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

by Charlotte Moore

  Enoch Kauffman looked shocked and then saddened

  She told him the little she knew about the crime. He gave her a number, and with her mind only half on the job at hand, she finished taking pictures and getting the story of the restoring of New Life CME Church.

  It made sense that he had bought the picture, she thought as she drove home. Maybe it was inside the store He still got a bargain but maybe it wasn’t flood damaged, or maybe Sharon Bennett had gotten the idea that she could sell them for a little more. So he must have talked to her about knowing Deirdre Donagan Bennett’s father. If he recognized her paintings at the paper in an instant, he surely would have recognized another.

  Then it struck her that Taneesha was the one doing the investigation in Cathay, and she would probably want to know about this.

  Back home, she called Taneesha and left a message.

  It was an hour before Taneesha called back.

  “Hey, are you working today?” Hunter asked.

  “I was just supposed to be on call, but I’ve been sheriff for the day. Some investigative stuff I can’t talk about, but on top of that a log truck jackknifed out at Mimosa Corners and it has been one big traffic mess with that road blocked and everybody detouring.

  Hunter was rapidly beginning to feel that her call wasn’t all that important, but she forged ahead.

  “I covered a story over in Cathay a while ago and I heard something you probably already know, but I thought I ought to be sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ned Thigpen bought a painting at Sharon Bennett’s store while he was in Cathay, and I’m pretty sure it was one by Deirdre Bennett.”

  “He WHAT?”

  Hunter relayed the whole story as carefully as she could.

  “I can’t believe this,” Taneesha finally said in a tense voice. “Sharon Bennett was so busy having a fit about Skeet going out to her son’s house that she forgot to mention she sold the murder victim a painting by her daughter-in-law.. That must have been stolen from the car, too. I think I’d better get over to Cathay and talk to this Enoch Kauffman,” Taneesha said. “You want to ride with me and point him out? I’ll come pick you up.”

  When they got there, Enoch Kauffman had gone home, and since his home was 40 miles away, they decided that picking up fried chicken dinners at Hunter’s apartment was a good next move. The owner of the flooded fried chicken place in Cathay had relocated quickly to serve the volunteers.

  When they got back to the apartment, the first thing they saw was that Hunter’s cats had created a disaster. The vase of pink roses that Hunter had brought back home and placed on the dining room table was overturned, water was dripping on the carpet and rose petals were everywhere. Katie Calico and Mr. Marmalade were posing on the sofa among the pillows, looking innocent.

  After taking in the scene for a moment, Hunter started cleaning up, and Taneesha said, “I’d be killing me some cats. Did Sam send you those?”

  “Yes,” Hunter said. “And they were so beautiful!”

  “Smart of him,” Taneesha said. “Are you okay with Princess Rhonda coming back to town?”

  “No,” Hunter said, picking up the last of the roses. Most of them had lost their petals in the cat attack, but four still looked halfway presentable. She arranged them in the vase and they all tilted to one side.

  Taneesha looked around and said, not for the first time, “I just love this place. You know I love Uncle James and Aunt Ramona, but if I could find a place I could afford, I’d love to be on my own like you are.”

  “I like it, too,” Hunter said, and then she added, “But I hope I’m not always going to be single, and turning into a crazy cat lady, and I just hate this business of Rhonda coming back.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Taneesha asked. “I happen to know how much Sam doesn’t love Rhonda. I even know why Bethie never goes up there.”

  Hunter was sorely tempted, but chose seeming unthreatened and not getting information behind Sam’s back.

  “We’re OK,” she said.

  As they dug into the fried chicken and cole slaw, they talked about Ned Thigpen’s art purchase.

  “You know, I can’t think what difference it really makes,” Taneesha said, “It just bothers me that she didn’t tell me that. Of course, I didn’t ask her if he bought a painting, but she made it sound like all they discussed was the flood. I think maybe she was just being contrary and only answering exactly what I asked her because she can’t stand Sam.”

  “You’re kidding,” Hunter said. “I thought every woman in Magnolia County loved Sam.”

  “Not that woman,” Taneesha said. “I think they had some kind of run in once. Maybe it was about something Grady did.”

  “Grady seems to be on friendly terms with Sam” Hunter said, remembering Grady’s telling Sam, “This is a nice girlfriend you’ve got.”

  Taneesha said, “You’re sure that it was one of Grady’s wife’s paintings?”

  “Pretty sure, because it just sounded like the kind of thing she would paint, like Outsider Art. Then there’s the fact that Mr. Kauffman thought it was a really bad painting and Ned thought he had gotten a great bargain. That’s the way it is with that kind of art. People either love it or hate it. Novena couldn’t stand the paintings I bought, and Tyler liked them.”

  She went and got her own two paintings from the bedroom and held them up. Taneesha nearly choked on her iced tea.

  Hunter laughed.

  “You paid money for those?” Taneesha asked.

  “See what I mean?” Hunter said, laughing. “And I love them. Anyway, see, she’s got cats in this one and a dog in this one, and Mr. Kauffman said that the one he saw had Noah’s ark filled with…”

  “Cats and dogs,” Taneesha finished. “I guess I should have paid more attention in my art appreciation class because I do NOT get this outsider art thing.”

  They concentrated on the chicken for a moment, and then Hunter lost her resolve.

  “OK,” she said, “I really do want to know how much Sam doesn’t love Rhonda.”

  “Fine,” Taneesha said. “I figured you’d break down. Now here’s the truth, and I’m doing my boss a favor by telling you this, but you’d better not tell him I did.”

  Hunter nodded.

  “ In the first place,” Taneesha said. “All of us at work know that Sam was a lot easier to get along with and just happier after Princess Rhonda decided to leave. He was never going to leave Magnolia County, and she knew it, and she wasn’t ever going to be some big superstar and he knew that, but wouldn’t say it to her, and she wouldn’t believe it anyway. She’s real pretty and she can sing, but that’s her and a couple of thousand others.”

  “This needs ice cream,” Hunter said, getting up.

  Taneesha continued as Hunter dished the ice cream out. It was Rocky Road.

  “So one day he called us all together and he said, “There’s going to be a lot of talk, so y’all need to know that Rhonda has moved to Nashville. We’re getting a divorce, and Bethie is staying with me. .“

  “Just like that?” Hunter asked.

  “Yep, like he was reading a memo,” Taneesha said, “but it helped, to tell you the truth, because if anybody said anything to any of us, we just nodded and said we knew. And that was that. You know, once the whole truth gets out, nobody talks about it anymore. It’s the guessing that keeps the gossip going..”

  “Anyway, his whole attitude seemed to improve after she was gone, but then once it got out that they were divorced, he had the problem of women inviting him to dinner, and men trying to fix him up with their sisters, and you know…”

  “So what about Bethie?” Hunter asked.

  “Well, in the first place, Rhonda got talked ugly about a lot about leaving her child, but Sam never said a bad word about her and cut a few people short when they did talk about her in front of him, because he said, ‘That’s my child’s mother.’”

  “He’s a good father,” Hunter said.


  “One of the best,” Taneesha agreed. “Now has Sam ever told you about the one time Bethie visited Rhonda in Nashville?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. What happened was that Bethie was supposed to be up there for a week, and her grandmother drove her up there and visited over the weekend and then came home because she was still working, and Rhonda was going to bring Bethie home the next weekend.

  “So Sam got a call from Bethie. This is when she was maybe 6 going on 7, and it was 2 in the morning, and Bethie was crying and saying she woke up and her mother wasn’t there.”

  Hunter felt a chill all over.

  “So Sam kept her on the cell phone and got his landline phone too and told me to call the Nashville Police Department and he gave me the address, and I called and they sent a police officer over—a woman—to stay with Bethie until Rhonda came home with this guy. So she walks in and finds a police officer sitting in her kitchen having cookies and milk with her daughter, and she did at least tell the guy he’d have to leave, according to the police report there.

  “Meantime, Sam had asked me to go with him to Nashville, and we took turns and drove straight up there, and half the time he was on the phone because Bethie was so wired up and couldn’t go to sleep, and he was telling her stories and singing songs to her. And then he’d drive and I’d talk to her. When we got there, we never even saw Rhonda, because she was asleep in her bed with the door shut, and Bethie was having breakfast with the police officer, who wouldn’t even leave her with her own mother. Sam just went in and got Bethie’s things and left a note for Rhonda and took Bethie home. He didn’t even wake Rhonda up and tell her off.”

  “Wow.” Hunter said.

  “Yeah Wow,” Taneesha said. “Anyway, another reason he took me along was to be a witness. Judge Patterson agreed with Sam that Rhonda could only visit with Hunter in Merchantsville, and I am one of the few people who knows this, so if he decides to tell you some day, you haven’t heard it before. I just thought you should know it, so you wouldn’t worry about Rhonda coming between you and Sam.”

  “Had she been that bad a mom before?” Hunter asked.

  “I don’t think she was ever mean or anything like that, and Bethie used to all dressed up like a doll or something, but of course Rhonda had her mom and Sam’s mom both for babysitters. Rhonda’s just all about Rhonda.”

  It was a lot for Hunter to take in, and they sat there for a while, not saying anything.

  Hunter was just going to get more ice cream when she heard footsteps on the stairs and the doorbell rang.

  “Miss Hunter,” a child’s voice called out. “I’m back!”

  She opened the door and was tackled with a hug from Bethie as Sam stood behind his daughter, smiling and holding a pizza.

  “Come on in,” she said, laughing. “Taneesha and I have already stuffed ourselves with chicken, but there’s a little ice cream left.”

  “Miss Hunter,” Bethie said, “My mom’s coming here to sing and raise money for the people who were in the flood!”

  “I know,” Hunter said, smiling back. “It’s going to be in the paper.”

  “Are those the roses I sent you?” Sam asked. “*I’m going to have to talk to Sue Ellen.”

  “Her cats got them,” Taneesha said, getting up to leave, “and, Sam, get Hunter to tell you what she found out today.”

  “Oh, sit back down, Taneesha,” Sam said, collapsing on the sofa. “I’ve had a whole day away from Magnolia County. You know I won’t be able to go to sleep without knowing everything that happened while I was gone.”

  “Not much,” Taneesha said, moving to the bentwood rocker Hunter had by the sofa, “A log truck jackknifed on that bad curve out at Mimosa Corners, and we had some traffic problems for a while.”

  “What else?” Sam asked, reaching out to take a plate full of pizza from Hunter.

  “It looks like Ned Thigpen bought a painting by Dee Dee Bennett while he was in Cathay that day. Hunter talked to a Mennonite man and he told her all about it. Thigpen showed it to him. Hunter got his phone number.”

  Sam ate his first piece of pizza before he responded.

  “And yesterday she was telling you the only reason she knew he knew Dee Dee was because of what Skeet told Grady,” he said, “I guess this could be a piece of the puzzle, but I sure don’t know how it would fit in. I guess you’d better talk to Sharon again.”

  Taneesha groaned, and then brightened up.

  “We think we may have a good lead on the casket,” she said in a low voice. “A man named J.T. Collingsworth who disappeared about five years ago, had two girlfriends that we know of and a crazy wife with pit bulls who said she shot at him but didn’t kill him. He didn’t show up for work after that. Skeet’s thinking you could ask Social Security to look into it once they get the number from the kaolin plant. Collingsworth used to work out there.

  Sam looked pleased. “Great,” he said. “We can’t do anything about that until Monday, but it sounds promising.”

  Meanwhile, Bethie was sitting at the table with Hunter, telling her all about 4-H camp as she pulled pieces of pepperoni off her pizza to give to the cats.

  CHAPTER 16

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, HUNTER WOKE UP with Katie Calico meowing and Mister Marmalade patting her face with his paw.

  She got up to get her feline friends some fresh food and water, and then went straight back to bed, but not to sleep. Instead, she found herself wondering about Deirdre Donagan, or—as she was now known—Dee Dee Bennett.

  How did an Atlanta girl who was used to buying her clothes in Buckhead wind up married to Grady Bennett and living in such isolation that some people didn’t even know Grady was married.

  She finally got up again and put on a pot of coffee. It was 10 a.m., not too early, she decided, to call Nikki.

  In fact, it was too early, but Nikki struggled out of sleep, and asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing’s the matter?” Hunter said. “I just wanted to ask you a favor.”

  “How about my calling you back when I get the sleep out of my eyes?” her friend asked. “Even better, how about my calling you back from the coffee shop? Give me a half hour. I’ll call you back.”

  Hunter got her own coffee, a notebook and a pen, thinking of the difference in city life and small town life, in her life and Nikki’s life.

  It struck her that for the last week her life had probably been more exciting than it had ever been in Atlanta —from flying over a flood to getting a new title (raise or not) to identifying a murder victim, to getting a dozen pink roses. It would just be nice, she thought, if Merchantsville had a coffee shop.

  She began to make notes. Talking with Nikki tended to be a ramble and she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget the main point.

  Finally, the phone rang.

  “So, what’s the favor?” Nikki asked.

  “Do you know any photographer up there named Donagan? It’s Mike, I think.”

  “Michael Donagan? I know his work. He does nature photography. Really good stuff. Why?”

  Hunter told her, about Mike Donagan’s being dead, and about Ned Thigpen being a friend of Donagan’s, but not having heard he was dead.

  “I didn’t know he was dead either,” Nikki said. “It’s hard to see how Donagan would have died without Thigpen knowing it,” Nikki said. “They were more the same age and social group, but then it’s had to see how I could have completely missed it. He was outstanding, and gave classes sometimes, but I think he did something else for a living. Wait a minute …. You said he had a daughter who paints?”

  “Right. She’s the one I called you about who could only shop at that one boutique.”

  “What is it you want to know from me about all this?” Nikki asked. “It sounds like you know more than I do.”

  “I don’t know,” Hunter admitted. “I just think there’s something odd about Deirdre Donagan being down here with this, well, nice but real country husband. I’m going out to the
ir place Tuesday to get my paintings repaired, and I’m hoping to do a story about her if I can make friends. I guess I just want to know how she wound up down here.

  “I’ll ask around, and maybe I’ll drop by Meredith’s in Buckhead.” Nikki said. “I want to see the clothes there, anyway.

  “You are wonderful!” Hunter said.

  A half hour later at Merchantsville First United Methodist Church, Rose Tyndale was in a deep conversation with Tyler Bankston’s wife, Ellie, when they both looked up to see Sam Bailey arriving at his usual pew with his mother and his daughter.

  “But you see my point,” Miss Rose said to Miss Ellie as the first notes of the organ began.

  “Yes, I do,” the editor’s wife said, “And, don’t look now, but more trouble just walked in.’

  It was Rhonda Ransom, wearing a simple yellow dress with high-heeled sandals to match. It was her “church look.” She had pulled her dark auburn hair into a chignon with a yellow bow, and was wearing pearl earrings. She carried a white Bible with her yellow purse.

  She made an entrance down the center aisle, stopping to smile and greet everyone in a soft voice, kissing a few, hugging a few, until she made it to the pew where the Bailey family sat and took her place beside Bethie, who looked up with a surprised smile. Sam, who was seated on Bethie’s other side, looked startled, nodded crisply to his ex-wife and then looked straight ahead. His mother studied her bulletin as if it contained important answers to urgent questions.

  The organ signaled the opening of the service.

  Skeet Borders was lying on the sofa in the small living room of his prefabricated home, trying to think about the investigations as his daughter repeatedly covered his face with her favorite blanket, a blue one left over from her baby days. She had already stacked most of her stuffed toys on top of him.

  “Undivided attention,” he remembered reading. “Give your child the gift of your undivided attention.”

  He pulled the blanket off his face and dropped it over her head, which made her laugh.

  “What do you want for lunch?” he asked.