Murder in Gatlinburg

by Steve Demaree

  I did my Mr. Dillon impersonation that my dad had used on me. Our lady friends laughed. I wasn't sure if that meant they liked my impression or not.

  "Who are these Blues Brothers you mentioned?"

  "Where did you spend the eighties? They were two characters in a movie. They were very popular. And they dressed like those two guys you mentioned. Maybe the guys you saw were impersonators."

  We said goodbye and headed off to catch the shuttle. They climbed on the same shuttle. They got off the same place we did.

  "Are you following us?"

  "No. Our rooms are up this way, too."

  We got to our rooms first. We turned to climb the stairs and luckily the two wet women didn't try to follow us.

  I told Lou goodnight, and headed to my door. The first thing I did was Google the Blues Brothers. They weren't the two guys who we saw, but they did dress the same. Maybe our guys were trying to copy them and not there to murder someone. I would think that a murderer would dress a little more inconspicuously.

  17

  Luckily, Sunday was a planned day. That meant Lou and I didn't have to figure out what we were going to do all day. While one day of doing nothing much but ride the trolleys was fun, it wasn't something I wanted to repeat. All of our group were to eat the breakfast buffet at Westgate, and then board the bus at 9:30 and head to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It didn't matter that Lou and I had seen part of the Smokies the day before. From what I gathered from reading the itinerary, Earl would be taking us to a different part of the Smokies than the part Lou and I had staked claim to the day before. And I had heard there are many different aspects of the national park, each with something different to appreciate. The only things each one had in common were the trees and the mountains. But I had been told that Clingman's Dome and Cade's Cove have little in common.

  When I got to Lou's room, he motioned me inside. His concerned look told me he had awakened and found a body in the room and he needed my help moving it. I was going to recommend to him that moving bodies is best done after dark. I looked around and spotted no bodies, but I had yet to check the shower. Lou stopped me before I could look.

  "Cy, I got another message."

  Lou was on a roll, a new message each day, just like when we were getting paid for solving murders.

  "You're the one who says we are retired, which we are. I'm sure God knows that, so why is He still sending you a message every day?"

  "I don't know. Maybe you can ask Him. You are still on speaking terms with Him, aren't you?"

  "We talked this morning."

  "Well, did you bring this up?"

  "At the time I didn't know you were going to get another message."

  "But you knew about yesterday's message, and the day before."

  "But you told me you weren't going to tell me if you got another message. Besides, we haven't been summoned to solve a murder, and we haven't even stumbled over a body when we've been out and about."

  "Do you want me to ask Him to put a body in your bathtub?"

  "I think I'll pass."

  "Just want to do what I can to help out a friend."

  "Let's just stick to the messages for now. So, what was today's message?"

  "Murders don't always happen on the first page of a book. Sometimes you have to be patient and wait for things to develop."

  "God told you that."

  "No, that's my message to you."

  "So, you didn't really get one from God."

  "You're the one who says they come from God. All I know is that I got a thought just like I always do."

  "And that thought was?"

  "Mary Ann Evans."

  "Is she one of your former girlfriends?"

  "Afraid not. You knew all of the girls I dated."

  "You mean both of them. Bubba and Moose."

  "You know I dated more than two girls, and none of them were nicknamed Bubba or Moose. A couple of them were really cute."

  "Yeah. I couldn't see what they ever saw in you, until I found out that they had lost a bet."

  "We're talking about today's clue, not my dates."

  "Mary Ann Evans. Maybe she works here and she's the one who told you this message."

  "Nope."

  "Is she one of our traveling companions?"

  "I have no idea. Remember I have the gift of receiving the clues, but not of interpreting them."

  There wasn't anything Lou and I could do at that moment, so we took our somber faces off to a buffet that we hoped would change our expressions.

  Sylvia and Inez were already seated when Lou and I arrived for breakfast Sunday morning, and I ignored Sylvia wildly waving arms. She looked like she was betting on something and the nearsighted auctioneer had failed to notice her. Instead, she was letting us know that there were two more seats at their table.

  The buffet at Westgate resembled the way Lou and I used to eat, and the way we were going to eat that morning, and maybe a couple of other times before we returned to Kentucky. It would have been hard for anyone to join us, since both Lou and I had three plates full of food. One was filled with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Another was stacked with pancakes. And the third had sausage gravy running all over the homemade biscuits and trying to escape from the plate. Yep. Two weeks at Westgate would involve taking off too many pounds when I get home. Maybe I should do a lot of hiking when we get to the Smokies. Hiking wasn't too bad as long as bears didn't hike the same trail, and the trail wasn't straight up, stopping just before it gets to heaven. And I didn't want to think about anything that went downhill.

  As we ate, I looked around at the other people. I still hadn't learned all the faces of the people in our group, but I had learned that one who was already familiar wasn't there. The area where we ate looked down upon the area we entered for the first time two days earlier. I looked over the railing to see if she was somewhere below, waiting in the area from which we would be leaving shortly. I didn't see her there, either. With it being Sunday, I considered lifting up a praise that Miss Friendly wasn't with us, but erred on the side of caution, and instead prayed and thanked God, for He had given Lou and me a great start to our vacation. Could it be that Miss Friendly was the Jill of Lou's morning message from the day before? If so, who was Jack? But then maybe a trip into the Smokies wasn't Miss Friendly's thing. Or she could have gotten drunk on our free day and was sleeping it off.

  I quit eating at the trough in time to go back to my abode and brush my teeth before we left. The walk from the shuttle stop to the building where our penthouse suites were located was just enough to take off an ounce or two. Lou walked shotgun on my trip up the hill. We agreed to walk all the way downhill to catch the bus, which would be in front of the building where we ate, not at the front gate where we catch the trolley.

  +++

  My second surprise of the morning was when 9:30 came Earl and his bus weren't there to take us to the Smokies. I remembered how early he was the first time, back in Lexington. He arrived at least forty-five minutes early on that occasion. I wasn't sure what time he got there. He was already there when Lou and I walked outside. I wondered if he had partied too late the night before. I wasn't even sure if Earl stayed at Westgate, slept on the bus, or stayed somewhere else. Maybe there was a campground for bus drivers. I didn't know. Earl and I hadn't exactly bonded the first day.

  I looked around our huddled mass, yearning to breathe free. Miss Friendly didn't seem to have caught up with the rest of us. The later Earl became, the more murmuring I could hear from our group. It seemed like each person in our group checked his or her watch or phone every fifteen seconds to note how late Earl had become. Then, at 9:55, someone shouted that a bus was coming. I wondered if we should reprimand Earl for being late, but figured if I did he might choose to leave without us.

  My third surprise of the morning was when the bus pulled up, and the door opened. Earl had undergone an extreme makeover, so extreme that the man behind the wheel looked nothing like Earl. Maybe this guy
was there to pick up another group. If so, the other group was as late as Earl was.

  Before anyone boarded, I wanted to make sure that we were getting on the right bus. I didn't want to go where no man had gone before, or back home so soon.

  "Is this the bus that's taking us to the national park?"

  "It sure is."

  "And you're to pick up the group that left Lexington on Friday morning."

  "That's right. Any more questions, or do you think it's okay to get on the bus?"

  I stepped back and nodded at the woman with the two children, and let them board first. I let a few more board then sent Lou forward to save a seat for me.

  18

  I motioned for the driver to step off the bus. Instead of motioning for me to step on, he complied. I showed him my credentials and asked him where Earl was. I told him that one of the passengers was missing, too. He told me that not every passenger on the Gatlinburg trip takes in all the planned itinerary. Even if it is included in the cost of the trip. I asked him for a list of passengers, which he was willing to give me under the circumstances, but he said he couldn't give me their home addresses. I told him I didn't need those, that I just wanted to keep up with everyone while we are on our trip. I didn't want too many of our party to end up missing. He agreed to give me a list of the passengers, but not until we get to Cade's Cove. He didn't want anyone else to see him giving me the list, and he told me the only reason he was giving it to me was because I was in law enforcement. Naturally I agreed to wait for the list. I didn't think anyone planned to commit a murder on the bus with so many witnesses, even though most of the witnesses would have obstructed view seats.

  A couple of minutes later, after my brief conversation with our new driver, whose name was Harlan, I learned that Earl hadn't been heard from since Friday night, and Harlan, was dispatched to take his place. During our brief conversation, I asked my new friend Harlan, who had already spoken more words than Earl spoke on Friday, if it was like Earl to do something like this. He said he wasn't aware that Earl had done this before. I figured he was telling me the truth. Otherwise Earl would have been employed elsewhere. Or nowhere. I wondered if Earl was sleeping one off, had been killed by the murderer whose identity we didn't know, been mauled by a bear, or had run away with Miss Friendly. I doubted if the last one was true. I was afraid that the two of them were too much alike for it to work out. I remembered that both of them seemed to be a little frightened of the other. But that wasn't my problem. Had I found Lou's Jack and Jill? Actually, I hadn't found anyone, but had I identified the first two victims? The first two victims. That sounded like there would be more. I hoped not. I hoped there wouldn't even be two. None sounded better, and it would be more conducive to enjoying my vacation.

  Harlan told me that we needed to go, so I stepped up into the bus. I headed back to the seat Lou had saved for me, grateful that it was next to him instead of one of our traveling companions who was likely to cause trouble. I was unsure whether to engage Lou in a game of name the trolley route, or talk about the possible murder(s). I knew that Lou would know that the purple trolley stopped by Westgate, and the yellow and green trolleys explored places where man had not gone before, but could I trick him and ask him where the black trolley goes? No, Lou would probably know that there was no black trolley, and that the tan trolley was the one we rode the day before into the Smokies. Besides, I didn't want anyone to overhear us talking about our trolley travels. I didn't want them to hear us talking murder either, but the light bulb in my head alerted me that Lou and I could text each other without anyone reading what we had texted.

  But I couldn't help myself when I got to my seat, so I had to send Lou a trolley message before I got serious.

  Okay, Lou, where does the pink trolley go?

  From Barbie's townhouse to the Mary Kay convention.

  I laughed at Lou's humor. I already knew that I wasn't the only retired cop on the bus who could have a second career as a stand-up comedian in a nursing home.

  I looked at my text, and at Lou's return message. I knew there was a pink trolley. I knew we were on it the day before, but I couldn't remember where it went. And since I didn't know, I couldn't ask Lou again to see if he really knew where it went or not. So, I changed the subject.

  What do you think about these two missing people?

  That they're missing the trip to the park.

  After our initial folderol we got serious. Lou reminded me that solving a murder is no longer our business, and that no one had yet found a body. Then we got a little less than serious as we wondered whether or not Earl and Miss Friendly had run away together, or if maybe Miss Friendly was actually Mrs. Earl. If so, their children probably ran away from home when they got old enough.

  When it came to the whereabouts of Earl, the bus driver, and Miss Not So Friendly, we had little to go on. One who was supposed to be there hadn't shown up with his bus. One who could have chosen to go or not to go could be hiding out in her room. So, either of them could be dead or alive. And either could be the murderer I wasn't supposed to seek. Or maybe there wasn't a murder, or at least there wasn't a murder yet.

  Earl was the one I thought about the most. Not only was Earl missing. His bus was missing, too. Give or take a few million, there were twenty million people in Gatlinburg for Memorial Day weekend. Surely one of them could have spotted a tour bus. Maybe Earl would be waiting for us in the Smokies, with an excuse as to why he was late. I thought it was more likely that Earl wouldn't be there. So, it was back to finding the bus. We had two scenarios. Either Earl hid the bus, or someone else hid Earl and the bus. And it wasn't like you could sink the bus in Little Pigeon Creek. I mean River.

  I thought of where I would hide a bus in the area we were in. But then, Earl had been missing since Friday night. He could be in Texas by now, and in Texas he wouldn't have to hide the bus, just change the license plate. That is if Earl is the one responsible for the missing bus.

  I texted Lou and asked him to ponder the situation of the missing bus. He texted back and told me the bus wasn't missing, that we were riding in it. I gave him a look, and he changed his expression to a pondering one.

  I pondered, too. If Earl was responsible for the bus being missing, my guess was that Earl had left Tennessee behind. I hoped George didn't find him in Hilldale. I would never hear the end of it. So, what other possibilities did I have to ponder. Well, Earl could have developed amnesia. I put that one in the fat chance, slim chance category. Earl could have been kidnapped. One of the books I read told about someone being kidnapped in the Smokies. It could have happened to Earl. Another scenario was that Earl has found his final resting place. Well, maybe not his final one, but he was no longer of this world, in the fact that he could no longer enjoy it. If so, Earl would be easier to hide than a bus. True, the Little Pigeon River wasn't a much better place to deposit Earl than it would be a bus, but there was a lot of dirt and a lot of trees near where we were, and Earl could be underneath both of them. But I didn't think anyone would take the time to bury a bus.

  So, where does a person, Earl or someone unknown, hide a bus. Most people would think you should drive it to the most obscure place in the Smokies, but maybe the best place to hide a bus would be at an attraction next to a lot of other tour buses. All tour buses don't look alike, but they don't look out of place next to another tour bus.

  +++

  I was getting nowhere wondering where our missing persons were, but all of a sudden I got something. It turned out to be a text from George.

  Getting ready to walk into church. I'll say a little prayer that you haven't stumbled onto more murders than you can handle.

  Mere seconds later, I received a second text from George. That one told me that George could certainly text faster than I could, even though it consisted of only a few words.

  Remember, Big Brother is watching you.

  I was in no position to look around and see if any of my traveling companions looked like a guilty Big Brother.
Was one of our fellow travelers a snoop for George? I couldn't figure out how George always knew what was going on. Well, he didn't mention the Smokies, but if he memorized our itinerary he knew we should be headed there. I turned and looked at Lou, wondered if he had kept George abreast of everything that was going on. I couldn't see him doing that, so I answered George's text.

  Having a great time. Received the key to the city of two different towns. No murders yet. Just two MIAs.

  19

  Evidently George had put his phone on silent, because he didn't reply to my text. I gave him a couple of minutes, and then returned to pondering the possible murders. By the time I had mulled all of this over, the bus we were on, Harlan's bus, had turned off the road that headed to Cherokee, North Carolina, and begun its climb to Cade's Cove. It didn't take me long to forget about Earl. We were on a bus that was just a little wider than the road we were traveling on. If anyone was to come down that mountain toward us on a bicycle, which was the only mode of transportation I could think of that might be able to pass us without wiping out a few trees, I prayed that that person came with a change of clothes. And I had seen other tour buses at Dixie Stampede. Who was I to think we had the only tour bus prepared to tackle the national park that day? Now that wouldn't present a problem if they were traveling the same direction we were. But what if one of those tour buses got started early and was ready to make its descent. That was not a pleasant thought. Maybe Earl had already thought about this and had chosen suicide instead.

  I raised up in my seat, just to make sure that Harlan was still driving the bus. I didn't think the bus was equipped with something similar to automatic pilot, or that the bus had been taken over by terrorists. None of our bunch reminded me of terrorists. They looked more like criminals, with a few engineers thrown in for good measure. I was relieved to see that Harlan was still in charge and that he didn't look as nervous as I felt.