Sequestered with the Murderers

by Dr. Sandra Tanner

  Two minutes later, Lemmonee was back on the phone. “Vett, I have her address as 2916 Puddle Flank Road in Envyton County.”

  As I listened to Lemmonee, that feeling I get that tells me something is not right with this whole thing made me wonder if Marjorie Brown was an alias name. I don’t know why I thought about this. It just popped into my mind as things do when I am working on a case.

  “That’s where I am. I don’t see any piled-up mail or literature anywhere around the front of the house or in the mailbox. I thought you would want to know about this. Well, thanks, Lemmonee. Since Marjorie nor Rebbie called me back yesterday to accept a visit from me today, I decided to drive by Marjorie’s house on the off chance she would be home. Not a good idea. Not a good idea to ride by Rebbie’s house either.”

  “Sorry, they haven’t telephoned you back. Thanks for letting me know about Marjorie’s address. I will call it into the office. They told me they both retired from the post office. You’d think they would know how important it is to provide your current address to the companies you deal with. I guess some people just don’t think and don’t use their common sense.”

  “Yeah, I guess not. My mother says that common sense is not that common; some people just don’t have it. Have a nice day, Lemmonee. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Bye, Vett.”

  It was now 1:00 pm. Since I had time to kill, I decided to stop by the Sheriff’s Office I had passed on Main Street to see if I could get a status on the Diantha Lloyd case. Twelve minutes later, I entered the small office and walked up to the gray-headed attractive lady at the front desk. Betty Smith was on her name tag.

  “Good afternoon, Betty. I would like to speak to the detective in charge of the Diantha Lloyd murder case.”

  “Just a moment, please.” Betty then began punching keys on her computer keyboard. When she looked up at me, she said, “Detective Fern Rivers is assigned to that case. She is not in the office at this time, but I can give you her contact information.”

  “Yes, thank you. That will be nice. I was also wondering if I could get a copy of the police report for that case and the Mildred Lloyd case.”

  I knew there were several types of police reports that were exempt from the public. The reason being that revealing such information could weaken an ongoing investigation and bring up all sorts of privacy and safety issues. Nevertheless, I’ve gotten police reports before. Jackson obtained a copy of the police report on Duffy’s murder, though he may have gotten it from Nancy. Since she is family, Nancy requesting the report may have been the quickest and easiest way to get it. My point is that it is not unheard of for police reports to be released to the public.

  “Let me speak to the sheriff. He is in his office.” Betty gave me Fern Rivers’ business card, then picked up the phone, dialed a number, then relayed to the person on the other end my request. After hanging up the phone, she said, “The sheriff will be out to talk to you.”

  Two minutes later, a White man, potbellied, and baldheaded came rushing down the hallway beside Betty’s desk. I took him to be at least seventy years old. He forcefully pushed through the gate that separated the waiting area from the police area and rushed straight to me. I was the only person in the waiting room.

  “I’m Sheriff Hugo Hobbs. I understand you want a copy of the Diantha Lloyd and Mildred Lloyd murders police report,” he said without shaking my hand or providing any societal civilities usually extended to people you are meeting for the first time.

  “Yes, Sheriff Hobbs. It is nice to meet you. My name is Vett Brayborn. I am working for Jackson Stevens of the Brightness Bus Tours Company concerning the murder of Duffy Radley.”

  “You’re working for old Jackie. Jackie and I go way back.”

  “Yes. In my investigation, it has come to my attention that Duffy was a suspect in the Mildred Lloyd murder, and the family believes he was involved in Diantha Lloyd’s murder as well. May I have a copy of each report?”

  The sheriff stared at me in disbelief, then said, “We don’t give those reports to the general public.”

  “They may be crucial to my investigation. Jackson will speak to you on my behalf.”

  The sheriff’s hostile manner soften a bit as he said, “You said your name is Vett Brayborn.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Have a seat a moment. Let me speak to old Jackie.”

  I did as he requested. He turned around and pushed through the gate. As he did so, he shouted to the desk clerk, “Betty, get Jackie Stevens on the line for me.”

  Ten minutes later, a heavyset, friendly face woman walked down the hallway to the gate and called my name.

  “Are you Vett Brayborn?”

  “Yes, I am,” I said. There was no one else in the waiting area, but I guess she needed to ask. I got up and walked to the gate.

  “The sheriff asked that I give these reports to you.”

  “Thank you.” I took the two folders and looked through each briefly. Certain lines of information had been redacted, which meant copies of these documents had already been issued to the general public. I knew this to be true because it would have taken much more time than ten minutes to prepare these censored copies that the bureaucracy thought were suitable for the general public. The Lacecap Hydrangea Murders was highly publicized in the area at the time, so there would have been media people and others wanting a copy of the police reports. Then why didn’t Sheriff Hobbs want to give me the reports? There are people in authority that take too much pleasure in blocking the progress of others, was all I could come up with as an answer.

  “Uhm, uhm, is there anything else you need,” the woman asked.

  “Are there any costs for these?”

  “Not at all.”

  “No, there is nothing else I need at this time. Thank you.” I smiled to myself as I walked out of the Sheriff’s Office. Old Jackie had some dirt on Sheriff Hobbs. Why else would Sheriff Hobbs acquiesce so fast? It seems to me Old Jackie is a significant and important wheel in Attribute and Envyton County and accustomed to getting everything he wants.

  It was 1:28 pm. Reviewing Joe’s directions and the Envyton map, I estimated that it would take no more than fifteen minutes to get to Joe’s house from the Sheriff’s Office. So I decided to go ahead and drive there, then take a few minutes to read the report on Diantha before knocking on Joe’s door.

  Joe’s house was in a much better neighborhood than Marjorie’s house. His Tudor-style house was beautifully maintained on the outside. The yard held two large pear trees on the right side of the driveway. Everything about the view I had of the front of Joe’s property spoke highly of the love and care put into it.

  I parked on the same side of the street as his house, a couple of houses down. I opened Diantha’s police report and began reading.

  The synopsis stated that the decedent is a thirty-year-old female with no priors found deceased in Mythical Rock State Park by husband and wife joggers __________. The joggers’ names were redacted. The wife called police on August 11, 1996, at 10:17 am, to report a woman lying under a cluster of trees near Mystical Pond inside Mythical Rock State Park. The woman was unresponsive to the couple’s offer of help, and the couple thought she was dead.

  Detectives Rowe Colbert and Sealy Clifton arrived on the scene at 10:43 am and were able to identify the woman from her driver’s license found inside her sweat pants’ pocket. Her name was Diantha Angeline Lloyd of 3319 E. Croton Street, Envyton County, Virginia. She was lying face up on the ground with her clothes in disarray. Her panties and sweat pants had been pulled off the right leg. Her tank top and bra had been pushed up, leaving one breast exposed. The color of her clothing was redacted.

  There was blood on the ground around her head. When her head was moved, it was noticed that the back of her head had sustained blunt force trauma. On the ground, two feet from her right hand, were a bouquet of______ hydra
ngeas. The color of the hydrangeas was redacted.

  It was noted that the area around Mystical Pond was a picnic area and not shrouded by many trees. The cluster of trees where the decedent was found under was down an embankment from the walking path. The site was still visible to walkers and joggers on the other side of the pond. It was also noted that not many people were in the park.

  I had read all of the event’s details, actions taken, and the summary when a car zooming by jolted me. I then looked at my dashboard clock. It was 2:02 pm.

  “Oh shoot!” I threw the report onto the passenger seat, then sprang out of my Jeep, pulling my bag with me. I used my remote key to lock my Jeep door. I ran to Joe’s house, then rang the doorbell twice without intending to do so. I pride myself on being a couple of minutes early to all my meetings. Being a few minutes early is one of my investigative formalities I do not take lightly.

  “Oh well, I missed the chance to show Joe two of my formalities I deem most important—reliability and dependability,” I whispered.

  CHAPTER 11

  The rich dark brown hardwood of Joe’s front door stood out. The wood had a clear satin polyurethane finish on it. It had an intricate metal design on it depicting a phoenix with sweeping wings and a long graceful neck. It was gorgeous. The door was designed to turn heads as it had done mine.

  Joe opened the door with a smile on his face.

  “Hi, Vett. Welcome to my home. I hope you didn’t have a hard time finding the place.”

  “Hi, Joe. No problems at all. Your directions were great. How are you doing today?”

  “Just fine. Holt Junior is here. He can take off from his job anytime he wants to. He’s the boss. My wife, Abby, is at work. She couldn’t get off today. I don’t have any classes after the noon hour on Tuesdays, so this is a good day to meet. Duffy’s murder has been on all our minds.”

  “Mine, too. It is a tragedy. Hi, Holt Junior,” I said as I entered a large great-room.

  “Hi, Vett. How are you doing?”

  “Just fine. I hope you are well.”

  “I am. Thank you for asking.”

  “Vett, have a seat on the sofa. Can I get you anything?” Joe asked. I could see the modern style decorated kitchen with heavy wooden beams in the ceiling at the back of the room. A counter with four bar stools separated the two rooms.

  “A glass of water would be nice. I am a little thirsty.”

  “While Joe was getting the water, Holt Junior asked, “Any problems getting here, Vett?”

  “No, not at all. Envyton County is not at all far from Attribute. Beautiful country.”

  “Beautiful country it is. I love living here,” Holt Junior responded.

  “The water is room temperature. I hope this is okay,” Joe said as he handed me a bottle of water.

  “This is perfect.”

  After taking a swallow of the water, I said, “As I mentioned to Joe, Jackson has hired me to investigate Duffy’s murder. I’m hoping I can find out who murdered him soon.”

  “How can we help?” Joe asked.

  “My first question is, did either of you actually see Duffy in the men’s room. I’m trying to determine whether or not something happened to him before going into the men’s room.”

  “I don’t actually remember seeing him in there, but he must have been. He could have been in one of the stalls while I was washing my hands,” Joe explained.

  “I don’t remember seeing him either, but this is true of all the stops we made. I can’t swear to seeing him in the men’s room at the other stops either,” Holt Junior said.

  “Did either of you know Duffy personally?”

  “I wouldn’t say personally. Abby and I have been on many Brightness tours, about twelve, I’d say. Duffy’s been the driver on about five of them, I’d say. It was Holt Junior that talked us into taking our first tour,” Joe said.

  “My wife, Ina Jean, and I have been on about fifteen tours. We love them. I had been asking Joe and Abby to join us for a few years. Then they finally went with us to Niagara Falls. They were hooked after that!” Holt Junior exclaimed.

  “I love them too, though I have not been on many as you and your wife. What kind of work do you do, Holt Junior?”

  “I’m a veterinarian. Ina Jean and I own Holt’s Veterinarian Clinic up there on Main Street. You passed it on your way in from the highway. I’ve owned it for thirty years now. My daddy wanted me to go to law school and open up a practice. That was something he always wanted to be, a lawyer. His parent didn’t have the money to send him to law school, so he went into the government field. Back in the mid-sixties to the mid-eighties, he was chair of the Envyton Board of Supervisors. He won the election five times. After that, he served in other government capacities. My love is animals. Always has been. We lived on a tobacco farm when I was little. . . .”

  As Holt Junior continued to talk, I saw that his physical stature of six feet three inches tall and 225 pounds (my guess) aided the strength and mental power I saw in him. His White “good ole boy” manner of speaking was so typical of White males in small rural Southern towns. It was such a big contrast to Joe’s mild manner of speaking. There was nothing notable about Holt Junior’s face. It was rather plain. He had blue eyes, a small mouth, bushy eyebrows, and a head full of curly brown hair with a few strands of gray. I guessed his age to be about fifty-seven, the same age as Joe. I was not warming up to him, and I didn’t know why.

  “We still own that farm. Nobody works the farm now. Ina Jean and I grow a big vegetable garden out there every year.”

  “Though I have never lived on a farm, my daddy has told me stories about his life on the farm. I understand it can be challenging at times. Uh, at the rest area, did you and Joe wait for your wives to come out of the ladies’ room to escort them back to the bus?”

  “No. After using the restroom, we stood around outside talking for a bit, stretching our legs, right Joe?”

  “Yeah, we did. We were the last to arrive back to the bus side. It was a miserable night that night, so cold, misty, and foggy. I would rather have pouring down rain than to have that misty stuff that prevents you from seeing your hand in front of your face,” Joe said.

  Joe was slightly taller than Holt, perhaps six feet four inches tall. His body was thicker, 275 pounds, maybe. His brown eyes, babyface, and salt and pepper hair were quite attractive. Though I liked him, he didn’t portray the physical strength and mental power that Holt Junior had.

  “Did you see anything out of the way on your way back to the bus?”

  Holt Junior saying they stood around outside stretching their legs and chitchatting concerned me. Who does that in cold, foggy, and misty weather?

  “Vett, it was misty and foggy. I didn’t see anything. We didn’t know to be looking for anything,” Joe replied.

  “Same here. I didn’t see anything. I’m with Joe. We didn’t know to be looking for anything. Why would we?” Holt Junior said.

  “Standing around outside after using the men’s room, did anything appear out of order or weird?” I asked.

  Joe and Holt Junior both seemed to find my question baffling. They stared at me, and neither one looked at the other.

  “What I am trying to do is understand the movement of everyone on the bus. Please don’t take offense. I will ask the same questions to everyone I talk to that was on the bus.”

  “Okay, I understand. We didn’t see anything,” Holt Junior explained.

  “Would you explain to me what you did when you two left the bus to go look for Duffy?”

  “Sure,” Joe said decisively. “We left the bus, went directly to the men’s room, and searched all the stalls. He was not in the men’s room. We turned left out of the men’s room, headed south a few feet, walked around a couple of vehicles, called out his name, then headed east a few feet. We again called out his name. We could hardly see anything
in front of us. After a minute or two looking behind cars, we headed north to the bus. Lemmonee saw us approach the bus, then opened the door. We entered the bus. That’s all we did.”

  “Do either of you smoke?”

  “No, we don’t. Why do you ask?” Holt Junior said.

  “Sometimes people who smoke stand around smoking and lose track of time.”

  “Neither one of us have ever smoked. We have been friends since college. So I am comfortable in saying we have never smoked,” Holt Junior explained.

  “Did either of you have any long conversations with Duffy?”

  “Joe, me, and the wives spent most of our time together. We didn’t get a chance to have any long conversations with Duffy, just the normal civilities. You know what I mean, good morning, how are you today, and the likes.”

  Joe nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, thank you for being upfront with me. Did you know any of the other passengers, except your wives, on the bus before the Tennessee trip?”

  “No, I didn’t. Sometimes a passenger we have traveled with on a previous trip will be on another trip with us. But not this trip,” Joe explained.

  “Same here,” Holt Junior said. “I didn’t know any of the passengers.”

  “I take it you have lived in Envyton County all your life, except perhaps for college.”

  Joe spoke first, “That’s right. We both went to James Madison University. I got a job teaching chemistry at Envyton Community College right out of college. I have taught there for thirty-five years. Abby is the librarian there and has been there for thirty-two years. Besides chemistry, I now teach physics, biology, and biochemistry. I love living here. It is not the big city, but we have a good life here.”

  “It is a good life. I worked for the local vet in Envyton County after college to get some experience. When he died a few years later, my daddy helped me buy the business from his wife. Best decision I ever made,” Holt Junior said.