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

RETREATED, and the out-of-town media had retreated as well, although the recovery work was just beginning. Now it was The Messenger’s time to shine, and Hunter was beginning to wonder if she could get all the news in.
    She met Sam for an early breakfast at R&J’s and he told her what he was willing to tell her about the Thigpen murder.
    “You were a really big help,” he said, “We got the name verified and the Marietta police sent somebody to talk to the woman who owns the car. She’s his wife. He apparently had the cameras insured, because she gave them a good list of what he would have had with him.”
    Noticing that Hunter had gotten her notebook out, he went into just-the-facts mode.
    “Photography equipment valued at about $15,000 was missing. He was 62 if you want that. Local witnesses say he was in Cathay on Monday to take photos and talk with people about the flood. We believe the approximate time of the murder was Monday around 7 p.m. based on a report from a witness who heard a gunshot. Anybody who saw or talked with Thigpen on Monday or has any information that could leave to an arrest is urged to call us. ”
    “Any idea about what kind of gun?” Hunter asked.
    “Don’t want that in there,” Sam said. “Well, okay, you can say it was a handgun and that he was shot at very close range.”
    Hunter was glad to have as much information as she had. She had already found a website Thigpen had set up, and it contained more than enough biographical information for her purposes, and even a good photo she could use if she kept it small.
    She told Sam about the picture in case he needed one, and he said, “The wife has already e-mailed us one. She was all broken up, but seems determined to help in any way she can.”
    Hunter changed the subject as she finished her second cup of coffee.
    “Are you missing Bethie?”
    “I’m just glad 4-H Camp was this week,” he said. “Actually, it’s you I’m missing.”
    His cell phone buzzed before she could respond with more than a smile, and then hers beeped.
    “Tyler asked me to remind you we’ve got a deadline, and he needs to talk with you, “ Novena said, “and he wants a cup of coffee.”
    Sam was still on the phone when she left.
    As it turned out, Tyler had decided that since Ned Thigpen wasn’t from Magnolia County, the story of his murder could go on page two, along with the stories about the meetings they had covered.
    He was apparently waiting for her agreement, which was something new.
    She agreed.
    “If we don’t make the people in Cathay happy, we’ll never hear the end of it,” she said.
    Skeet and Taneesha were in Cathay, going from one store to the next with the prints of the photo of Ned Thigpen his wife had e-mailed to them. Taneesha was especially glad it was a full-length shot, with his camera bag slung over one shoulder. She was thinking that people who didn’t remember his face might remember the camera bag and the suspenders—the whole out-of-town look.
    Grady Bennett was one of the first to recognize the man in the photo.
    He was there volunteering—tearing out flood soaked walls in one of the shops that has been flooded to the ceiling.
    He stopped working, wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm and took a look.
    “Yeah, he was around talking to people, taking some pictures. It was a couple of days ago. Day before yesterday. Is this the guy you were asking me about last night that knew Dee Dee’s daddy?”
    “It is,” Skeet said.
    “So what’s going on?” Grady asked. “How come y’all so interested in him?”
    Skeet looked at Taneesha, who said, “Somebody shot him.”
    “Shot him dead? That’s awful. Who would do that?”
    “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Taneesha said and thanked him for his help.
    They wound up at noon with a dozen people who had seen Ned Thigpen and seven who had talked with him and had their pictures taken by him. Mayor Debbie Taylor was one of those and Grady’s mother,