Pickin' Murder: An Antique Hunters Mystery by Vicki Vass Read Free Book Online

acquiring collectibles for her fiancé, Steven Kendall.”
    “Oh, I’ve heard of him,” Ellie said.
    “He’s from Nashville. Betsy, our client, is a wonderful collector. Anything we buy will be appreciated and taken care of,” Anne said.
    “Grandpa Scooter would want his things to go to a good home. He’d want people to see them and enjoy them. I don’t have enough room at my house for anymore of his stuff. I’ve picked through what meant the most to me. My two boys are musicians––one plays drums, the other guitar. They picked what they wanted already. Grandpa Scooter didn’t have a lot of money and he wanted to make sure both my boys had a good education. My oldest boy Kevin has been accepted to Berkley and my younger boy Peter is in his second year at Vanderbilt. All the money from the estate sale will pay for their education.”
    “That’s wonderful that your grandfather could leave that legacy to your boys,” CC said.
    After looking through the crowded basement and making a pile of items, including the pictures, CC and Anne paid Ellie and loaded everything onto the bus. “Thank you so much,” CC said to Ellie.
    They got into the bus. “Where to now?” CC asked. Anne pulled out her large atlas along with several coupon books that she had picked up at the rest area.
    “There’s an antique mall in Hickory. We should stop,” Anne said.
    “Hickory what?”
    “Actually, Hickory, North Carolina.”
    “We have to go through the Smoky Mountains to get there.”
    “That’s great. I’ve never been through the Smoky Mountains. You can get some pictures there,” Anne said.
    CC hesitated. “It is supposed to be beautiful. I could get a lot of great shots.”

Chapter Eight
     
    From Corbin, they headed south on I-75. There was a slight drizzle as they got on the highway. As they drove, CC gave a history lesson. “You know, Anne, at one time North America and Africa were connected with the Appalachians being the center of the two continents.” She paused. “They’re actually from the same chain of mountains in Morocco known as Little Atlas. This mountain range, known as the central Pangaean, extends into Scotland. Isn’t it amazing to think how at one time the whole planet was one big continent?”
    Slightly listening to CC, Anne looked out her window watching the beautiful brown, green and red slate and granite canopy of rocks that were cut through the mountains to make the highway. Each curve brought a new vista more beautiful than the one before. The mountains, the luscious pines, the jagged rocks.
    A rainbow appeared capping one of the mountains to its sister. Eagles danced overhead like they were following the VW. The rain started again. Anne could feel the VW accelerating as it descended down the highway. A sign warned Nine Percent Incline . Anne gripped the armrest. “CC, don’t you think you should slow down a bit?”
    “We’re fine, Anne.”
    A Peterbilt semi- flew past in the left lane, spraying water, blinding CC temporarily as the wiper blades struggled to keep up. CC slowed down a bit as she felt her microbus hydroplane. “CC, slow down!” Anne felt her breakfast turn over in her stomach. She closed her eyes as if she were on a roller coaster.
    When they reached the foothills of the Smoky Mountains, they followed the signs that read Great Smoky Mountain Parkway. The VW bus strained as it did the slow 30-minute climb up to Smoky Mountain National Park. CC turned in at the first vista point. “I’m going to walk around and take some pictures. Are you coming?”
    “I think I will conserve my energy for the antique store,” Anne said, thumbing through the visitor’s guide.
    The sun peeked out. CC walked along the bridge that jutted over the mountains. Eagles screeched overhead. A sea of orange and red blanketed the valley. The fall air was crisp and smelled like fresh pine. She wondered where Tony was at that moment. Probably somewhere halfway between here and Italy. Was he