Death in Dahlonega (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 1) (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

When I exited the bathroom, I noticed Dee Dee rummaging in her suitcase for something to wear.

“Oh, you’re up.”

“Of course I’m up. Who could sleep when someone careens into her bed with the force of a tidal wave?”

She must have seen the look of surprise on my face, grinned, and said, “Just kidding! I thought I’d lighten the mood a little.”

“I wouldn’t try to lighten the mood too often. I’m on my last nerve, and it’s frayed.” With my nervous energy, I was pretty sure I could hand-power a light bulb.

I changed the subject to safer ground. “What do you think about a light breakfast so we can get an early start?”

“That sounds good.” Dee Dee leaned over and whispered “What about Nana? Is she going with us?”

“No way! I’ve been bouncing around ideas. I’m sending her on an important mission. It should keep her busy until we get back.”

“What are you girls talking about?” Nana piped up.

“I told Dee Dee I need your help this morning. I have an important errand for you to run while Dee Dee and I go interview someone for my article.”

She sat up. “Sure, doll. I’ll do anything I can to help. Remember, that’s why I’m here.” She grinned from ear to ear. “What do you need me to do?”

Dee Dee made her way to the bathroom while Nana and I continued our conversation. “I took some pictures to go along with my article, and they need to be printed right away. Harv wants to see them as soon as possible. Do you think you can find a store that will print them in an hour or two? Just check out the merchants on the square; I don’t want you going any further.”

If all went as planned, getting the pictures printed should keep Nana busy and out of trouble until we returned.

“Well, yes. I can do that. But why can’t I go with you and Dee Dee?” she pouted. “I can take care of the pictures when we get back.”

Shoot, this wasn’t going as easy as I’d hoped.
Think quick Trixie.

“It might be noon by the time we get back. There’s a corner drugstore that opens at ten. Ask the clerk if she can put them on a computer disc as well as print them, and then I can send them to Harv as soon as I get back. I really need your help with this.” I said a quick prayer for her compliancy. Harv didn’t need the pictures right away, but I needed to keep Nana busy and safe.

“I guess you’re right dear. That Harv sure can be a nasty person, though. You’d think a burr was stuck up under his saddle the way he grumbles all the time.”

I couldn’t help laughing. Anyone who didn’t know Harv personally could easily come to that conclusion.

Minutes later we walked out the door. Dee Dee and I had dressed in jeans and long sleeve shirts and Nana had on another of her jogging ensembles. You could call us the three Musketeers.

Someone had laid out a continental breakfast of pastries and coffee in the lobby for those who didn’t want to eat in the dining room. We chatted with Joyce while we ate sticky buns and drank steaming hot coffee. I filled her in on our plan to visit the Hawkins’ place.

“You’d better watch your backs if you are determined to go out there,” she warned. “By the way, did you get a chance to talk with Miranda yesterday?

“Uh, yes. I talked with her.” I wondered why Joyce wanted to know, if she was just nosey, or if she had another reason for asking.

“Do you think she had anything to do with Tatum’s murder?” She took another sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t be surprised, the way she ranted and raved about his infidelity.”

“Well…” I took a breath, weighing whether or not to divulge Miranda and my conversation.

“If you ask me, he got what he deserved.” Joyce’s nostrils flared with distaste in a way that seemed out of character for the nice innkeeper.

“Why would you say that?” I leaned forward.

“J-just imagine how furious he made somebody, in order to be murdered in such a violent way. With a pickaxe!”

“Yes. Imagine.” I blinked down at the remainder of my now unappetizing bear claw. Whether or not it was true, I still thought it an odd thing for her to say.

Dee Dee and I finished our coffee, and left Nana talking to Joyce and Leroy, “that nice young nephew of hers” who creeped the heck out of me.

We stepped outside, a little nip in the air greeting us. A slight breeze blew as gentle as an angel’s breath. It was the beginning of another beautiful day. Only a few vendors had ventured out this early in the morning. Others walked up the steps of the local parish, the steeple bell ringing out a Sunday morning welcome.

“I feel guilty we’re not going to church.” Dee Dee sniffed. “Especially with everything that’s going on.”

“Let’s pray, quick.” I took her hands in mine, knowing we needed our Father’s direction.

Dee Dee prayed. “Heavenly Father, please keep us safe and help us to find John Tatum’s real killer… In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

I contributed a hearty, “Amen!” and felt stronger for it.

I followed the haphazard directions Sueleigh gave us. From the rear-view mirror, I saw the town fade away. The golden leaves of the surrounding forest glowed in the morning sunlight. The twists and turns of the mountainous road dictated the speed I drove. Leaves still clung to many of the trees, but along the side of the road, boulders were dusted in already fallen foliage. I was lost in my thoughts when Dee Dee spoke.

“This view takes my breath away,” she said with a contented sigh.

“Mine, too. Doesn’t it look like God created a kaleidoscope?”

“It sure does.” After a minute of contemplation she spoke again. “Trix, I’m still concerned we’re traveling so far out. What if something happens? You heard how mean Joyce said Tommy Hawkins is.”

“I bet he’s not that mean. She’s probably exaggerating.”

Like you believe that, Trixie.
I shifted in my seat and peered at the twisting road all the more intently.

“Have you thought of any reasons I can give Tommy to interview him?” I thought about the moonshine still Hawkins hid in the woods. A story about the back woods would definitely earn brownie points from Harv.

“Since you’re writing on the gold rush, why don’t you use that as an opener? Most folks with roots from around here have someone in their families that mined gold.”

“That could work. Thanks.” As we drove, we talked about the kids, the cats, and anything else that kept us from dwelling on the inevitable meeting.

As we rounded a tight curve, I spied something furry skittering across the road at the double yellow line.

Dee Dee screamed, pointing ahead, “Watch out!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I slammed on my brakes, the tires squealing. Both of us shot forward in our seat belts, the car now at a dead stop in the middle of the road. A quick check to the rear view showed no one was behind us. Thank goodness!

“Holy cow, what are you trying to do? Get us killed?” I clutched my heart. I pulled over to the side of the road to catch my breath. My knee screamed in agony.

“I’m sorry, Trix. I was afraid you didn’t see the cat in the road.”

“Well, I did see it, and I didn’t plan on running it down. Anyway, what’s a kitty doing in the road out in the middle of nowhere?”

Her eyebrows cocked and she shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose he was trying to get to the other side?”

The tension broke and, despite my throbbing knee, I joined Dee Dee in laughter stemming from hysteria. If this kept up, the stress from the past couple of days was bound to award us a very long vacation in the home for the bewildered.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I pulled back onto the highway and continued towards our destination. A couple of miles down the road we passed the sign for Amicolola Falls.

I asked Dee Dee to read me the directions to the Hawkins. Ten minutes later, we pulled onto a long dirt road, leading us to Tommy’s house. As we made the turn, a bevy of butterflies played havoc in my stomach. What had I been thinking?

The scene before me could only be described as
Dukes of Hazzard
meets
Deliverance
. A faded reddish-orange Dodge Charger, with the number one on its side, and a rebel flag painted on top, was parked in the dirt yard. It was an exact replica of “General Lee.” I looked around to see if Bo, Luke, and cousin Daisy stood nearby.

A wooden framed house, in need of a paint job, sat in a dirt yard that obviously required no maintenance. Someone had thought to spruce it up with a few leggy gold and yellow chrysanthemums stuck in an old washtub.

Several old hound dogs lay in the yard, under the porch, and on the porch. One yawned and scratched behind its ear. I counted five, no, six of them as we neared. None of them proved to be guard dogs, as they let us approach without barking. That was left up to the furious barks of the two Dobermans, chained mid yard, that produced enough noise to wake the dead.

My legs began to itch. I reminded myself to check for fleas later. Some of the other dogs barely lifted their heads, making a half-hearted effort to see the trespassers. None of them seemed too interested in us.

We exited the car, staying well out of the snarling dogs’ reach, and precariously made our way toward the porch where a bear of a man now stood by the front door.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Dee Dee whispered, her expression calm, but her voice at near-panic. “I think we should get back in the car and be on our way.”

I agreed, but I wasn’t giving up that quick.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.”
Famous last words.

“What are y’all doing on my property?” Backwoods Bob bellowed.

Obviously, Dee Dee didn’t believe me when I told her I had it under control. “Uh, we made a wrong turn, and we’re lost. Sorry we bothered you; we’ll be on our way.” She turned around and headed to the car.

I grabbed her by the shirt and jerked her back. It was her hide I was trying to save, and I wasn’t going to do it alone. “Let me do the talking.”

“Well, you go right ahead,” She hissed. “But if he kills both of us don’t complain to me.”

“Are you Tommy Hawkins?” I asked with more bravado than I possessed.

“Yeah. What’s it to ya?”

My mind went completely blank. “Dee, what was that reason we were going to give him for showing up unannounced?” I hissed out of the side of my lop-sided grin.

“Did you kill John Tatum?” Dee Dee hollered before I could get any words out.

So much for being subtle.

“Oops,” Dee Dee clapped a shaking hand over her mouth.

“What’d you say?” Tommy shot in a nasally mountain drawl.

“Uh,” I stammered. “Do you know who killed John Tatum?” I tried for a quick recovery.

“Naw, I don’t. Whad I care anyways? Somebody beat me to it, that’s all.” He scratched his belly, like a dog begging for a good flea dip. “Who are you and why do ya want to know?”

“My name is Trixie Montgomery, and this is my assistant Dee Dee Lamont.” If I kept referring to her as my assistant, Dee Dee was going to demand a paycheck pretty soon. “I’m a writer, working on a story.”

“So what’s that got to do with me or Tatum?” He scratched in a place that wasn’t very gentlemanly.

This wasn’t getting us anywhere. Dee Dee shuffle closer to the porch, and the Dobermans went wild. She stepped back, hands up in surrender. “Look, Mr. Hawkins; the truth is, I’ve been questioned about John Tatum’s murder. I didn’t do it, and we’re trying to find out who did. The story around town is that you’ve had it in for Tatum ever since he shot and killed your brother, Tubby. Were you in town Friday evening?”

I took a deep intake of breath, “Are you nuts, Dee Dee?” Backwoods Bob spoke through the doorway, “Martha, get my gun!”

In an instant, the ugliest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on appeared in the doorway. She stood at least six feet tall, and was built like a University of Georgia linebacker. The maroon hair was no doubt a dye job gone wrong. Overalls completed the package.

Martha must have been standing right by the door, for she instantly handed Tommy a shotgun. Dee Dee went running, and I limped towards the car. Shots rang out. We slammed the doors as fast as we could. I turned the ignition. Nothing!

“Start the car, Trixie!” Dee Dee yelled.

“What do you think I’m trying to do? It won’t start,” I shouted right back.

I jumped when the phone rang. “Grab that,” I yelled.

“Harv, it’s me Dee Dee! We’re being shot at. Trixie can’t get her car to start. She’ll call you later.” I could hear Harv’s voice coming through the phone. Dee Dee disconnected. “My, he sure has a colorful vocabulary.”

Oh, boy. Harv was going to be upset about this. But right now, his anger paled in comparison to gunshots.

I continued to turn the key with such force it was a wonder it didn’t break. Still nothing!

Suddenly, Dee Dee shrieked.

I looked over at her, face corpse-white. She pointed a finger, and I hazarded a glimpse out my window, fully expecting the barrel of Tommy Hawkins’ shotgun to be the last thing I ever saw.