Sequestered with the Murderers

by Dr. Sandra Tanner

  “Vett, what is it? Are you sick?” Sty asked.

  When I didn’t answer, Sty stood and quickly walked to my side, “Vett, are you okay? Do you want me to go get help?”

  I looked at her and shook my head. A few seconds later, I was able to speak. “I just had a revelation. I was directed to pay close attention to what you said. That’s all. I am all right now. When this happens to me, I am unable to speak for a few seconds. I think God is telling me to listen and not speak.”

  Sty looked at me with fright written all over her face.

  “I’m okay. Go ahead and sit down.”

  “What did I say that caused this earthshattering reaction?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad. You said, ‘The murderer must have known Duffy’s route.’ This is a clue, a piece of the puzzle for me.”

  “Do you get all your clues like this?”

  “No. Sometimes, I get the foreboding sensation like I just had. It sometimes puts me in bereft of speech. At the same time, my stomach feels as if it will sink into the furthest depth of my body. But I am no longer afraid of it. At other times, my inner voice speaks to me, providing information, and sometimes people tell me things that are clues. I don’t know why my gift works this way. I don’t question it anymore.”

  Five minutes later, I walked out of the hotel, pulling my overnight bag behind me. I was glad to be on my way. I didn’t enjoy my “gift” showing itself to strangers because I didn’t like having to explain it. The skeptical looks were a killjoy. But I had no control over when it appeared. It just appeared when it wanted to and how it wanted to.

  CHAPTER 9

  I got into the car and drove to the Hardee’s I had passed on my way to the hotel Sunday afternoon. I ordered a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit and a cup of coffee. After gobbling down my breakfast, I used my rearview mirror to clean my face and reapply my lipstick. The directions to Nancy’s house were simple and straightforward. I arrived there at 8:58 am and parked across the street directly in front of the house.

  I sat and scanned the house. It was not what I expected. The shabbiness of the small peeling white paint rancher surprised me. Duffy’s last pay raise notice put his salary at $29,500. Was that not enough to help with the upkeep of the outside of the house. The house sat about thirty feet from the street. No trees, or flowers, or shrubbery were in the yard. There was a cracked sidewalk that led from the curb to the house.

  The impending doom feeling I had last night was back. I sensed that my meeting with Nancy was not going to go well. Perhaps, it was just the heads up Lemmonee gave me that made me feel this way. I expected Nancy to be distraught, not uncivil. On the other hand, losing a loved one is an emotional time, and Nancy’s emotions may be all over the place. I figured the best way to proceed with her is to offer my condolences, be sympathetic, and make sure this is not an inopportune time to speak to her.

  The minute I rang the doorbell, I heard a dog barking. The door opened immediately after that, which told me she had been waiting for me.

  “Mrs. Nancy Radley?”

  “Yes, I’m Mrs. Radley.”

  “I’m Vett Brayborn. You’ve agreed to speak to me this morning.”

  “Yes, come on in.”

  “Mrs. Radley, it’s nice to meet you. I am so sorry for your loss,” I said as I walked into a beautiful decorated earth tone living room, then outstretched my right hand. Her grip was as limp as a noodle and just long enough to expose a weak inner-being. I equate this type of handshake to people who are insincere and lack confidence. I looked around the rooms I could see—the dining room, the hallway, and the living room—the rooms’ beauty belied the shabby outside.

  “Thank you. You can have a seat on the sofa. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve just had a cup of coffee with breakfast.”

  “If you change your mind, let me know. I told Jackson it was okay to hire you, but it still doesn’t quite make sense to me why he wants to find out before the police. The police will find out who murdered my husband,” Nancy explained as she sat on the camel color loveseat across from me, then crossed her legs.

  “Mrs. Radley, I thank you for agreeing to meet with me, but if this is not a good time, I understand. Perhaps, you should speak to Jackson again before talking with me. I’d be agreeable to setting up another appointment with you at a later date.”

  “Oh no, that isn’t necessary. You are here now. I don’t know Jackson that well. I guess he is looking out for his employee and the company, like he said. Duffy liked him. So I guess it can’t hurt having someone besides the police looking into who murdered Duffy. I don’t want Jackson thinking he can pull the wool over my eyes, though.”

  With that last statement, I saw how frightened she was. She wrapped her arms around herself, her breathing accelerated, and sweat beads glistened on her forehead and upper lip.

  The red jeans and white blouse she wore had been starched and pressed. The four-inch red spiked heels she had on were brand new. The bottom of the shoe that I could see still had that shiny new look—no scuff marks. Her bleached blond curly hair was piled on top of her head, with a few curly strands hanging to her shoulders. Her smooth oval face contained dark brown eyes, and they were lined with jet black eyeliner. Her long eyelashes were fake, and her eyebrows were arched too high for my liking. The pink lipstick on her small mouth had been poorly applied. She was my height, five feet six inches tall, and weighed about 190 pounds. She had tried to make herself look attractive on the outside. But it wasn’t her outside that concerned me. It was her inside that was beginning to worry me.

  “Pull the wool over your eyes? I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You know, try to deceive me somehow, and I do not get what is rightfully mine.”

  “I don’t see why he would do that or any way he could do that.”

  “Companies always find a way to screw you over, especially where insurance money is concerned. How long have you been an investigator?”

  Nancy didn’t seem to be warming up to me. I could tell by the way she was side glancing at my attire—unstarched jeans and a green blouse. She thought I was not dressed professionally. My clothes were little a wrinkled. I guess I should have taken the time to iron them this morning. I chose to overlook her glances. What I couldn’t do was ignore her mention of insurance money. I didn’t want to discuss insurance money with her, but I made a big mental note to mention her concern to Jackson.

  “Actually, I’ve had the gift to investigate all my life. In my early twenties, I fully understood what I could do with things shown to me. I call them revelations.”

  “Yeah, I looked you up,” Nancy said, her face a blank stare. She didn’t elaborate on what she read about me or thought about me.

  “Mrs. Radley, may I call you Nancy?” I said, reaching into my bag, pulling out my black and white notebook. I turned to one of last night’s note pages and held my pen in my hand.

  “That’s fine.”

  “Is it okay for me to take notes as we talk?”

  “Sure, not a problem.”

  “Are you aware that I was on Duffy’s tour trip to Tennessee?”

  “Yeah, Jackson explained how all of you were sequestered on the bus Friday night.”

  “It was quite an ordeal,” I said. I let my eyes travel down the left page of my notebook. I wanted Nancy to think I had more information on her and Duffy than I had. “Do you know of any reason why someone would do this horrible thing to Duffy?” I then turned my full attention on her.

  She didn’t hesitate to jump right in with an answer. “The police and Jackson asked me that same question. I don’t know who would do this. I’ve only know Duffy for three years. We dated a year, and we’ve been married for two. Duffy is a good man, uh, I mean, was a good man. He loved me very much, and I loved him very much. He was a funny guy, always making me laugh and generous
to a fault. He helped anyone who asked for it. We had a good life together.”

  “When was the last time you heard from Duffy?”

  “He called me several times while in Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. The last time was just before leaving the hotel headed back home. Duffy loved to talk about the people he met on his trips and the food he ate. He loved to eat.”

  “Did he talk about anyone in particular? Anyone on the bus?”

  “No, not on this trip. He was excited about meeting some comedians and magicians. He talked a lot about them. Seems like on this trip he talked more about the big breakfasts the hotel served.”

  “They were delicious and worth talking about.”

  “Well, he certainly was more occupied with the food on this trip than people.”

  “Nancy, what about his family? Did he have family in town?”

  “His parents and grandparents are dead. He has no siblings, but he has some cousins and distant cousins in Envyton County. They weren’t close. They never came to visit Duffy, and Duffy never visited them, at least in the time I’ve known him. That’s one of the reasons we hit it off. I have no siblings or close relatives either. Uh, that’s all I know about his family. Oh, he has an ex-wife in Envyton, too. I guess you know all about her.”

  “You mean the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders?”

  “Yeah. Duffy had nothing to do with those murders. He told me he didn’t.”

  “I understand he was cleared of Ms. Lacecap’s murder, but the murderer of her niece has not been found.”

  “Well, Duffy had nothing to do with it,” Nancy stated quite aggressively.

  I wrote down some notes. To ward off her aggressiveness, I decided not to ask any more Lacecap Hydrangea Murder questions. Instead, I asked about Duffy’s hobbies, friends, work, church, education, criminal record, credit history, and drug and alcohol abuse. The only question she took real offense to was the drug and alcohol question.

  She answered with, “Duffy never took drugs. Sure he drank some, but it never affected his job. And if Jackson is saying he drank too much, it’s a lie.”

  “I’ve not heard Jackson say anything about Duffy and drinking.”

  “Well, I want you to know, in case he did,” Nancy spit out, then glance surreptitiously to the clock on the wall to the left of me.

  “I’m sorry, am I taking up too much of your time?” I looked at her, my body still as a statue. My eyes bore into her brown eyes without blinking. She shifted in her chair, then began blinking her eyes and plucking her fingernails.

  “No, no, my girlfriend is picking me up at 10:15 to go with me to buy a black dress. Duffy’s viewing is Thursday night from 6:00- 8:00 pm, and the funeral is at noon on Friday at Mineral Funeral Home,” Nancy explained.

  I stared at her, then said, “Really? Well, I understand. I won’t hold you any longer, just a few more questions.” I didn’t mean for my statement to sound so skeptical, but she had just lied to me.

  “Do you or Duffy have children?”

  “No, we don’t. We were planning on having a baby, but we never got around to it. Duffy was the best thing that happened to me. I miss him so much already.”

  “I know, I know, what a terrible thing to happen. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, I’ll be okay.”

  “This room is beautiful. Are you an interior decorator?”

  “Oh, no. I’m not a decorator. I am a hairdresser. I work for Laverne’s Hair Salon. I’ve worked there for the last four years,” Nancy said while admiring the room.

  “Well, I won’t keep you much longer. Just two more questions. Was Duffy sick or anything like that? His autopsy report mentioned he had the sickle cell trait.”

  “Yeah, he had it, but that didn’t make him sick. He was healthy.” I could tell she was not going to comment on the matter any further.

  “My last question is this, would you tell me where you were when Duffy was murdered?” I watched her sort out what I’d asked and watched her prepare a reply, the whole time that facade of amiability she was trying to pass off crumbled. I had picked up on the crux of who she was the moment I met her. She was not an amiable unassuming woman.

  “Ms. Brayborn, do you have an issue with me?”

  “No, not at all. I just want to make sure I have all the facts.”

  “You’re just like the rest of them—Jackson and the police asking all their insinuating questions. I don’t understand why I have to put up with this intrusive bullshit. I was home alone when Duffy was murdered. He telephoned me earlier that day before you all left the hotel, and that’s the last I heard from him. I didn’t murder him, and I don’t know who did. Now get the hell out of my house.”

  “Nancy, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Well, you did. Now get out.” I put my notebook into my bag, then quickly walked to the door

  “Again, I am so sorry for your loss,” I said as I walked out the door.

  She slammed the door behind me.

  I’ve been an investigator long enough to know when someone is hiding something. And Nancy’s behavior was a prime example of someone doing just that. It was now 9:57 am. I got in my Jeep and drove away from the house. If she was watching me from her window, I wanted her to see me drive away. I circled the block, then returned, parking discreetly behind another car on the same side of the street as her house. I got my phone out of my bag and clicked on the camera. I wanted to see the person who was her 10:15 appointment. I kept the car running. I didn’t have to wait long. At 10:10 am, a white Toyota Camry parked directly in front of Nancy’s house. A slender White man, approximately six feet tall, got out and walked to Nancy’s door. I began snapping pictures quickly. I then drove slowly past Nancy’s house. Nancy and this man were standing in the doorway embraced in what appeared to be a passionate kiss. I snapped a picture but was unsure I photographed what I had intended to. One of the adages my mother loved repeating came to mind: the condition of one’s heart will reveal itself in one’s action. Nancy had proved this to be true.

  After witnessing the passionate show of affection, I drove around the block again. I drove by Nancy’s house and slowed down just enough to photograph the license plate number on the white Toyota. I then drove toward the highway to Envyton County. As I did so, Duffy’s dog popped into my mind. After ringing the doorbell, I had heard a dog barking but saw no evidence that there was one while I was in the house. Was Nancy keeping him locked up somewhere? I wondered.

  CHAPTER 10

  I arrived in Envyton County just before noon. Since neither Marjorie nor Rebbie has returned my phone call, I had a couple of hours to kill before my 2:00 pm appointment with Joe and Holt Junior. I followed Main Street on into the middle of town. I stopped at Den & Cher’s Burger Joint and ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and iced tea. I sat at a window table at the back of the restaurant to eat and to watch the other customers come and go. The food was quite good. After eating, I decided to ride by Marjorie’s house on the off chance she was home. I took the passenger list from my bag and held onto it.

  After putting my trash in the trash receptacle, I walked up to the counter and asked the cashier if she knew where Puddle Flank Road was. She didn’t, so I asked to speak to her supervisor. The supervisor was very helpful. She knew where it was and gave me directions.

  After giving me directions, she said, “If you wait a minute, I think I have an Envyton County map in the back. Where you are going is not the best part of town. I don’t think it is a good idea to be wandering in that part of town not knowing where you are going.”

  “Thank you. A map would be nice. I’ll be careful.”

  After she showed me on the map where I needed to go, I thanked her earnestly. With the map and the supervisor’s written direction, I walked out of the restaurant thinking it’s going to be a good day. I drove next door to the Exxon station, filled up on gas, and then h
eaded east on Main Street.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was turning onto Puddle Flank Road. I knew exactly what the supervisor meant when I had turned off East Main Street and headed north past a couple of streets. The area contained run-down houses and unkempt yards. Some of the houses were boarded up.

  Every other house on Puddle Flank Road was boarded up. Surely, Marjorie didn’t live on this street. I found her address on the right side of the street, 2916 Puddle Flank Road. It was boarded up, too. I sat in my car and stared uncomprehendingly at the house. What was going on here? It looked like no one had lived in this house for a few years. The grass and weeds were knee-high. Trash and soda cans were sprinkled in the grass and weeds. I rechecked the passenger list. I did have the right address. Since there was no one walking on the street I could talk to, I figured the best thing to do was call Lemmonee to make sure I had the right address. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Lemmonee. It’s Vett.

  “Hey, Vett. How are you today?”

  “I’m fine. I was hoping you would be back home by now. I know you had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

  “Yes, I’m back now. Everything is fine. What’s going on?”

  “I’m in Envyton County at the address of Marjorie Brown. It’s a boarded-up house in a bad part of town. It looks like no one has lived in this house for years.”

  “Marjorie is a regular. She’s been on several of my tours. I can’t see why she would provide us with an address that she doesn’t live in.”

  “Every time I have been on one of Brightness’s tours, the reservation lady verifies my address to see if it has changed,” I explained.

  “A tour reservation can’t be completed without doing that. We need to make sure we have your correct address to send receipts, trip information, and tour catalogs, and so on. You would think Marjorie would know that since she had been on several trips. I don’t remember there being a mention of return mail for her address. Give me a minute, and I will get my passenger list.”