Death Over the Dam (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

“Emergency!” she said as soon as Nikki answered. “Tyler wants me to start writing a column. NOW. Like today, and I don’t have a good picture of myself and I’m thinking maybe you do.”

“Emergency over,” Nikki laughed. “I probably have 20 or 30,” Nikki said, “How many do you want to choose from? How about I send you my top three picks by e-mail. Do you want to look professional or sexy?”

“Both!” Hunter said with a laugh. “Thank you. You’re saving my life.”

“Speaking of life,” Nikki said. “From what I hear, Michael Donagan is not dead at all. I was going to e-mail you about this tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Hunter asked.

“You know my friend, Sunny? She started working as the part time manager for the Piedmont Camera Club about six months ago. She’s doing it at home, and doing their newsletter and everything. It’s not a whole lot, but it means she can stay home with the baby, and..””

“Michael Donagan,” Hunter prompted, heading back into the paper, so she could take notes.

“Yeah. I was telling her about your buying those paintings by Deidre Donagan and about finding the place in Buckhead, and she said ‘Oh, that’s Michael Donagan’s daughter, isn’t it.

“And I said yes it was and that I had learned from you about his dying, and she said he’s not dead.”

“You’re kidding,” Hunter said.

“Not kidding. She not only said he wasn’t dead, but that he was still a member in good standing of the Camera Club and she knew that because his dues came in right after she started working there, and that he was still on their e-mail list and their mailing list for the newsletter. I made her look it up and check and she said he was on there, that he had a P.O. Box in Macon, which is probably why the Atlanta crowd has lost touch with him. I even asked her if she had seen him, and she said not for a long time, and she remembered hearing once that he had emphysema, so maybe he wasn’t out and about much, but she didn’t figure he’d be paying his dues if he was dead.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hunter said. “Maybe Deirdre kept his membership going.”

“You mean the girl who can’t remember the name of her own favorite boutique?” Nikki asked. “Uh, oh. I’ve got a shoot in about half an hour. I’m going to send you those pictures now.”

Hunter put the strange problem of Michael Donagan out of her mind as she wrapped up the last of her news stories and pondered what to write for a column.

At about the same time, Sam Bailey and the Public Defender, Molly Bloomfield, were in agreement about starting the interview with Damon Dixon. The crime tech team had already made a written report and Sam had a copy for the Public Defender, who was not looking very happy after talking with her client privately.

Bub had quickly written down the gist of what Frances Hartfield said Velma Dixon had told her and her husband shortly before her stroke. Sam had read it with raised eyebrows, and then patted Bub on the back.

They were ready to start.

Sam recited Damon Dixon’s Miranda rights to him, and said, “We are investigating the theft of certain items from the car belonging to a murder victim, Ned Thigpen of Marietta, Georgia, on the bypass road to Bubba Shipley’s hangar which starts and ends on Highway..”

He continued to roll out factual background until Molly Bloomfield nodded briskly and said, “I think we’re all aware of those facts. My client has agreed to tell you the whole truth.

“Mr. Dixon, are you ready to explain how you happened to have a Nikon camera belonging to Mr. Thigpen in the trunk of your car early this morning when you were stopped by the Georgia State Patrol? And, how you happened to be keeping Mr. Thigpen’s laptop computer at the apartment of Courtney Chapman?”

“I took them from his car,” Damon said as if that had to be obvious, and he was bored with the whole discussion. “He was already dead when I took them. Now you’ve got them back.”

“Did you also take Mr. Thigpen’s cellphone and his wallet?”

“I refuse to answer,” Damon said. His attorney winced.

“Did you take any of the following items,” Sam said, “A Canon camera with zoom lens, another Nikon camera with zoom lens, both in camera cases, and two tripods” he handed out a list of the equipment with specifications.”

“No!” Damon said. “I did not.”

“Did you take a painting on canvas of Noah’s Ark?”

“No,” Damon said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“So,” Sam said. “You admit to taking the Nikon that was in your trunk, and the computer we found in Miss Chapman’s apartment, but you refuse to answer the question about the cell phone and the wallet, and your answer as to whether you took the items on the list starting with the Canon camera is no.”

“That’s right,” Damon said. “I took the two things you’ve got.”

“And when you took these items, Mr. Thigpen was already dead.”

“The man in the car was dead,” Damon said flatly “I didn’t know what his name was.”

“Did you make any effort to determine if he was dead or did you just assume it?” Sam asked.

“I looked at him and he was dead,” Damon said.

“How did you happen to be in that location at that time?” Sam asked.

“I was at my Grandma’s house,” Damon said, “She cooked me some fried chicken and I was eating supper with her.”

“Why did you go down the road to Shipley’s Hangar?” Sam asked.

“Because we heard a gunshot, and I wanted to see what had happened. I didn’t kill the man. I didn’t even know who he was.” His voice was rising.

“ Nobody has said you did,” his attorney said to him gently.

“Well I don’t want them charging me with killing him when I didn’t.” Damon shot back.

“So you went down the road to see what had happened,” Sam said, “and you found the car and saw the man was dead and you took the computer and the Nikon camera.”

“Yeah,” Damon said, “That’s what I already said.”

“You didn’t take his wallet or the cell phone?”

“You’ve asked him that already,” Molly Bloomfield said.

“What did you tell your grandmother about what you had seen?” Sam asked.

“I have nothing to say about that,” Damon said. “You know my grandma died yesterday.”

“I am aware of that,” Sam said. “Your great aunt, Mrs. Frances Hartfield says that your grandmother told her and Mr. Hartfield that you told her there was a dead man out there and not to tell anybody that you had been at her house.”

“She’s lying,” Damon said.

“Do you own a gun?” Sam asked.

“This interview is over,” Molly Bloomfield said. “Are you going to charge my client with something?”

“Yes, we’re charging him with theft by taking, with failing to report a death to the authorities, and with possession of five ounces of marijuana and illegal possession of a prescription drug,” Sam said.

“Can I go home now? “ Damon asked.

“No,” Sam said, “But your attorney can discuss that matter with Judge Patterson tomorrow morning.

CHAPTER 20

H
UNTER HAD FINALLY DECIDED ON A
column. She was going to write about the need for a new animal shelter in Merchantsville. It wasn’t an earth-shaking subject for her first column ever, but it was something she had strong feelings about, and the City Council had it on their agenda for their next meeting.

She printed out some stories she had already written about the shelter and the Animal Defense League, started over three times, got on a roll, and then realized she had written over 700 words .She began going over it sentence by sentence making cuts, and suddenly decided on a brand new way to approach it and started over.

She was halfway through the final version, her head full of visions of abandoned puppies and scrawny kittens, when she was aware that somebody had come into the newspaper office.

She looked up and blinked.

The woman looked familiar. She looked like Miss America ten years later.

“Are you Hunter Jones,” Rhonda Ransom asked, with a sweet smile. “I’m Rhonda. I just wanted to come by and meet you and wish you the best.”

“Thank you,” Hunter said.

“Could I sit down and talk with you just a few minutes?”

“Sure. But, just, well, I’ve just got this column to finish.”

“You must be so smart to write for the paper,” Rhonda said sweetly. “I’ve seen your name under all the photographs, too.”

Hunter started recovering her poise, and reached out with her right hand to shuffle some papers.

Rhonda glanced at the ring, blinked and glanced away quickly.

“Well anyway, I can see you’re busy,” she said, “but I just wanted you to know that I’ve very glad Sam is happy and I can tell that Bethie likes you a lot, and I hope we can all get along for Bethie’s sake.”

“I certainly hope so too,” Hunter said, still wary.

“And I brought you these,” Rhonda said, opening up her purse.

“She carefully placed two of her CDs on Hunter’s desk, and then placed two tickets on top of the CDs.”

“These are free tickets for the benefit concert on Saturday night,” she said. “Bethie’s got one too but she’ll be coming with my mother, and these are for you and Sam.”

“Thank you,” Hunter said, managing what she hoped was a smile.

“And I would appreciate it so much if you would bring your camera,” Rhonda said, with a wink. “Your pictures in the paper are so good. You must have a real good camera.”

“I’ll have to talk to Sam about what his plans are,” Hunter said primly, and then, seeing that the former Miss Magnolia County High School was ready to make her exit, got up to walk with her to the door

Thirty seconds after she got back to her desk, Tyler came out of his office.

‘What did she want?” he asked.

“She wants me to cover the concert,” Hunter said grimly. “She brought free tickets for me and Sam.”

Tyler laughed.

“Novena’s already said she and Bobby are going and she’ll cover it,” he said. “Give her the tickets. I hope that woman didn’t keep you from finishing that column for me.”

“Almost done,” Hunter said.

Sam came to her house for supper, and with Bethie visiting the Ransoms again, they were both glad to have a chance to catch up on the grownup part of their lives.

“I cannot believe Rhonda did that,” Sam said, after hearing Hunter’s main story of the day, “I don’t want to go hear her sing and she had no business asking you to take pictures.”

“But,” Hunter said, smiling sweetly, “She did give me her best wishes and she does want us to all get along for Bethie’s sake, and we will, won’t we?”

“Well, I’m going to get along with you and with Bethie,” Sam said, “and she’s irrelevant, but we are not going to that concert.”

“Fine with me,” Hunter said, serving him some more of the meatloaf, she had made in a hurry, and which wasn’t half bad. “Now how was your day? I’ll bet you can’t top my story.””

“Bet I can. We have a Person of Interest in the Thigpen murder investigation,” he said.

“Who?”

“I’ll give you a statement in the morning that says that we have a Person of Interest,” Sam said. “Off the record, it could be that this person just robbed a dead man.”

“So you found some of the stolen things? Did you find the painting?”

“I’ll e-mail you a statement in the morning at 9 a.m.,” Sam said, “at the same time I e-mail one to Will Roy for the radio.”

“Then he’s going to get it out ahead of me,” Hunter said.

“So it goes,” Sam said. “Sorry. If I give it to you before the paper is printed, he’s going to have it on the radio first anyway. I can’t play favorites.”

“He’s going to say you are whether you do or not,” Hunter said, but she knew that the issue was settled.

Sam noticed the Deirdre Donagan Bennett paintings still leaning against the wall.

“I thought you were going to take those out to Grady to fix,” he said.

“That’s tomorrow afternoon,” Hunter said, and then she remembered her talk with Nikki “Oh! I forgot something so important that I was going to tell you.”

“More important than free tickets to Rhonda’s concert?” Sam asked.

“Oh, yes.” Hunter said. “It is the weirdest thing. I called Nikki today to get her to send me a picture of me because Tyler has me starting a column.”

“Nice,” Sam said. “About time.”

“And she told me that this friend of hers who works for the Piedmont Camera Club said that Michael Donagan is not dead. That he’s still a dues paying member of the club and still gets their newsletter. She said she heard he had emphysema, and that might be why people hadn’t seen him lately, but he wasn’t dead and he has a P.O. Box in Macon.

“That definitely is weird,” Sam said. “Do you suppose Grady and his wife just wanted to keep the newsletter coming?”

“Well, the thing is,” Hunter said. “I was just remembering that Ned Thigpen didn’t know he was dead either, and he’s in that club. Wait a minute. I want to look up something on my computer.”

In a matter of minutes, she had the Piedmont Camera Club website up and it had a full memorial page to Ned Thigpen.