“Since you have been here all your life, what can you tell me about the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders?”
Holt Junior spoke first this time. “That happened in 1996 and was big news at the time. I’m sure you have read the police reports or done some research. What do you want to know?”
“Were you or your families acquainted with Ms. Lacecap, her daughter, and niece?”
“Vett, Envyton County is a small place. Everybody knows just about everybody. I didn’t know them personally, but I knew of them,” Joe said.
“You got to understand small-town living; everybody knows of everybody. You know how that is. I didn’t know them personally, but it hurts us all when a member of our community is murdered. I just wish the police would find out who murdered the daughter, uh, I mean the niece,” Holt Junior elaborated.
“How did you feel having Duffy for a driver knowing that he was once married to Sybil Lloyd, and he was a suspect in both the murders?”
They both hesitated a moment.
“He was cleared of murdering Ms. Lacecap, and there is no evidence that he murdered her niece,” Joe interjected.
“This is true, but traveling with a man that was a murder suspect didn’t that make you feel ill or warily or wonder about him?”
“Of course it did. What recourse did we have? We wanted to travel. We had no say in who our driver would be,” Holt Junior informed me.
“There are other tour bus companies.”
“None in the area like Brightness. You can’t beat Brightness’s price, customer service, comfort, and enjoyment. Their motor coaches are so spacious and reliable. I’ve never been on a bus that broke down,” Holt Junior said. He was overselling Brightness. I wondered why.
We talked about what we each liked about Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg, what we enjoyed about some of our priors tours with Brightness, and then my hour was up. As I stood up to leave, I gazed round the room and then took a careful look at the end tables’ photos.
“I see you love to hunt. These photos are nice.”
“Thank you. Yes, I do love to hunt and target practice. That’s Holt Junior and my hobby. See this photo of Holt Junior and me together,” Joe said, picking up a large framed photo from the end table near him, “I won first prize in our local deer hunting contest.”
“And I won the next year,” Holt Junior said as a big smile appeared on his face. “We both have won a few times since then, but it is nothing like that first time. That first time makes you beam for weeks, and the memory stays with you forever.”
“You must know a lot about guns. I’ll remember that if I am ever in need of one.” I didn’t need one because I already had one. I said what I said to build a connection with them.
“We sure do. I’d like to show you my gun collection the next time you are in town. Holt Junior has a collection, too. We travel to all the local gun shows and love it. Well, uh, I’m glad to help you any time you need it,” Joe said, smiling from ear to ear.
“One last question, as young men, did either of you visit Ms. Lacecap’s business?” The alarmed look on both their faces told me that they had.
“Uh, we did once or twice as all young men in the county probably did,” Holt Junior explained.
I walked out of Joe’s house ill at ease. I never warmed up to Holt Junior, yet I sensed he was a devoted friend to Joe. There was no false benevolence on his part where Joe was concerned, yet something was amiss. The question of why someone would stand around chitchatting outside in cold, foggy, and misty weather bounced around in my head.
CHAPTER 12
I arrived home at 5:15 pm. Gam came home at 6:00 pm with one of my favorite dinners—shrimp fajitas with spanish rice, refried beans, pico de gallo salad, cheese, and sour cream. After preparing four flour tortillas with the fixings, we sat down to eat. As we ate, I provided him with details of my trip.
At 8:00 pm, I stepped into a hot bubble bath and stayed there for thirty minutes. Afterward, I quickly dried my tired body and hastily put on my pajamas. I brushed my teeth, then ambled out of my bathroom to my bed and fell in. But I found it arduous to fall asleep. My mind was stuck in Joe’s house, listening to him say, “After using the restroom, we stood around outside talking for a bit, stretching our legs.” I knew this was a revelation for me because it was plaguing me. Once I understood the meaning, it’ll let go of me. This is how my revelations work sometimes.
The ceiling became my focal point. I stared at it waiting for the answer to appear. Except for Gam moving around in our office down the hall, the house seemed unusually quiet. I turned and looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was 9:35 pm. I lay awake until 10:00 pm, then jumped out of bed.
“To hell with this. I might as well wash a load of clothes since I can’t sleep,” I said out loud. I gathered all my dirty clothes from my overnight bag and headed for the laundry room.
“Vett, I thought you were asleep,” Gam called out as I walked by the office door.
“I can’t sleep. This case is on my mind. I thought I would wash a load of clothes to get it off my mind.”
“You’re going to wash clothes this time of night?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait. Come here for a minute.”
Annoyed at being derailed, I inertly walked to him. He took the clothes out of my arms, put them on the floor, and then pulled me onto his lap.
“Looks like someone is getting impatient. You never have all the answers at the beginning of a case.”
“I know. I can’t seem to get one little piece of information out of mind.”
“What is it?”
“Remember, Joe and Holt Junior are the two men I told you that went looking for Duffy after we were all settled on the bus. They were the last two passengers to come back alongside the bus. Joe said that after using the restroom, he and Holt Junior stood around outside talking for a bit, stretching their legs. Who would do this in the kind of weather we had? It was bitter cold, foggy with a misty rain. It was awful. You could barely see your hand in front of your face.”
“People do weird things, Vett. Perhaps, after being cramped on the bus for a while, it felt good just to stand up.”
“I just can’t imagine anyone doing that on purpose in that awful weather. I stood out there alongside the bus with the other passengers waiting for Duffy and thought my butt was going to freeze off. The weather in April can be so erratic.”
“Do you think Joe and Holt Junior had a purpose for standing out there?”
And there it was. I gasped loudly. I turned and gave Gam a big kiss and a tight hug.
“Yes, my darling. I do.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know that yet. But my darling, you have been a big help,” I said as I got off his lap and began gathering my clothes from the floor.
“Vett, what’s running through your mind? What purpose would they have?”
“I don’t have the answer to that yet, but they were not standing out there enjoying the weather. You’ll be the first to know when I get the answer.”
I went to the laundry room, sorted out the clothes that were already in the hamper along with my trip clothes, then put a load of dark clothes into the washer and turned it on. On my way back to the bedroom, my walk was vigorous. I said good night to Gam. Reaching the bed, I jumped in, quickly pulling the covers over me.
I thought I had just fallen asleep when something woke me. It was a heavy thump sound. I sprang up and looked at the clock. It illuminated 1:30 am.
“Go back to sleep,” Gam said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I dropped my book. I meant to put it on the nightstand.” He kissed me, then turned off the light on his side of the bed. Gam loved reading before going to sleep, so that was nothing unusual.
I am a bundle of nerves, I thought. I lay there trying to go back to sleep. It wasn’t happening. Soon Gam’s
even breathing told me he was fast asleep. I got up furtively as not to wake him. I went into the laundry room, put the washed clothes into the dryer, and then started a load of white clothes. I went into the kitchen, poured, and drank a glass of water. I paced back and forth across the kitchen floor, waiting. Something I needed to know was formulating in my mind. I just couldn’t see it. After ten minutes of pacing, I got tired of waiting for the revelation. Giving up, I strolled back to my bedroom. I used the bathroom, then sat on the edge of the bed.
“Forget it. I’m going to sleep,” I said out loud.
As I lifted my feet to get into bed, my inner voice spoke: they weren’t standing outside by themselves.
CHAPTER 13
Today is Wednesday, April 12, and I owe Jackson a status report. My state of mind was much better than when I first got into bed last night. I jumped out of bed, did my morning body cleansing routine, dressed in sweats, walked thirty minutes on the treadmill, and then went to the kitchen for breakfast.
Gam had made coffee before he left for work. I poured a cup, then put a bowl of oatmeal and milk in the microwave. After the microwave bell went off, I added raisins and cinnamon. I took my coffee and oatmeal to my office and ate while I made a list of my discoveries for Jackson. I knew he didn’t want a written report, but I wanted to be sure I captured all the things I wanted to provide him. A list of these things would keep me on track and help keep out of my mind the things I didn’t want to tell him yet. I wrote the following in no particular order:
Solardette heard Marjorie whisper to Carolyn and Gwen, “Where is the gun now?”
This murder was planned. The bus being at the Jefferson Springtop exit when it was there is directly related to the murder.
Several people mentioned that Duffy drank too much, was a womanizer, and was not well-liked.
Lanta, in her youth, dated Ms. Lacecap’s brother. It is rumored they were hot and heavy back then, and she still maintains a close relationship with him. It is rumored she slept with other Black men as well.
Marjorie, Rebbie, Carolyn, and Gwen all live in the same zip code but appeared not to know each other during the trip nor make the zip code connection known among them.
Duffy wanted a baby, but it appeared that his wife Nancy did not.
The murderer must have known Duffy’s bus routes and bus rest stops.
Nancy and a slender White man embraced each other with a passionate kiss.
Nancy didn’t like Jackson. She thinks he is going to cheat her out of Duffy’s insurance money.
Marjorie didn’t live on the street she gave Brightness as her residence address.
Jackson has dirt on Sheriff Hobbs.
Joe and Holt Junior said they were standing outside in the cold, foggy, and misty weather chitchatting. Why would anyone do that?
After preparing the list, I first called Aunt Clove.
“Hey, Vett. I was wondering when I would hear from you today. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m good. The restaurant is good. Leigh, one of the waitresses, gave notice.”
“Weren’t you already down one wait person?” Aunt Clove was the head chef and managed the wait staff, assistant chef, and the kitchen.
“Yeah, but I’ve been interviewing and a have a person in mind and an alternate. Now, I will just hire them both.”
“Good, good. I don’t want our excellent customer service to suffer because our staff numbers are down.”
“It won’t. You know I can wait tables if I have to, but it won’t come to that.”
“You are so resilient, Aunt Clove.”
“And so are you. Now, what’s going on with your case?”
“I’ve received puzzle pieces, but nothing concrete yet. I’ll talk to you more about them when I get in. I should be there around noon.” I wasn’t ready to share any of my discoveries yet with anyone except Jackson. After talking with Jackson, I would have a better idea of what I want to share, if anything, with her.
“Okay, Vett. I’ll see you then.”
I rose and walked into the kitchen, taking my empty bowl, empty coffee cup, and my list with me. After putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, I called Jackson.
“Hi, Jackson. It’s Vett.”
“Hi, Vett. How are you this morning?”
“I’m good. I thought I would provide you with an update before heading to my restaurant.”
“Okay, give me a minute.” Jackson then plopped the phone down. I could hear shuffling papers. I immediately thought Jackson was looking for a writing instrument and a pad. I then thought about the office to the right of Brightness’s entrance doorway. The desk was neat and orderly: no cluster on the desk anywhere. And there was a gold square box holder on the desk with different colored pens. There was no nameplate on the desk, or the door, or the wall next to the door. I had a chance to glance in that office twice. Once when I arrived on Monday and again as Lemmonee and I said goodbye to Louise, the receptionist.
With the amount of shuffling of papers going on, I assumed the office by the front door didn’t belong to Jackson. I couldn’t picture Jackson’s office being that orderly and neat.
“Okay, Vett. I’m ready. I have my yellow pad and pen. What did you find out?”
“First of all, Jackson, I believe the murder was planned. This was not a robbery gone badly. This was a homicide in the first-degree.”
“How do you know this?”
“There was nothing in the police report that indicated something was stolen from Duffy. His wallet and I’m assuming his money, wedding ring, and watch were still on him.”
“They were.”
“So no robbery. He was not robbed of anything.”
“What else makes you think it was a homicide in the first-degree?”
“Well, it definitely wasn’t manslaughter because manslaughter is where the murderer didn’t plan the crime, nor did the murderer intend for the victim to die. The seven bullets in Duffy’s chest tell us that the murderer intended for him to die. And Duffy was murdered in a place he had no business being. The murderer somehow got him into that room without anyone seeing anything. All planned, hence first-degree murder.”
“I don’t know, Vett. Why would someone plan to murder Duffy? Couldn’t it have been a simple case of being in the wrong place at the right time or vice versus? You know what I mean?”
“You’re speaking of second-degree murder, which makes the murder not premeditated—not planned in advance. Duffy’s murder is not a case where the murderer by chance saw Duffy Friday night at a rest area and then had an abrupt and powerful desire to kill him for a past assault or indiscretion.”
“You sound sure about this.”
“I am. The maintenance room is not open to the general public. It is kept lock. The maintenance personnel would not be stupid enough to commit murder in his or her area of responsibility. I’m sure the maintenance person is one of the first people the police talked to the next day. Someone found out the maintenance personnel’s work hours and knew exactly when the maintenance personnel would be on the premise and when the maintenance personnel would be off the premise.”
“Well, yeah, that does make sense. The absence of a rest area personnel sure did coincide with the arrival of the bus.”
“It sure did. You’re coming around to my way of thinking.”
“You’re wearing me down,” Jackson said, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
“What do the maintenance room personnel do besides keeping the restroom clean and full of toilet paper?”
“Jackson, are you mocking this profession?” I teased.
“No, no. I just wonder what keeps them busy,” Jackson quickly clarified.
“Well, I can tell you from what little I know from my cousin Dottery’s son, Reed, who applied for a facilitie
s custodial attendant position at a rest area. The job entailed, of course, keeping the restrooms clean, neat, sanitized, and keeping toilet paper holders full. He said he would have to perform general cleanup of all areas around the building, including the parking lot and picnic area. The job also entailed emptying trash receptacles, preparing recycling bins, and putting them in the designated space for weekly pick-up. Let’s see. He talked about having to have a general knowledge of maintenance like changing light bulbs, fixing a leaky faucet, and how to unstop a toilet. He even took a tour of the rest area he would be working at and said the maintenance room was stocked with all the equipment he would need. You know what I mean, mopping buckets, mops, light bulbs, tools, bulk cleaning supplies and sanitizers, and bulks of toilet paper and a lot of other stuff.”
“I take it he did not take the job?” Jackson inquired.
“No, he didn’t. He said the pay was too low. These kids nowadays want to start out making the big dollars. He has no college education and refuses to go, but he wants a job making $30,000. He’ll learn the hard way that it pays to have an education.”
“I agree with you on that one.”
“Jackson, can anyone get your bus drivers’ schedule?’’
“Yes. If someone wants to know a particular bus driver’s tours, the company provides that information. Some regulars enjoy touring with the same bus driver and want to go on another tour with that same driver. Why do you ask?”
“I believe the murderer knew Duffy’s schedule and chose the Tennessee trip specifically. I just don’t know why yet.”
“That could be. We don’t keep that information a secret. As you know, all passengers are given the driver and the tour guide’s business card at the beginning of the trip. This is good practice and makes passengers feel comfortable to know they can call on either one during the trip for help or anything. I mention this because people can call the driver direct to get his or her schedule. They don’t have to call the office.”
Sequestered with the Murderers Page 10