+++
I didn't want to get too far ahead of the others, so Lou and I stood outside the aquarium, on the top level, looking down on the people milling by. There weren't as many millers as there were on Saturday, but there were enough to discourage a murder in public.
I wondered what kind of town Gatlinburg would be to live in. I wasn't used to going places, but Gatlinburg was certainly different from anywhere I had been. Imagine going into town in a small town and seeing different people each time you went. That's not the way it is in most small towns. You run into the same people at Wal-Mart more often than once a year. Besides, Gatlinburg doesn't have a Wal-Mart. Neither does Pigeon Forge. But there is one nearby, and I was thankful it wasn't part of our itinerary.
Gatlinburg is different than most small towns. I thought maybe Lou and I might come back sometime and check out the place more thoroughly. And I remembered that Lou and I were now homeowners, so to speak, so we would definitely be returning to Gatlinburg. I wanted to bring the girls down sometime. I couldn't remember if either of them had said something about ever being in the Smokies. Since they were cousins, and unmarried, I figured either neither one had been or both of them had come together.
I didn't want anyone to think that Lou and I were watching them, so I put away my top-of-the-line binoculars and we headed down the steps, back down to River Road. We took our time, stopped every now and then, and looked down on the water below. It was a scenic place. And there wasn't a lot on River Road, except for a few attractions, and a few more motels and hotels, some of which had rooms with balconies that looked down upon the water. Westgate had rooms with balconies. The difference in Westgate and downtown Gatlinburg was that it was easy to tell that no one had tossed any bodies over the balconies downtown. At least not the day we were there.
34
I looked ahead as we walked. I saw where the chair lift crossed over the street, probably twenty or so feet above where we were. From time to time, Lou and I bent over the railing and looked down again upon the water, and searched for any wildlife there. We saw a few creatures, but no bodies. No one sneaked up behind us and tried to toss us over, either. Of course from where we stood it wasn't that much of a drop.
For some reason I thought of Harlan, back in the bus. At least I hoped he was back in the bus. I wondered if I should have invited him to come with us. He didn't seem as uptight as Earl was. But then maybe Earl had a premonition that he was about to be murdered. Maybe Earl knew the man with the limp, or one of the passengers. But like pastors sometimes change on short notice in United Methodist churches, we had a change of bus drivers without knowing about it ahead of time. Harlan was now our bus driver. Of course that didn't mean that Harlan was still in any condition to drive our bus. He could have been excommunicated. And our bus could have been stolen. If so, it would be too much to think that we could find Harlan and the bus behind the Dixie Stampede building.
And then I thought of another scenario. Harlan can drive a bus. Some people might struggle to drive something that big. But Harlan had no problem doing it. And Harlan took Earl's place. Could Harlan have hit Earl on the head, driven him to the back of the Dixie Stampede lot, and then packed him away when the crowd died down? Should I add Harlan to my suspect list? After all, sometimes murderers come across as nice guys, willing to help people.
Huddling together with my thoughts that Lou didn't want me to conjure up had caused me to ignore him. It was time to include him in my life again.
"Now that you've had time to mull it over, do you have any idea what's happening?"
"Certainly, Cy. We're recently retired. We're on vacation. The department paid for our trip. And at least one of us is having a good time."
"And at least one of us, Earl, isn't having such a good time. The jury is still out on Inez and Miss Friendly."
"And now that we're retired, we don't care as much what the jury thinks. At least not to the point that we will make any contribution to its outcome."
"Do you really feel that way?"
"Sure. I've worked hard for a lot of years. Now I'm ready to enjoy retirement."
"Me, too, unless murder is going to follow us wherever we go."
"Just as long as it follows us or precedes us, I can live with that. I just don't want it right where we are."
"But that's where I think it is right now."
Lou spun around.
"I don't see it anywhere."
"And I bet Earl didn't see it coming, either."
"He might have. Didn't he look a bit jumpy to you?"
"I just figured that his underwear was too tight. Or maybe it had something to do with caffeine."
"Then maybe he was just a random killing, and there's nothing you do can solve it."
Lou and I dispensed of any talk and started walking again when we began to recognize a lot of the faces coming toward us. As far as we could tell none of the hands that accompanied those faces held a weapon or tried to throw anyone into the Little Pigeon River, or whatever tributary was below us.
+++
Lou put on his brave face and said he was man enough to tackle the Mysterious Mansion. It looked creepy on the outside, and the hearse parked nearby only added to that creepiness. Once we entered we began our jaunt around the house by riding a shaky, rusty elevator to an upper floor. Both of us lived through that experience with no problem. No one else was on the elevator with us except the grim reaper. He didn't look happy. Maybe he had just been told that he wasn't getting a cost of living raise this year.
In my experience as a police officer I don't remember any time when someone jumped out at me. Well, other than my next-door neighbor. I think it had something to do with the fact I carried a gun. But I didn't have a gun with me in Gatlinburg. And because I wasn't carrying, I was able to record my personal best in the high jump when some guy jumped out of the wall at me. I think Lou was more scared than he let on. I noticed that the place had several emergency exits. I figured that was for anyone who wanted to live until nightfall. I about lost it again when something came at me from somewhere near the ceiling. On another occasion a guy wearing a hockey mask and carrying a chainsaw, which he started in my presence, handed me a piece of paper. I took it and stuck it in my pocket. I thought maybe the note might tell me that I would live to fight another day. Or I won free admission to the gift shop. The most puzzling part of that experience was when we found ourselves in a room that didn't appear to have an exit, an emergency one or otherwise. Maybe we were to stay in that room until the house was razed, or they held an open house. Eventually we learned about secret passageways, and eventually we stepped back out into the land of sunshine. Other than losing two or three of my nine lives inside the house, it was a fun experience that I would recommend to friends and enemies alike.
35
When Lou and I emerged back into the outside world and I could see again, I turned to my traveling companion, anxious to learn about his experience, and if he would tell the truth when I asked him if he was scared.
"What does yours say?"
He looked me dumbfounded, which was normal for him and why I solved most of our cases back in the day.
"What does my what say? Did you have an out of body experience in there?"
"No, I think all of my experiences in there were in body. And I meant what does you note say?"
"What note?"
"Did you see a guy wearing a hockey mask and carrying a chainsaw?"
"You mean the one that almost put you on a rapid weight loss program?"
"One and the same. What did the note he handed you say?"
"Cy, did you stare too long at the revolving wheel?"
"What revolving wheel?"
"The one that took you into a world where scary guys pass you notes."
"You mean he didn't hand you anything?"
"No. He didn't hand me anything."
I reached into my pocket, eager to see if I was the one millionth visitor and if I won a replica of the mansion or some
other prize. I unfolded the paper, and looked at it.
"Is it blank?"
"I wish it were."
"Does it say put all your money in a paper bag and hand to me?"
"Do I look like a bank teller to you?"
"So, what does it say? Don't be so nosy?"
"In a manner of speaking. It's just two words. 'Back off.' Did you arrange for the guy to hand me this note?"
"Not guilty, Your Honor."
I could think of only one thing someone would caution me to back off from. Trying to figure out who the murderer was. I took off to the entrance and asked to speak to the person in charge. A couple of minutes later someone approached me and offered to help.
"Yes. I was wondering the name of the gentleman who wears the hockey mask and carries the chainsaw."
The man looked at me like he wasn't sure if I was serious or not.
"You and your friend have a disagreement as to which character is who? The one wearing the hockey mask is Jason. The one who carries the chainsaw is Leatherface."
"You mean that usually one wears the mask and one carries the chainsaw?"
"I have a feeling you haven't seen the movies."
"What movies?"
He shook his head, wishing it had been his day off.
"Sir, I don't understand where you're coming from."
I refrained from telling him Hilldale, Kentucky.
"I want the name of the actor inside, who handed me this note. The guy who was wearing a hockey mask and carrying a chainsaw."
"Sir, none of our actors wear a hockey mask or carry a chainsaw. The chainsaw, it if were real, would be too dangerous. Someone would be likely to get hurt, and the insurance would be prohibitive."
"I don't care about your insurance rates, but I was the guy who could have been hurt. Not only was some guy carrying a chainsaw, but it was running. And he was standing as close to me as you are. Closer even. Close enough to hand me a note. This note."
"Excuse me a minute. Let me check on this for you."
He turned away without reading the note and left to call on a higher authority. I was hoping it wasn't the guy with the chainsaw. He returned a couple of minutes later.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but I did find a chainsaw and a hockey mask inside. They aren't part of our props, and none of our employees admit to having either of them. Were you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. I guess it was one of our group playing a trick on me."
"Well, if we catch someone doing something like that on our premises, we will prosecute. Would you like for me to notify the police?"
"No, I'm a retired homicide detective. I'll take care of it."
The manager walked away. I think the only reason he believed my outrageous story was that I didn't ask for my money back, and he did find a hockey mask and a chainsaw.
I turned to face Lou. He had this incredible look on his face.
"It appears like someone has threatened you."
"And no one in our group has an alibi."
"Well, one does for sure. I'm not sure about the other two who are missing."
I took a couple of minutes to compose myself. I wish it had been light enough inside that I could have seen the person's hair. I couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman. So it could have been Inez or Miss Friendly. I certainly didn't expect to be threatened on my first vacation. I wondered if the murderer had found out that I was a retired homicide detective, or if someone had merely learned that I was a little more inquisitive than the rest of the passengers. I planned to watch my back wherever else I went.
36
I guess it was fitting that the next place we were headed was the antithesis of the place we had just left. I kept checking over my shoulder as we walked to Christ in the Smokies, our next attraction. It took us a little longer to get there, but I wanted to see who might be hot on our trail. Of course the time we spent talking to the manager was sufficient to allow whoever accosted me to get away. Whoever it was could be well ahead, or well behind. Our travels took us from one end of River Road to the other. Well, I guess it was a distance that wasn't too far if you're on vacation, but a great distance if you were at home and just starting your exercise program.
While I didn't appreciate it at the time I began, I was glad that I didn't wait to start my exercise program in Gatlinburg. If I had the trolley would have been my new best friend.
Christ in the Smokies was a moving experience. As we moved from one scene to another and traveled through the Bible, and through the life of Christ, I wondered what the others in our group were feeling. I must admit that it was the first time I'd thought of Jesus that day, after I'd closed my Bible and said my prayer during my morning devotional time. I didn't even think of Him when I thought I might be on my way to join him.
I wondered if someone who is a part of our group moving through the life of Christ with me had ended the life of at least one other person in the last week. If so, I wondered if going through the wax museum made any difference in the condition of that person's heart. As you can imagine, it was much quieter inside that building than any other place we had been since we had left home.
+++
The touring company planned our schedule quite nicely. It was 4:48 as I stepped back outside and into the bright sunlight. Once again it took a moment for my eyes to readjust to the bright light. After I could see again without shielding my eyes, I looked over at Lou. I could see that he too had been touched by what he had seen.
I knew that all of our group would soon be together again, so after giving a quick glance to see if anyone looked any different after leaving, Lou and I walked ahead. While I was in much better shape than I had been in many years, I was ready for a nice comfortable seat in a highly recommended restaurant. So far all the restaurants that were part of our itinerary had been somewhere I would return to when I come back to Gatlinburg. Because so many had talked about The Peddler, I expected much from a dining experience there.
A bus that looked like ours drove by as Lou and I neared the restaurant. I assumed that Harlan was behind the wheel. Or whoever had murdered him. The bus pulled into The Peddler parking lot, and a couple of minutes later Lou and I caught up with it. The door didn't open. We weren't motioned inside. And there was no flash of headlights. So I figured that no news meant good news. Either that or whoever had murdered Harlan was still inside, embalming the body, getting him ready for burial.
Lou and I walked on into the mostly empty restaurant instead of waiting for the others. And were glad we did. We were given a choice of a table by the window, overlooking the Little Pigeon River and any bodies that might be floating by. It was a nice view and we took advantage of the opportunity. There were not enough window seats that everyone in our party would receive one. It didn't take me long to realize that that place had a different kind of ambiance than the Blue Moon Diner back home. I wondered if it was a place that had more than two forks per person.
The place started to fill up, mostly with people from our group, some of whom looked like they didn't belong there. When Jack Ripatoe entered I wondered if it was the first time someone had come there sporting a multitude of tattoos. I didn't think so. Times had changed.
Lou and I refrained from talking about anything we planned to keep to ourselves. There would be plenty of time later to do that. I looked around to see if anyone I recognized seemed any guiltier than another. Actually, some of them did, but that didn't mean that one of them had handed me the note. If Gatlinburg was like most every other place I knew about, I assumed that the restaurant would be crowded later in the evening.
I looked at the view, looked over at the salad bar, and after our server greeted us and took our drink order, I picked up the menu. I was glad that dinner at The Peddler was part of the paid part of our trip. I wondered how much the guys in the department had to pay to send the two of us away for a week. Whatever it was, I was grateful, murder or no murder. And I knew Lou was, too.
As I looked over the menu
I received a text. It was from George. He wasn't on my list of possibilities of someone who might have handed me the note. But then he could have been. The guy didn't slice me.
Did you order baked brie for an appetizer? I'm still working on your list. Most of them were recently paroled from Leavenworth.
I wondered how George knew where we were, and then I remembered that he had seen our itinerary. And he had told us that Big Brother would be watching. I looked around to see if anyone looked like an informant for George. No one looked away as I looked at them. No one smiled, either. I told Lou the text was from George, and he was trying to be funny as usual.
The two of us discussed dinner while we waited on our server to return for our order. We opted to go with something a little different than we could get at home. Which meant we could order anything on the menu. I started with an appetizer, but not the one George recommended. Instead I chose smoked trout spread, which came with French bread. Lou declined an appetizer, and when our server left he told me he would eat off my plate. I reminded him of the number of knives and forks I had at my disposal. He informed me that he had a chainsaw under the table.
Lou ordered grilled rainbow trout. I countered with a 7 oz. filet mignon. We would split the two entrees, so it was surf and turf for both of us. In the old days I would have gone with a larger cut of steak. We both complimented our entree with a skewer of grilled vegetables, and of course there was the salad bar. Eating salad was new to us too, but we were adjusting. Like at some of the other restaurants we had visited, this too was more than we had been eating recently, but we rationalized by saying we were on vacation. Well, there would be no vacation when we got home. But that was later. It was still vacation, so we ordered a couple of desserts. Lou chose blackberry cobbler with ice cream. I selected Kahlua crème brulee. We took our time eating and made the bus wait on us. Actually, no one was in a hurry to leave the restaurant. I thought about getting a to-go order, just in case Harlan was still our bus driver. Or to get on the good side of our new bus driver. But I figured that it wouldn't be good to eat and drive in Gatlinburg traffic. Even if our bus was bigger than most other modes of transportation. Still, I envisioned Harlan pouring the dressing on his salad as he steered the bus with his knees.
Murder in Gatlinburg Page 14