Death in Dahlonega (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Deborah Malone

Author:Deborah Malone [Malone, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lamp Post Inc.
Published: 2012-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

She laughed at my pun, but stopped short when she realized I was serious. “You’re right, Trixie. Murders have been committed for a lot less. Why, the sheriff thinks I killed Tatum over a silly argument. It doesn’t make sense to me. Just because I stood over Tatum holding the murder weapon….” A sheepish look claimed her face. “Oh, yeah. Holding the murder weapon doesn’t bode well for me, does it?” Her countenance fell.

It hurt to witness my friend in so much pain. With Dee Dee’s freedom on the line, I was determined to support her. She had supported me during my divorce and I wanted to be there for her.

“Come on,” I pulled her towards a booth surrounded by tourists. We waited in line for a funnel cake, a tasty treat made of deep-fried dough, covered with powdered sugar. I often thought just inhaling the aroma could add pounds to my figure—so I planned to order one for Dee Dee as well as one for me. If I were going to gain weight, I refused to gain alone.

I squeezed up to the counter before Dee Dee.

“Hey lady, can I help you?” The man behind the counter wiped his hands on his greasy apron.

What the heck. It was for a good cause. “Yes, we’ll take two funnel cakes please, and lots of powdered sugar.” He handed one to me and yelled for another one. “Can you tell me where I can find the Dalton’s booth?”

“Sure. They run the Backyard Bar-b-que. It’s across the street and down a ways to the left. That’ll be six fifty.” He accepted my change and barked, “Next!”

I had been dismissed. I moved over to let a less than petite woman elbow her way to the counter.

I handed Dee Dee her funnel cake and she unwound a long curl of the doughy treat. “This’ll be good for a quick energy boost.” She looked cute with white powder all around her mouth. “Where are we going?”

My mouth full, I pointed across the street. We headed in that direction, holding the flimsy plates steady as we savored our treats.

The Dalton’s booth was easy to find. Another long line flowed into the street. Eating must be the main event at Gold Rush Days.

“Looks like we might have to buy a sandwich, too.” I brushed my sticky mouth and threw the trash in a plastic-lined bin.

“Yes, it does.” Dee Dee added, tossing her plate in, as well.

As we approached the booth, I saw several people working inside. Two men and two women danced around each other as they filled orders. I wondered which one was Sueleigh.

“Next!”

“I’ll take two sandwiches and two Cokes, please.” As the man handed me our food, I asked which lady was Sueleigh.

“Neither one. Sueleigh is my daughter. Why ya’ asking?” His words were clipped and his tone unfriendly.

That would never do. I set on my reporter’s grin, and introduced myself. “I write for a historical magazine, and I want to interview her. Teresa Duncan, over at the Gold Museum, recommended I talk with Sueleigh about Gold Rush Days.

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