Terror on Tybee Island (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 3) (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

I
understand why she might get under your skin.” Dee Dee said around a mouth full.

“Well, I don’t want any of this ruining your stay. It’s my problem.” Laura replenished our drinks and sat back down beside Mama. The doorbell rang.

“Must be more guests.” Laura jumped up from the couch and fast footed her way to the front door. “Hello, come on in. Welcome to Seaside Cottage. I’m so glad you’ve chosen to stay with us.”

“We didn’t have much choice,” a gravelly voice announced. “Most of the hotels were full because of some doggone turtle festival or some-such nonsense.” The red-faced man was as big around as he was tall. He sported a comb-over and a missing tooth. Not exactly Adonis.

Laura, a pained look on her face, led the couple into the sitting room.

“Now, Harold. Be nice.” It seemed Harold got the better end of the deal. An attractive, sixty-something lady, decked out in a brightly flowered sundress, patted him on the arm.

She glanced in our direction. “I’m so sorry. Harold’s a little on edge, with the long travel and all. I’m Cassie Daniels and this is my husband.” She pointed toward the rude man. “We’re thrilled to be staying here. I’ve always wanted to vacation on the beach.”

“Humph.” Harold surveyed the room with a sneer on his lips.

“We were just having a few snacks and socializing. Why don’t you leave your luggage in the foyer and I’ll show you to your room later.” Laura introduced us and handed them each a plate. “Please help yourself.”

Harold might not have been impressed with his accommodations, but he piled his dish to overflowing.

We relaxed and ate while Laura puttered around. Another knock had Laura scurrying to the door.

A gray-haired, older gentleman stood nobly in the doorway. “Name’s George Knight. I just stopped by to introduce myself. I’m a guest at Ocean View Inn.” The distinctive English accent suited him well.

Laura tripped over her words. “Please, please come in.” She stuck out her hand as did George. The two outstretched hands culminated in a hearty handshake. George appeared to be in his late seventies or early eighties. Dressed in khakis, a dark blue polo, and a tweed jacket thrown over his arm, he posed a dashing figure. Gray hair, blue eyes the color of his shirt, and a wide white smile accentuated his handsomeness.

This did not go unnoticed by Nana, who jumped up to insinuate herself into the conversation.

“Hi, I’m Belle. This is my niece Betty Jo, my great-niece Trixie, and her friend Dee Dee.” Her hand shot out and grabbed George’s hand faster than a duck on a June Bug. She didn’t even mention her nickname. “We’re here on vacation.”

Dee Dee poked me in the side and stage whispered in my ear, “Nana’s got her eye on him.”

“Hello, Belle. It’s my pleasure to meet you.” He held her hand a little longer than necessary. It was good to see Nana flirting with someone her own age. Lately, Nana had taken to making eyes at much younger men.

“Mr. Knight, we were just having a snack. Would you like to stay a while and visit?” Laura thrust a plate and napkin toward George.

“Well,” his gaze lingered on Nana, “I do believe I would like that very much.” Laura finished the introductions while George filled his plate with goodies. He told us about his travels around the world and his fellow guests at the Ocean View Inn.

He stood to leave.

“Mr. Knight, we’re so glad you came by. Please, visit any time.”

“Thank you so much, Laura. I sure wish I’d known about this place before I made my reservations.”

My ears perked up and I shot a quick glance at Dee Dee.

“Not that I like to talk about anyone, especially my hostess, but that lady could take some lessons from you. She possesses no social skills.” He directed his comments to Laura.

A trace of a smile appeared on Laura’s face. “Well, Mr. Knight. Please know that you’re welcome here anytime.”

“Oh, call me George. And I thank you for the invitation. I suppose I’ve just about worn out my welcome, so I’ll be on my way. I enjoyed the snacks and I enjoyed the company even more.” He bowed in Nana’s direction. Her face turned radish-red.

After George left, our little band dispersed. Nana, Mama, Dee Dee and I opted to take a nap before supper. I awoke to the smell of fried chicken.
Fried chicken
? By the time Dee Dee and I ambled downstairs, we found Mama and Nana settled in the sitting room looking at magazines.

“Is that fried chicken I smell?” Dee Dee raised her nose in the air and sniffed.

“It sure is.” Nana scooted over on the loveseat and patted the cushion. I sat down beside her. “Laura’s cooking up a good ole southern meal just for us.” Nana knows a southern meal when she smells one.

I found it ironic we’d traveled to the best seafood area in the south and we feasted on a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans and all the trimmings. It would have been rude to go into town on our first night, but I was looking forward to sampling some of the local dishes. We ate until we thought we couldn’t eat another bite and then stuffed ourselves on fresh strawberry shortcake. No use in offending our hostess, after all.

Feeling guilty over the calorie laden meal, Dee Dee and I decided to take a walk on the beach. “Oh-my-goodness. If we eat like this all week long, I’m going to gain ten pounds. Or more.” Dee Dee patted her rotund stomach.

“You and me both.” We laughed at our dilemma.

“Let me grab my camera.”

Dee Dee headed outside to wait on me.

On the beach, I gazed at the beautiful landscape God had painted – the dark blue ocean against the soft blue of the sky, surrounded by the white sand. I snapped shot after shot, but a photograph would fall short of capturing this beauty. I reveled in the decision to spend my vacation on Tybee Island. A peace settled over me. If I’d only known what lay in store I wouldn’t have felt so peaceful.

“Look!” Dee Dee pointed toward a gray and black cat walking along the edge of the ocean.

“I wonder if he’s a stray. Look, his ear’s clipped. Means he’s had his shots.” I’d heard of beach cats, but had never seen one. Roaming the shores, they fed off fish and the food people gave them. Beach cats claimed no permanent home. “He’s a little scraggy, but he’s a beautiful color.” Dee Dee knelt down and called to the kitty.

“Here kitty, kitty.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. With deliberate steps he cautiously moved toward Dee Dee. “I wish I had something to give him.” The cat crouched, looked at her, then slinked a few steps forward. He repeated this until he was within inches of her. When she reached out to pet him he darted away.

I picked up a shell and studied the patterns of gray, brown, and white, similar to the cat’s coloring. God’s hand was everywhere.
Father, thank you for giving us this beautiful world to live in. Help me to take the time to stop and enjoy it.

“Come on, Trix. Let’s go back in.” Dee Dee interrupted my thoughts. “It’s been a long day and we need to rest up for some sightseeing.” She grabbed my arm and we walked back to Laura’s arm and arm.
Thank you, God, for my best friend.

Later that evening, we sat around with Ellie, Cassie, Harold, and Laura. Everyone chatted about their day and plans for the week. Dusk arrived and our group broke up. Ellie went out on the town and the Daniels left for a nighttime drive. We decided to turn in for the night, and get an early start in the morning.

I didn’t know if it was excitement or if I’d gone to bed too early, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned most of the night. I threw back the covers and grabbed the clock. When the bright red numerals glared four o’clock, I knew it was useless to stay in bed. I thought a walk on the beach might relax me, so I quietly donned my capris and a t-shirt and stealthily snuck down the stairs.

I grabbed a flashlight that sat by the door. Outside, the brightness of a full moon greeted me. The rounded orb appeared so close I wanted to reach out and touch it. The moon’s reflection on the ocean shone like sparkling jewels.

“Meow. Meow.” It was the beach cat. When we had come in from our walk, Laura told us the locals had named him Captain Jack. He was digging at something in the sand. I tiptoed closer expecting him to run. He didn’t right away, but when I encroached on his territory he fled. My flashlight beam reflected on something shiny dangling from his mouth as he escaped.

I directed the light back to where he’d been digging. I noticed a big lump in the sand. Had someone thrown a pile of trash on the beach? Boy, were they in for a hefty fine if caught.

I walked closer and shined the light to get a better look. Then I realized it wasn’t trash. It wasn’t seaweed and it wasn’t driftwood. These wouldn’t be covered in blood. A body with a smashed in head would.

My body shook and I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. A morbid curiosity drew my eyes to the ghoulish sight. The peaceful sounds of the ocean were shattered by a scream. Mine.

CHAPTER FOUR

A
fter I discovered the body identified as that of a Mrs. Grace Watkins, several officers arrived to investigate the crime scene. They instructed us to gather in Laura’s house, including everyone from Ocean View Inn.

Sipping from my steaming mug in Laura’s living room, I surveyed the eclectic group of guests. Ellie and the Daniels sat across from me. Mama, Nana, and Dee Dee were on the edge of their seats, ready to rescue me if I fainted. George and Laura, both expressionless, occupied the wingback chairs. In my fugue state I recognized these people, but there were several unfamiliar faces.

“Hey, y’all. Ain’t this the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen? I just love to watch those murder mysteries on the Investigation Discovery Channel.” A guest from Ocean View Inn introduced himself as Bubba Maxwell. This man definitely lived up to his name.

“Mr. Maxwell, this is not a television show. This is real, and someone lost their life. I’d appreciate it if you showed a little respect.” I had a feeling this was a concept lost on Bubba, but Detective Joe Baker was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

George and Bubba weren’t the only guests from Grace’s bed and breakfast. It seems she had collected a menagerie of folks. A couple of young newlyweds, covered in tattoos and pierced with rings in every orifice that showed, and probably some that didn’t, sat slumped on a couch. At first glance I wasn’t sure I’d want to encounter them in the dark.

A man dressed in an expensive business suit, sporting a pair of fauxcroc oxfords, spoke to the group, “Hi, I’m John Porter.” He didn’t elaborate on his introduction.

Wow, he sure looks sharp as a tack. I wonder what he’s doing on Tybee.

The detective’s baritone voice interrupted my thoughts. “Some of you will be interviewed separately by either Officer Judy Caldwell or Officer Ben Stevens.” Detective Baker peered at each person through squinted eyes. “The rest of you will be lucky enough to be interviewed by me.”

I chanced a long look at the detective. Tall, broad shouldered and a little on the hefty side, he exuded authority. I wondered if he’d grown up on the island. His skin was tanned and weather-worn. He had a head full of dark hair tinged with gray and possessed expressive brown eyes. He sported a thick mustache. He reminded me of Tom Selleck in Magnum P.I., albeit a bit heavier.

“Well, Detective. You’re lucky my Trixie found the body.” Nana flashed him a big smile.

“Oh, why is that?” He shot Nana a look that would have unnerved anyone else. Not Nana.

“Let me tell you.” I knew Nana had every intention of telling him why. “Trixie, Dee Dee and I have already helped solve two murders. We’ll be an asset to your investigation.”

The Detective’s jaw dropped like a windless kite on the beach.
Way to go Nana. Foot in mouth again.
It was true we’d helped on a couple of other cases, but not because our skills were sought after. It was a matter of saving someone we loved from the slammer. Dee Dee unfortunately became the main suspect of a murder in Dahlonega. That was almost two years ago now. I was grateful we’d been able to find the real killer and keep her from a life behind bars. She’d hate those orange jumpsuits.

A year ago, a friend of Harv’s was accused of killing one of his employees. Doc Pennington, the director of the Marietta History Museum, had asked for our help in clearing his name. I tried to stay out of the investigation, but Doc pleaded with us and I caved.

But we weren’t asked to help by law enforcement. Just the opposite. We’d been warned to keep our noses out of police business. But I couldn’t stand by and let my best friend go to jail for a crime she didn’t do. Then when Doc begged us to help him, we melted like butter.

I looked at Detective Baker and he looked right back at me – a stand-off. I blinked first. “Ms. Montgomery.”

“Yes.” The lump in my throat felt like an orange.

“I don’t care how many investigations you
helped
with. You will not be interfering with this one. Is that understood?” He stood with legs parted and hands on his hips. “You’ll have me to reckon with me if you interfere.

“Yes sir.” I fully intended to heed his warning.

“After all, you found the body. I plan on keeping a close eye on you.” I’m sure he would. If it weren’t for my Beau, I might not mind if he kept an eye on me. But Beau had asked me to marry him before we left for vacation and I told him I needed this time to make my decision.

I caught a glimpse of Dee Dee. I guess she’d noticed, too, because she was looking at Detective Baker like she could eat him up. What was going on with my friends? First, Nana – smitten with George. Now, Dee Dee was star struck with the investigator.

“Since we’re on the subject, I think I’ll interview you first, Ms. Montgomery. Officer Caldwell and Officer Stevens, you can start your interviews.” He looked around at everyone as he spoke. “No one leaves this house until one of us releases you.” The detective looked at Laura. “Ms. Walker, do you have some rooms we can use for questioning?”

“Sure. Follow me.” She led us to a room I assumed was her office. A big oak desk was positioned with a lovely view of the ocean. Filing cabinets sat in the corner. Shelves stuffed full of books lined one side of a wall. A floor lamp stood sentinel by a recliner on a beautiful, multicolored, patchwork brocade rug that covered the hardwood floors.

I chose a maroon rocker-recliner. When I sat down my body oozed into the cushion. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until now. Detective Baker settled in the office chair and rolled directly in front of me. He leaned forward, hands on knees, close enough for me to smell his English Leather aftershave.

After gazing into my soul, he pulled out his pad, flipped the pages, and poised his pen. “Start from the beginning… may I call you Trixie?”

“Sure.” Who was I to argue at this point?

“Okay, Trixie. Tell me why you were on the beach at four in the morning.” He flicked the pen back and forth on his pad. It unnerved me.

“I couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning most of the night I decided to take a walk. You know how it’s hard to sleep the first night in a new bed.” I blushed, but the detective didn’t seem to notice. “We ate late, and I had a full tummy.”

Without comment, he wrote in his little book. I wondered what he jotted down since I hadn’t said much of anything relevant to somebody getting killed. “Go on.”

“There’s really not much to tell. I’d walked a short way when I spotted Captain Jack, he’s the resident beach cat, digging around something. I thought he might be digging up a turtle’s nest so I went to investigate. The closer I got, I realized it was something large lying on the beach.”

A shiver ran through me as I recalled the discovery. “Then, I thought it was just some garbage, but when the beam from the flashlight hit it I knew it…wasn’t.” The sight of the bloody body would be seared into my mind forever.

“Did you recognize the person?” He wrote furiously.

“Yes, but…” I wanted to reassure him I hardly knew the woman. “I just arrived today. Yesterday. She was a virtual stranger to me.”

“What did you do when you found the body?”

“I screamed, of course,” I stated.

“Detective Baker?” He stopped writing and looked straight at me. I had his full attention. “People talk. I’ve heard Grace didn’t have many friends. Instead of acquiring friends she had a talent for making enemies. Don’t you think there’d be a long list of suspects who had a motive for murder?” I was as bad as Nana. I couldn’t keep my nose out of where it didn’t belong.

“Ms. Montgomery. I don’t remember saying this was a murder, but I guess it was kind of obvious with the injury she sustained.”

Great deduction, Sherlock.

He leaned forward, inches from my face. I could see flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “I don’t care how many cases you’ve helped solve,” he didn’t need to sound so sarcastic. “You’d better not interfere in my murder investigation.” I guess he didn’t believe me.

But I knew I was at the top of the suspect list since I’d found the body. Was it interference if I was trying to clear my own name?