“Oh no, I’m fine. I want to speak to Jackson for a moment, then I need to head home. Thank you anyway.” Louise then headed toward the refreshments.
“You’re not spending the night?” Lemmonee asked.
“No, I can’t tonight. My husband and I leave for a three-day vacation tomorrow at my favorite bed and breakfast, and there are still some things I need to take care of before we leave. Do you have time for one question?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“The night of the murder, do you remember seeing Joe McClain and Holt Pruitt, Jr. standing outside near the restrooms chitchatting? They said they were out there for a bit stretching their legs.”
“I don’t remember seeing them. Leaving the bus, I went straight to the ladies’ room. Leaving the ladies’ room, I rushed straight back to the bus. It was so cold outside.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“They could have been there. I just didn’t see them.”
“Thanks, Lemmonee. I appreciate your help.”
“Anytime. Have a wonderful vacation and a safe trip home. Bye, Vett.”
“Thank you. You have a wonderful Southwest trip.”
“I will.”
I saw Jackson glancing my way as I walked away from Lemmonee. It took a few seconds to get through the crowd.
“How are you this evening, Jackson?”
“As well as can be expected, Vett. I’d like for you to meet my wife, Kasper. Kasper, this is Vett Brayborn, the lady I told you I hired.”
“Hi, Kasper. It is nice to meet you.”
“It is nice to meet you, too. Jackson has told me so much about you,” Kasper said as we shook hands.
“All good, I hope.”
“Yes, indeed. I admire what you do.”
“Thank you. I do find it interesting.”
“Kasper, would you excuse us for a minute. I need to speak to Vett for a moment,” Jackson said.
We walked out of room A into the waiting room area near the front door.
“I love my wife dearly, but she loves to talk, especially to new people she meets. I wouldn’t have been able to get a word in.”
“She seems really sweet. I love meeting new people, too.”
“Don’t worry; she’ll make sure she gets the opportunity to talk to you again. She’ll make me invite you to something. Just you wait and see. I know you owe me a report tomorrow. So I won’t ask for it tonight, but I am curious to hear what you think of Rev. Ronda.”
“She is a colorful and humorous-looking woman. She spoke well of Duffy and Nancy’s relationship. It’s just that from what I have gathered on Duffy’s life, I can’t see him making use of an energy healer advisor and physic medium.”
“Me neither. I see her as a practitioner of deceptive and delusive nonsense he may have tolerated to please Nancy. I never once heard him mention Rev. Ronda.”
I purposely didn’t address Jackson’s comment about Rev. Ronda because similar wordings were once used by people I can’t even remember to describe me. I am not a healer, nor a psychic, nor have I ever claimed to be these things. I do see things others cannot see; these are my revelations from God. So I never make fun of the stated abilities of others. I believe God uses all types of people and methods to get his work done.
“Rev. Ronda said she had been advising him for two years.”
“On what is the question? Well, I had better get back to my wife before she comes looking for you with her murder mystery questions. She loves murder mystery shows. Are you spending the night?”
“No, I need to get back home tonight. I’ll call you early tomorrow morning. What is the best time? I know the funeral is at noon.”
“Call me at 9:00 am. Yes, that’ll be fine. Have a safe drive home.”
“I will. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Before exiting the front door, I asked the attendant at the door for an obituary. I looked at it briefly, noticing Jackson was listed as a speaker. I then stuck the obituary in my bag, intending to read it when I got home.
My spirits were somewhat dampened because I had not received a revelation. I was so sure I would. As I walked to my car, I giggled at the thought of Rev. Ronda’s appearance. I giggled more at the idea of the funny jokes Duffy must have made about her.
CHAPTER 17
Today Friday, I awoke at 6:00 am and immediately got out of bed. Gam was still asleep. I performed my morning rituals, dressed in sweats, and then walked on the treadmill for thirty minutes. While walking, I formulated in my mind the items I wanted to provide Jackson.
At 6:45 am, I sat at the kitchen table writing my list of items to discuss with Jackson in my black and white composition book. At 7:00 am, Gam walked in, then showered me with kisses.
“I wondered where you had gotten off to this morning. I thought you would be in the office working on your vision board,” Gam said.
“I’m taking a break from it, trying to clear my head. I’ll be back to it in a bit.”
“You got in pretty late last night. Did you learn anything new at the viewing?”
“Yeah, it was 11:30 pm when I got home. I did wake you, but you rolled over and went back to sleep.”
“After you called last night to let me know you were on your way home, I tried to wait up for you. I was dead on my feet and didn’t want to admit it. I have been working hard to get everything squared away so the department will not have anything to call me on while we are away.”
“Good for you. I am looking forward to this mini-vacation. The only thing new I learned was Duffy was seeing a woman energy healer advisor and psychic medium. Jackson said he was probably just tolerating her to please his wife, Nancy.”
“What does an energy healer advisor/psychic medium do? I know what psychics claim to do, but when you put all these words together, what does it mean?”
“I’m not sure, Gam, but I am going to do some research. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, Baby. I’ve got to do my exercises now. My duffle bag is packed and in the car. My golf clubs are there, too. I am ready to roll. I’ll be back home from work at 4:00 pm to pick you up. Have your bag packed and waiting for me at the door,” Gam sang out, then began walking away to do his exercises in the bedroom.
“Wait a minute, Gam. Why are you taking your golf clubs? I thought we were going to spend the three days together.”
“We are. I’m taking them just in case an opportunity presents itself. Who knows, you may want to spend time with your man on the range,” Gam said, then winked at me.
At 7:30 am, I heard the shower in our bedroom go on. Without realizing it, I had been sitting for thirty minutes going over last night’s event, hoping I had missed something that would give me a clue to who murdered Duffy. Nothing surfaced. I got up, picked up my composition book, and then went into my office. I turned on my computer but sat staring at my vision board.
“Who murdered this man and why?” I asked out loud. I spent thirty minutes reading and reviewing all the information I had put on my vision board.
Gam walked to the doorway entrance.
“I’m leaving now. Be ready at four.” He blew me a kiss, and a few seconds later, I heard the front door close and the clicking of the lock.
My attention then focused on getting information on energy healer advisors. I knew what a psychic medium was—a person that communicates with the spirit world using extrasensory perception. At the beginning of my investigative career, people called me that name, among other psychic names. So yes, indeed, I knew what a psychic medium was—something I wasn’t.
I keyed energy healer advisor into my browser. I clicked on the first selection that appeared and read that energy healer advisors focus on improving their patient’s energy. They maintain they can maneuver their patients’ energy sphere by diffusing impasses or steering energy to other channels. They are confident they ca
n influence their patients’ energy, changing the bodily condition.
“Why did Nancy need help with her energy for so long? Five years is a long time,” I said out loud.
The main benefits, the article claims, are stress reduction and relaxation, which activate the patient’s natural healing power. In other words, energy healing is a therapy that balances what’s in you to help you be healthy and well.
Does this work for everyone? I wondered
I found my answer a few paragraphs down in the article. For it to work, the patient must believe, trust, and have a positive outlook that the process will work. If there are doubts, then the patient will be blocking the energies the healer is casting. When the patient blocks the energies, they will not reach where they are supposed to go.
I read a few more articles, and they all basically had the same summary: the use of energy to renew healthiness—physical, mental, and spiritual—is an element of alternative medicine. Healers can employ distinct methods that include acupuncture, acupressure, yoga, therapeutic touch, and certain meditations. The end goal is the same—to heal by redirecting an individual’s energy to decrease or enhance what’s within to attain a balance.
Next, I took a look at Rev. Ronda’s web page. She listed herself as a certified healer advisor and a certified psychic medium through various organizations and commissions. A host of training classes and seminars were listed with subject matter that included trance and aura, healing, parapsychic, touch healing, therapeutic touch, hypnotism, and several other subjects. A Master of Science degree in Counseling and a Doctor of Philosophy in Parapsychology were listed among her credentials. She listed extensive travel and training in the background section. She was unmarried, living in Dorchester County, Maryland. She certainly seemed qualified in her field. Her web page was most enlightening.
The articles gave me a good understanding of energy healing. Now I wanted to know why Nancy needed an energy healer advisor/psychic medium for so long and how she came in contact with Rev. Ronda. I added these questions to my vision board.
It was now time to call Jackson. I got up from my desk, then walked into the kitchen. I retrieved the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator, then poured a full glass. I took a sip, then telephoned Jackson.
“Hello.”
“Jackson, it’s Vett.”
“Hi, Vett. How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine and you.”
“I’m not looking forward to having to say a final goodbye to one of my employees. I know it has to be done.”
“It is a sad thing to have to do. Montgomery’s speech was uplifting. The obituary listed you as a speaker at the funeral.”
“I am and just finished practicing. What do you have for me?”
“Jackson, I still don’t know who murdered Duffy and why yet, but trust me, I will. In the meantime, there are some unexplainable things I’ve come across.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I’m not used to my phone calls not being returned. I’ve left several phone messages for Marjorie Brown, Rebbie Shields, and Gwen Sonnack. They were all on the Tennessee trip, and I met them all. They are not returning my calls.”
“I take it Lemmonee has verified their contact information for you.”
“Yes, she has.”
“That does appear strange. Do you think they had something to do with the murder?”
“I’m beginning to think so. There is another person I’m beginning to have a suspicion about, Carolyn Broadbent.”
“How so?”
“I met with her in her home. Her whole demeanor soured when I began asking questions about the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders. Living in Envyton County all her life, she must know more about the murders than what she is telling.”
“Did she give you any details?”
“She said she knew of the murdered victims and Duffy and that everyone living in Envyton County as old as she had heard about the murders and Duffy’s involvement.”
“That is strange. That was such a high-profile case. It circulated in all the surrounding counties and towns. It was just ten years ago. Everybody knew Ms. Lacecap because of her business. It is peculiar she didn’t want to talk about it.”
“And another thing, all her photo frames were removed from the wall and tables. They were stacked in the back corner of her living room. I felt she had removed them because of me: she didn’t want me to see them.”
“Now that is strange. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know yet, but an answer will come to me. On another note, after I met with Nancy, I saw her in a passionate kiss with a tall White man.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“No, I have a picture of them sharing the kiss. So I’ll keep that to myself until I need it.”
“I’m not surprised at this information. Duffy’s job kept him away from home half of every month. Nancy was welcome to go on the trips with him, but she never showed much interest. I guess she found other ways to occupy her time.”
“She has a job. She couldn’t accompany Duffy on all his trips. Are you saying she didn’t love Duffy?”
“I’m saying she was probably lonely. Vett, I’ve seen a lot of different relationships in my years. I don’t judge. Perhaps, they had an arrangement.”
“From what I’ve learned, Duffy loved Nancy, but I see your point. Who knows what all goes on between a husband and wife? On to another subject. I need to talk to you about something that may be sensitive to you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve uncovered information about Lanta and Ms. Lacecap’s brother. If you prefer, I’ll discuss this information with Lanta.”
Jackson did not hesitate, nor did I sense any discomfort in his manner. He answered straightforward.
“You can talk to me. What is it you want to know? You can also talk to Lanta. There is nothing to hide about her relationship with Whirley.”
“Uh, Whirley?”
“Ms. Lacecap’s brother, Whirtle Lloyd. Everybody called him Whirley. According to Lanta, he and Ms. Lacecap were very close. They were the two oldest children. I believe Ms. Lacecap was the older of the two. There were some younger sisters somewhere in Envyton County. When Whirley wasn’t working, he helped Ms. Lacecap in her business as a bouncer, you know, someone to keep the peace.”
“What kind of work did he do?”
“Whirley used to work for a locksmith company and in construction. Not sure what he does now. He could be retired. Lanta will know.”
That name Whirley struck a chord with me. I don’t ever remember hearing it, but it meant something to me. My inner voice was telling me I knew that name, but I didn’t. My inner voice wasn’t shouting: it rarely does. It was talking peacefully from somewhere deep within me. I learned a long time ago that I had to act on what my inner voice communicated to me, even when what was shared seem to make no common sense. Like now with the name Whirley.
One of the reasons I enjoy walking on my treadmill is because it is a quiet time for me. I’m in the present listening, and my inner voice speaks so frequently doing this time. I didn’t always do what my inner voice commanded, and the outcome was pure misery or loss of something I wanted. The problem I had back then was many voices were talking in my head. Determining which was my inner voice took time. My mind, my fears, my wants, and my inner voice were some of the voices wrangling for my attention. I had to learn to blot out the commotion and understand what my inner voice did to distinguish itself. Learning to distinguish my inner voice was worth it. Now, it is easy to recognize it. I listen to it contently and follow through on the command.
“Do you know how I can get in contact with Whirley? I’d like to talk to him?”
“I don’t, but Lanta will probably know.”
“That’s fine. I’ll call her?”
“What’s next?”
<
br /> “Do you think Lanta knows who murdered Diantha?”
“Absolutely not. It is true what you are not asking. Lanta and Whirley were in love when they were younger. Had it been a different time, I believe they would have gotten married. Whirley is very tall, very handsome, and walks with a limp he sustained from some sort of tractor accident. All Lanta’s friends were interested in him back then, but he only had eyes for Lanta. Our parents were racist and forbade Lanta to see him, but she continued to see him anyway. Lanta and Whirley lost touch for a while when my parents moved us from Envyton County to Attribute. They are still friends today, but she doesn’t know who murdered Diantha. How could she know? Whirley and Sybil don’t know. The police don’t know.”
“The rumor is Lanta dated other Black men, too.”
“She did before Whirley and after Whirley. She had an attraction for Black men. What can I say? My wife is Black. I didn’t go searching for a Black wife. I met her, then fell in love with her. Vett, you can’t tell your heart who to love.”
“So true, so true. I’ll telephone Lanta and speak to her about the murders.”
“She’ll be open with you. As you heard from her in the meeting on Monday, she doesn’t think Duffy and Diantha’s murders are connected.”
“I know, but she may be able to shed some light on other things for me.”
“Okay. What’s next?”
“Sheriff Hobbs. Do you think he could be involved in the murders? He most assuredly did not want to give me copies of the police reports. I don’t think he would have if you hadn’t told him to do it.”
“Ugh, no! He’s just a small town red-neck sheriff. He was throwing his weight around at you. A beautiful, intelligent, well-spoken, and knowledgeable of the law Black woman comes into his small dinky office asking for the information she has a right to have, made him feel small and unintelligent. He was just trying to show you he has power.”
“I know he has power. He’s the sheriff.”
“You can cross him off your list. He wasn’t the sheriff ten years ago.”
Sequestered with the Murderers Page 14