Death Over the Dam (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 2) (8 page)

She felt the familiar twinge of guilt at being in a profession where bad news meant selling papers, but other questions were nagging at her.

How did Ned Thigpen wind up so far away from where he was heading. Was he wandering around lost, trying to get back to the interstate. Did he ask someone for help and get killed instead?

Sam studied his scribbled notes, and began taking the first steps of the investigation.

“Skeet,” he said, “Do you know where Grady Bennett lives?”

Sam nodded.

“You know his wife?

“No Sir, not really.”

“OK, I’m thinking, based on what Hunter just told me, that the victim may have talked to her or Grady today or been out to their house. Hunter knew him. She says his name is Ned Thigpen, and he’s from Marietta. He was a writer and photographer. I need you to go out there and ask them if this Thigpen guy came to see them yesterday or if they heard from him at all. The wife may know who he is even if didn’t come by, because he supposedly wrote something about her and her father. Get her father’s name and number, too. It may not amount to anything, but we need to know.”

Skeet wasn’t happy about leaving the scene on a possible wild goose chase, but he listened to the information Hunter had given Sam and took notes.

Taneesha drove up as he was getting into his car, and got out looking grim. She walked over and looked at the body. Skeet could see her shudder all over.

He put his mind on his assignment, considered which bridges were out and figured out the quickest way to get to the other side of Magnolia County to pay a visit to Grady and Dee Dee Bennett.

Sam greeted Taneesha with a question. “You know the lady who lives over there in that little house past the mailbox?”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s Velma Dixon’s house. I had to come out here last year to pick up her grandson. Remember?”

Sam grimaced. “That’s what I was afraid of. I thought I recognized her.”

“You don’t think Damon had anything to do with this, do you? He doesn’t live here. He was just out here hiding before when I came for him. I remember how upset she got. She thinks he’s a perfect angel.”

“I don’t have any reason to think he had anything to do with it,” Sam said.” but when she pulled into her driveway a while ago, it bothered me that she didn’t even ask why we were out here. She said she didn’t hear any gunshots, and it wasn’t her business what happened on other people’s land, and then she drove down to her house. I think she was about to cry.”

“Probably she’s just scared,” Taneesha said. “Maybe Bub could go and talk to her,” Taneesha said. “She’ll remember me, and she sure didn’t like me when I arrested her grandson and she didn’t like you either. Remember her telling you her grandson didn’t even know words like that?”

“You’re right,” Sam said, and waved Bub over.

“See if you can find out if she heard anything going on out here,” Sam told him. “Not just a gunshot, but any shouting, arguing, cars coming or going, anything, and find out if she was alone or had any company. Make sure she knows that we’re going to get the car moved, and we’ll have somebody out here most of the night and into the morning, so she doesn’t have to worry about her safety.”

Nearly a half hour later,, when he was beginning to doubt his usually unfailing sense of direction, Skeet spotted the little white church and slowed down to make a right turn.

It was a plain old frame farmhouse set back from the road. He knew it had been in the Bennett family for generations, and he envied Grady inheriting all that land. He honestly didn’t know how Grady managed to support a wife on the handyman work he did and selling those hand carved decoys. But then he considered that not all wives spent money like his late wife Tamlyn had. It was her need to buy, buy, buy that had led to the crazy things she did, and finally to her murder.

Skeet, pushed the bad memories out of his mind, and pulled up in front of the Bennett home.

Grady was surprised but warm in his welcome.

“Come on in. Have you met my wife, Dee Dee? Dee Dee, this is my old friend Skeet Borders.”

She said, “It’s nice to meet you, “in a precise voice, glancing at Grady. He smiled at her and nodded.

“Have a seat,” Grady said. “What’s up?”

He glanced over at Dee Dee, who was still standing, and said, “Sit down, Honey.”

She sat.

Skeet asked about Ned Thigpen, without explaining that he had been murdered. Neither of them seemed to recognize the name.

Skeet turned to Dee Dee.

“Hunter Jones, the reporter at the paper, said he came by to see her and saw some of your paintings, and he recognized your work. He said that he knew you and your father. He said that he wrote a story about the two of you once and that your father was a photographer with a lot of old cameras. She thought he wanted to get in touch with your father.”

Dee Dee’s bottom lip trembled and she jumped up and ran from the room. Grady went after her. He was gone for a few minutes and then came back shaking his head.

“Did I say something wrong?” Skeet asked.

“Her father has passed away,” Grady said in a near whisper.
She gets upset about it still.”. “

He sat down and said, “But anyway, she says she does remember the man named Ned, and it was a long time ago at one of the festivals. She and her dad used to sell their work at the festivals up in the mountains. That’s where I met her. It would have had to be before we were married and that’s nearly four years. Her dad died right soon after we were married.”

“I’m sorry I got her upset,” Skeet said. “It was just that Sheriff Bailey got this information from Hunter Jones and wanted it checked out in case, you had some information about where he had been.”.”

“Hey,” Grady interrupted, “Speaking of Hunter Jones, guess who’s going to be on the front page of the paper tomorrow?”

“The governor?” Skeet asked.

“Nope. Me. I was rescuing this cat when that Hunter Jones came up with her camera. She’s a real nice lady. Look, could I get you a coke or something?”

Skeet said no, he’d better go. He was already wondering what he had missed at the scene of the crime.

He called the sheriff from his car, explaining that the dead man apparently hadn’t made contact with the Bennetts. He was halfway back to Merchantsville taking the long way around when it struck him that something was wrong with Grady Bennett’s wife—not just that she was shy, or that she choked up and ran from the room when her father was even mentioned. It was before she had run off crying, when she seemed to be looking to Grady to make sure she did the right thing. He wondered if good old Grady could be one of those husbands who kept his wife scared, but that didn’t seem likely.

And why would such a pretty girl have settled for plain old Grady Bennett, he wondered.

When Bub came back after a long talk with Velma Dixon, the crime scene techs had arrived, set up lights, and were hard at work.

He was pleased with himself, having gotten her trust, “I talked her into letting me take her back into town to stay with her sister,” She said her eyes weren’t good for night driving or she would have gone last night. She’s just been real scared. She said she heard the gunshot—just one—about 7 yesterday evening and she stayed inside with her door locked, but she didn’t hear anything more, so finally she went to sleep, but this morning when it got light, she went out and looked down that road and saw the car just sitting there, so she left and went into town to stay with her sister. She was hoping when she came back, the car was going to be gone, and when she came back and saw us here, she knew it must be something bad.”

“Yes Sir, and she started to say something, and then she shut up and just said that you were unfair to her grandson one time.”

“Was anybody with her yesterday?”

“Now that’s’ what was funny. I asked that and she got an attitude and wanted to know why I was asking, and said no there wasn’t, like the question made her mad, or I was out of line askin’. Anyway she said nobody was there all day or the night either, but I will tell you that house sure smelled like cigarette smoke, and I didn’t see her light one up.”

“Good work,” Sam said. “I think it’s a good idea for you to take her to her sister’s house. She’s got it in for Taneesha and me because of the trouble her grandson got in last year, so it will help if she trusts you.”

“Oh Lord,” Dub said. “She’s Damon Dixon’s grandma, isn’t she? I knew I remembered seein’ her somewhere before.”

Back home from the Board of Education meeting, Hunter called Tyler to tell him about Ned Thigpen, and made herself write the story about the anticipated increase in school enrollment, which she would usually have left until morning. Then, before getting ready for bed, she remembered her talk with Grady Bennett and e-mailed a message to Nikki.

“Nikki, I need some help. Remember the Outsider Artist I told you about? Her husband called today to ask if I knew of a shop run by somebody named Meredith in Atlanta. Turns out his wife likes to buy her clothes there and somebody named Meredith always helps her, but she doesn’t know the name of the shop, and I guess she doesn’t drive because she can’t tell him how to get there?

“Could you ask around about this? The reason he called me is that he thinks her clothes are like mine?”

Two minutes later, Nikki called by phone.

“You ever heard of the internet?” she asked. “ All I did was search Meredith plus vintage, plus Atlanta and I’ve got Meredith’s in Buckhead. Address, telephone number, the works. I’m pretty sure that’s the place you’re looking for. What’s with this girl not knowing the name of the place she buys her clothes?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter said, “but it sure looks like my Outsider Artist has uptown taste. Oh, and. I have bad news. Did you ever know Ned Thigpen?”

“I’ve met him a couple of times,” Nikki said. “ Has he been down there?

“He came down here to do a flood story and got murdered,” Hunter said. “Somebody shot him.”

“I don’t know why, but it seems like you have more news down there than we have in all of Metro Atlanta,” Nikki said, “Now tell me what’s going on with you and Sheriff Gunsmoke, and what was that stuff about you’re not wanting him to propose?”

A mile away in his new girlfriend’s apartment, Damon Dixon was searching the internet on the late Ned Thigpen’s laptop computer. He had tossed the old guy’s wallet in Willatchee Creek after he took out the cash. He knew better than to fool around with somebody else’s credit cards. He threw away the cell phone after the first time it startled him with that blast of classical music, and he realized it was stupid even to take it. He had heard on TV that the government could make telephone companies tell where people were, that they had some kind of tracking thing in them.

He stopped and stared at the screen, wide-eyed. He picked up the camera he had stolen and matched it to the one he was looking at that cost $2,500 new. Who would have thought a big ugly camera like that would be worth that much?

He wondered how he could sell it. Maybe on E-Bay? No. He’d look for a shop that bought and sold cameras. He looked at his watch and realized Courtney would be home from work soon. No reason to have her start asking questions about the camera. She had been curious enough about where he got the laptop and all the money, like it was any of her business. He put the Nikon back in its leather bag, went outside and put it in the trunk of his car.

CHAPTER 11

O
N
W
EDNESDAY, THE FLOODWATERS HAD RETREATED,
and the out-of-town media had retreated as well, although the recovery work was just beginning. Now it was The Messenger’s time to shine, and Hunter was beginning to wonder if she could get all the news in.

She met Sam for an early breakfast at R&J’s and he told her what he was willing to tell her about the Thigpen murder.

“You were a really big help,” he said, “We got the name verified and the Marietta police sent somebody to talk to the woman who owns the car. She’s his wife. He apparently had the cameras insured, because she gave them a good list of what he would have had with him.”

Noticing that Hunter had gotten her notebook out, he went into just-the-facts mode.

“Photography equipment valued at about $15,000 was missing. He was 62 if you want that. Local witnesses say he was in Cathay on Monday to take photos and talk with people about the flood. We believe the approximate time of the murder was Monday around 7 p.m. based on a report from a witness who heard a gunshot. Anybody who saw or talked with Thigpen on Monday or has any information that could leave to an arrest is urged to call us. ”

“Any idea about what kind of gun?” Hunter asked.

“Don’t want that in there,” Sam said. “Well, okay, you can say it was a handgun and that he was shot at very close range.”

Hunter was glad to have as much information as she had. She had already found a website Thigpen had set up, and it contained more than enough biographical information for her purposes, and even a good photo she could use if she kept it small.

She told Sam about the picture in case he needed one, and he said, “The wife has already e-mailed us one. She was all broken up, but seems determined to help in any way she can.”