Murder in Marietta

“Please pass the syrup, Dee Dee.” I drowned my pancakes in a river of the sweet sugary liquid. I took a huge bite and savored the flavor as it passed over my taste buds. No wonder they called it ‘comfort food.’

“Nana, are you going to sit with Dora today?” I swirled around another bite and popped it into my mouth.

“Yes, I’d like to stay with her again. Did y’all go to Gloria’s just to interview her for your story? I have a feeling you had an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t want you to worry, but Doc wants me and Dee Dee to help him. Detective Bowerman informed him he’s a person of interest in the case, and after all this happened last night—”

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” Before I finished explaining, Nana did a crazy little dance around the kitchen. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep out of the investigation. What do you want me to do?”

I didn’t want her to do anything. She could help by not helping, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that to her. “Uh, staying with Dora and making sure her needs are taken care of will be a great help.”

“How in the world am I going to tell Dora someone broke into her house? She doesn’t need any added stress.” Nana’s brows knitted with worry.

“Let me and Trixie explain everything to her when we drop you off,” Dee Dee suggested. She pushed her plate back and wiped her mouth. Nana filled our coffee cups with fresh brewed coffee.

“By the way, Trixie, remember that book I found about the history of the Marietta Museum?”

“Sure, you found it next to the book on Andrews’ Raiders.”

“That would be the one,” Dee Dee replied. “When I couldn’t sleep last night, I read some from the book and it’s interesting. Did you know the museum was a hotel at one time? The owners originally named it the Fletcher House and later changed it to the Ke

“Harv told me it had been a hotel at one time.”

“The lady at the bookstore said the owner, Louisa Fletcher, kept a diary. The Fletchers lived in the hotel during the Civil War.”

“That is interesting. I’d give my right arm to get my hands on that.” I absently rubbed my arm. “Not really, but you know what I mean. I wonder if Doc could acquire a copy.”

“Let’s ride over to the museum and ask him if he knows anything about it.”

We decided to tell Dora about the break in later, there was no reason to worry her until we knew more from the investigation. After we dropped Nana off at the hospital, Dee Dee and I drove to the museum.

It was hard to believe only a few days had passed since our arrival. Less than seventy-two hours since we’d arrived, we had found ourselves knee-deep in a murder investigation.

I surveyed the three-story, red brick structure that held years of history. Not only did it house memorabilia from years gone by, it contained history from the people who lived there since its conception. If only the walls could talk.

The old Marietta train depot stood to the left of the museum and housed the visitor’s center. To the right stood another historic building, home to the Gone with the Wind Museum. An abandoned railroad track ran parallel to the buildings. I imagined Civil War era ladies in their dresses with hoop skirts, and men driving carriages and wagons down the streets.

“Trixie, did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry. I was daydreaming about times gone by.”

“I said, wouldn’t it be fun to visit the Gone with the Wind Museum?”

“Maybe we can.” We entered the building, and took the elevator up to the second floor. As the doors opened, I was once again transported back to a time when life was much simpler.

A young woman, I guessed to be in her thirties, sat behind the mahogany counter. She stood when we approached. “My name is Maria

“Is Doc here?” I looked around to see if I could spot him.

“No. You just missed him.” She checked a sign-in board on the wall behind her. “He should be back within the hour. I’d be glad to give you a tour.”

“I’m Trixie, this is Dee Dee. We’d love to look around.” This was a good time to talk with her and see if she knew anything that might help Doc. Dee Dee gave me the eye. I don’t think she was as anxious to go on another expedition of the museum.

“Why don’t I browse in the store, Trix, while you go with Maria

“Suit yourself.” I didn’t blame her. I’d seen more than enough of the museum myself.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We began in the Andrews’ Raiders room. A silhouette of a man stood at the window and looked out over the railroad tracks. The scene seemed eerily realistic. Maria

“What did you say your name is?”

“Trixie Montgomery. I write for “Georgia by the Way” a historical magazine. We like to say, where the past meets the present.”

Maria

I grabbed a chance to jump in and ask some questions. “Maria

“No. I didn’t.”

“He’s in big trouble. Do you have any information that could help us find the real killer?” I recognized I was in deep over my head – questioning her about a murder. Please Lord, help me help Doc.

At first, I believed she was going to clam up. Then a lone tear slid down her cheek. “I’ll support Doc any way I can. He’s been so good to me.” She swiped the tear from her face. “Jacob was a jerk. He’d worked at the museum for less than six months when he started to make moves on me. Moves I didn’t want.”

“Did you tell Doc?” I remembered Doc said Jacob had made advances toward Susan. The guy must have hit on everyone.

“No. Jacob threatened me,” she said. “I should have told Doc, but Jacob had something on me. He said he’d expose my secret to Doc and the board. It scared me. I have a daughter I care for by myself, and I was afraid I’d lose my job if Jacob let this out.”

What information did Jacob have on her? “Maria

She started to cry in earnest, “I can’t tell you,” she sobbed. I managed to find a clean tissue for her. She sniffed and wiped her nose. “But the time has come to tell Doc.”

I had to find a way to observe the conversation if I pla

“I guess so.” She sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “Maybe Doc won’t be so mad if I have someone on my side. I hope as mothers, you’ll understand why I did what I did.” The tears stopped and her face relaxed. She was ready to get this off her shoulders.

“Let’s go find Doc. We’ll explain what happened. He seems like an understanding guy.”

“Oh, he’s been so good to me,” she said. “I hope he doesn’t fire me. I need this job.” We walked back to the entrance of the museum. She stopped and looked me in the eye. “My ex-husband laughed and told me I’d never be able to survive without him. He insisted I’d eventually crawl back to him.” Maria