“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.