Текст книги "Death In Dahlonega"

Автор книги: Deborah Malone

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 9 страниц)

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.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Instead of double barrels, Sheriff Wheeler stood, nose to glass, outside my driver’s side window. “Sheriff Wheeler!” I sputtered, and rolled it down.

“Oh my goodness, are we glad to see you! That man tried to kill us!”

I couldn’t believe he was laughing. “If he’d wanted to kill you, Trixie, he wouldn’t have shot over your head.” He turned toward the porch and the pack of dogs. “Tommy, put that gun down. Now! I don’t want to have to run you in.”

“Aw, Sheriff, I warn’t going to hurt ‘em. Them two were askin’ me questions about Tatum’s killin’. Then they started askin’ me ‘bout Tubby’s death. It ain’t none of their business.”

“I’ll take care of them. You go on back in the house,” the sheriff ordered. Stretched to his tallest height, he stood in a pose that meant business. He made a formidable sight.

Tommy scratched his protruding stomach. Much to my relief, he turned and went in the house. Martha followed.

Sheriff Wheeler leaned down and stuck his head in the window. He was so close, I could see his eyelashes.

“Hello, Dee Dee.” He backed up and looked me in the eyes. He wasn’t laughing anymore. “I suppose this was your idea to come out here and question Tommy?” Before I could answer, he started lecturing me.

“I thought I told you to keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong. You could have gotten hurt. You might not care about yourself, but you could have been responsible for putting your friend in danger.”

“Well, since you put it that way—”

“You’re lucky I was here to help. It might have turned out a lot worse.”

I quickly made a decision to forego my guilt for the time being. “Well, it turned out all right.”

“Because I showed up,” he cautioned. “What were you going to do if you couldn’t start your car?”

I didn’t want to say that I would have probably called 9-1-1. “How did you know we were here, anyway?”

“I went by the Dahlonega Inn to find you. Joyce told me you came out here. I had a feeling you might be in trouble. Tommy Hawkins doesn’t take kindly to strangers. Heck,” he pushed his hat up on his head. “Tommy doesn’t take kindly to anybody.”

Dee Dee leaned towards the window. “Well, I for one am glad to see you. That maniac was trying to kill us. When Trixie’s car wouldn’t start, I pictured us shot full of holes.”

“Traitor,” I muttered under my breath, then turned back to my reluctant hero. “Well, Sheriff, why were you looking for us?”

“Let’s get your car started first so we can go back and talk in my office.” He raised the hood on my archaic Jeep. I’m not sure what he did, but in the shake of a sheep’s tail, she was purring like a kitten. I looked up to the heavens and whispered, Thank you, then stuck my head out of the window to peer where he slammed the hood.“How did you do that?”

He sauntered back and placed his hands on the doorframe of the open window. “Well, Ms. Montgomery, if you’d clean off the battery cables once in a while, you’d stand a much better chance of it starting when you get yourself in trouble.”

If I didn’t consider myself a lady I’d have smacked that devilish grin right off his face. Then again, maybe not. I wouldn’t want to mar that gorgeous mug. I rolled up the window, defining a clear barrier between us.

I was still shaking as we followed him the long drive back to town. Dee Dee sat beside me, arms crossed, muttering how I almost got her killed and how she was now about to be arrested. I felt a wee bit guilty that I hadn’t heeded everyone’s warnings, but I had Dee Dee’s welfare in mind. “Don’t be so sure; if he were going to arrest you, he would have done it on the spot.”

“Then why not just tell us whatever he had to say.”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad to be putting distance between us and the Hawkins.”

We arrived at the station and Dee Dee asked first thing, “Where’s the bathroom?”

I wasn’t surprised. I had to admit, after our harrowing morning, I needed a potty break, too.

After necessaries were taken care of, an officer escorted us to Jake’s office. The dilapidated chairs were obviously used for interrogating prisoners. When I plopped down, it was as hard as frozen ground. The stuffing had flattened out in all the strategic places. No matter how I adjusted my bottom, I couldn’t get comfortable.

Pictures of past sheriffs, dating back to the late 1800’s, covered the walls. The décor could have been called Early American Male. No bright or cheerful colors enlivened the room. The furniture, including the desk, was purely for functional purposes. Aesthetics had not been taken into consideration during the decorating.

Sheriff Wheeler’s desktop was covered in papers, making it impossible to see what it looked like. Either he was a busy man with a lot of work, or a man who did little work. The bright sun through dusty blinds illuminated him from behind. He leaned back in his desk chair and clasped his hands behind his head.

“I told you I’d find out who killed Tatum if it wasn’t Dee Dee.” He grinned from ear to ear.

Did this mean what I thought it meant?

“Who was it?”

“Was it Miranda Tatum or Sueleigh Dalton?” Dee Dee and I asked questions in unison, both of us on the edge of our seats with excitement.

“What makes you think it was either one of them?” Sheriff Wheeler asked.

“They both had a motive. A woman scorned makes for one angry woman.”

He stared at me intently. “Are you speaking from experience, Trixie?”

Ouch. I glared back at him. “I don’t see what that has to do with this, Sheriff. Are you going to tell us who it is?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

You’re wrong on both accounts. “It was neither Miranda Tatum, nor Sueleigh Dalton. Nor Dee Dee.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“You heard me right, Trixie.”

I was so happy. I would be glad to extend my gratitude to anyone who solved the case. If that was Sheriff Wheeler, then so be it.

“Thank you Sheriff. Does this mean Dee Dee is free to go?”

I looked at Dee Dee. She stared straight ahead, her eyes blank. Then a great big smile covered her face. It must have registered—she was free!

“Who did it?” I asked. “And why did they do it?”

“I can’t tell you who it is at this point, but it appears that someone was blackmailing Tatum. We found a large amount of cash in John’s pocket and more on the floor. The museum was their meeting place for the cash exchange. Something went wrong this time, and the perpetrator lost it. This person grabbed the pickaxe and used it as a weapon to kill John. And, we have a confession.”

“We told you all along Dee Dee didn’t kill him,” I said with great satisfaction.

“Since Dee Dee was found holding the murder weapon, we had to consider her a person of interest. When we found a large amount of cash on Tatum, we wondered if there was more to this murder than first met the eye. We pursued some tips and hit the jackpot.”

When Dee Dee spoke I could barely hear her. “I can’t believe it’s over.” She began to cry as she reached and grabbed my hand. Tears pooled in my eyes, too.

“You can believe it, Dee Dee. You’re free to go. On the way out, please leave your addresses with the officer at the front desk. We might need you to come back and testify at the trial.” He stood up, indicating the meeting was over.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” The words almost stuck in my throat, but I hoped I looked sincere, anyway.

“One more thing.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I want you to lay off the sleuthing before you get someone killed.”

“Sure thing,” I said. I was so grateful we didn’t need to.

We thanked him, and high-tailed it out of his office. As soon as we got out the front door, we hugged each other and let the tears flow.

“Come on, Dee Dee. Let’s go tell Nana. I’m so glad this is over. I’m going to call Beau as soon as we get back to the Inn. He saw something in Sheriff Wheeler we didn’t see. I didn’t think he was trying very hard to find the right person. This is one time I don’t mind being wrong.” I hooked my arm through Dee Dee’s and lead her towards the car.

“I’ve been so scared. I knew I was innocent, but it’s kinda hard to prove when you’re found standing over the body with the murder weapon in your hands. I’m so grateful for all your help. I have no doubt, Sheriff Wheeler wouldn’t have looked further than his nose to find Tatum’s killer if you hadn’t insisted he look elsewhere. I can’t wait to thank Beau, too. He’s such a sweetheart.”

Yes he is, I thought.

It was afternoon, and the streets were crowded with people enjoying the festivities. I had an urge to shout at them to stop and join in our celebration.

With a silent thanks to Sheriff Wheeler, I was relieved when the car started right up this time. We traveled at a snail’s pace as we precariously made our way through the throng of tourists. We pulled into the parking lot and walked to our room.

“What’s going on with you two?” Nana asked as we entered through the door, our grins a dead giveaway. “Good grief, you two look like a couple of raccoons! Where have you girls been?” She handed me an envelope. I assumed the pictures were inside. “Go ahead and open it up.”

I did. It was full of pictures, as well as a CD, exactly as I’d asked. “Good job, Nana.” I leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Nana, we’ve got great news to tell you. Go ahead, Dee Dee. Tell her.”

“You’re not going to believe this. I’ve been completely exonerated. They’ve found out who killed John Tatum.” She gave Nana a big bear hug, and Nana hugged her back. She stepped back and did a little jig. “I’m free, I’m free!”

While we danced around and acted like we didn’t have any good sense, someone knocked on the door. I opened it to see a distraught Sueleigh Dalton standing in the doorway. Her blouse was unevenly buttoned, and her hair stood askew. She was crying. “You’ve got to help me, Trixie. You’ve just got to help me.”

“Sueleigh, what’s the matter?”

“Don’t just let her stand there. Ask her in,” Nana quipped.

“Uh, sure. Come on in, Sueleigh.” I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the room.

“I’ll get you some tissues.” Dee Dee headed to the bathroom.

I had visions of Dee Dee holing up in the bathroom in order to escape the inevitable. She wasn’t getting off that easy. “That’s a great idea Dee Dee, but don’t get lost,” I called as she hurried off. My attention turned to the distraught young woman.

Nana led her to one of the beds and wrapped a grandmotherly arm around her. “There now, dear. Dry up those tears. We can’t understand a word you’re saying through all that hiccupping.”

Dee Dee reappeared. Sueleigh took the tissues and blew her nose, honking like a sick penguin. I didn’t realize an attractive young woman could make such a disgusting sound.

Dee Dee and I sat on the bed across from them.

Nana gave Sueleigh a minute to wipe her nose and dry her eyes, then launched in. “All right, young lady. What is it that you think Trixie can help you with?”

“They arrested Daddy. They said he killed John,” she managed to get out between sobs. “I know he didn’t do it. You’ll help me prove it, won’t you?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

What makes you think I can help?”

She sniffed and snorted before answering. “You helped your friend, and I thought you might help me, too. You seem like such a nice lady.”

I wanted to help, but I had a deadline to meet.

“Sheriff Wheeler told us someone gave a confession. I didn’t know it was your father. I don’t know what I can do to help.”

“He confessed to blackmailing John. He never confessed to murdering him,” she said.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. My head spun, and I struggled to breathe. The room was out of focus. A minute ago we were celebrating; now it felt like the air had been let out of my balloon. I imagined Dee Dee wasn’t feeling much better because she grabbed my arm and gave it a death squeeze.

Thoughts swirled around in my mind. If Frank Dalton didn’t kill Tatum, who did? Would the focus turn back to Dee Dee? I had been riding an emotional roller coaster since this had begun. I didn’t know how much more I could stand.

“Sueleigh, what makes you think he didn’t kill John?” It was a practical question, so I couldn’t understand why she looked at me like I’d gone around the bend.

“Because he told me he didn’t,” she sputtered with indignation.

“I realize he’s your father, Sueleigh, and you love him dearly. Of course, you want to believe him. Just because he said he didn’t kill Tatum doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.”

“That’s right,” chimed in Dee Dee. I dared to glance over at her. All the happiness I’d seen a few minutes ago had vanished and had been replaced by eyes as wide as saucers.

“Let’s all calm down. Sueleigh, start from the beginning. What did you mean when you said your daddy confess he had blackmailed this man?”

“It’s like I told you. He was blackmailing John. As soon as I found out they had arrested Daddy, I went straight to the jail. He told me all about it.” She had calmed down enough to talk without gulping for air.

“What did he tell you?” I asked, attempting to be as encouraging as possible.

“I know it wasn’t right that he blackmailed John, but I don’t blame him. After the way John blew me and the baby off, it’s no wonder Daddy found a way to get back at him.”

I agreed he had a reason, but that didn’t make it right.

She blew her nose and proceeded with her story. “Daddy said he was just getting John to pay us what he owed. He’s never paid one red cent in support for the baby. Daddy said it was his responsibility to pay and if I wouldn’t make him, he would. I always thought he was just blowing off steam. But he did. He didn’t feel guilty about it, either.” She looked me straight in the face. “He may have been blackmailing him, but I know for a fact he didn’t kill him.”

“You’ve told us that before Sueleigh, but how do you know that for a fact?”

“Because he told me what happened.” She stopped. I silently willed her to continue. “It’s like this.”

As we leaned closer, she studied the wadded tissues.

“A couple of months ago, Daddy was volunteering for the Community Charity Auction. He was helping sort through the donations. You should have seen some of the stuff. You couldn’t give it away, much less sell it. Daddy found this box that was donated by the Tatums.” She hesitated, drawing a deep breath.

“He went through the contents of the box to see if there was anything of value. He was so mad at John. I guess he figured there might be something he could sell on the side and give the money to me and the baby. He picked up an old family Bible, to move it out of the way, and something fell out of it.”

“What?” we asked in unison.

“It was an envelope with instructions to be opened when old man Tatum died. It never was.”

“Which old man Tatum? John’s father?” I tried to put the pieces together.

“No, Joshua Tatum, John’s grandfather. Daddy read the letter and found a deathbed confession by Joshua Tatum. Back in the thirties, a family named Haygood owned quite a bit of land during the gold rush days. Donnie Haygood had promised to sell the land to Joshua, but right before the deal went through, Donnie backed out.”

Bang!

A sudden pounding at the door made us all jump.

“What now?” I got up to send whoever it was away.

I opened the door.

“Hi, Ms. Montgomery.” Leroy pushed his head around the door so he could see who was in the room. “Just wondered how y’all are doing and if there’s anything you need. Hi there, Sueleigh.”

She gave him a little wave.

“We’re doing just fine, Leroy. Thanks for asking. Now if you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy right now.” I held the door firmly to keep him from coming in any further.

“Well, all right, but be sure and let me know if there’s anything I can get y’all.”

“We sure will.” I pushed the door closed with a click and bolted the lock, and rolled my shoulders. That guy still gave me the willies.