies room…”

“Yes,” I said. “She has to visit the bathroom more often than not.” I prattled on, a fistful of nerves discussing her overactive bladder, until I noticed he’d stopped writing and stared at me.

I got back to the point, quick.

“While she was gone I heard this terrible scream. I knew right away it was Dee Dee. I thought something awful had happened to her.” Pausing, I remembered we’d left my laptop and her shopping bags upstairs in the film room.

“What did you do when you heard her scream?” Deputy Ray leaned forward.

“I ran downstairs, of course.” I didn’t tell him I saw her standing there with the axe. I was sure he’d find out soon enough. A flashback of the scene popped into my head. I saw Dee Dee standing there with the lifeless body of John Tatum in the background, money strewn on the floor around him.

“Ma’am.” He sat on the edge of his chair and looked me straight in the eye. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”

I shook my head.

“All right. I’ll go find Sheriff Wheeler and let him know we’re through here.” He pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else, please give us a call.” He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

True to Deputy Ray’s word, Sheriff Wheeler brought Dee Dee back a few minutes later. Dee Dee’s haunted gaze found mine, her complexion looked like she’d stolen the white right off a lily. Shaking, she grabbed the doorframe with one hand, and reached for me with the other.

I stood up and headed straight for her. Nothing works better than a warm hug from a friend to let them know it’s all right—even if it wasn’t. “Oh, Trixie, Sheriff Wheeler wants me to stay around for the next couple of days.”

“I’d like for both of y’all to stick around.” He settled his hat on his head.

“Sheriff, you don’t think Dee Dee had anything to do with this, do you?”

“Well, ma’am.” He grabbed the doorknob. “She was found with the murder weapon. It’s standard procedure in situations like this.”

By the time we unloaded our luggage and returned to the inn, it was after nine. This was the first time we’d seen our room, and though it was nice and clean, the interior was time warped straight from the early 1900’s. If the décor was meant to be realistic to that time period, then the decorators did their job well. The door led to the outside walkway, which wound around to the lobby. No wonder no one had reserved this room before I called. Even on this busy weekend.

The darkness outside matched the darkness I felt. Only this morning we had sung with Alan Jackson and eaten trail mix while we dreamed of a wonderful weekend. Our dream had turned into a nightmare.

“Trixie, what are we going to do?”

“I honestly don’t know, Dee Dee. It feels like aliens have sucked my brains right out of my head. Are you mad at me for asking you to come?”

“No, not mad.” Her pleading eyes begged for assurance. “Scared. Is the sheriff going to arrest me?”

“You wait and see.” I faked optimism. “By morning, your involvement will be clarified. If that sheriff is half as good at solving crimes as he is good-looking, he’ll have it figured out soon enough.”

“You think so?” She spoke with an expectant tinge in her voice as she rubbed her palms together.

“It stands to reason, Dee Dee. You didn’t even know John Tatum until today.”

She managed a smile, but her watery eyes told another story. For her sake, I attempted to put on my big girl bloomers and show confidence—even if I didn’t feel any.

“The truth is, Sheriff Wheeler asked me if I knew the victim. I told him Mr. Tatum knocked you down this morning.” A sly grin crossed her face, and she voiced what I was thinking. “I didn’t tell him about my little tirade, but he’s bound to find out sooner or later.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t find out and blow it way out of proportion.” I looked around for a dresser to hold my clothes.

We discussed the dilemma of calling our families. Should we, or shouldn’t we? We decided to wait until tomorrow. No reason to worry them needlessly.

A loud growl erupted from my stomach, accompanied by a burning, gnawing pain. A blatant reminder of when we’d last eaten.

“My lands, Trixie. It’s a good thing we’re not in public.”

“No worse than the noises you make all night,” I shot back. “I’ll scout the lobby for food. I need to eat so I can take some pain medicine.” I rubbed my knee. The relentless ache alerted me of the impending knee replacement in my near future. As a teenager and young woman I actively played sports. I didn’t realize the beating my knees took until adulthood. I compounded the damage when I fell from that danged horse.

“What can you find to eat this time of night?”

“I remember seeing a refreshment area with coke and cracker machines. Not the Waldorf, but better than nothing. I’ll get you a bite, too.”

“I don’t feel like eating,” she replied.

Uh oh, not a good sign. I could count on one hand the number of times when Dee Dee lost her appetite.

Timing is of no consequence to memories. Maybe food was the trigger. Vivid images flashed through my mind, replaying the time when one of Dee Dee’s precious cats choked on a chicken wing. Like any good mother, she reacted immediately. Then panic set in and she started slinging the cat around in circles, yelling “I killed him! I killed him!”

Gary, Dee Dee’s late husband, rescued the cat and discovered a jagged bone stuck in the roof of Ziggy’s mouth. After Gary fished out the bone, the dazed cat recovered nicely. Too bad Dee Dee didn’t fare as well—it took her several days to get over the shock.