“Goodie, the museum’s right past the bridge and that’s next on my list,” Nana said.
The quiet of the Hunter Museum of Art beckoned. I’d researched, and knew it was a blend of an historic mansion with a modern facility built on an 80 foot bluff overlooking the river. You could stand on the bridge and see the beautiful architectural creation. This is one place I really wanted to see.
I snapped pictures from one end of the bridge to the other. On the right side was the aquarium and on the left was the museum. I expected my article on Chattanooga to be a memorable one. Now all I needed to do when we got back to the hotel was to work on the Ghosten murder.
As we wandered from one exhibit to another, I thought about the case. Discovering Tippi was really Tabitha had given me a new direction to consider, but I couldn’t quite fit the pieces of the puzzle together. While it was obvious Tippi stood to gain financially if she killed her guardian, I just didn’t have the feeling she was the killer.
I had an idea about who framed me and probably killed Annie, and I’d check my theory out when I got Nana back to the hotel. As we enjoyed the museum, I wanted to go into the mansion part of the building before we ran out of time.
“Do y’all want to come and see the mansion owned by George Thomas Hunter, a Coca-Cola bottling tycoon? The brochure says it was built in 1904.”
“I’d like to go outside and look at the river from the bluff. You know they have those telescopes you can put a quarter in and see from here to yonder,” Nana exclaimed.
“I’ll go with her, Trixie, you go ahead and we can meet up later,” Dee Dee offered.
I think she was giving me a chance to be alone for a little while. I decided to grab it. We agreed to meet in thirty minutes at the gift shop. Lost in the art, for a few minutes, I almost forgot I was a murder suspect. I discovered one of my favorite pieces of art, The French Tea Garden. I wished I could be transported into the picture and disappear from my troubles. But that was impossible so I would depend on God for my strength. Father help me through this difficult time and direct my footsteps to the path of truth.
I was soon to find out just how fast he would put my feet on that path. I strolled out on an open air deck to observe the beautiful scenery. The wind had picked up so I put on my coat and leaned against the rails. My thoughts flowed as freely as the river, when a dull object poked me between the shoulder blades.
“Don’t move,” a deep voice commanded, and this time it wasn’t spit I thought would hurl over the railing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Instinct kicked in and I turned around. “Amanda? What are you doing?” I was right all along. Amanda was the only one absent from the room when we gathered for Detective Sam’s talk. She had to be the one who planted the tea in my room. “It was you wasn’t it?”
“Geeze, what gave me away?” She hissed. “If you want to stay alive you’d better do what I say. We’re going for a little walk, so don’t try anything.” She slid a coat, thrown over her arm, up to cover the gun barrel. Motioning to the door, she shoved me inside.
We boarded the elevator and rode to the basement floor. It turned out to be a storage area with minimum light. Is this where she was going to leave my lifeless body? It took a few minutes for my eyes to become accustomed to the dark. Why had I come with her? If we’d stayed out in the open I might have stood a chance. But it was too late, and she had me in her lair.
Amanda stood in front of me, pink-handled gun clutched in her grip. I had to give her credit for being stylish.
Keep her talking, Trixie. “What do you want from me, I’m just an old lady?” I’d been watching cop shows with Beau, and he always had something to say about procedures done right or wrong by Hollywood. I wracked my brain to recall hostage situations. “I understand you’re afraid, so let me go and I won’t say anything.” Good one, establish trust.
But Amanda ignored me. “I heard what you said in the Discovery Center. And yes, I am following you. Your snooping around has been getting on my nerves. I don’t see why you had to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” She emphasized her words by shaking the gun at me. “If the police couldn’t solve it what made you think you could?”
For a millisecond I was confused, then realized she wasn’t talking about our teacher’s death. She had to be talking about the other murder. I forgot myself, and blurted, “You were involved in the Bobby Lee Ghoston murder?”
From her wild-eyed response, I knew I’d hit a nerve. “Don’t play dumb with me, Tracie”
“It’s Trixie.” Stupid, don’t correct her. What does it matter anyway with a gun barrel up your nostril?
“How would you like it if your daddy denied you?”
“Bobby was your father?” Wow, I didn’t see that one coming. I thought she killed Annie, but couldn’t tie the two murders together. Until now.
Amanda’s face softened for a minute. “Yes.” The gun lowered just a hair. I thought she might put it down, but it shot right back up. “After years of begging my mother to tell me who my real father was, she finally broke. I confronted Bobby Lee with the news and he laughed. Can you believe that? He laughed and asked how I could be so sure since my mother had so many lovers.”
I tried disarming her by showing her sympathy. “That must have been very hurtful, Amanda.”
She glared at me, nostrils flaring. This girl had some real trust issues. “How would you know how I felt? How dare he? I knew my mother wasn’t lying. It was okay for him to take in that Tabitha girl who wasn’t even kin to him and raise her like a daughter, but why couldn’t he acknowledge me? Well I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” She swung the gun around like a conductor’s baton.
Dear Lord, please keep me safe and give me the wisdom to get out of here alive. A light bulb turned on and I fought my shaking hands. If she’d shot Tippi, she was on a murdering rampage and what was one more body on her long list?
“A jury isn’t going to blame you.” I glanced around the room for a path of escape. There wasn’t one. Amanda was standing between me and the door. “You’ve had such a rough time, they’ll understand, I just know it.” Then I recalled the recorder in my pocket. If I could switch it on without her knowing, I could get a confession and perhaps solve my own murder post mortem.
“You’re just saying that to get me off your back.” Amanda wiped a tear, turning aside to keep me from seeing it.
“No, I’m not. I have a tissue for that. I’m just going to reach into my coat pocket.” I held up a hand the way I’d seen in the shows. “See? Just going for a tissue. You know I don’t carry a gun anyway.” I slid my hand in, found the recorder and hoped I’d switched it to record, not erase. Then I found a used Kleenex. “Here you go.”
She took the tissue and dabbed at her streaked face.
“Now, why not tell me everything? I have some connections with the police, and I may be able to help.”
“Why should I trust you?” She shoved the tissue in her jeans pocket and two-fisted the gun in my face again.
“Who else can you trust?” I thought quickly. “I have a daughter about your age, and I think I know how you must feel. Her father wasn’t the best example in the world either.”
“Oh?”
I told her about Jill’s dad, and may have embellished the facts a little to give Amanda’s nervous energy a chance to subside. “So, tell me. How did I frighten you when I mentioned looking into the Ghoston murder, and how is Tippi involved?” Speak into the microphone, there’s a good killer.