And the biggest part of the puzzle was why someone else had been in the house with her. Did she invite someone else in? Someone who had ended up killing her? And if that wasn’t the case, what was the reason they were there?
It could have been a robbery and Blu surprised them. They seemed to be happening in the neighborhood. Even occurring enough that Detective Wade was having a town hall meeting to address the Piedmont community’s concern. Enough that people were calling out Swan and Ethan’s business as the culprit.
But why would a robber come when the sun was still out? It’s not like I would know if anything was missing, but they couldn’t have carted out a bundle of stolen goods in broad daylight without someone seeing them, especially Andie or me, could they?
I stopped at a stop sign and as I waited for the light, I saw for the first time that I could remember, one of those billboards for the Merry Stampede that Swan had talked about.
“A Rip Roaring Good Time!” It read. “Old Time Wild West Show Featuring Blaine Wyatt and Blu James.”
Swan had told me that Blu was a big star. People came to the Merry Stampeded to see her, going as far as to say that it wouldn’t be anything without her. But why would a big star have to camp out in someone else’s house? I needed to understand that. Understand her.
I bit my bottom lip, staring at the sign, I wondered exactly who she was. What about her made someone kill her? I decided that if I didn’t learn about her – how she was – I wouldn’t ever be able to figure out who killed her.
I need to talk to people who knew Blu . . .
Moving my eyes away from her face on the sign, I took in the rest of the billboard and there, written in big letters, was the address on W. 76 Country Boulevard, for Blu’s employer.
Certainly someone there would know something about her.
Maybe even have an idea of who would have wanted her dead.
W. 76 Country Boulevard was lined with famous theaters offering diverse entertainment. The strip boasted the Marvel Cave, the Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede and Dinner Attraction, and Silver Dollar City, a 1800s-themed amusement park with live music. And at the very end of the street was the Merry Stampede.
The Merry Stampede and Dolly Parton’s place seemed to be doing the same kind of business – a Wild West show, but Merry was nowhere as big or festive looking. No flashing marquis or bright lights. It seemed to focus its celebrity more on the riders, as compared to the Dixie Stampede, it was easy to see that it used its famous owner for drawing in crowds.
So I went to the Merry Stampede. Not knowing what I’d find, who’d be there for me to speak with, or what I was going to say to them. I mean, I had done some investigative work when Big Willie was killed in Collierville, but I had Liam with me and he had done most of the talking. I didn’t know if I could do it on my own.
I got out of my car and walked up to the doors of the big arena. It was all dark and deserted looking. I stood back and read the big marquee that I’d missed noticing when I walked up. It read, “Closed for the Season.”
“What season?” I thought and looked up at the sunny early fall sky.
That couldn’t be right.
I got in my car and drove around to the back of the building. The back looked like a concrete barnyard. On the right was the back doors to the main arena building. And across the lot was a huge brown structure setoff from the main building. It had a wooden, split rail fence, haystacks lined up along one wall and a big water trough. And outside of it was parked several cars. I parked in front of the barn doors.
I thought perhaps there was an office or something that stayed open, even during their off-season, so I headed to the back of the arena building first. Office people might be willing to talk, I thought. But before I even got to the building, I could see the large chain and padlocks fitted around the bars of the double metal fire doors. It was locked tight.
“Guess no one’s in the office,” I groaned.
I headed toward the brown barn and noticed that the door was partially opened.
I had to climb through the holes in the fence, because the gate was locked. I ambled into the barn lot, and pulled open the squeaky door, leaving it wide in case I needed to make a hasty retreat.
The two-story barn was massive. It had stalls lined along the walls and enough room in the middle to drive a car through. I followed it toward the back, my heels clicking on the floor.
“Who is that?” A man’s voice came out of one of the stalls.
“Nixie,” I said as if I were unsure of it or it would satisfy his curiosity.
“I don’t know no Nixie,” he said still not showing his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I . . . uh, was trying to find . . .”
“Whoever it is you’re trying to find, won’t be here,” he said. “This barn is for horses.”
“Well, uh, I wasn’t looking for a horse.”
“That’s all you’re find in here and we’re closed.” He poked his head out.
“I was looking for uhm . . . Someone,” I said. Not sure what else to say. I walked closer to him. He was a young guy, maybe my age. If I hadn’t been so nervous, I might could have used a little charm on him.
“Does this someone have a name?” he asked and stepped all the way out, giving me a full view of him. He was a cowboy looking guy – plaid shirt, blue jeans, only he had on work boots. Nothing nice like what Blu had been wearing. His hair was long and his body lusty.
I didn’t have an answer to that question. I didn’t know who I was looking for. I guessed I could have said, “I’m looking for a murderer.”
“Blu James,” I said instead.
He tilted his head and looked at me. It seemed as if his eyes were trying to reach deep inside of me and see what I was really up to.
“Well, not her exactly,” I said realizing that he probably knew she’d been killed and was wondering why I’d look for a dead person.
“Look, Miss,” he said. “I suggest you leave the property before I call the police.” And with that he walked back into the stall.
I walked up until I was standing in the doorway of where he was working brushing down the legs of a horse, his back to me. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Why?” he asked.
“Just so I’ll know who I’m talking to,” I said.
He turned, sized me up, and turned back to his horse. “Lowell,” he said. “Lowell O’Kirk.”
“Hi Lowell,” I said and blew out a breath. “Blu was found at the house I’m sitting,” I said.
“House that you were sitting?” he asked and turned to look at me. “What does that mean?”
“I’m a house sitter,” I said. I stepped forward. “My name is Nixie Culpepper. Well, you knew Nixie. But I wanted to fully introduce myself.” Stop blabbering, I thought, and get to it. “”I’m a house sitter.” I looked into his eyes, I wanted him to know I wasn’t there just playing games. “I found her body.”
Which, I hated to admit, was something I was in the habit of doing as of late.
“Oh, the tiny house girl.” He stood up and walking out of the stall, he forced me to back up. Once we were both back into the hallway he looked through the widely opened door to where I’d parked my car. “Where’s your house?” he asked.
“I unhitched it.”
“Unhitched it and decided to come here to look for Blu, although you had already found her dead body?” he said. Not waiting for an answer, he turned and went back over to his horse.
“No,” I said. Although that was just how I had made it seemed. “I just feel kind of responsible.”
“For what?” he said without looking up from his work. “You kill Blu?”
“No,” I said. “But I was supposed to be watching the house.”
“And you did a piss poor job of it, huh?” he asked. “Is that why you’re feeling bad?”
Ugh. He was certainly not easy to charm or interrogate, or else I was just a horrible at doing either one.
“Don’t feel bad,” He said. “Blu James was a star and she knew it. She let everyone else know it too, which made people hate her. So I would say that anyone that ever knew her, probably wanted her dead. No way you could have stopped something that was inevitable.” He turned around and smiled at me. “So you can stop feeling responsible.
“Really?” I asked. “People wanted her dead?”
“Really,” he said.
Well there went the bright idea I had that if I got to know her better it would help figure out who killed her.
I shook my head. It was almost just like I had told Dedek, it could be anyone in the world, and Lowell O’Kirk in a roundabout way had just confirmed that. Although, he did narrow it down to anyone in the world that knew her.
“Did she know a lot of people?” I asked.
“A lot of people knew her,” he said.
“Anyone comes to mind that might kill her.”
“Like I said, might have been anyone.”
I rolled my eyes. “So no specific suggestions?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind that she’s dead,” he said. “So I’m not trying to implicate anyone.”
“Oh my,” I muttered and stepped back from him.
“But I didn’t do it.” He glanced at me. “In case you’re wondering.”
I pushed out a sigh of relief. I wanted to find out whodunit, but I didn’t want to be alone with the killer, in a barn, when I did find him.
Standing upright, he left his eyes drift off. “If I had to pick someone, though, since you seem set on getting a name, I would say it was either Tangie Dumont or Levi Garza.”
“That’s two someones,” I said.
“They might’ve have even done it together,” he said. “Who knows.”
Chapter Thirteen
Now I was getting somewhere, I thought. This guy gave me names. That’s what I needed. I didn’t know where’d I go with them, but I felt like it was progress.
I committed the names to memory.
“So did Tangie and Levi hate her that much?” I asked, seeing I was on a roll, maybe I’d get more information.
“I don’t know,” he said and went back to his brushing.
Well maybe not . . .
“So why would you pick those two,” I asked. “You must have a reason.”
He nodded. “Tangie was jealous,” he said without hesitation. “She was a rider, and probably would have been a star if it hadn’t been for Blu. Blu stole any limelight that came her way. Blu could ride better. She could smile prettier. She could get better looking men.”
“Did they ever argue or fight?”
“Not that I can remember. But the tension between them? You could cut it with a knife. But for some reason Tangie only went so far with Blu. She’d say things behind her back but never to her face.”
Seemed to me this Tangie Dumont might have had some pent up issues with Blu. Maybe Lowell was correct and she’d hit her limit, smashed Blu over the head.
I really should get a notebook of my own . . .
“Did Blu have a boyfriend?” I asked.
“That would be the other someone I was talking about.”
“Levi Garza,” I said.
“Levi Garza,” he said.
My mind flashed back to what my Dedek had told me back in Collierville when I was trying to figure out who had killed Big Willie. He had told me that “the spouse always pulls the trigger.” And he had been right.
In that murder it turned out to be the wife, Cynthia, who shot him when she thought he was going to turn her in for skimming money from the books of their business. In this case, it hadn’t been a gun that killed Blu James, and she didn’t have a spouse, but I understood exactly how that assessment related to this one. So, in my book, his relationship with Blu made Levi Garza a good suspect.
“Levi was kind of abusive toward Blu,” Lowell said breaking my chain of thought.
“Abusive like how?” I asked.
“He talked mean to her. Put her down.”
“Hit her?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I never saw him do that, but you know, you hear stories.”
“And why did you want to kill Blu?” I asked.
He looked at me. “I told you, I didn’t kill her.”
“Ah yes, but you said that you wanted her dead.”
“Blu found out some information on me that, let’s say could be very damaging to me and my family.”
Ahh. Blackmail. Lowell was definitely going to go on my list.
“Did you ever date her?” I asked.
He looked at me and did this slow chuckle. “No. Now if there’s nothing else I can help you with, I think it’s time for you to go,” he said.
I looked around the big barn. “Sooo,” I said, drawing the word out and hopefully my time. “Anyone else around here I could talk to?”
“Didn’t I just tell you to leave?”
“Yes. But really. I need to do this.”
“And why is that?”
Did I really want to tell him my hard luck story – moved to California, was evicted because I couldn’t afford the lifestyle and was being banished back to my small hometown, sent packing on the tail of all of my crushed hopes and dreams? And that keeping my house sitting jobs was the only way I could hold on to the things I wanted in my life.
“The police think I had something to do with it,” I lied instead.
He stood up and studied me for a long moment.
“I’m so far away from home,” I said. “Not working for a lot of money and I have elderly grandparents back home who need the income I make.” I hung my head. “I just can’t afford trouble or a lawyer.”
“And you think that you can figure out who did this?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t know, but maybe I can help the police with a lead so they don’t focus on me.”
I had my fingers crossed behind my back because I didn’t want all this bad karma I was spouting into the atmosphere to come back on me.
“And who did you want to talk to?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said and hunched my shoulders. “One of the people you told me about. Or Blaine Wyatt.” That was the other name on the billboard. He seemed to be a main attraction just like Blu, maybe he knew something or was involved.
“Blaine left town,” Lowell said. “Went to California. Salinas so I heard. He’s supposedly trying to get into the Wild West scene out there.”
“Do you think he left because he had killed Blu?”
“No. He left before she died.” He tilted his head. “Why do you think it could be him?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I saw his name on the sign. Just someone that knew her. Worked with her,” I said. “Thought maybe he wanted the spotlight all to himself.”
“Yeah,” Lowell said. “They’ll have to change that sign. Their two biggest stars are gone.”
“Who are their biggest stars now?” I asked. “Tangie Dumont?”
“Yep. I guess it is,” he said. “And maybe a couple of others.” He shook his head. “Tangie’s good and they couldn’t go wrong putting her picture up there on that board.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know, they’ll probably do a search. Look for some new people.”
“So maybe I should talk to Tangie,” I said mostly to myself.
He chuckled. “Good luck with that,” he said.
“Or the other people that might be moved up on the list now that Blu is dead and Blaine is gone.”
“There you go,” he said. “Might just find the culprit among them.”
“But when I first got here you said Tangie and the boyfriend . . . uhm . . . ? I shook my head to joggle my memory. “Levi Garza?”
“Yep. Levi Garza. And I still think they are good suspects.”
This guy was too wishy-washy. Taking me round in circles. I decided to go with my gut, and my gut liked Tangie Dumont.
“Do you know where I can find Tangie?” I asked.
“Yes. And all the other Merry Stampede
employees who could have done it.”
“Now he was being helpful. “Where?” I asked.
“They’re all at the ranch.”
“The ranch?”
“Merry Joy Ranch,” he said. “It’s where all the members of the Wild West show stay.”
I scrunched up my face. “They all live together?”
“Yep. It’s mandatory.”
“Why?” I asked.
“To make sure they stay ready for the shows. It’s seasonal, riders come from all over to work at it. That way the transient workers don’t have to try to get a place and set up housekeeping for a few months out the year.”
I nodded. “So Blu didn’t live in Branson?”
“No. I don’t think Blu lived anywhere. She even broke house rules sneaking out disappearing sometimes days at a time.”
“She’d miss performing?”
“No. She never missed that. But she missed plenty of rehearsals.”
“She didn’t get fired for that.”
“No. Losing Blu would have meant a loss of revenue for the owners. They would have had to pay to change that billboard sign you said you saw.”
“Why wasn’t Blu staying at the ranch?” I asked. “She might have still been alive.”
“Like I said, Blu did what Blu wanted to do. But technically with the season over,” he said. “No one was required to stay there anymore. The ranch gives everyone a week to move out. Evidently Blu didn’t want to hang around for the week.”
“So I need to go over to the ranch. And probably right now,” I said getting excited. “I don’t want anyone packing up and going God knows where and then find out they are responsible for Blu’s death.”
He chuckled. “Like someone over there is just going to admit to you that they killed Blu.”
That wiped the glee from my face. Did I really expect to go there and find someone to say, “Hey, Nixie, thanks for stopping bye. So glad you did, because now I can tell you – tell the world that I killed Blu James!”
“I didn’t say that,” I said, although it would be nice if it were that easy. “I just think I should go over there. Where is it located?”
A Merry Branson Murder (A Tiny House Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 7