Terror on Tybee Island (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 3)

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Book: Terror on Tybee Island (A Trixie Montgomery Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Deborah Malone Read Free Book Online
Authors: Deborah Malone
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renewed peace.
    “Thanks, Dee.”
    “You’re welcome. Whose address were you talking about?”
    “George’s address. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about him that bothers me. Did you hear Edna ask him about going in to John Porter’s room this morning? I don’t believe his explanation. We need to wheedle an address, at least get his license plate number. Beau said he could run a background check on him.”
    “That shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll work it into the conversation somehow.” She patted my hand. “Hey, want to go downtown and check out the shops? We could stop by the fast food place where Mary Sue works and ask her some questions.”
    I sat up. “Let’s check out the Seaside Sisters gift shop while we’re out. Mary Kay Andrews leases a section in the store. She sells antiques and gifts.”
    “Oh, I just love Mary Kay’s books. She’s so funny.”
    “Did you notice the glass painting in the bathroom? Nancy Smith, one of the shop’s founders, painted it. They’re her specialty. I’d love to purchase one for my apartment.”
    Dee Dee nodded and shot me a grin. “Or maybe for your new house?”
    I returned her smile and grabbed her arm. “Come on. Let’s go participate in some retail therapy.”
    While I tied the laces on my Keds, my mind worked overtime coming up with a way to find out more about the mysterious George. And what exactly were his intentions toward Nana?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    T ybee Island was a grand total of two and a half square miles of land. Located on Highway 80, the drive to Seaside Sisters didn’t take long. The gift shop, housed in a small, older home, sat close to the road. Hand-made mobiles, flower pots, lawn ornaments, and even garden gnomes, decorated the outside. Dee Dee parked in the sandy yard of the little white and blue shop. We hopped out of the car and followed excited shoppers into the boutique.
    “Oh, look, Trixie. Aren’t these cute?” Dee Dee picked up a pint-sized canning jar, attached to a glass stem, and held up the drinking apparatus. “This is called Hillbilly Stemware.” Other shoppers within earshot of Dee Dee’s announcement smiled at the unique object.
    I told Dee Dee she could find me in Mary Kay Andrew’s corner, and headed straight for her space. Blindsided by some colorful jewelry, I stopped to sift through the fascinating trinkets, and picked out one for Mama and one for Nana. I wasn’t disappointed when I finally found Mary Kay’s area. I’d read about her love of antiquing and I knew she wove her adventures into her books.
    The instant I spotted the cute little section filled with books, candles, and of course, antique furniture, I knew Dee Dee would adore it. She could choose from plenty of goodies to take back for her own emporium, Antiques Galore.
    A middle-aged lady dressed in Dee Dee-like clothes struck up a conversation. “Are you from around here or just visiting?” She picked up a beautiful hand-made quilt and passed her hand back and forth over the lovely material.
    “I’m from Vans Valley, a small town in north Georgia. My name’s Trixie Montgomery.” I picked up an outdoor mobile crafted from discarded kitchen utensils. Mama’s yard would make a great home for the decoration. Or maybe my yard?
    “Hi, I’m Ruth. Are you staying in one of the hotels on the beach or in Savannah?” She studied the price tag on the throw and quickly replaced it. She bestowed a couple of pats on the beautiful covering as if to say good-bye.
    “Neither one. We’re staying at Seaside Cottage.”
    Her eyes grew large and her jaw dropped. “Oh. I heard about Grace Watkins’ death. Isn’t it a shame they’ve arrested poor Laura for the murder?” I started to correct her, but she chattered without taking a breath. “I’m not surprised something like that happened to Grace. I’m a member of the Save the Turtles Association and she consistently rubbed someone the wrong way. Now that she’s gone, I wonder if

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