Murder in Gatlinburg

by Steve Demaree

  I was getting nowhere rather slowly, so I moved from the dearly departed to the ones who were scheduled to depart on Friday. Depart Gatlinburg that is. I felt it was okay to have suspects as long as I didn't tell anyone I had suspects, and I didn't go ringing the doorbells of all of our suspects. Yes, doors at Westgate have doorbells.

  I could picture myself ringing a suspect's doorbell, and when he or she opened the door, asking, "Where were you on Friday?" Provided they recognized me, and I figured most of our group could pick me out of a lineup by now, they might answer, "First I was on a bus with you. Then we stopped and ate at Applewood Farmhouse, then visited Titanic aground in a parking lot, then ate again at Mel's Diner, then checked into this place, then went and ate with my fingers at Dixie Stampede. After that, I returned here on the same bus you were on, came back to my room, and went to bed, by myself. No witnesses. Why do you ask?"

  No, that wasn't going to work. A move like that would get me in handcuffs for sure. Besides that, Westgate is a big place, and I had no idea how many days it would take for me to find each of my suspect's rooms.

  Suspects. Who were they? Well, the people George mentioned immediately came to mind. I wasn't sure who was at the top of my list. Was it Jack Ripatoe or Max Huffington? Both could be violent. And Angel was no angel. I was sure of that. And was Sylvia as innocent as she appeared to be? Just because she knew Inez and claimed to be her friend didn't mean that she wasn't involved. And what did I know about Inez? She was missing. Missing people don't always have to be victims. Sometimes they can be suspects, even if she did have a husband who was less than thrilled with her. So that elevated my number of suspects to five. Should I also include the couple who looked like they posed for the American Gothic painting? Should the fact that they never smiled be enough to put them on my suspect list? Their grim looks might mean something entirely different. Maybe they were Baptists. Not like Baptists in Hilldale. I was thinking of the Primitive Hard-Shelled Snake Handling kind that have been taught that it's a sin to smile. Maybe those people aren't Baptists after all. They could be part of a cult who were afraid they would have to go away and drink Kool-Aid. Of course, maybe the reason they didn't smile was something entirely different than being a bad person, or that their bible had extra parts or some parts removed. Maybe it was as simple as their underwear was too tight, they had heard that they got left out of the family will, their dog had died and they had gone away to grieve, or they have yellow teeth.

  Or could it be that the murderer was someone else entirely, someone I didn't know about or someone I hadn't considered. After all, anyone in our group could be the murderer except the two kids. I didn't think they were strong enough to break an old lady's neck, drag her across the floor, lift her up, and throw her over the balcony. But I could talk to them and find out if the woman with them is really their mother. But then I didn't think I would be allowed to talk to them, either. All I knew was that it was hard being retired and have someone practically throw a couple of bodies in your face.

  I got an idea. When in doubt at home, I went to the computer. My new laptop was setting on the counter. I hopped up on one of the stools and fired it up. First I went to Facebook. My mouth fell open to Mammoth Cave proportions when I saw that Jack Ripatoe had a Facebook page. He liked Kiss, the Grateful Dead, and Nightmare on Elm Street movies. Sounded like my Jack. He had eight Facebook friends. A couple of them were due to be up in front of the parole board again soon. Well, maybe not. But they looked like they could be. None of his friends were part of our party except Angel. One of her Likes on Facebook told me where I could go if I decided to try body piercings.

  I forgot about the suspects and switched over to the victims. Well, one of them. I didn't remember Earl's last name, even though I saw it printed on a cardboard slid into a slot on the bus. I wasn't surprised to find out that Agnes Trueblood didn't have a Facebook page. I checked out a few other names on Facebook and Googled a few people, but I was no closer to solving the murders that I wasn't allowed to solve.

  Time has a way of rushing by if you waste it. I had no idea it was bedtime until I glanced at my watch. But it was bedtime. At least it was bedtime for a guy my age who had to get up before I wanted to the next day in order to go someplace where my mouth watered each time I thought about it. Even though I had turned over a new leaf.

  I was about to give up on my crime solving when I had some help doing so. My phone vibrated, so I checked to read my incoming text.

  Give it up! Now!

  At least I knew that Lou hadn't gone to bed either, and that he had come to know me quite well over our fifty or so years together. Sometimes it's comforting to know that your friends know you well. But sometimes, it isn't.

  40

  I awoke Thursday morning and checked on the time. It wasn't quite 7:00. Harlan would be there to pick us up at 9:00. Harlan. I hadn't thought to include him on my suspect list until the day before, but then only briefly. But he seemed like such a nice guy. And he was the one who identified the body. That did it! Harlan was my guy. Harlan, who took us into his confidence. I was getting goofy. I needed to think about something else or I would be getting another text from Lou.

  I looked up at the open blinds. From where my suite was situated it was okay to leave the blinds open, unless I was afraid the birds would talk. I knew they would only talk to Alfred Hitchcock and Robert Stroud, and both of them were dead.

  It looked like we were going to have another sunny day. I lay back on my comfortable king-size bed and enjoyed it a few more minutes. I continued to look out the window and up into the trees. I wondered how much another week at this place would cost me. Whatever it was, it would be worth it. Well, within reason. There was so much that we hadn't done in this land of a thousand attractions. Well, a few of those things were about to be crossed off our list later that day. And there were a few more than I couldn't picture myself doing.

  And Westgate was classy enough that I wouldn't mind staying there under house arrest. Well, provided someone would bring me meals. I still had to eat, even though I don't eat as much anymore. I know when I go home I'll miss the king-size bed. I'll miss going out on the balcony, and the leather couch and chair. I will even miss the kitchen with no food in the refrigerator, a kitchen that I haven't used.

  By the time I looked at my watch again it was 7:23. It was time to get up. I had a decision to make. Should I shower first or do my Bible study? I opted for showering first, because I'll be more awake and alert after I step from the shower. And what a shower it is. The tub is huge. And it even has a second sprayer which feels like a water massage. Now that I am spoiled, I wonder if I can I get a similar set-up for my shower back home.

  One at a time, I checked everything off my early morning to do list and then called Lou.

  "Lou, you need to come and get me. The thought police came for me in the middle of the night. They heard me trying to solve the murders while I slept. They told me that I only have one phone call and you are it. "

  Lou laughed.

  "Give it up. You know you'll never be able to solve a murder without my help. And I don't have any messages for you today. And if I did, I wouldn't tell you what they are."

  "Just for that, I'll stab you if you try to eat off my plate at the Pancake Pantry."

  "You're the one who heads for my plate first. Okay, other plates are off limits. If either of us wants to try something, he has to order it."

  "Too bad we didn't find this place back when we were both eating everything we wanted."

  Lou didn't say anything, but deep down I knew he agreed with me.

  +++

  We had a busy day ahead of us, so Lou and I walked downhill to the shuttle stop and rode in the van down to the lobby. As I rode, I looked over to my right. Maybe Miss Bikini had opted for coffee instead. At least she wasn't in the pool. Actually, no one was in the pool. Well, I couldn't see the bottom. There could have been someone thrown to the bottom, with a huge rock tied to his leg, and maybe a waterproo
f note.

  When the trolley stopped I got out and walked into the store off to the side of the lobby and purchased a pair of sunglasses. That way I could watch all my suspects and Lou wouldn't be able to tell where I was looking. I forgot that Lou had been hanging around me long enough that he was pretty smart. My charade didn't work. But at least I looked more like a cop with them on. I thought it a bit ironic that I looked more like a cop after I no longer was one.

  +++

  We took advantage of the pleasant morning and walked outside to wait on the bus. I even engaged in conversation with some of the people I trusted the most. The little boy and girl were in the midst of telling me what all they had done in vacationland when someone shouted that the bus was coming. It was good that she shouted. Otherwise I doubt if anyone would have noticed the behemoth pull up and stop ten feet away. Harlan hadn't been arrested yet and stopped the bus in front of our growing group at 8:48. Not everyone had made it down yet, but we were only missing two or three people, who we expected were still among the living. Inez was one of the missing. Was she dead, a fugitive from justice, or a scared woman on the run? Harlan didn't try to communicate a message to me as I boarded. I think he knew I was on to him. You have to be leery of anyone who doesn't eat with the rest of the group. I thought of him as the bus moved through the wooded area only to come out in the hamlet of Gatlinburg.

  As Harlan drove us to our destination he informed us about the rest of our day.

  "Listen up, everyone. I won't see you again until 5:30 this evening. In the meantime you are to eat breakfast at the Pancake Pantry, unless you choose to pay for breakfast somewhere else. If you eat at the Pancake Pantry, breakfast is included in the cost of your trip. After that , you have time to go shopping. We recommend The Village shops, right next door to the Pancake Pantry. Nothing you buy at any of the shops is included in the cost of your trip. Remember, you are responsible for keeping track and lugging around whatever you buy. After you have finished shopping, there will be four vans parked between the aquarium and the Mexican restaurant that will transport you until I pick you up this evening. The main reason for that is that this bus would have trouble navigating the Roaring Fork Motor Nature Trail, which will be your last stop this afternoon. As soon as one van is full it will move out to take you to the Craft Loop, where you will find over one hundred shops, most of which sell items made by the person who owns the shop. I believe you will be impressed with the quality of the workmanship. The last van will leave the downtown area at noon, so make sure you leave The Village in time to board that van. While you are on the Craft Loop you will be stopping for lunch at a British pub. Lunch too is included in the cost your trip. Any questions?"

  The lack of hands or voices told me that everyone understood or didn't care.

  A few minutes later Harlan stopped traffic and dropped us off in front of the Pancake Pantry. We left the bus shortly after 9:00, so that gave us almost three hours to stand in line, eat, and shop. Since no man has ever taken three hours to shop, I could see our excursion was timed to accommodate the women. I figured I would take longer to shop that day than I normally do, and I might not make it to the first van. But I figured the first van would be full of men, and some of them might be carrying. A weapon, I mean. Not any souvenirs or gifts. I wasn't carrying, so I hoped to spend my day with a mixed crowd.

  41

  The line to get inside the Pancake Pantry moved forward enough that I was not only inside, but seated at a table with a menu in my hands, and orange juice and water with lemon on the table within a few minutes. In a way, I was sad. There were so many items on the menu that I hadn't tried, and the new Cy wouldn't try all of them that morning. The old Cy wouldn't either, but he would have tried at least three of them. And I didn't see myself coming back to Gatlinburg for at least a couple of weeks. Probably longer. Unless I went home and dreamed of the Pancake Pantry every night. I reflected on what I had already eaten there; pecan pancakes, and a veggie omelet. I decided to make my last trip to the Pancake Pantry my best one and opted for the most expensive item on the menu, Wildberry Crepes, with five kinds of berries, stuffed with a mixture of ricotta and cream cheese, and topped with powdered sugar and real whipped cream. And with plenty of syrup to pour on top. And I added an order of bacon. So Lou wouldn't be tempted to eat off my plate, he ordered the same. When our orders came and we each took a bite, Lou and I almost cancelled our bus trip home.

  But before I took a bite, I sent a picture of what we were eating to George, and followed that up with a text.

  Any chance the guys in the department might spring for another week or two?

  A few minutes later I received a reply.

  The guys would do anything to get rid of you, but Heather is missing you so much. And isn't there some woman named Jennifer something or other waiting for you?

  I laughed and finished my food. I refrained from picking up my plate and licking it, but I was tempted.

  I looked at my watch. It was 10:10. We were to go to the shops in The Village next. They were right next to the Pancake Pantry and Lou and I decided to allow an hour for that place and ten minutes to walk back to the bus. So, we could sit a little longer at our table and let our food settle.

  I looked around for a man who might limp, and two guys in sunglasses, who may or may not be wearing suits. It's harder to tell if someone limps if he is seated, so I checked my phone and looked at his picture. I scanned the restaurant and no one looked like my newfound friend. Maybe he had already been arrested. There was no one wearing sunglasses either, although a few people had sunglasses on the top of their head. We were far enough into our vacation that I decided not to add anyone to my suspect list unless I saw them in the process of doing bodily harm to someone. When this hadn't happened within ten minutes, I motioned to Lou and we got up and walked out. I thought about begging again for delivery service and wondered if it would help if I shed a few tears.

  +++

  I had spent a few days earlier in the week checking out The Village shops online. I also checked out the other shops we would hit, and tried to come up with gifts for those left behind. The trip was set up so that each of us could shop for gifts, or things for ourselves, on our last two days in the area. Thursday in Gatlinburg and Friday in Pigeon Forge. The Village was the first of two shopping areas we would hit that day.

  The entire operation was set up to look like a small park. There were benches to sit on, and brick walkways to get from shop to shop. Each of the shops had its own entrance and exit, so Lou and I were in and out of doors several times. Each time we exited a store I looked around to see if I could see anyone in our group. Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. But I didn't see anyone strangling the person next to him or her, or anyone bleeding profusely. If so I assume I was supposed to dial 9-1-1 and then run the other way.

  Each of the shops in The Village specialized in a particular item or group of items. The Village shops had everything, from olive oil, to socks, to Thomas Kinkade prints. There was a slight price difference between a pair of socks and one of Kinkade's prints. I remembered that I left the U-Haul at home, so the Kinkade prints might have to wait until next time. Not only are socks smaller than prints, but they are more pliable, too. Prints don't fold as well, but you never lose one in the washer.

  Lou and I looked through all the shops. We picked up a bag full of this and that at The Donut Friar, selected a few cheeses at The Cheese Cupboard to munch on later, and chose some non-edible items to take to our friends back home. Each person on our list would receive a pair of colorful toe socks from The Sock Shop, and a T-shirt from The Day Hiker that read, "I walked the entire width of the Appalachian Trail." I wondered if everyone would understand the shirt right away. It might take a while for some people I know. I figured that I might buy another gift for a certain someone when we arrived at the shops located on the Craft Loop. I dared Lou to put on his toe socks, but he refused to do so until he was wearing shorts and sandals. In all my years I don't remember ev
er seeing Lou in either a pair of shorts or sandals. I guess God really blessed me in that way. Lou too, because I'd never worn them either. Of course with Lou and me retiring and both of us turning over a new leaf, who knows what we might do next. Imagine the two of us shopping for something other than food or books. I had so much fun doing something we never do that I almost forgot about my list of suspects that I couldn't do anything about. When my mind wandered to Jack Ripatoe and Max Huffington in colorful toe socks, I hit myself on the side of my head to rid myself of that thought. I shouldn't have done that.

  "What's wrong with you? I mean other than the obvious."

  "You mean like missing my honey."

  When Lou refrained from answering, I picked up again.

  "I had water on the brain. I was trying to get it to flow away."

  "Cy, any water you may have is left over from your weekly shower. Any brain you might have you left at home."

  I made a mental note to find Lou a seat in the van next to Jack Ripatoe. I hoped it would be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.