Murder in Gatlinburg

by Steve Demaree

  I assumed that the direction in which we were headed would take us to Gatlinburg, since I remembered that Westgate Resort was our next stop. We passed one thousand seven hundred and twenty-two more attractions, left Pigeon Forge behind, and zipped past a lot of trees that would make a great picture for a difficult to solve jigsaw puzzle. There was even a stream that flowed beside us part of the time. Locals called that stream the Little Pigeon River. Obviously, whoever named it had never ventured as far as the Mississippi. Back home we have creeks deeper than the Little Pigeon. If I thought it was a poor excuse for a river, I wondered what Texans would think. Still, it was a scenic few inches of water and made for a beautiful sight.

  A few minutes later, Earl signaled and eased the bus into a left turn lane and we darted across the oncoming traffic to get to the other side. Earl's luck was much better than the possums in my neck of the woods. To be honest, even though Earl knew that the bus was larger than anything coming at us on their way to Pigeon Forge, he waited for a break in the traffic before he zipped across and through a parting of some more trees. I had no idea that mere feet beyond the beautiful wilderness we had just left behind sat Westgate Resort. Earl drove the bus up to one of three large buildings that looked like a good place for vacationers to check in. He stopped the bus and told us what time that he would pick us up that evening to take us to dinner and a show, all in one. After the most words I'd heard Earl speak since we first met him, he asked us to stay on the bus while he unloaded all of the luggage and asked someone where we were supposed to check in.

  Five minutes later, after rescuing my luggage and receiving a pointed finger from Earl as to where we were to go to check in, Lou and I headed inside and to the back of the line. A few seconds later, we were no longer at the back of the line, as several of our newfound friends joined us. As we waited to check in, I checked out the beautiful, spacious, log building in which we found ourselves. Westgate Resort seemed to be quite a place. I knew my room wouldn't be quite as large as the one where I stood, but if it looked as good it would be fine with me.

  It didn't take me long to find out what my room looked like. Someone named Emily, who called herself a concierge, took Lou and me to a multi-seat golf cart, and we loaded up our luggage to take off. All she needed was the number of the rooms where we were staying. As I rode, holding on to make sure Emily didn't deposit me before we arrived at my room, I quickly learned several things about Westgate. Everywhere except the place where we checked in was on a hill. There were enough huge, three-story log buildings that each attraction in Pigeon Forge could have had one, and all the log mansions had green roofs. They didn't all look exactly alike, but similar enough that it would behoove someone staying there to stay sober. Of course there were also some smaller buildings that housed fewer guests. Some of them allowed people to get inside without climbing any stairs.

  Emily must have been on vacation, too, because she waved at everyone who walked or drove by. She told us a little about the place, but I was too busy deciding if I was ready to retire there to pay any attention to her. Later, I planned to ask Lou if any of what she said was important.

  After continuing to go up until we could look down on Pike's Peak, she pulled over and told us we had arrived. We soon learned that Lou's room was next to mine, which was good, and that our rooms were on the top floor, which I wasn't sure if it was good or not. After conquering the summit, I was happy that I'd lost weight. I'm not sure I could have done the whole climb in one day before I slimmed down, and I didn't see an elevator anywhere.

  We visited my room first. Emily unlocked an outside door, and then there were two other doors. Mine was straight ahead. Emily unlocked it too, and allowed me to enter. I wasn't aware that I was sharing the room with someone else. No, there wasn't anyone in the room, but it was large enough for a good-size campout. Or camp in. I had a kitchen, a dining room, a living room with a fireplace that I wouldn't need, and a door leading out to a balcony. Off that was a large bathroom, and a bedroom with a king-size bed that I could wallow all over. I could even get to the balcony from there, too. The place wasn't quite as large as my house, but it was close. I wondered how much all of this set back the guys back home. I wondered if I should cut George some slack, but I quickly convinced myself that I shouldn't. I still planned to get even with him, and Lou.

  Lou came in and checked out my room, just in case his ended up being larger or smaller. Actually, Lou's room wasn't the one right next to me, but was at the other end of the top floor of Fort Westgate, sixty or so feet away, and from what I understood from our concierge Emily, it looked just like mine only backwards.

  After Emily left to take Lou to his room, I stepped out onto the balcony, and looked out at the beautiful trees, a little farther away than reaching distance. Then I looked down. I didn't see any bodies, but I realized that the ground was far enough below to allow a person to start out living at the top and mutilated at the bottom.

  I stood there for a few minutes, wondering if I could talk the department into sending me back for a second week or just let me stay there for a while. Maybe I could unretire and investigate all of the murders that would take place at Westgate. After a couple of minutes of daydreaming, I walked back inside and plopped down on the most comfortable leather couch I had ever encountered. I could have slept there. It was comfortable enough and large enough. But I didn't want to give up my king-size bed. It would be the first time I had slept on a king-size bed, since I didn't have one at home, hadn't taken any other vacations, and didn't ever go to visit anyone. Compared to my bed at home, this bed was so large that even a married couple who weren't getting along could have slept on it and not encountered one another, even if both of them tossed and turned during the night.

  As I sat there on that comfortable brown leather couch, I decided to text Lou. I wanted to text periodically to make sure that I continued to remember everything Mark, my yard boy and computer expert, had told me about texting, and to see if Lou was paying attention that day.

  DOES YOUR PLACE LOOK AS GOOD AS MINE?

  A couple of minutes later, I received a reply.

  Stop shouting.

  I couldn't understand what he was talking about at first, and then I remembered that all caps is shouting. Before I could reply, I received a second text.

  I didn't remember yours having a hot tub.

  I was sure his didn't have one, either, but I was sure I could find one somewhere on the grounds.

  Listen, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me at 4:30 if I haven't called you back by then.

  As I lay in the center of the bed, I wondered how long it would have taken me to get out of that bed if I hadn't lost all that weight. I just knew that when it came to comfort, the bed felt as good as the couch. Even better, if that was possible.

  As I sometimes do when I sleep, while I slept I dreamed. Some of the dream was realistic. The setting was my one bedroom deluxe at Westgate. But in my dream, I mean nightmare, I heard a noise and walked out on my balcony to see where it was coming from. Sylvia was climbing up a column toward my balcony.

  I turned over to lie on my other side, hoping to change my luck. It worked. In my new dream Jennifer and Heather were fighting over me. When I woke up I was kissing my pillow. While I thought about sharing my dream with Lou, I planned to leave out the part about the pillow.

  I lay there, looking out the window at the trees. I have a bed and trees at my house, but I found out that doing the same thing on vacation felt better. I thought of the guys back home and teared up when I visualized them feeding the kitty so Lou and I could actually have a vacation. Most of the guys back home took one every year, and some of them traveled to places more distant than Gatlinburg. But to me this was a good thing.

  Next I thought of Jennifer, back home, missing me. Well, I hoped she was missing me. She said she was when she texted me.

  When I envisioned my next-door neighbor at the locksmith getting herself a duplicate key made to my house, I knew it was time to get ou
t of bed.

  +++

  I checked my watch. Gatlinburg was in the same time zone as Hilldale, so I had awakened in time to catch the bus. Once I arrived and our group was intact, I counted heads and realized that everyone else in our group were still surviving. I began to wonder if Lou really did receive a message, or if he was playing mind games with me, and seeing how I would handle retirement.

  +++

  We had a good time at Dixie Stampede, eating with our hands and watching the show, horses and riders completing fantastic maneuvers. I also looked to see if anyone in our group had been thrown in front of a horse, but apparently everyone survived. Of course I wasn't sure that whoever was to die was part of our group or not. Maybe I would have to keep an eye on all of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg.

  Lou and I had our picture taken together on the staircase on the fake Titanic, and at Dixie Stampede. I even reverted to the childhood I never had and bought a cowboy hat to wear in the picture. Lou chose a coonskin cap, since we were in Tennessee. I told Lou that two pictures together were enough. I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about us. He agreed and said the only reason he agreed to have his picture made with me was to show people who had never met me that he is a lot better looking than I am. I told him I would check with Jennifer to see if she agreed.

  14

  I remembered enough about our itinerary to know that Saturday was our free day. Friday had been a long and grueling day, well grueling in the sense that we crossed the short part of two wide states and took in three attractions in one day. I remembered that Lou and I were traveling with old people. Some of them would have to recalibrate their pacemakers, or whatever it is they have to do after a long and tiring day. Actually, quite a few of our group didn't appear to be old enough to retire, but I planned to tell George and Frank that Lou and I were the only two on the bus under ninety.

  A free day meant I wouldn't have to look at Earl, because it was his day off, and I planned to avoid Miss Friendly, Sylvia, and Inez if I could. I prayed that neither of the last two had slipped Emily some money to tell them where our rooms are. I figured I was safe as long as I stayed inside. They would have to break through two doors to get to me.

  When we returned to Westgate that night and took a shuttle to within walking distance of our rooms, Lou and I talked on our uphill trek and agreed to sleep the next morning as long as God intended for us to sleep. Then we would catch the shuttle to the front gate, board the trolley there, and check out the burg we hadn't seen yet, Gatlinburg.

  +++

  After the sun had been up for a reasonable amount of time on Saturday morning Lou called and asked me if I was ready. I had showered, shaved, and taken time for my devotionals and Bible study. I had even walked out on my balcony and looked at a small part of God's beautiful creation. The balcony was one of the things I would miss when I headed home. Only three groups of travelers in the next building over could see me from the living room portion of my balcony, and no one who hadn't climbed a tree could see me if I stepped out from the bedroom. The balcony offered me privacy and beauty, two things high on my list.

  But after receiving Lou's call I locked the door to my suite and walked ahead to the exterior door. I poked my head out and saw a smiling Lou doing the same thing sixty feet away. Brilliant minds think alike. Well, in our case it was my brilliant mind rubbing off on him.

  We walked down the steps of the log building that was definitely nicer, and larger, than any of the ones Lincoln slept in. Lou and I fell in step down the hill to the shuttle stop, where we would hitch a ride to the front gate. We had barely gotten in stride before Lou turned to me.

  "I got another message."

  "What was it this time?"

  "Jack and Jill."

  "What do you suppose it means?"

  I smiled quickly so Lou would know I was kidding. I always ask that to get his goat. Besides, after some of what he pulled the day before I had some catching up to do.

  "Well, Lou, there are a lot of hills around here and all of the ones I've seen are quite steep. Do you think this means some guy got murdered yesterday and a woman gets it today, maybe in the same way? Should we check the bottom of all the hills to see if we can find a body?"

  "I think you should, while I'm off in Gatlinburg having fun. Remember, we are retired. And we are on vacation."

  "But for some reason God is still trusting you with these messages."

  I wanted to go on, but we were nearing the shuttle stop, and there were a couple of other people waiting. They weren't part of our group, and obviously they weren't Jack and Jill.

  We smiled, said hello, and found out they were from Michigan. They had come to the area to celebrate their anniversary. That was all the information we got, because the shuttle arrived, and they rode with us, but only as far as the dining room. We didn't have time to see if they knew Jack and Jill or had reported finding any bodies at the bottom of any of hills. Besides, I wasn't going to look up everyone in our group to see if we were minus two people.

  +++

  There were four other people at the front gate when we arrived. It was almost 9:30. None of the people waiting to ride the trolley to Gatlinburg looked like anyone from our group. That meant that if the trolley came before Sylvia and Inez did, we were safe. It did, and we were. This time Lou got the window seat. Just as our driver was making his turn to head off to the next stop, I looked back and saw Sylvia and Inez running toward the trolley and waving frantically. They were still a good distance away. I waved back and smiled. But as soon as the trolley was out of their sight, I realized that our narrow escape didn't mean we were free of them for the entire day. They would catch the next trolley, which I assumed would be along in fifteen to thirty minutes, and it would be headed to the same small town where we were headed. There was always a chance the two of them would spot us somewhere along the line. All I knew was that I wasn't going to wait at the trolley stop until they arrived.

  The trolley left Westgate property and drove across two lanes of traffic to the other side of the trees to the Welcome Center. It was where people parked who didn't want to pay to park in Gatlinburg and knew that finding a parking place on the street was only slightly more likely than winning the lottery. As we arrived at the Gatlinburg Welcome Center we found forty thousand other people who had the same idea we did. They too chose to ride a trolley into Gatlinburg. Everyone was in the Smokies on Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. No wonder there were thousands of attractions. The only problem was that everyone was headed away from them. Maybe there were another forty thousand people in Pigeon Forge. The trolley filled up quickly, and those left behind were told there would be another trolley in a few minutes. Our driver, who was probably named something other than Earl, took off to Gatlinburg. While a few people were standing, there was no one next to me. I happened to look at the woman across the aisle at the same time she looked at me. She smiled. I smiled back. She was pretty, and a few years younger than Lou and I.

  "Been here before?" she asked.

  "First time. You?"

  "Seasoned pro. Come every year. How long have you been here?"

  "We're part of a bus tour group that just arrived yesterday. This will be my first time to Gatlinburg. We saw a little of Pigeon Forge yesterday."

  "Well, you'll soon see that the two towns are nothing alike. But both are worth your time. So is the national park. Do you have any questions?"

  "I don't know what to ask first."

  "First of all let me tell you that a lot of the people you will see today will be leaving the area sometime tomorrow. Some of them are just here for Memorial Day weekend. Others are ones who have been here for a week and will be heading home. The place won't be so crowded for the next two weeks, then it will be wall-to-wall people throughout the summer. Then there's a break and a different group will start coming when the leaves start changing colors in October. More older people. Few kids. But you don't need to know all of that. Not unless you plan to stay until October."
<
br />   I laughed.

  "No, we're only here for a week."

  When she told me it wouldn't get crowded again for a couple of weeks, when all the kids would be out of school, it got me to thinking again. About whether the department would pick up the tab for another week or two. Well, one more week wouldn't be too bad. The little kiddies would still be in school. Two might be cutting it a little close. I pictured kids swarming around Lou and me, grabbing us around the legs, touching us with sticky hands that had just eaten who knows what. And then I thought about the two children in our group. Were they skipping school? Well, at least they hadn't been a problem. Not yet, anyway.

  "By the way, I'm Brenda."

  "Cy."

  "Like Duck Dynasty?"

  "No, like retired homicide detective."

  I hadn't planned to reveal my profession, and I saw Lou giving me a look when I did. But I figured there was little chance that the woman across the aisle from me was the murderer that Lou had warned me about.

  "Wow! I bet that was interesting and dangerous."

  "Sometimes. But not anymore. You were saying."

  She could tell I was uncomfortable talking about myself, so she returned to sharing some of her knowledge about Gatlinburg. I took mental notes.

  "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

  "No. We're eating late this morning. You know. Vacation."

  "Well, let me recommend a place. It's a little over a block away, and the food is great. It's called the Pancake Pantry. It's on the others side of the street, and up that way. Just look for the long line. But let me warn you. It can be habit forming. It might make you want to move here. Also, back in Sevierville, Applewood is a good place to eat."