Free Death Over the Dam (A Hunter Jones Mystery Book 2) by Charlotte Moore

something, and then she shut up and just said that you were unfair to her grandson one time.”
    “Was anybody with her yesterday?”
    “Now that’s’ what was funny. I asked that and she got an attitude and wanted to know why I was asking, and said no there wasn’t, like the question made her mad, or I was out of line askin’. Anyway she said nobody was there all day or the night either, but I will tell you that house sure smelled like cigarette smoke, and I didn’t see her light one up.”
    “Good work,” Sam said. “I think it’s a good idea for you to take her to her sister’s house. She’s got it in for Taneesha and me because of the trouble her grandson got in last year, so it will help if she trusts you.”
    “Oh Lord,” Dub said. “She’s Damon Dixon’s grandma, isn’t she? I knew I remembered seein’ her somewhere before.”
    Back home from the Board of Education meeting, Hunter called Tyler to tell him about Ned Thigpen, and made herself write the story about the anticipated increase in school enrollment, which she would usually have left until morning. Then, before getting ready for bed, she remembered her talk with Grady Bennett and e-mailed a message to Nikki.
“Nikki, I need some help. Remember the Outsider Artist I told you about? Her husband called today to ask if I knew of a shop run by somebody named Meredith in Atlanta. Turns out his wife likes to buy her clothes there and somebody named Meredith always helps her, but she doesn’t know the name of the shop, and I guess she doesn’t drive because she can’t tell him how to get there?
“Could you ask around about this? The reason he called me is that he thinks her clothes are like mine?”
    Two minutes later, Nikki called by phone.
    “You ever heard of the internet?” she asked. “ All I did was search Meredith plus vintage, plus Atlanta and I’ve got Meredith’s in Buckhead. Address, telephone number, the works. I’m pretty sure that’s the place you’re looking for. What’s with this girl not knowing the name of the place she buys her clothes?”
    “I don’t know,” Hunter said, “but it sure looks like my Outsider Artist has uptown taste. Oh, and. I have bad news. Did you ever know Ned Thigpen?”
    “I’ve met him a couple of times,” Nikki said. “ Has he been down there?
    “He came down here to do a flood story and got murdered,” Hunter said. “Somebody shot him.”
    “I don’t know why, but it seems like you have more news down there than we have in all of Metro Atlanta,” Nikki said, “Now tell me what’s going on with you and Sheriff Gunsmoke, and what was that stuff about you’re not wanting him to propose?”
    A mile away in his new girlfriend’s apartment, Damon Dixon was searching the internet on the late Ned Thigpen’s laptop computer. He had tossed the old guy’s wallet in Willatchee Creek after he took out the cash. He knew better than to fool around with somebody else’s credit cards. He threw away the cell phone after the first time it startled him with that blast of classical music, and he realized it was stupid even to take it. He had heard on TV that the government could make telephone companies tell where people were, that they had some kind of tracking thing in them.
    He stopped and stared at the screen, wide-eyed. He picked up the camera he had stolen and matched it to the one he was looking at that cost $2,500 new. Who would have thought a big ugly camera like that would be worth that much?
    He wondered how he could sell it. Maybe on E-Bay? No. He’d look for a shop that bought and sold cameras. He looked at his watch and realized Courtney would be home from work soon. No reason to have her start asking questions about the camera. She had been curious enough about where he got the laptop and all the money, like it was any of her business. He put the Nikon back in its leather bag, went outside and put it in the trunk of his car.

CHAPTER 11
    O N W EDNESDAY, THE FLOODWATERS HAD