Death in Dahlonega (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

to my own blend-in-with-the-crowd khakis, put a smile on my face. The beaded, multi-colored necklace and the copious bangles on her wrists completed the fashion in true Dee Dee style.
    Outside, the cool mountain air was a balm to my spirit. The sweet smell of gardenia pleased my nose. “The sun is trying for all its worth to peep out. I predict a beautiful day.” I gave her a poke, longing to cheer Dee Dee up. But it was going to take more than a perfect fall day to work that wonder.
    In the cozy lobby a few people stood scattered around, some looked at brochures, while others relaxed on overstuffed sofas. Arrows pointed down the hall and to the right, and the smell of bacon lured. Crammed with tables, the area looked more like a breakfast nook than an actual dining room. People crowded around the breakfast buffet like pigs at feeding time. We lined up for our turn at the trough, me committed to sticking with whole grains and yogurt.
    With Dee Dee blocking like a Bulldogs linebacker, we hurried to beat a little old couple to the only empty table by the window viewing the town square. At the last minute we acquiesced. It wasn’t long before another table by the window became available.
    Outside, merchants and artisans lined both sides of the streets. Participants set up their various booths, getting ready for the enormous crowd guaranteed that weekend. Soon, you’d be lucky to see daylight between the excited tourists.
    “Wow, I guess Gold Rush Days brings in the crowds.” Dee Dee buttered a homemade biscuit. Golden yellow liquid slid off the sides of the hot treat. I stared at my granola and yogurt. Now my mouth watered.
    Dee Dee must have misunderstood my expression. “I know. I know. We planned on a fun weekend. I’m sorry.”
    I leaned in closer to Dee Dee, my attention focused on the biscuit. “You can quit apologizing Dee; it’s not your fault someone killed Mr. Tatum.” Temptation overpowered me. I sneaked half a biscuit from her plate, and jammed it into my mouth. “Sorry.” I spoke through the crumbs.
    Dee Dee moved the other half out of my reach. “I’m always getting into some sort of trouble. Losing my temper. Causing a scene.”
    “Not your fault,” I muffled through a mouthful. “If the attitude he portrayed yesterday is normal behavior, then I suspect a few people wanted to murder him.” I surveyed my plate, then hers. My granola and yogurt looked unappetizing next to Dee Dee’s plate of sausage, biscuits, gravy, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.
    “Back in a second,” I murmured and headed back to the breakfast buffet. While there, I overheard a couple of women talking about the murder.
    I grabbed two biscuits, put them on my plate, and lingered by the packets of jelly and jam to eavesdrop.
    The taller of the two women spoke, heaping a steaming scoop of scrambled eggs to her plate. “It was probably the wife. Well his ex-wife.”
    Her companion chimed in with a wag of the grits spoon, and went on about how his ex-wife, Tammy, should really be on the suspect list.
    I screwed my lip and selected a handful of strawberry jams. Interesting how she didn’t hold back when it came to telling people how she felt about him. And it wasn’t complimentary either. They moved forward toward the drink dispensers.
    Someone gave me a gentle nudge from behind. My cue to move on down the line. I eyed my plate on the way back to the table. My new choices, hash browns, sausage, and buttered biscuits, supplied enough grease for a lube job on a small car. Oh well; what’s a girl to do on vacation? Besides, yesterday’s stress probably added up to some calorie use. At least it made me feel better to think so.
    We were quiet as we crammed food into our mouths, much like everyone else in the room. I looked up between bites and spotted Joyce across the crowded room. Her eyes widened. She threw up her hand in greeting and veered our way.
    “Here comes Joyce,” I stage whispered.
    Dee Dee looked up and scowled.