Sequestered with the Murderers

by Dr. Sandra Tanner

Would one shot have killed him, I wondered? It doesn’t appear so. All seven wounds bleed out. Then which was the fatal shot. According to the preliminary report, a determination was yet to be made. Why did the murderer shoot seven times? I have a .22 caliber handgun, and Gam and my training instructor have both told me that one shot from a .22 caliber handgun in the right place could kill a person just like a more powerful handgun. I have heard naysayers say a .22 caliber handgun is not powerful enough to kill. However, not one of them has offered to be a guinea pig to test their belief. Seven times seem excessive to me. I added several more questions to my Need Info column, including why did the murderer shoot seven times and was the murderer under a passionate spell.

  I had more questions than I had answers. I examined the photo closely one last time. What did Duffy have in his pockets crept into my mind? The police report said he had his wallet, keys, some change, and some peppermint candies. There was nothing of interest to me. After fifteen minutes of waiting for a revelation, I concluded that there was nothing for me to see at this time. After talking with others that were on the trip and with those at the viewing tonight, I may see the photo in a different light. Since there was nothing more to be shown to me, I walked into my bedroom to get dressed for my trip to Envyton County and Attribute.

  CHAPTER 15

  According to the addresses listed on the passenger list Brightness gave me, Marjorie, Rebbie, Carolyn, and Gwen all lived in the same zip code within Envyton County, in an area called Belated in the southern tip of the county. The county is not big. And according to the United States Census Bureau, it encompasses a total of 351.8 square miles and about 340 square miles is land. The Blue Ridge Parkway and Martinsville surrounds it to the east, Roanoke to the north, Attribute to the west, and Guestpost to the south. The 2000 census cited 13,874 people living in Envyton County.

  The two pairs of ladies appearing not to have much communication with each other during the trip, except for the communication Solardette saw on the bus on the way home and the one time I saw them together was disturbing. I put this matter on the top of my list of items to explore with Carolyn.

  I arrived at her house right on time. Her home was a modest one-story cream-colored wood siding rancher with a garage to the right side of the house, a covered porch, a pitched roof, and four single windows evenly spaced on the front with black shutters. It was an old house and looked like it was built in the 1950s or 1960s. The yard needed a little work done to improve the curb appeal, but overall the house was charming.

  After I rang the doorbell, Carolyn opened the door with a congenial smile on her face. I hardly recognized her. Gone were the heavy make-up and dark red lipstick she wore each day of the trip. She didn’t have on the thick black eyeglasses she wore either or the black wig. Today, on her five-foot-tall small frame, she had on black pants and a white tee shirt. Her white hair was brushed back into a short ponytail.

  “Hi, Vett. It’s good to see you again. Come on in.”

  “Good to see you too, Carolyn. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”

  I walked into a quaint living room with good solid mahogany furniture and furnishings that spoke of a time long gone. The lace doilies on the end tables, the colorful crocheted blankets lying across the back of two brown and black plaid recliners, and the orange cigarette stand in one corner now used as a plant stand were dead giveaways. The room was clean, and the house smelled like apples and cinnamon.

  “I hope you don’t mind us talking in the kitchen. I have some lemonade and apple pie on the table for us. Just come this way,” Carolyn said.

  “I don’t mind. The apple pie sure smells good. You have a charming home,” I said as I followed her from the living room to the kitchen.

  “Thank you,” Carolyn said humbly.

  Without meaning to, I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as Carolyn kept walking in. I was taken aback by the powder pink 1950 style kitchen. Everything was powder pink from the Hotpoint stove and refrigerator to the cabinets to the table and chairs. Even the large bread mixer sitting on top of the fridge, the four-piece canister set, the bread box, the toaster, the sink, the napkin holder, and knickknacks were all powder pink. The items that weren’t powder pink were the countertops, the white linoleum floor, and the legs on the chairs were chrome.

  Carolyn turned and caught my wide-eyed look.

  “I know my kitchen is out of style, but in the 50s and 60s, it was the craze. When I bought this house, it was the kitchen that sold me. I love it, and I’ve refused to change anything, though my family and friends thought I should,” Carolyn explained.

  “It’s different. I don’t mean to sound rude, but do all the appliances work?”

  “Absolutely, they do. I’ve had to replace parts here and there. You can get almost anything you want in the color you want if you are willing to pay the price. I believe the refrigerator is on its last leg. It doesn’t stay cool as it once did. I’ve got another one and a freezer in the garage.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “I’ve lived in Envyton County all my life. Let’s see. I bought this house in 1970. So I’ve lived here for thirty-six years. Go ahead and sit down at the table.”

  As I sat down, Carolyn removed a slice of pie from the pie dish on the table, put it in a saucer, and then set the saucer in front of me. She then removed a slice for herself, put it in a saucer, and then poured a glass of lemonade for each of us. Seating herself, she said, “You look really nice. You didn’t have to dress-up to come talk to me.”

  “Thank you. Actually, the viewing for Duffy is tonight. I’m going to it after I leave you,” I explained.

  Ever since I fully understood how God wanted me to use my gift, which was in my early twenties, I have been able to read people quite well. Carolyn’s behavior after my statement, though I sensed she was trying to hide it, told me I had hurled a big insult at her. Her whole body jerked for a second, then became utterly still. The fork in her hand fell to the table.

  “Carolyn, did I say something wrong?”

  “Oh no. I had not heard when the viewing was going to be,” Carolyn said while looking down at her slice of pie.

  “Did you know Duffy before the Tennessee trip? I know this was your first bus trip with Brightness?”

  “I think everyone as old as I am who lives in Envyton County have heard of the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders. It was big news at the time. As you heard on the bus, Duffy was involved in the murders. I knew of Duffy but didn’t know him personally.”

  “Did you know ahead of time, he was the bus driver for the Tennessee trip?”

  Looking away from me, Carolyn said, “No, I didn’t.”

  “Carolyn,” I called out at a higher decibel level, “The apple pie is delicious.” I did this to get her to focus on me.

  She looked into my eyes as she said, “Thank you. Apple pie is my favorite dessert.”

  “Did you or Gwen have any conversations with Duffy?”

  “No, we didn’t get a chance to talk to him at all.”

  Now that I held her eyes, I took another bite, then asked, “What did you see that night?”

  She continued to look at me while answering. “As I told the police. I saw nothing. I got off the bus at the rest area with everyone else. It was nasty outside, uh, you know, cold, misty, and foggy. I walked hurriedly to the ladies restroom, used it, and then walked back to the side of the bus where everyone gathered waiting for Duffy to return.”

  “Did you see anything unusual in the restroom or outside of it?”

  “Nothing at all. I was cold. I was more interested in using the restroom and getting back on the bus than I was in my surroundings.”

  “It was cold that night for sure, not a time to be dilly-dallying outside.” This was my way of asking Carolyn the same question again.

  “I didn’t see anyone doing that. I could barely see anything in front
of me. The weather was just awful.”

  “It was you or perhaps Gwen who told the Purples and me that you two were best friends.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I can’t remember how long you said you two have known each other.”

  “Basically, all our lives. We were in elementary school together. Neither of us had children. We both lost our husbands a few years ago; my Harold died five years ago, and Gwen’s Nash died three years ago.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Vett. We all have to go at some point.”

  “That’s so true. Uh, on the trip, it appears that Marjorie began the disparaging talk about Duffy. Did you know Marjorie and Rebbie before the trip?”

  “No, I didn’t. Marjorie, Rebbie, Gwen, and I sat at the same table at one of the breakfasts. This is when Gwen and I found out they live in Belated, too. We all got on the bus at the Martinsville stop, but I didn’t know them then. We didn’t know any of the passengers before the trip.”

  “Do you guys have anything in common?”

  “You mean besides living in Belated?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess we could have, but I don’t know. We didn’t talk much about ourselves. After we found out we all lived in Belated, we talked about some of the tourist attractions we were going to see that day. That was it. We didn’t get the chance to share another meal together.”

  It was hard to believe all of what Carolyn just said. I know from my own experience in meeting someone new from my hometown or area, we always get around to bringing up names of people we know or our relatives to see if the other knows the same people. So there must be someone in Belated that all four of them knew. Belated is not a big area. Did they not ever run into each other at the grocery store, or the doctor’s office, or community events, I wondered.

  “On the way home, I noticed that Marjorie left her seat and walked to the back of the bus. Did she say anything to you or Gwen?” This was a little white lie, but I didn’t want to share what Solardette saw and heard at this point. I wanted to hear what Carolyn had to say about the matter.

  “Uh, I think she did as she walked by where Gwen and I were seated. I’m assuming she was on her way back to her seat from using the bus toilet, though I didn’t see her go in. She said something like, ‘I am so glad we are on our way home.’ Yeah, that’s what she said. And I think I said, ‘So am I.’”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  “I mean, did she chit chat for a minute or two?”

  “No, not that I remember. By that time of night, my joints had stiffened up, and I was in pain. Sitting for a long time is not good for me. I suffer from arthritis, and I was not in a mood for conversations. I was so ready to get home.”

  Carolyn’s version completely contradicted what Solardette saw and heard. This was troubling, but my poker face didn’t show it.

  “I’m sorry for the discomfort you had to endure. Uh, did you know any of the other passengers?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  I had finished eating my pie. I took a swallow of lemonade, looked Carolyn directly in the eyes, and then asked, “Is there anything you can tell about the murder that may help me?”

  “Vett, I’m sorry I can’t. I don’t know anything.”

  “Did you and Gwen enjoy the trip?” I asked, smiling widely at her. I didn’t want to upset her with my questions.

  “Oh, yes, we did. Now that we know about Brightness, there will be other trips.”

  “How did you find out about Brightness?” My question appeared to have stumped Carolyn. She put her fork down, and her eyes stared ahead with that look on her face that told me she was trying to remember or trying to come up with the right answer.

  She finally said, “If I remember correctly, it was a piece of literature Gwen received or I received that got us interested. We had talked about taking a trip together ever since Nash died. We kept putting it off for one reason or another, then last Christmas we made a commitment to do it as soon as the snow went away. The date, price, and amenities of the Tennessee trip were just perfect. So we signed up.”

  “It was a wonderful trip. The Purples and I love traveling with Brightness. Uh, I’ve tried to reach Gwen several times but have not been able to. I’ve left messages. I would like to meet with her, too. Have you spoken to her recently?”

  “Not since Tuesday. I can’t imagine where she could be unless she is tending to her next-door neighbor. Her next-door neighbor is sick with a bad case of the flu, and Gwen is Nurse Nightingale. I’ll telephone her later. Would you like another slice of pie or more lemonade?”

  “Oh no, my stomach is full. The pie and lemonade were both delicious. I do have another question about the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders. Do you know where Sybil Lloyd lives, and do you know if Ms. Lacecap still has any other relatives around, uh, a brother, or sister, or aunts, or uncles? I want to talk to a member of Ms. Lacecap’s family.”

  “No, I can’t help you there. I don’t know that information. It’s been so many years since those murders, and I wouldn’t know where to tell you to begin looking for them.”

  It is sometimes wildly surprising the things I’ve learned to pick up on that others don’t. Carolyn had just told me, though I know she didn’t intend to, that there were family members other than Sybil somewhere, possibly in Envyton County. Now I wanted to explore why she was hiding their location. I decided to probe into this with her at a later date.

  It was getting late, and I wanted to be in Attribute to watch the visitors as they arrive at the funeral home to gauge whether they were a friend or foe of Duffy. I have become good at doing this, though this process has never unmasked a murderer on site. It has eliminated suspects from my list, which, as expected, saved me time.

  We talked a little longer, mainly about her head cafeteria cook job at Envyton High School where she was working when she retired. She shared that she plants a vegetable garden every year and was excited to show me that little plot of land in her backyard. After viewing the area, it was time for me to leave.

  As we were walking from the kitchen to the front door, the phone rang.

  “Excuse me for a moment, Vett. Let me answer that,” Carolyn said, then walked back into the kitchen.

  “Hello,” I heard Carolyn say. The rest of the conversation was muffled. She clearly did not want me to hear her conversation.

  I stood in the living room five feet from the front door. I looked around the room. Besides the outdated look, something appeared off. Something was wrong with the room. Carolyn broke my concentration when she walked back into the room.

  “Vett, sorry about that. If I can help you further, please call me.”

  “Again, thank you, Carolyn, for agreeing to talk to me. Have a good evening.”

  I walked slowly with my head down to my Jeep parked in Carolyn’s driveway. Carolyn’s living room was still puzzling me. What was it?

  “Oh well, it will come to me,” I whispered.

  I started my Jeep and put it in reverse. As I did so, Carolyn’s apple pie came to mind. It indeed was delicious but a little too sweet for my taste. Just as that thought left my mind, the elderly Mellie sisters, who I interviewed last October regarding Hollice Nichols’ murder, came to mind. I had nicknamed them the sweet Mellie sisters because of their charming nature. What struck me as odd about their living room is that none of the furniture and furnishings appeared to be from the last twenty years except for the modern silver photo frames. Photos of family members in silver frames were on every flat surface in the room—the mantel, end tables, coffee table, and the piano.

  “That’s it,” I shouted.

  I saw what was wrong with Carolyn’s living room. There were no framed photos of people displayed anywhere in the living room, not even one of a man who I would have thought to b
e Carolyn’s deceased husband, Harold. The peculiar thing is that there were stacks of various sizes and color photo frames on the floor near the orange cigarette holder/plant holder at the back of the room. I couldn’t tell from where I had stood if photos were in the frames.

  I drove away thinking my visit with Carolyn left me with more questions than answers.

  CHAPTER 16

  I arrived at Mineral Funeral Home in plenty of time to stake out a position in the back of the room. Before entering, I sat in my Jeep writing notes into my black and white composition book. My meeting with Carolyn was still on my mind. I concluded that she was hiding something. But why would she do that? I wondered. My encounter with her increased my desire to talk to Gwen. Would Gwen corroborate everything Carolyn said?

  After completing my notes, I entered the building. A sign at the entrance read that Duffy was in viewing room A. Entering, I immediately saw Nancy Radley and two ladies—one White, the other Black standing at the front of the room to the left of Duffy’s casket. There were a total of nine people sitting in chairs on both sides of the aisle. I walked to the front, viewed the body, and then spoke to Nancy.

  “Nancy, again, I would like to express my condolence for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Vett. I am so glad you could make it. These are my friends Lynn Waters and Tess Maples. Lynn, Tess, this is Vett Brayborn.” It didn’t slip by me that Nancy chose not to mention that I was investigating Duffy’s murder.

  “Hello ladies, it’s nice to meet you both.”

  “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” they echoed each other.

  “Vett, again, thank you for coming. Enjoy the refreshment at the back of the room,” Nancy said.

  I walked away as a line of ten people had gathered behind me to speak to her. I walked to the food table to see if there was protein food available. There were small ham sandwiches. I put two on a plate with three celery sticks. I needed this food to help eliminate the sweet taste in my mouth from the lemonade and apple pie.