Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ, God forgave you.

Ephesians 4:32 (NIV)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the director of the Marietta Museum of History, Dan Cox and his lovely wife, Connie for all their help with research on the museum.

Thanks go to all of the readers of Death in Dahlonega who have encouraged me to continue writing about Trixie, Dee Dee, and Nana. To all the book clubs who invited me to come share my writing journey and have invited me back for “Murder in Marietta.”

A special thank you goes to Beverly Nault for editing “Murder in Marietta.” Trixie and Dee Dee thank you, too.

Dedication

Murder in Marietta is dedicated to my family and friends who continue to encourage me.

A special dedication to my readers – you keep me writing.

Content

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fiften

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Questions For Discussion

CHAPTER ONE

Marietta, Georgia

I flipped over a fresh page in my reporter’s notebook as my best friend, Dee Dee, dug into the most enormous slice of Chocolate Fetish mocha pie I’d ever seen. Dee Dee smacking loudly, I fought to keep a journalist’s objectivity while Doc Pennington, the director of the Marietta History Museum, recounted the most recent ghost sightings.

“Doc, what I really want to know is…” My tummy roiled considering the possibilities. “Have you personally seen the resident phantom?” All at once I hoped he’d say no, but from the excitement that grew in his expression, I knew he was about to confirm my worst fears.

“As a matter of fact, Trixie, may I call you Trixie?”

I nodded and he went on.

“Shortly after I became director of the museum, I heard rumors of ghosts. Until recently I didn’t give them any real credence. Not until unexplainable occurrences happened.” He waited while a young man refilled our tea glasses.

“Such as?” My voice quavered as I prompted Doc, once the waiter was out of earshot.

“Like when the door on the empty elevator opened and closed.” Doc rubbed the bridge of his nose underneath horn-rimmed bifocals. “Once I saw a lady adorned in period clothes from the Civil War Era. Another time a man dressed in uniform appeared. I thought I’d been around this history stuff too long and my imagination ran wild.”

I glanced at Dee Dee, my memories transporting me to a time when one of the neighborhood kids wore a sheet and jumped out at me in the inky darkness. I’ve never forgotten the feeling of my heart skipping a few beats. It was a long time before the kids stopped laughing about the embarrassing stain that spread across my corduroys. Since that fateful night the mention of ghosts stirs a cauldron of ugly feelings. When Harv, my editor at “Georgia by the Way,” gave me this assignment, I knew I’d have to deal with unresolved childhood fears. Until Doc began recounting the sightings, I didn’t realize how close to the surface they would rise.

I’d been at the magazine for less than a year, and trying to prove myself among the younger, more energetic reporters. So when Harv suggested I spend a night at the museum, I said yes. Doc was a good friend of Harv’s and had made the arrangements, so I couldn’t afford to mess things up with my unreasonable fears. I forced my thoughts back to the present as Doc continued.

“I decided to have a little fun and talk up the sightings. Word spread faster than a pat of butter on a hot biscuit. People flocked to the museum to meet the ghosts. PBS, TBS, CBS, TNN and “Haunted House” on the History Channel featured the story. The tale literally took on a life of its own as everyone tried to see a ghost. But when no one showed, they all said I was trying to get publicity.”

“Or that he was crazy,” Penny, his wife, hissed, patting his hand. “We were practically ostracized from the community. For a while they stopped bringing in school children for tours.”

“I understand why Harv wants to scoop with the big guys. I just wish he hadn’t asked me to jump in with him.” I’ve heard you can smell fear. I certainly hoped that wasn’t true in the case of ghosts.

“Honey.” Penny laid her hand on Doc’s arm, “tell them what’s happened lately.” The efficient waiter returned, cleared the table and refilled our tea glasses. Doc took his time as if weighing his next words.

“A few weeks ago, a couple of things happened that weren’t so benign. Before those incidents, most of the episodes were explainable. You know, malfunctioning elevator, creaky sounds emitted from an old building. Then the events changed.”

“Like what?” I took a long sip of cold sweet tea and swiped at my mouth with the cloth napkin. I was grateful my hand wasn’t as shaky as my nerves.

“We arrived one morning to find furniture rearranged in some of the displays. Another night, when I was working late, I smelled smoke. I followed the scent, and discovered a small trashcan on fire. I was alone in the museum, and it was after hours. We have a system that must be armed and disarmed when you enter or leave the lobby.”

“I set the alarm before I left,” his wife added.

“No one could arrive without me knowing.”

“The fire was bad enough, but artifacts began to disappear,” Penny said. “Gloria Hamilton’s purse was stolen. She’s one of our board members, and she jumped at the chance to use this occasion to make Doc look incompetent. She has her radar set on him.”

Her chin quivered, and I yearned to give her a hug. “Penny, it’s obvious why these events have you upset.” I laid a hand on the woman’s trembling arm. “What do you think is going on, Doc?”

“Beats me.” He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t believe in ghosts before these incidents happened. Now, I’m not so sure. I haven’t figured out how a person entered without setting off the buzzer.”

The more Doc talked, the more I reconsidered job security. Was my bank balance worth risking a night in a crypt?

“During our discussions, Harv said he wanted you to stay overnight at the museum in hopes you’d encounter a ghost. It’s understandable if you choose not to spend the night.” Doc hesitated for a moment. “I wanted you to have the facts before you made your decision. I couldn’t live with myself if the uninvited visitors played havoc while you were there.”

“If your answer’s yes,” he went on, “Penny and I will be happy to set up a place to sleep. We’ll teach you to batten down the hatches before we leave.”

My stomach churned, but I played it cool. I knew if I revealed my fear, Dee Dee wouldn’t stay and I needed her support. No way was I going to stay in the museum by myself. “Harv’s expecting me to hang out with the ethereal residents, so I don’t expect I have a choice in the matter. Maybe we’ll discover a logical explanation for these strange occurrences. Coincidence, perhaps?” I looked around the table for confirmation. Silence.