Murder in Marietta (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 2) (7 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

N
o one budged, but she wasn’t giving up. “Shoo. Scoot. I won’t tell you again to leave.” Nurse Patton rounded us up like a herd of cattle and guided us toward the door.

Dora called out, “Don’t go home. Please come back in when she’s finished, we haven’t even had time to visit.”

We assured her with a chorus of affirmations we wouldn’t go. We stood outside and waited.

“Wow, what an attitude.” Dee Dee stuck out her tongue at the door and blew.

“That’s not very grown up, Dee Dee. But I can’t say she didn’t deserve that raspberry. She acted like she ate lemons for breakfast.”

In a few minutes the nurse stepped outside and addressed us curtly, “You may go in now. But do not tire out my patient. She needs her rest.” With a lift of her chin, she dismissed us lowly minions.

Nana nudged me. “Look!” She pointed toward the nurse walking away from us. A trail of toilet paper followed her down the hallway, stuck to her shoe. We doubled over in laughter. “Serves her right,” Nana said.

We hustled back into Dora’s room to relay the incident. “She’s not so bad. She just doesn’t have any people skills,” Dora said.

“Nana, Dee Dee and I are going over to Gloria Hamiltion’s to interview her for the article I’m working on. Do you want to come with us?”

“No thanks. I’ll stay with Dora. Why don’t you pick me up on your way back?”

Dora sat up a little bit straighter. “Are you talking about
the
Gloria Hamilton?”

“She’s on the museum board and has a son named Steven. Do you know where she lives?” I made eye contact with Dee Dee. I hoped she got the message not to mention the real reason for our visit with Gloria. I wasn’t ready to tell Nana.

“According to Doc Pennington, the museum director, she holds a lot of weight in this town,” Dee Dee said.

“Hmph, she thinks she does anyway. She walks around with her nose stuck up in the air, like she’s better than the rest of us. Well, I’m here to tell you she isn’t.” Dora struggled to rearrange her pillows. Dee Dee beat me to assist her, fluffing and readjusting them.

“Gloria married into money. We went to school together, and her family was dirt poor. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being poor, but she wants everyone to believe her family was one of the blue bloods. But in reality, it was her husband’s relative who was one of the founders of Marietta.”

Dee Dee and I looked at each other. “Can you tell us where she lives?”

“Don’t know the address, but if you’ll get me some paper, I’ll draw you a map.”

Our hand drawn map in hand, Dee Dee and I passed the nurses’ station where Nurse Patton stood. Her stare bore into us, like we’d planted the toilet paper on her shoe. We giggled like schoolgirls.

Painted white with forest green shutters, regal was the best way to describe the historic house we approached. It was easy to picture someone like Gloria Hamilton living there. Tall columns stood like sentinels along the front porch. The second and third floors boasted French doors that opened up to expansive balconies.

Swings hung at each end, and wicker rockers dotted the rest of the front porch. A variety of colorful bushes filled the front yard. As I strolled down the rock walkway, the sweet smell of fragrant gardenias lingered in the air.

“Wow. She may have grown up poor, but she’s come a long way. This beautiful home reeks of old money. Wouldn’t you say so, Trixie?”

“It definitely says money from the outside. I’m anxious to see the inside.” We didn’t have long to wait. I reached out to ring the bell, but the door flew open before I had a chance. A woman, who I assumed was Gloria, stood in the doorway. She was tall, stout and dressed to the hilt. Gloria Hamilton resembled every bit the lady of the house.

“If you’re selling anything I don’t want any.”

“No, we’re not selling anything Ms. Hamilton. I’m Trixie Montgomery.” I handed her a business card. “I write for “Georgia by the Way” and I’m working on an article about the Marietta History Museum. I’d love to interview you. I understand you’re an authority on all things Marietta. If your time allows, that is.” I was proud of myself for remembering how to make an interviewee feel at ease. Gloria seemed to relax, but she glanced at Dee Dee skeptically.

I thought fast. “This is my assistant Dee Dee Lamont.”

Stepping back, Gloria let us inside. “I think I can afford you a few minutes. I’m on my way to a committee meeting in a short while.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ll need to hurry.” She led us through the marble foyer and into a sitting room stuffed with antiques.

“Gloria. May I use your first name?” She nodded affirmation and I offered a compliment, more genuine than the last. “Your furniture is beautiful.”

Dee Dee nodded. “I own an antiques store and recognize excellent craftsmanship.”

Gloria sat up a little straighter. “I understand your admiration. They’re family heirlooms. I’m so proud of them.” She didn’t say whose family – just family. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you refreshments, but this is Amy’s day off. What do you want to know about the museum?”

I asked a few questions about the town in general, and Gloria happily supplied information. And then I changed directions.

“Gloria, is it true your purse disappeared while you were at the museum?”

Her eyebrows arched until they resembled tiny umbrellas. “Who told you that?” I expected her to show us to the door, but she surprised me when she continued. “Yes, it was
stolen
and there was no one around but Penny Pennington. I won’t go as far as to say she took it, but who else could have taken it? The ghosts?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
peaking of ghosts.” I shot Dee Dee a sideways glance, and she returned an encouraging nod. “Have you ever seen any ghosts at the museum?”

Gloria lowered herself to perch on the edge of a beautiful sage green brocade loveseat. “No. Of course I’ve never seen any ghosts.” The way she answered you’d have thought I’d questioned her sanity. “Doc made up all that ghost talk to try and boost traffic at the museum. I don’t believe one bit of it.”

I didn’t believe in ghosts either until the other night. Now, I’m not so sure. “Gloria, is it true your son is the next logical choice to take over as director?” I took a big chance with this line of questioning. Dee Dee confirmed this when she looked at me like I’d lost my ever-loving mind.

Gloria’s face scrunched up like a prune and turned a strange shade of pink, I assumed her color change confirmed what Doc suspected. “Well, someone like my son needs to take over and clean house, the books haven’t balanced for years, and no one can figure out why.”

She stood up and walked toward the door. “Your time is up. I need to leave for my gathering. It was nice meeting you ladies.” She ushered us out the door faster than a lizard catching a fly.

“I think you touched a nerve, Sherlock.” Dee Dee chuckled, as we hurried down the sidewalk. “Let’s find something to eat and figure out our next step.”

“We could return to the Big Chicken and consume some comfort food for the soul.” We drudged back to the car in the sweltering heat. Thankfully it started on the first try, and after a few minutes cool air blew from the vents.
Thank you Lord for small miracles.

The Big Chicken wasn’t packed, but boasted plenty of customers. We ordered our food and found a table in the back corner. I’d taken my first bite and licked my fingers when my phone rang. I wiped off the grease then checked to see who called.

“Hey Harv.”

“How are things going? Is your story on the murder coming along?”

“I’m doing as much as I can, Harv. I have to follow it from afar. The lead detective warned me to keep my nose out of his business.” He didn’t need to know we’d decided to ask a few questions ourselves.

We talked a few more minutes before, Belinda, Harv’s receptionist interrupted with a bigger problem. “Okay, Kiddo. Check in with me tomorrow and be careful.”

“What do you think we should do next, Dee Dee?”

“If you want the truth, I suggest go home to Vans Valley.” I didn’t blame her for wanting to tuck tail and run – I did, too, but the stack of unpaid bills kept me going.

Instead, we decided to pick up Nana at the hospital and head for our temporary abode Dora had so graciously offered. We ordered a take out plate for Nana before we left the Big Chicken.

When we returned to Dora’s room, we found her asleep and Nana dozing in the chair. I hated to wake her up, but she needed to go home and get a good night’s rest in a real bed. I was confident she’d want to come back tomorrow. We left Dora a note and tiptoed out. Nana stopped at the nurse’s station to tell them she was leaving.

“What’s that wonderful smell?” Nana asked after we settled in the car. “I swanny, I believe it’s fried chicken.” She looked around the car.

“You’re right, Nana. You have the nose of a bloodhound,” Dee Dee said. “We ate at the Big Chicken for supper and figured you’d enjoy a little night time snack.” Dee Dee held up the take out box. Nana grabbed it.

Dusk settled in by the time we left the hospital parking lot. With the windows rolled down, the heat proved bearable. On our drive back to Dora’s, the night insects sang their songs. Fragrant air blew in, laden with the sweet smell of honeysuckle and privet hedge. The car filled with talk and laughter. The chaos over the last couple of days had put a damper on our spirits, and the levity was a welcome relief. It was short lived.

We opened Dora’s front door to a scene of destruction. Couch cushions littered the floor, and overturned potted plants spilled their soil across the room. Desk drawers lay open, their contents carelessly scattered about.

“Oh, no,” Nana exclaimed. “What in the world happened?”

“I don’t know Nana, but we don’t need to be in here.” I grabbed Nana by the arm and backed her out of the house. Dee Dee dialed 911. In less than ten minutes a squad car pulled up. Out jumped Officers Roach and Trapp, the duo in blue.

After the officers made a thorough sweep of the disheveled house, they allowed us to go back in. Nana walked a little weak kneed. I supported her with my arm. Dee Dee’s face had lost a good portion of its color. The pit of my stomach agitated like an old butter churn. Why had someone decimated poor Dora’s house?

“Ms. Montgomery, could you please tell us what happened?” Officer Roach opened her tablet and grabbed a pen from her pocket. Officer Trapp continued to go through the house. I told her what little I knew. My head shot up when the front door flew open.

“Well, Ms. Montgomery. What have you gotten yourself into now?” Detective Bowerman stood in the doorway. His hair stuck out in all directions. As usual, his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them. He twirled his ever-present unlit cigar between his fingers. What was he doing here?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

U
h, what are you doing here, Detective?”

“I’ll ask the questions Ms. Montgomery.” He worried his hair with his fingers. No wonder it stuck straight up.

Nana, Dee Dee and I sat side-by-side on the couch. “Can you ladies tell me what happened tonight?” We answered in unison, and he shot out a stogied hand. “One at a time, please.”

We didn’t have much to tell him, except that we’d come home to the obvious mess, so Detective Bowerman walked through the house while the techs lifted fingerprints from various objects in the room. Time passed as slow as molasses on a cold winter’s night as we waited on the detective.

“I think we have what we need. You can access the other rooms now.” Bowerman told us, and then one of the officers came over and whispered something in his ear. He continued, “We’ve performed a detailed search and found no sign of anyone. I still have some concerns. When this much destruction is evident, it usually means someone was looking for something. At this point, we’re not sure what and if they’ve found it. Also, none of the other rooms have been disturbed which makes me think you might have surprised the burglar.”

My heart made an unplanned trip into my throat. If what he stated was true, it’s possible whoever broke in would come back to finish the job.

“That means they might return.” Dee Dee’s voice quivered.

“Yes ma’am. That’s a concern. We checked all the windows to confirm they’re locked. When we leave, please lock up and check the dead bolt. I’m not trying to scare you. I just want you to be safe. Truth is, they’re unlikely to come back, but I’ll have the officers patrol the area throughout the night.”

The officers packed up their equipment and left us to deal with the aftermath of the break in.

“I don’t know about you girls, but I sure don’t feel like sleeping.” My nerves felt like electricity coursed through them, and thoughts swirled through my mind like leaves in a whirlwind.

“Me neither,” Dee Dee said. “What do you think, Nana?”

“I couldn’t sleep if I had to. Let’s stay up for awhile. I’m so worried about the break in.” She wandered around, picking up undamaged items and returning them to shelves. “Dora was nice enough to let us stay and now someone has broken in and destroyed her belongings. I sure hope she doesn’t think it had anything to do with us.”

We spent a while cleaning, and collapsed over a pot of hot tea, discussing the events of the last couple of days. Within the hour Nana’s head fell over to the side and she snored loud enough to wake the next town over.

“Come on Dee Dee. Let’s help Nana to bed. I think I might be able to sleep now.” I doubted I could, but I wanted to lie down and rest. My body ached from weariness.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Dee Dee said. She went over and shook Nana’s shoulder. “Nana. Off to bed we go.”

Morning promised to bring a better day when the dawn broke into a luminous show of daylight. Nana cooked another good ole’ down home southern breakfast loaded with fat and cholesterol. Dee Dee grabbed the syrup and poured a liberal amount over her second stack of pancakes.

“Please pass the syrup, Dee Dee.” I drowned my pancakes in a river of the sweet sugary liquid. I took a huge bite and savored the flavor as it passed over my taste buds. No wonder they called it ‘comfort food.’

“Nana, are you going to sit with Dora today?” I swirled around another bite and popped it into my mouth.

“Yes, I’d like to stay with her again. Did y’all go to Gloria’s just to interview her for your story? I have a feeling you had an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t want you to worry, but Doc wants me and Dee Dee to help him. Detective Bowerman informed him he’s a person of interest in the case, and after all this happened last night—”

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” Before I finished explaining, Nana did a crazy little dance around the kitchen. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep out of the investigation. What do you want me to do?”

I didn’t want her to do anything. She could help by not helping, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that to her. “Uh, staying with Dora and making sure her needs are taken care of will be a great help.”

“How in the world am I going to tell Dora someone broke into her house? She doesn’t need any added stress.” Nana’s brows knitted with worry.

“Let me and Trixie explain everything to her when we drop you off,” Dee Dee suggested. She pushed her plate back and wiped her mouth. Nana filled our coffee cups with fresh brewed coffee.

“By the way, Trixie, remember that book I found about the history of the Marietta Museum?”

“Sure, you found it next to the book on Andrews’ Raiders.”

“That would be the one,” Dee Dee replied. “When I couldn’t sleep last night, I read some from the book and it’s interesting. Did you know the museum was a hotel at one time? The owners originally named it the Fletcher House and later changed it to the Kennesaw Hotel. It was owned by a northern couple who had three daughters.”

“Harv told me it had been a hotel at one time.”

“The lady at the bookstore said the owner, Louisa Fletcher, kept a diary. The Fletchers lived in the hotel during the Civil War.”

“That is interesting. I’d give my right arm to get my hands on that.” I absently rubbed my arm. “Not really, but you know what I mean. I wonder if Doc could acquire a copy.”

“Let’s ride over to the museum and ask him if he knows anything about it.”

We decided to tell Dora about the break in later, there was no reason to worry her until we knew more from the investigation. After we dropped Nana off at the hospital, Dee Dee and I drove to the museum.

It was hard to believe only a few days had passed since our arrival. Less than seventy-two hours since we’d arrived, we had found ourselves knee-deep in a murder investigation.

I surveyed the three-story, red brick structure that held years of history. Not only did it house memorabilia from years gone by, it contained history from the people who lived there since its conception. If only the walls could talk.

The old Marietta train depot stood to the left of the museum and housed the visitor’s center. To the right stood another historic building, home to the Gone with the Wind Museum. An abandoned railroad track ran parallel to the buildings. I imagined Civil War era ladies in their dresses with hoop skirts, and men driving carriages and wagons down the streets.

“Trixie, did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry. I was daydreaming about times gone by.”

“I said, wouldn’t it be fun to visit the Gone with the Wind Museum?”

“Maybe we can.” We entered the building, and took the elevator up to the second floor. As the doors opened, I was once again transported back to a time when life was much simpler.

A young woman, I guessed to be in her thirties, sat behind the mahogany counter. She stood when we approached. “My name is Marianne, may I help you?” With long blond hair and a petite build, she was a pretty little thing.

“Is Doc here?” I looked around to see if I could spot him.

“No. You just missed him.” She checked a sign-in board on the wall behind her. “He should be back within the hour. I’d be glad to give you a tour.”

“I’m Trixie, this is Dee Dee. We’d love to look around.” This was a good time to talk with her and see if she knew anything that might help Doc. Dee Dee gave me the
eye
. I don’t think she was as anxious to go on another expedition of the museum.

“Why don’t I browse in the store, Trix, while you go with Marianne?”

“Suit yourself.” I didn’t blame her. I’d seen more than enough of the museum myself.