STATE MURDER SERIES:
MURDER IN GEORGIA
by
AGNES ALEXANDER
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Copyright © 2015 by Agnes Alexander
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-63355-768-0
Credits
Cover Artist: Melanie Billings
Editor: Molly Courtright
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
For my second mother,
Aunt Helen Walsh
Who loves a mystery
Chapter 1
When she opened her eyes she didn’t know where she was, or why she was lying on the cold ceramic tile floor. Her head hurt and she grew more confused and frightened as her gaze slid from the white ceiling to the blue and pink flowered wallpaper which surrounded a mirror above an empty shelf. A little further down she spotted a straight chair with a blue padded seat. The confusion and the pain made her want to lie on the floor, but she realized she needed to get up. The hard floor was neither helping to ease her head nor helping her to remember what had happened. Struggling, she managed to pull herself into a sitting position. Looking around, she decided this must be the front lounge of a woman’s bathroom.
On the wall opposite the mirror sat a pair of pull-up chairs upholstered in pink stripes. Between them was a table holding a box of pink tissues and a lamp. Its glass base was filled with artificial blue and pink flowers.
She shook her head then let out a little moan because the movement intensified the pain. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she sat for a few more seconds then forced herself to stand. She made it to one of the chairs and had to sit again. She wiped her running nose, surprised to see the tissue soaked in blood. It took a while to stop the flow.
She got up and stumbled through the connecting door to the bathroom. There, a bank of mirrors reflected a line of sinks. Leaning against one of them, she almost threw up. Most of her face was covered in blood. She turned on the cold water, grabbed some paper towels from the holder and began washing her face.
Most of the blood came from her nose. There was a small cut over her left eye near the hairline, but there were no other cuts that she could see. She wet another towel and washed away as much of the blood as she could that had managed to seep into her shoulder-length blond hair. She ran her fingers through it as she looked at the face in the mirror. At least she now looked almost presentable.
But who looked presentable? Who was the woman staring back at her? Why didn’t she know who those blue eyes belonged to?
She was on the verge of panic when the door opened and a woman came into the bathroom carrying a baby. A terrible smell came with her.
The lady smiled. “They pick the most inopportune times to mess their diapers, don’t they?” The lady headed for the stall with the changing table.
The injured woman nodded and turned away from the mirrors. She went back into the lounge area and looked around, wondering if she had a purse or any packages with her when she came in here. In the corner, she saw a black shoulder bag. With a supporting hand against the wall, she bent over and picked it up.
She sat down again and looked inside. A comb, a tube of lip balm, a fingernail file, and a pair of sunglasses were the only items it held. She searched all the small inside pockets, but there was nothing else in the bag. No wallet, no make-up, no keys, nothing with a name on it. She now had a purse, but still didn’t know who she was.
She wished there had been an aspirin in the purse. Maybe if her head stopped hurting she’d remember who she was. She couldn’t continue to sit in this lounge wondering. Maybe it would all become clear to her outside. She ran the comb through her hair, took some tissues from the box and stuffed them in her purse just in case her nose started to bleed again. Taking a deep breath, she stood to leave. She wasn’t sure what she’d find on the other side. Her heart pounded almost as much as her head when she stepped out the door into the children’s section of a department store. She frowned. Why would she be in this department? Did she have a child? If so, where was it? Maybe she’d only come here to go to the bathroom. She chose to believe the latter as she walked down the aisle on wobbly legs. At the end of the aisle she came to the doors leading out of the store and exited.
The storefronts that stretched as far as she could see revealed she was in a mall. A large mall. She decided to walk to her right. Maybe, I can find a drugstore and buy something for my head. If it didn’t hurt so bad I might remember who I am and how I got here and where I’m supposed to go. I’ve got to figure this out. I have to remember.
She walked for a short distance then it dawned on her there was no money in the purse. There was no way she could buy aspirin or anything else. She’d just have to endure the pain.
As she walked, she wondered if she knew her way around this mall. Maybe she was familiar with it. Maybe she even worked here. The more she walked, the more she realized she might have known her way around here at some other time, but today it was only strange and scary. Though the stores looked inviting, none of them gave a clue to her identity. Today she only knew she was in a strange place with no money and no identification. In fact, she didn’t know what town she was in or even what state. She felt the panic begin to rise again.
There were some benches in the concourse. Taking a deep breath to regain her composure, she headed toward an empty seat. She had to think. What happened to me? Was I attacked? Maybe my head hurts because I have a concussion. Should I ask where a hospital is and try to see a doctor?
No! I can’t do that! Her train of thought changed. If I go to the hospital without knowing who I am, they’ll put me in the psychiatric ward. I’ve got to figure this out for myself.
She sat for several minutes then with renewed determination, she got to her feet. As she did, she tucked her hand in the pocket of the jacket of the green pantsuit she wore. There was an envelope inside.
Almost excited, she pulled it out, hoping she’d find an address or at least a name on it. There was nothing. It was a plain white business envelope, but it wasn’t empty. There was money inside. She sat back down and counted it. Eighty-nine dollars. She stuffed it in her purse, knowing she could survive for a little while on this. Not long, but maybe long enough to figure out who she was. She stood and her steps grew a little lighter as she headed down the concourse looking for a place that would sell over the counter drugs.
It wasn’t long until she found a variety store. She went inside and bought the smallest size bottle of aspirin. Back in the concourse she ripped it open and swallowed two without water. They were dry and did not go down easily, but she knew she’d drink as soon as she came upon a fountain. It wasn’t long until she happened upon one.
She continued to walk around the huge mall and after a while, her head did ease some. Knowing that the eighty-six dollars
and change she now had wouldn’t last long, she debated on whether or not to go into one of the stores with a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window to apply for a job.
Her common sense told her that was ridiculous. How could she get a job when she didn’t know who she was or what she was capable of doing?
She paused and picked up an abandoned newspaper she saw lying on one of the benches. It was a Macon, Georgia paper with a picture of Prince Charles and his wife on the front page. She figured they were visiting the states or something, but she didn’t bother to read the story. I must be in Macon. But why? Do I live here? Am I visiting? Oh, Lord what’s happening to me?
To keep from screaming, she forced herself to continue walking as she tucked the paper in her purse. When she had time to read it, there might be a clue as to who she was. If not, it would at least contain want ads. There was no doubt in her mind that if she didn’t figure out who she was soon, she was going to have to seek employment, ridiculous or not.
She also knew she was going to have to spend her eighty-six dollars and change carefully and wisely, but she was getting hungry. She decided to splurge at Chick-fil-A and get a kid’s meal. After eating, she was glad she spent the money because it not only filled her up, it was delicious.
After eating, she wandered toward the main entry to the mall. There was a bus parked in front of the door.
“Why not?” she muttered. She went out the door and climbed aboard.
After riding for a while, she noticed the bus entered an older section of the city. It was filled with turn-of-the-century homes, well-manicured lawns, and a few businesses here and there. Most of them were doctors, lawyers, and an occasional restaurant. That’s it. A restaurant means instant money in tips. If I have to go to work that’ll be the perfect kind of job.
They were a few blocks into the area when the bus stopped to pick up a passenger. She decided to get off. It was a lovely street, and she said eenie-meenie-miney-moe under her breath to decide which direction to walk. She felt the fates were with her because she’d only gone a couple of blocks to the right when she spied a small sign in the front window of an impressive three-story Victorian home advertising ‘Room For Rent.’
This would be a perfect place to sit back and reflect on my problem, but I can’t rent a room if I don’t know who I am. She took a deep breath and wondered what to do. Finally she decided to make up a name for herself. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets and felt a scrap of paper in the opposite pocket from the one in which she found the money. Pulling it out, she saw the name ‘Nicole Lynch’ on the torn sheet. I wonder if this is my name or one I’ve jotted down. What does it matter? I’ll use it because it has a nice ring to it. She invented a story of why Nicole wanted to rent a room as she headed up the sidewalk toward the front door of the huge yellow house with white shutters.
A cheery little woman, who couldn’t be over five feet tall, opened the door. Nicole looked down at her. At one time the lady’s fluffy hair had probably been a chestnut color. Now it was two-thirds gray and twisted into a loose ball on the top of her head. She wore wire-rimmed glasses, which sat on the end of her pug nose. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with an innate joy and her wide smile made Nicole felt welcome as she was greeted in a high pitched, yet lilting, voice.
“Hello, my dear. What can I do for you?” the woman asked.
“I wanted to check on the room for rent. I noticed the sign in your window.”
She surveyed Nicole quickly and said, “Well, come in and let’s talk about it.”
Nicole followed her into the living room. Its Victorian furnishings matched the outside of the house. Though the furniture was of dark wood and most of the chairs were covered in velvets and brocades of deep greens, reds, and golds, the room had an airy look about it. It may have been the large windows with their drapes of green velvet pulled open and the white nylon sheers floating from the high ceiling to the floor. Nicole instantly knew she was in the presence of old money.
“How charming,” she mumbled. “I like period furniture.”
“So do I. Most of this stuff belonged to my parents. I think they actually brought a piece or two over when they emigrated from Italy, many, many years ago.” She waved a hand toward one of the green chairs. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” She dropped to the chair. “My name is Nicole Lynch.”
“I’m Annabelle Carmelita Ferraro Mancini, but you may call me Lita, all my friends and family do.”
Nicole didn’t feel right calling a woman well passed seventy by her given name, but it would certainly be easier than the list she’d given as her official identity. “Thank you, Lita.”
“So, you’re interested in renting the room?”
“If I can afford it, I certainly am.”
“Oh?” Lita turned her head sideways and looked at her guest.
Nicole launched into the tale she’d concocted. “I arrived here today and believe it or not, my luggage didn’t. I was mugged and my wallet was stolen. The only money I have is what I had stashed in my pocket. I don’t have enough to go to a hotel.”
“Oh, Nicole, I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Nicole knew by her voice, Lita doubted her story and for some reason she also knew Lita wasn’t going to call her on it. She plunged ahead. “I hope the cash I have will be enough to pay you for a few days.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “And how much do you have, my dear?”
Nicole had planned to tell her an amount less than what she actually had, but she’d already lied to the friendly little woman enough. She pulled out the bills. “There are eighty-two dollars and some change. I had eighty-nine, but I bought some lunch and a bottle of aspirin.”
“Well, the room is a little more than that.”
“I understand.” Nicole sighed and stood. “Do you know if there is someone else around who rents rooms?”
“A couple of blocks over, Mrs. Dillard has a boarding house, but I’m afraid she’s full right now.” Lita stood beside Nicole. “How long would you want to rent the room, my dear?”
Again she decided to be honest. “I don’t know. I’ve got to find a job and then make up my mind about what I want to do. I thought I’d look for work as a waitress. It will give me some instant cash in tips and right now, money seems to be my biggest problem.”
Lita smiled. “I can see you’ve got it all planned out.”
Nicole didn’t want to tell her that was as far as her plans went. She couldn’t let herself think about the future. Not now. She had to get the present in order first. As for the past, well that was going to have to wait, too. She didn’t feel she could deal with that now either.
Before Nicole could answer, Lita went on. “Nicole, I think there’s something you’re not telling me, but my instinct tells me you’re basically an honest young woman. I think I’d like to rent the room to you. I always trust my instincts.”
“That’s wonderful, Mrs...”
“Lita.”
“That’s wonderful, Lita.” She held the envelope of money out to her.
Lita shook her head. “I’m not going to take the last of your money. You can pay me when you get your first paycheck.” She took Nicole’s arm. “Now, let me show you the room. You may want to change your mind after you see it.”
“I don’t think so,” Nicole said with a smile.
Lita led her up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall on the second floor. It was decorated in powder blue and white with a high-poster bed, chest of drawers, dresser, all in Cherry wood and in the French provincial style. A television sat on a small table near a desk beside a private bathroom and small walk-in closet. The huge window with the white organdy curtains looked out onto the backyard. In the yard were a gazebo, a white wrought iron picnic set and a swing hanging between two posts. An almost bare rose garden stood to the left of the gazebo. She knew it would be breathtaking in the spring. Four large oak trees with their red and gold leaves added to the yard’s beauty.
&nbs
p; “Oh, Lita! I love it.”
She smiled. “I almost knew you would.”
When Nicole looked quizzically at her Lita added, “My instincts.”
Nicole nodded. “How much is the rent?”
“I usually charge a hundred a week.” She heard the quick breath Nicole took in and said, “But for you, I’ll settle for fifty a week.”
“I can pay you for one week now.” She was relieved the rent would fit in her budget.
“That’s already decided. You’ll pay me when you get a check. Now,” she turned to the door. “I’ll go take the sign out of the window and get you a key. You’ll find me in the living room when you’re ready to come down.”
Nicole laid the only possessions she had at the moment—the newspaper and her purse—on the desk and looked again about the room. It was perfect. She knew she would be happy here. She also knew it was a place where she could sort out the many questions floating around in her head.
Her head still hurt so she took two more aspirin and drank a glass of water.
She found Lita in the living room when she came down. She handed Nicole a key and told her if at any time she was going to be late getting in, she should use the side door because the front door was barred every night at eleven. Nicole nodded and Lita added, “It’s a tradition for me to invite my new renter to dinner on the first night. I hope you’ll be able to join me.”
“It sounds delightful. I’m going to look for a job, but I should be back in time.”
“It’s four o’clock, Nicole. I don’t think you’ll be able to do much job looking this afternoon. Why don’t you just go for a ride and see what the neighborhood has to offer?”
“I don’t have a car, Lita.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your luggage was lost and you don’t have a car. You must have come by plane.” She looked at Nicole for a moment.
The younger woman didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to lie to the woman again.
Lita went on. “Then I’ll loan you my car. Just be back by six-thirty. I’ll have dinner ready.”
Murder in Georgia Page 1
