“Mama, I’m so glad you’re at home.” Mama’s an angel on earth. She possessed the patience of Job, the strength of Samson, and the faith of Abraham. She had to, being the sole caregiver for Nana, her strong-willed, quirky aunt.

“Trixie, what is it? Are you okay?” Mama must have heard the strain in my voice.

“Yes and no. We’ve run into a little trouble.” I wondered how much I should tell her. “There was a murder yesterday at the Gold Museum.” At Mama’s sharp intake of breath, I continued. “We were watching a film on gold mining when Dee Dee went to the bathroom. She found the body.” My bottom lip quivered.

Mama gasped. “Oh my goodness, how horrible! How’s she doing?”

“She’s doing fine, Mama.” I didn’t want her to worry any more than necessary. “They took her to the sheriff’s department to ask her a few questions. I think it’s only a formality.” Please forgive me for stretching the truth. I prayed it was true as a sick thread of worry for Dee Dee wove through my stomach.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Mama asked.

In my mind’s eye, I could see the worry etched on her face.

“No Mama, but I’ll let you know if I do. How are things at home? Is Nana behaving?” I asked, knowing good and well she was probably giving Mama a hard time, her quirky behavior a cover up for getting away with her antics. I’d seen some of Nana’s mischief first hand when Mama had offered me a place to stay after the divorce. Wade had made so many bad investments we lost everything, including our house.

A hearty laugh came through the phone. “If you call Nana inviting Beau to come over for dinner behaving—then yes, she’s behaving.”

“What? She’s been trying to marry me off to him since the third grade.” I had to laugh, too, thinking of the countless times she’d tried to set us up. I’ve told her up and down I was done with men, but she never listened.

Mama and I had learned it was easier to laugh at Nana’s meddling. We’d discovered too many times the alternative was to cry.

“Thanks, Mama, I appreciate it. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you back later.”

“Please keep me updated, and don’t worry. Nana and I will take care of Bouncer. She loves your dog.” Images of Nana in her nightgown, coming to my rescue, popped in my mind. A forewarning?

“By the way, Jill called, and she’s doing fine. She’s looking forward to winter break.” Jill, my daughter, was and a junior at the University of Georgia.

“Mama, if she calls again please don’t mention the murder. It’ll just upset her.”

We talked a few more minutes and said our good-byes. “Sweetheart, please be careful. We love you,” she said, her voice full of concern.

“Okay, Mama, I’ll be careful. I love you and Nana, too.” I disconnected the call.

I rummaged around and found a tablet and pen. I needed to make a list of questions to be answered in order to help Dee Dee. I needed a place to start.

1. Who had a reason to kill John Tatum?

2. Why would they want him dead?

3. How did they know where he was going to be?

After I made my list, I wandered to the bathroom to clean my face. The pasty reflection in the mirror shocked me. I’d arrived feeling like a forty-something diva, and now looked like a tired, red-eyed woman. I reapplied my make-up for damage control and left to pick up Dee Dee.

Chapter Eight

The morning sun illuminated the red, yellow, and orange leaves. I looked up through the colorful foliage to see a robin egg blue sky, and smiled at the high definition day for the merchants as well as the tourists.

I decided to drive to the sheriff’s department. I didn’t trust my knee to hold up for the long trek. When my car started on the first turn of the ignition, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. It had been hit or miss lately.

The town square was closed to traffic. Following the directions I’d been given, I drove the back roads. The red brick building was newer than its neighbors, but a talented architect had designed it to blend in with the older historic buildings.

I entered the front door into a sparsely furnished lobby. A uniformed young woman, who manned the front desk, was so intent on something she didn’t notice me until I cleared my throat. She looked up with wide eyes and slid a gossip magazine underneath a folder. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Trixie Montgomery, and I’m here to pick up my friend Dee Dee Lamont.” I looked around the lobby. No Dee Dee.

“Oh, yes, Ms. Montgomery. The sheriff told me when you came by to inform you that the interview is taking a little longer than expected. He asked if you could come back in an hour or so. They should be finished by then.” The blonde young woman, smacking a wad of gum, looked like she should be sitting behind a desk in high school.

What choice did I have? “Sure, I’ll be back to pick her up.” I turned and left her to finish reading about Justin Bieber.

Outside, tourists roamed the busy streets. An older couple, decked out in matching coral shirts, wore worn faces and kind smiles. A young mother held the hand of a rambunctious toddler as she maneuvered a baby stroller over the curbs and through the maze of excited people. Children of all ages lined up at the candy apple booth. They were carefree and oblivious to the trouble Dee Dee and I faced.

Why did the sheriff have his suspicions focused on Dee Dee? According to Joyce, more than one person had a stronger motive to kill Tatum. I knew I had made the right decision to help my friend. She would do no less for me.

My sore knee throbbed. I strolled to the car to retrieve my trusty cane. While there, I decided to face the inevitable and call Harv, my editor. A sweet voice answered the phone. “Good morning, Georgia By the Way. This is Belinda. May I help you?”

Lord, please don’t let him be in the office. I had no idea how Harv would react to our circumstances. I didn’t want to know.

“Hi Belinda. This is Trixie.” I fiddled with a string hanging from my shirtsleeve.

“Oh, hi, Trixie. You still in Dahlonega? Do you want to speak to Harv?”

Obviously, my prayer hadn’t reached its destination in time.

“Uh, what kind of mood is he in?” Harv had a heart of gold, but could be quick tempered.

“Well, he’s a little jumpy this morning. But I’m sure he’s feeling much better since he’s had his black coffee and jelly doughnuts. Do you want me to put you through?”

“Sure, thanks.” I watched the flow of tourists as I waited on Harv.

“I thought you’d never call,” Harv’s voice blasted across the line. “What’s going on? Are you making progress on the article?” I could imagine Harv sitting at his desk, phone in one hand and a Tootsie Pop in the other. He’d made the switch from cigars after the scare with his heart.

“Uh, yes and no, Harv,” I said with trepidation in my belly.

“What kind of answer is that?” Harv barked. “Have you or haven’t you?”

“We’ve run into a little snag.” I gave a nervous pull on the hanging thread, and the hem of my sleeve raveled.

“Spit it out. I don’t have all day to yap on the phone. What kind of snag?” I could hear him crunch down. Probably cherry red, his favorite.

While he chewed, I brought Harv up to speed, from the lobby exchange, to the gold museum movie and Dee Dee’s bathroom wandering, finishing with her standing over the bloody corpse.

This was my last assignment before my six-month probation period was over. John Tatum’s murder case could result in the demise of my job. Harv could kick me out on my keister faster than a racehorse springing from a starting gate.

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening.