“You’re going to love me for this, Trix. I took a picture of Detective Sam’s list of suspects. And it has where everyone is staying. Who’s your best friend now?” She grinned from ear to ear.
Oh my gosh, if the detective ever found out what Dee did, we were dead meat. But it wasn’t like we were on her poker night invitation list in the first place. “You’re going to paddle me further up the river.” I jammed the key in the ignition and realized the information could save me from a lifetime in the big house. “Do not EVER tell Beau how you came to have these addresses, promise?”
“Pinky-swear.” Dee Dee mimed turning a key to her lips, and threw it away. “Humm, it looks like Tippi’s staying on the mountain and George is staying at the Sheraton Read House on Broad Street. Who do you want to drop in on first?
“Let’s visit George first. I want to go back to the hotel and look through the pictures I have on the Ghoston murder. Something looked familiar to me in one of the pictures and I want to double check it.”
“Okay, let’s head on over to Broad Street.”
The Sheraton Read House was located right down the road. It was an enormous old building and I couldn’t wait to get inside and explore the historic structure. I remember as a child history bored me to tears. But since I’d been writing for Georgia by the Way I can’t seem to get enough. I knew there’d be some great history behind this building.
“Look! That has to be it. Isn’t it beautiful?” Dee Dee turned to the side to get a better view. Oh, I can’t wait to see how it’s decorated. It must be full of antiques. That reminds me, I need to call Sarah and see how the store’s doing. I swanny I don’t know how she keeps going at her age. I hope I have half as much energy as she does at eighty.
“Me, too, Dee.” We opted to use the parking deck next to the hotel. “Do you think we’ll have any trouble getting the number to his room?”
“Let’s ask the desk clerk to contact George to meet us in the lobby. You can tell him you’re from the magazine.”
“Good idea.” We walked the short distance to the elevator. As the doors opened into the lobby, I heard Dee Dee gasp.
“Would you look at this?” She stepped into the lobby and surveyed the huge room. “Can you spell opulence with a capital “O?”
She was right. Oversized chandeliers hung from the two-story ceiling in the atrium. Deep red couches and chairs were spread throughout the area, welcoming travelers. A concert grand piano graced the center of the room. The piano’s reflection shone brightly from the marble floors.
I noticed a plaque showing the Read House was established in 1926. It wasn’t hard to imagine the clientele of that time period. I pictured women attired in dropped waist dresses with a long string of pearls slung around their necks, their scandalous chin-length bobs turning heads.
Dee Dee nudged my arm. “Hey, close your mouth, a fly’s going to take up residence.”
“I don’t remember when I’ve seen anything so grand.” I did a three-sixty turn to soak up the décor.
“I know,” she said. “I wish we had time to investigate, but we have work.” Dee Dee pointed toward the reception desk.
The clerk behind the register smiled as we approached. “Your first time here?”
We nodded.
“Everyone is amazed the first time. Beautiful isn’t it?”
Dee Dee returned his smile. “Yes, it is.”
I could have stood there extolling the magnificence of the Read House all day, but if I didn’t find Annie’s killer, and soon, I’d be a guest in the big house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Could you tell me if you have George Buchanan listed as a guest?”
He checked his computer and curtly said, “Yes, would you like me to ring his room?” He indicated a small table with a house phone. “Or I can let him know you’re here.”
I nodded. “Well, would you tell him he has guests who would like to see him in the lobby?”
“Your names, please?”
“I-I’m a reporter for Georgia by the Way, name’s Trixie Beaumont.”
His smile grew wider. “Of course. If you’ll take a seat over there I’ll see if he’s in.” He lifted a handset, and we took a seat next to the piano, waiting to see if George would take the bait and talk to us. In less than five minutes the elevator doors opened and he stepped out.
“You.” George didn’t seem too happy to see me. “What are you doing here?”
I felt like saying, “I’m happy to see you, too Bubb,” but I kept my snarky comment to myself. Any information George might have about Annie’s murder was too important to mess up.
“As you know, I work for Georgia by the Way. I’d like to talk to you about Chattanooga. Since you write for a paper in the area, I thought you might have some information I could share with our readers.” I crossed my fingers and hoped he’d respond. I felt kind of bad for using the magazine as a ruse for getting information, but I did plan on writing about Chattanooga and I’d use whatever he could offer.
“You know what, Trixie?” He shook his finger at me. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re here to question me about Annie. You want to save your own hide.”
Busted, Trixie. “You’re right George. I do want to ask you about Annie, but I intended to use any relevant information in my magazine article. I was just covering two bases at once.” I looked around for Dee Dee so she could back me up. I saw her over by the piano lovingly stroking the slick surface of the beautiful instrument. Before I could say Steinway a security guard swooped in to caution Dee Dee.
I excused myself and hurried over to see what trouble she’d stirred up. I walked up just as I heard him say, “Ma’am we don’t allow anyone to touch the piano. This is an antique and it’s just for the pleasure of our guests. As you can see we have a sign saying “do not touch.”
Dee Dee’s face turned a healthy shade of pink. “I’m so sorry. I guess I missed the sign.” She turned toward me. “This is my friend Trixie Beaumont and she works for Georgia by the Way,” she said. “She’s here to interview someone, and I was just admiring the antiques. I own an antique shop. By the way how did you know I was touching the piano? I didn’t see you anywhere.”
The security guard gestured toward a small camera in the corner of the ceiling.
“Sorry.”
“I’m a bit of an antiques buff,” the guard said, obviously charmed by Dee Dee’s apology. “Have you seen the chiffarobe in the foyer? It’s 18th century.”
She turned to me. “Trixie, go ahead and conduct your interview. I’ll be back in a while.” She sashayed off with her new friend.
I turned around and was surprised when I almost bumped into George. I thought he’d probably taken the chance to retreat to his room. “Oh, you’re still here.” Great deduction, Trixie.
We talked a few minutes about his life in Chattanooga. Then I asked the burning question. “George, what can you tell me about Annie’s murder? I know she wasn’t very nice to you.”
His voice raised an octave, “Not nice? That’s putting it mildly. That woman humiliated me in front of the whole class. If she treats other people that way then I’m not surprised the old bat got what she deserved.” Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and his face scrunched up like a dried plum.
Why don’t you tell me how you feel, George. “I’m sure you understand how important it is I find out who might have been capable of… well, fatally harming her?”