Chilled in Chattanooga (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 4) (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

A
horn blared and jarred me from my musings. I looked around to study the offending car behind me. Guess they wanted to use the driveway, too. I drove around to the back of the house where a small gravel parking lot greeted me.

I’d wait to carry in my luggage. The proud owner of a new knee, I wanted to see what challenges I faced first. Playing sports and being thrown from a horse named Grace had damaged my original knee beyond repair requiring a total replacement this past year.

A little red sports car pulled into the space beside me. A pair of the longest legs I’d ever seen slid out of the little car. How they fit in the tiny car was a mystery. The elongated limbs were attached to a middle-aged redheaded woman.

I took the initiative and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Trixie Beaumont.” She looked at my extended hand like it was covered with warts. I withdrew it.

“Hi.” She marched past me, into the house. I wondered if she’d signed up for the workshop. If everyone possessed her charming personality we were in for a wild ride.

“Hello, you must be Trixie Beaumont.” I was pleasantly surprised when an older woman greeted me with a hearty welcome. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me inside. “Come in, come in.” She shut the door behind us.

“Okay, I give up. How did you know my name?”

“Well, dear, you’re the last participant to arrive. It was just a matter of elimination. Now that I know who you are I’ll return the favor. I’m Annie Henderson, the workshop director. It’s good to meet you.” She grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down.

“Who was the friendly red-head that breezed in before me? Is she a member of the workshop?” Annie confirmed my worst fear.

“Yes, she sure is. That, my dear, is Tippi Colston.” She pointed to a table set up with pastries and a pot of coffee. “Help yourself. When you get through, I’ll show you to your room. Our first class will start at nine,” her smile disappeared, “and don’t be late.”

My room exuded charm. A double bed with a canopy would be a welcome sight at the end of the day. An antique chifferobe stood in the corner of the room, in place of a closet. I would have to use the vintage piece of furniture to store my clothes. An antique wash bowl and pitcher sat atop a tall dresser. A full length mirror framed in cherry wood inhabited another corner of the room. I imagined I’d been transported back to a simpler time. There were times in our age of hustle and bustle that I yearned for a time when life moved at a slower pace.

I looked at my watch. I’d better hurry if I didn’t want Annie to get upset on our first day. So much for a slower pace. I descended the steep steps as fast as my knee allowed. Some of the participants had already taken their seats, while others talked among themselves. I found a chair and scooted up to a round table.

Annie cleared her throat and looked at us over half-glasses. “Everyone take a seat please.”

I acquired a quick head count – six including Annie. I looked around the table at an eclectic group of writers. Three women and two men made up the class, four women including me. The men were outnumbered. I realized I’d be spending the next few days with these people. Everyone looked amicable enough, but I’d learned the hard way, looks could be deceiving.

“Let’s go around the table and offer introductions,” Annie said. “Start with Trixie and go to the right.”

I introduced myself and relinquished the floor to a scruffy looking character sitting beside me.

“Hi there! I’m Bodene Tate, and I plan on making a lot of money telling my jailhouse story.” He pushed his shirt sleeves up revealing a myriad of tattoos. “I ain’t never wrote nothin’, but it can’t be that hard. I’m here to learn how to write, so I can tell the world I didn’t kill nobody.” All eyes turned to the burley parolee.

Annie appeared to have swallowed her tongue. She coughed a few times then begged the next person to continue. I’d noticed the young woman, who had the pleasure to sit on the other side of Bodene, when I entered the room. With her mocha colored skin, short spiked hair, and a tall, slender body, she held the air of an exotic creature. She stood erect with the poise of a dancer. She struck me as someone who possessed self-assurance.

“Good morning. I’m Lori Wilson and I’m editor and contributor for the
Tennessean,
an ad driven magazine that we offer free to the public. My goal is to someday be on the staff of a major women’s magazine.”

Annie had finally found her voice. “Thank you, Lori. Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.” She scrunched up her face and tapped her finger on her chin.

“No ma’am. I don’t think we’ve met before.” Lori stared straight at Annie and held her gaze. I saw the wheels churning. Annie might not know Lori, but I had no doubt Lori knew Annie.

Lori looked to her right, relinquishing her turn to the next person. It was the gorgeous red-head that brushed me off in the parking lot. Envy’s a dangerous emotion, but I had to admit I was jealous of this woman’s looks. But then again, I remembered when Mama always said “pretty is as pretty does.” Time would tell if she was as pretty as all that.

When she opened her mouth, I swear she sounded like a
valley girl
. “Hi. I’m Tippi Colston – Tippi ‘with-an-i.’ I’m free-lancing right now with the hopes of owning my own magazine. I don’t think I’d be happy working for anyone. I’m used to being my own boss.” Tippi “with- an-i” looked around the room as if she dared anyone to disagree with her. “I’m not sure if there’s anything new I can learn, but I thought it would be a nice vacation for a few days.”

A Cheshire Cat grin spread across Annie’s face. I suspected Annie saw Tippi as a challenge, and somehow I didn’t think this would be a vacation. I for one, looked forward to wrapping my mind around Annie’s lessons. It would be a break from the article Harv had recently assigned me. The subject was an unsolved murder case that occurred on Lookout Mountain.

Harv wanted me to work on the article while this close to the small Georgia town, but I didn’t know how I was going to make time. I brought along my research as well as pictures I’d acquired from people I’d interviewed. I had a lot of organizing to do. I’d have to find a way to squeeze in some work to meet the deadline Harv had set for me.

The next person on Tippi’s right introduced himself as George Buchanan. I pegged him to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He sported curly brown hair and the thickest eyebrows I’d ever seen. His face was pock-marked, probably from a severe case of acne when he was a teenager. I couldn’t imagine the teasing he endured from fellow classmates.

George informed us he worked for the Rossville Express reporting the arrests, divorces, and things you wouldn’t want others to know about your life. His aspiration was to be a photo-journalist for a newspaper or magazine. I was glad to hear he didn’t want to be stuck reporting the misfortune of others.

The last introduction was Amanda Holbrook. Amanda had short, blonde hair and was a little heavy-handed on the makeup. Kind of reminded me of Tammy Faye. Even with the hefty amount of makeup she was an attractive lady.

“I’m here because my low-down, no good, cheatin’ husband left me high and dry. You wouldn’t think your best friend would stab you in the back, but she did. I’ve been writing for pleasure several years and now it’s time to get serious if I want to find a good job. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

Humm, seems Amanda and I had a lot in common. I thought I’d seek her out when I had a chance and offer her a shoulder to cry on. I remembered how devastated I was when Wade left me and how comforting a kind word could be. Anyway, I figured after I told her what Wade did, she’d know she wasn’t the only one who had a low-down, no good, cheatin’ ex-husband.

Annie put us to work faster than a hound dog on the trail of a coon. She started by asking the class to write an article about a hobby we enjoyed. She took up the assignment and then distributed some hand-outs.

“I’m going to read your papers and then give suggestions,” she told us. “After I’ve given my opinions, feel free to offer ideas to your fellow writers.” She had quite a few thoughts on each article letting us know we all had room for improvement. Her lecturing wasn’t too bad until she reached George’s paper.

She looked over her half-glasses and began her spiel, “Now, here is how not to write an article.” She held up George’s effort and read it out loud. My face grew hot and I resisted the urge to crawl under the table and it wasn’t even my paper. I couldn’t begin to imagine how George felt. One look at him and I knew he was beyond embarrassed. He’d moved right into furious. His eyes narrowed and I thought I saw smoke coming from his ears.

When I thought it couldn’t get worse – it did. Annie took the offending paper and tore it in two. There was a collective gasp around the table. All eyes went from Annie to George. He sat stunned for a minute and then his chair shot back, scraping the wooden floor as he stood. He grabbed his papers and notebook and stormed out of the room.

CHAPTER FOUR

A
fly would’ve had a grand ole’ time with the five mouths that stood agape. I assumed Annie would dismiss the class so she could make amends with George. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, that I was sorely mistaken.

Annie proceeded without a hiccup. “Class, let’s continue with our next assignment.” We closed our mouths, and got back into the zone. We spent the rest of the day working on new assignments. For our last project of the day, Annie suggested we work on a topic we’d normally write about for work. What a break. I could combine my article for Harv with Annie’s assignment.

I retired to my room and ached to snooze for a while, but with Harv holding me to a deadline I decided to work on my article. I reviewed the pictures given to me by people I’d interviewed concerning the murder of Mr. Bobby Lee Ghoston. This was not an old murder – well not in the sense of historic. I don’t know what it is with Harv, but since I’d been working for
Georgia by the Way
, and unwittingly became involved in three previous murders, he had become fascinated with murder and mayhem. More often than not, murder was my assignment.

I didn’t mind so much, I sort of fancied myself an amateur detective now. Bobby Lee Ghoston was a well-known bootlegger and was rumored to be a member of the Dixie mafia. I decided to run my ideas by Annie. I gathered my research and headed to her room.

I passed Tippi “with- an- i” in the hallway outside Annie’s room. I was determined to speak to her. “Hi, I’m Trixie,” I said extending my hand. “I hope we can get to know each other better in the next few days.”

Her features didn’t soften like I’d expected. “I know who you are. You’re that lady who helped solve crimes in Marietta and Tybee Island. You think you’re something and I bet you’re dying to be the teacher’s pet.”

Oh my goodness. Did she just say teacher’s pet?
“Uh, no. Not really.”

“I should offer you the professional courtesy to know I wouldn’t mind working for
Georgia by the Way
myself. I’ve already sent in several manuscripts for consideration and I expect to hear back from Harv any time.” She stopped just long enough to get her breath.

“You might have robbed me from winning an award at the Excellence Awards last year with your sensational story, but it won’t happen again. I have my eye on your job and I intend to do anything it takes to get it.”

She stared straight into my eyes. It was hard not to be intimidated, but I’d grown in confidence over the past few years thanks to my faith in God and a bit of trial by fire. I stared back. I expected her to back off but she didn’t. I realized how ridiculous we must look and gave in.

“I’m sorry you feel that way Tippi. I’d like to be your friend, but it takes two to tango and I guess you don’t want to dance. If you’ll excuse me I need to meet with Annie.”

Tippi raised her chin a little higher and left me to wonder what hit me.

Annie’s room was a little bigger than mine. I guess a perk for being the teacher. Her room was filled with antiques making it a cozy nook. Night had already fallen and she’d turned on a floor lamp beside a Queen Anne wingback chair. Shadows danced on the walls.

“Come in, come in. How might I help you tonight?” She sipped from a cup of hot tea. “Oh, excuse my bad manners. Would you like a cup of Rose Petal Green Tea? It’s one of my indulgences so to speak. I can only find it one place on the internet, but the soothing taste is worth it.”

Annie took a sip. “Ummm, good. Would you be a dear and set this on the dresser by the teapot?” I didn’t mind since I was closer. I reached for the delicate cup and placed it beside the tea canister decorated in flowers. I picked up the pretty container and admired the handiwork. The entire set matched.

“My mother gave that set to me and her mother gave it to her. It’s been in the family for years.” She sat up a little straighter in her chair and gave me her full attention. “Now, let’s talk about you.”

“I’m working on an article for
Georgia by the Way,
and I wanted your opinion on combining it with the article I need to write for you. It’s about an unsolved murder that happened on Lookout Mountain. I have some pictures and I’d like you to look at them.”

“Yes, it’ll be fine to combine the two. I sure hope the remainder of our time improves the writing of my students.” Annie’s voice became louder as she ruminated about the assignments. “I tell you, I’ve never seen such sloppy writing.”

A knock at the door interrupted Annie’s tirade. “Come in.”

“Ms. Henderson?” The door slowly opened. “I’m Ladonna. Here are some extra towels I thought you might like.” Ladonna’s lovely mocha complexion was highlighted by a lovely smile until she saw me. “To be honest, I thought you sounded upset as I passed by in the hallway.”

She looked at me accusingly, then offered a show of concern to Annie.

“It’s quite all right,” Annie said. “We were just talking shop, but now that you mention it, I’m not feeling well. My stomach is killing me.”