Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
5 th of December, present day
“Dixie Council Woman and Real Estate Agent Tilda Jaynes was found dead last evening, Mayor Novak. I know this isn’t the kind of news you want to wake up to,” Sheriff Tom McManus said. “Not after losing former mayor Judson Hawkins in that freak boating accident last month during a sudden thunderstorm out on the bayou.”
“No, it isn’t, Tom.” Ami Novak poured her peppermint mocha creamer with a not quite steady hand and slowly stirred her morning coffee. “Can you share any of the details about Tilda’s death? Where was she found? The cause?”
“The medical examiner hasn’t released the official cause yet, but I can tell you that her head was bashed in with a St. Joseph’s statue. It was found bloodied, lying next to her body in the house she was showing last evening,” Tom described. “The couple who came to do the walk through discovered her. They were meeting her at the address instead of riding over with her as most of her clients do or they might have been killed as well. Mind you, I’m only giving you the details because you’re the mayor and Tilda was your friend.”
“I appreciate the liberty,” Ami said, processing this information. “And anyone who knew Tilda knew she always carried a St. Joseph’s statue with her when she was showing a house.”
“She did?” Tom said. “I didn’t know that and I’ve known her since our school days.”
“Yes. St. Joseph is the patron saint of homeowners,” Ami shared. “If you bury his statue upside down facing the house he’s sure to bring a quick sale. She was a firm believer in burying one at every home she showed more than wearing a religious medal.”
“That’s odd, because there already was a St. Joseph’s statue buried upside down facing the house,” Tom said thoughtfully. “I found it and recently turned soil when I was doing my investigation at the crime scene. Do you suppose the previous owners had done it just before they moved to ensure their own quick sale?”
“They might have,” Ami said.
“I had thought it might have been a coincidence since Judson’s Jon boat was found upside down in the water,” Tom continued. “Connecting their two deaths.”
“Why would you think that?” Ami asked.
“No real reason. Just my overactive, suspicious mind,” the sheriff said.
Ami sipped her coffee, thinking about that. “What should I be worried about, Tom? In your professional opinion, are these deaths linked?”
Even through the phone, his sigh sounded heavy. “It’s too soon to tell. After all, why would anyone have cause to kill them both?”
“Then you don’t feel I should warn the citizens of Dixie?” Ami persisted. “Set a curfew hour for safety’s sake?”
“Not at this time,” he said. “If evidence warrants a change, I will let you know immediately.”
“Alright. I’ll be heading into the office in about an hour. I’m sure word of Tilda’s passing is already spreading across the parish.”
“Word does travel fast around here,” Tom agreed. “I’ll let you know what the medical examiner reports the official cause of death is for both victims.”
“You mean we still haven’t gotten the official word on Judson’s cause of death? It’s been nearly two weeks since he was found. What’s taking so long?” she said. “There haven’t been any other deaths to keep him busy until today. I knew Judson’s funeral arrangements hadn’t been announced, but I thought perhaps his family had decided to hold a private ceremony under the circumstances and because it's so close to Christmas. Does this mean his body hasn’t been released to his family yet?”
“Calm down, mayor,” Tom urged. “Harold does like to be thorough in his autopsy. He wouldn’t even allow me in the morgue to view Judson’s body until he completed his pathologist report.”
“I’ll calm down when you start giving me some straight answers,” Ami said. “Harold might like to be thorough, but this seems a little excessive. Don’t you think?”
“It does, but like I said, Harold is thorough, and he doesn’t like his autopsy room being contaminated. He’s always been a stickler for cleanliness. We used to rib him about having the whitest football uniform on the field back in high school.”
“Alright,” Ami conceded. “I’ll take your word for it. You’ve known Harold Begley all your life, going to Dixie High with him. But if there is no cause for him to be holding Judson’s body, it needs to be released to the family for burial. Is that understood, Tom? When I think of poor Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins waiting around in limbo to bury their only son.”
“I hear you, mayor,” Tom said taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, causing a pause over the line before he spoke again. “Harold graduated with me, Judson and Tilda. Did you know that? And Judson and Tilda dated back in high school.”
“They did?” Ami asked, surprised by this news. She’d worked with the two of them but neither had indicated a past relationship. “She never mentioned it.”
“That was long ago. Just like Connor and Becky Simmons, but they did get married,” Tom said.
“Hmm…”
“They were friends with Judson and Tilda as well as David Weeks back then.”
“David Weeks? Why does that name sound familiar?” Ami said.
“Because you probably know him best as Pastor Weeks from the Dixie Land Heavenly Host Interdenominational Church on the edge of town,” Tom said. “David, Judson, Connor, Harold, and I were all on the Buccaneer football team in high school. Those were the days…but I digress. Our twenty-fifth high school reunion gathering is being planned as a holiday event this year. I can’t wait to see everyone again. We just got the invitation in the mail this week and now Judson and Tilda won’t be there. Connor and Becky were Mr. and Mrs. Dixie High back in the day, and they’re going to be honored this year because they married and they’ve stayed married, which is unusual in this day and time.”
“Well, that makes me wish I hadn’t moved away in the eighth grade when my parents divorced. I lost the connection you all have.” Ami frowned. “I know I’m a few years your junior but still, it would be nice to have those memories from my hometown. I only came back to Dixie to visit my grandparents during the summer before my mother moved back here.”
“It was too bad that you lost your mom after you moved back to take care of her like you did,” Tom said. “But I know you wouldn’t trade the time you had with her.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Ami said. “I just wish that Tilda had someone who could say the same in the wake of her passing. She lost her parents before I moved back to Dixie and we met, and she never married. It will be a sad funeral.”
“Funerals always are, but don’t worry about people not being there for Tilda. She had friends in Dixie,” Tom said. “She was loved.”
“Not by all,” Ami mused. “Unless you think this was a random killing. Maybe a vagrant looking for a place to stay the night or a burglar disrupted?”
“Again, it’s too soon to tell on that and since my department is made up of me and my two deputies, I better get back at it,” Tom said.
“Yes, you do that,” Ami said before finally finishing her coffee. Damn, two deaths in a matter of weeks weren’t the way to start the Christmas season off in Dixie.
Refilling her cup, she headed to get dressed. She needed to get to work before Selena, her assistant, started calling to report alarmed citizens wanting to know whether the holiday festivities in town were going to be cancelled. She hung up the outfit she’d originally planned to wear and picked out a more somber one in lieu of Tilda being found dead. She just didn’t feel she should go into the office looking too spirited today. Not that she felt it now.
Why would anyone bludgeon her friend in the head with her St. Joseph statue? Why? Tilda was the sweetest person she had ever met. Always going out of her way to be helpful. When Ami had first moved back to Dixie it was Tilda who had been looking in on her mother every day until she arrived. That is how they had gotten to know one another. And it had been Tilda who had recommended her for the communications position in the mayor’s office. Judson Hawkins had taken one look at her resume and her past record at the little public relations firm in Memphis, Tennessee and offered her the job immediately without even checking references. All because of Tilda.
Ami had known then that Tilda Jaynes had clout in Dixie. Not only as a real estate agent but as a friend to the members of the community. She’d been the one to urge Tilda to run for city council when a seat became open and helped her with her campaign. It had not surprised her when Tilda had won the election. And in turn, when Judson had talked about retiring, Tilda had been the first to urge Ami to consider running to take his place. As communications director she had worked closely with Judson for four years and knew the daily demands of the job. Had even filled in for him at a few city council meetings when he was out of town on business. When she ran unopposed, it had surprised her, but the ballot tally showed that every registered voter in Dixie had voted for her. And she’d spent the last six weeks since being sworn in doing her job as if she’d been mayor for years.
The only hiccup had been when Judson had been found dead in the swamp after that storm. While the city looked to her for leadership, it was the Dixie Sheriff Department’s job to keep the town safe.
Ready to leave, she grabbed her satchel and handbag before going out the door as her car service pulled up. She thought it was a little extravagant for her to have a car and driver, but Judson insisted that she give it a try for three months and if she didn’t want to continue after that point, she could go back to driving herself. And while it had come in handy when pressing matters arose and she had to work during the drive to and from the office, it had not happened that many times in the six weeks since she’d taken office. However, she could see Judson’s point and it would be better to not be distracted while driving.
“Good morning, Mayor.” Her next-door neighbor called taking her poodle out for a walk. “It looks to be a beautiful December morning.”
“Morning, Gertrude,” Ami replied as her driver opened the SUV door for her. “It does indeed.”
She climbed inside and buckled her seatbelt. Her phone started ringing and she dug in her handbag to find it.
“Hello?”
“Mayor, it’s Harold Begley. Can you come by the morgue? I’d like to speak with you.”
“Sure. I was on my way into the office, so it won’t be a problem to swing by there first,” she said.
“Excellent. I’ll see you soon,” he said and hung up.
“Change of plans?” Simpson, her driver asked.
“Yes, we’re going to the morgue instead,” she replied.
She leaned forward and closed the partition for privacy and she called her assistant, explaining she’d be late arriving if anyone showed up without an appointment. “Do I have anything on my calendar that I have forgotten about?”
“Not until eleven,” Selena said. “You will be back by then?”
“I’ll keep you posted, but I suspect I will,” Ami said. “Can you also look up the local funeral home number for me? I will need to make final arrangements for Tilda once her body is released.”
“Do you suppose that’s why the medical examiner wants to see you?” Selena asked.
“I don’t know. I just found out from the sheriff that he still hasn’t released the official cause of Judson’s death,” she said.
“You’re kidding?” Selena exclaimed. “It’s been…well almost two weeks since his death and still no funeral. His poor parents must be grieving themselves something awful to not be able to lay their son to rest.”
“I know. I’m going to talk to Harold about that while I’m there,” Ami said. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Okay, boss. Good luck.”
Ami put her phone away and was glad to see morning traffic had been light and they were almost at the morgue. Her driver turned off the main road, taking Denver Street to Paradise Lane and pulled up to the morgue’s front door. “Don’t go far,” she said.
“I’ll park and wait for you, ma’am,” Simpson assured.
Hurrying inside, she walked down the corridor until she found Begley’s office and knocked on his door. The door swung opened and a tall man with glasses in a white lab coat greeted her.
“Mayor, you made good time. Come through and have a seat. Let’s chat for a moment before I take you into the lab.”
“Are the cases related?” she asked, settling into the chair before his desk.
Harold chuckled. “You don’t waste time. I knew you’d be wanting to know that, but we’ll get to that matter in a moment.” He walked behind his desk and opened up a drawer, laying a plastic four by six bag on his desk in front of her. “This is the reason I called you. I found that in Tilda Jaynes suit jacket pocket when I was preparing the body for her autopsy.”
Ami leaned forward. “It looks like a note. The handwriting is almost illegible. I’m having difficulty making it out.”
“I know. I’d say the person who scribbled that was either very agitated or they were trying to disguise their penmanship to prevent a handwriting expert from tracing it back to them,” Harold said. “And since we both know you and Tilda were friends, maybe this note is for you?”
“Me?” Ami studied the smeared writing and then an icy chill slipped down her spine as she finally deciphered and read the message over and over, bolting to her feet.
YOUR FRIEND IS NEXT