I swayed a bit, and Beau reached out and steadied me. It hit me again: a surge of electricity traveled from my head to my toes at the touch of his hand.
“I’m really sorry, but I have to go back immediately, and I won’t be able to take Nana home. The guy could change his mind any minute.” He loosened his hold on me and, when I didn’t fall flat on my face, he let go.
Making a scene wouldn’t change a thing, and I didn’t want Beau to leave on a bad note. His friendship meant too much to me. “You’re right Beau. I know how important this is. You need to go back as soon as possible.” I stalled for more time. “Something has been bothering me. No one’s talking about the money scattered around John Tatum’s body. Do you think blackmail might be involved?”
“Blackmail is a possibility. A well known figure like Tatum makes a good target for blackmail.”
My hopes soared. “I’ve talked with some of the locals, and they’ve given me a few leads. I can request a follow-up interview. Ask them more questions.” I couldn’t wait to start.
He took his hat off and slapped it against his leg, face drawn into a scowl. “Trixie, let the sheriff take care of this. I have confidence he’ll do his job, and…it could be dangerous.”
As touched as I was that Beau cared, I couldn’t agree.
Beau put his hat back on his head and leaned his face in toward mine. “Promise me.”
I crossed my fingers behind my back. “Okay, I’ll stay out of trouble.” I didn’t promise not to question anyone.
He waited. I kept my fingers crossed. I feared they might become permanently stuck that way.
Then he backed up with a sigh. “I guess that’s the best I’ll get from you.”
Beau was wise enough to let it drop. We stepped back inside and he said his goodbyes to Nana and Dee Dee. He kissed Nana on the cheek. A prick of jealously stung me. These new feelings for him confused me. Maybe it was the mountain air.
He turned back to me. “You’ve got my cell number; call me if you need anything. I can get in touch with Sheriff Wheeler right away. All right?” He waited for my answer.
“I’ll call if I need to. Thanks for coming.”
He left and I waved one last time from the doorway. A surge of sadness washed over me. I shut the door and turned around.
Dee Dee and Nana had their heads close together, deep in conversation. They stopped mid-sentence. I wondered if I were the subject of their cozy little chat.
“We were discussing sleeping arrangements,” Nana said. “Would either of you want to share a bed with me?” She chuckled. She knew good and well we didn’t. “Just kidding. Why don’t we call those nice people down at the front desk and ask them if they have a roll-a-way bed.”
I glanced around the cramped room, wondering where we’d put a roll-a-way bed. I sent up a prayer for help. I didn’t hear a voice from heaven, but I did feel a sense of peace. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and Nana would find it.
“Trixie, please call them. I do believe I feel a nap sneaking up.” A yawn confirmed Nana’s exhaustion.
I pulled back the covers. “Dee Dee and I have a few errands we need to run. You can use my bed for your nap. I’ll stop at the desk and ask for a roll-away.”
“What errands?” Dee Dee shrugged and wore a blank look.
“You know, Dee Dee, the errands we discussed this morning.” I raised a brow.
“Oh, yeah. I remember.” She spoke loud enough to wake the dead. “Nana, can we do anything for you before we go?”
“No dear. You two go ahead. When you get back we can get some supper. Beau and I had burgers and fries in the car.”
Nana unzipped her overnight bag. I was amazed at how conveniently sharp Nana’s mind could be.
“Dee Dee, grab my jacket please. It’s much cooler out.” We donned our jackets and I retrieved my cane where it leaned against the wall. This trip had convinced me it would not be much longer before surgery was necessary. I picked up my camera and we shut the door, leaving Nana to her unpacking.
“What errands were you talking about, Trix?”
“I want to see if we can locate Sueleigh Dalton. Teresa said her family run one of the booths on the square.”
“She was John Tatum’s girlfriend, right?” Dee Dee asked.
“Yes. And she had a baby by him and then he denied being the father.” I looked at Dee Dee. “I believe that could be a recipe for murder.”
Chapter Sixteen
She laughed at my pun, but stopped short when she realized I was serious. “You’re right, Trixie. Murders have been committed for a lot less. Why, the sheriff thinks I killed Tatum over a silly argument. It doesn’t make sense to me. Just because I stood over Tatum holding the murder weapon….” A sheepish look claimed her face. “Oh, yeah. Holding the murder weapon doesn’t bode well for me, does it?” Her countenance fell.
It hurt to witness my friend in so much pain. With Dee Dee’s freedom on the line, I was determined to support her. She had supported me during my divorce and I wanted to be there for her.
“Come on,” I pulled her towards a booth surrounded by tourists. We waited in line for a funnel cake, a tasty treat made of deep-fried dough, covered with powdered sugar. I often thought just inhaling the aroma could add pounds to my figure—so I planned to order one for Dee Dee as well as one for me. If I were going to gain weight, I refused to gain alone.
I squeezed up to the counter before Dee Dee.
“Hey lady, can I help you?” The man behind the counter wiped his hands on his greasy apron.
What the heck. It was for a good cause. “Yes, we’ll take two funnel cakes please, and lots of powdered sugar.” He handed one to me and yelled for another one. “Can you tell me where I can find the Dalton’s booth?”
“Sure. They run the Backyard Bar-b-que. It’s across the street and down a ways to the left. That’ll be six fifty.” He accepted my change and barked, “Next!”
I had been dismissed. I moved over to let a less than petite woman elbow her way to the counter.
I handed Dee Dee her funnel cake and she unwound a long curl of the doughy treat. “This’ll be good for a quick energy boost.” She looked cute with white powder all around her mouth. “Where are we going?”
My mouth full, I pointed across the street. We headed in that direction, holding the flimsy plates steady as we savored our treats.
The Dalton’s booth was easy to find. Another long line flowed into the street. Eating must be the main event at Gold Rush Days.
“Looks like we might have to buy a sandwich, too.” I brushed my sticky mouth and threw the trash in a plastic-lined bin.
“Yes, it does.” Dee Dee added, tossing her plate in, as well.
As we approached the booth, I saw several people working inside. Two men and two women danced around each other as they filled orders. I wondered which one was Sueleigh.
“Next!”
“I’ll take two sandwiches and two Cokes, please.” As the man handed me our food, I asked which lady was Sueleigh.
“Neither one. Sueleigh is my daughter. Why ya’ asking?” His words were clipped and his tone unfriendly.
That would never do. I set on my reporter’s grin, and introduced myself. “I write for a historical magazine, and I want to interview her. Teresa Duncan, over at the Gold Museum, recommended I talk with Sueleigh about Gold Rush Days.” All right, we all stretch the truth at times. I prayed the end justified the means.
“Teresa. Why didn’t ya’ say so?” A smile softened his gruff exterior. “Sueleigh is driving the horse carriage for me today. You can catch her over there.” He pointed to the square. I glanced at my shoe. Unfortunately, I was familiar with the horse carriage.