Murder in Gatlinburg (5 page)

The next morning I got
up, showered, got dressed, and read my morning devotionals. I was brushing my
teeth when someone knocked on the door. Not thinking, I opened the door with my
toothbrush locked in my mouth and toothpaste escaping, which made me look like
I was foaming at the mouth. Five minutes later I got a text from George,
letting me know how much he enjoyed the picture Lou had sent him. George told
me that if I got a shot the foaming at the mouth should go away. I could see my
picture been pasted all over Facebook with a caption reading "Rabid Has
Been". I promised myself that I would get even with Lou on the trip, and
that I would live long enough to make it to George's retirement party. Secretly
I was impressed that Lou had learned how to send a picture that he had taken.
It must have been the copious notes the two of us took while Mark instructed us
on how to do half of what a teenager could do with a phone. I could make a
call, take a picture, send that picture to someone, and text. All in the same
day.

When we walked out the
front door of the Marriott, I was surprised to see a bus already there at 5:15. We walked out early so I could pat Lightning on the fender and say goodbye for a few
days. I think when I did that I felt a little air go out of her tires.

After lingering just a
moment, I turned to Lou, who was standing about ten feet away, with his luggage
at his feet. We were at least a couple hundred feet from the bus, but I didn't
figure the driver would want to drive up to where we were and load our luggage,
so Lou and I bent over, picked up our luggage and headed toward the bus, much
like Stanley and Ollie in
Way Out West
. I saw some movement out of the
corner of my eye as Lou and I approached the bus. I looked over and spotted a
man with a limp, but as he turned and saw us looking at him he stepped back
into the shadows. I assumed that he was self-conscious about his limp.

As we grew closer to the
bus, I could see that we weren't the first passengers to arrive. A woman, who
from a distance looked a few years shy of ninety, had just walked up with her
luggage. The bus driver was standing there beside the storage compartment. As
far as I could tell only one trunk was already loaded, so I figured Lou and I
would be passengers number two and three. I had no idea how many others were
making the trip, but felt that our numbers would grow substantially in just a
few minutes.

I had been told that
people on vacation were friendlier than those left behind. As Lou and I
approached, I smiled at the woman who stood there. She frowned back. I
refrained from sticking out my tongue, but wiped the smile off my face. Maybe
people on vacation don't get friendly until after they arrive at wherever it is
they are going. And maybe the people who are smiling now are the neighbors this
woman left behind. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye to see if she in
any way resembled my next-door neighbor, but I didn't see quite as much need
for reconstructive surgery.

The woman seemed a
little nervous as she got on the bus. The bus driver didn't look like it was
his best day either, but maybe he was in a better mood before he encountered
that woman.

"Is this the bus
going to the Smokies?"

The bus driver didn't
frown, and he nodded, which I guess meant that Lou and I were at the right
place. He stood between us and the luggage compartment, so Lou and I handed him
our luggage and he stored it for us. He didn't impress me as a brilliant
conversationalist, so I turned to get on the bus. Lou followed. I stepped up
and checked to see where Miss Congeniality parked her carcass and took a seat a
few rows behind her.

It didn't take long for
the bus to start filling up and some of the people smiled or said
"hi" as they sat nearby. I guessed that the grumpier people sat up
front. I sat closer to where old men sit, near the restroom, if that is what we
were supposed to call the small cubicle in the back. Since I got on in front of
Lou, I moved over and took the window seat.

I watched as each new
person got on the bus. Some of them looked young enough that they might survive
the trip. There were even two couples, and a woman with two elementary-age
children. I hoped that one of the children would go over and introduce
themselves to Mrs. Scrooge. I remembered that George had threatened to plant an
informant on the bus. I looked to see if anyone looked like George's informant.
There were a couple of men traveling alone, and a few single women, but I had
no idea if George would pick a male or female informant. I ruled out the two
elementary school children. I wasn't sure about the bus driver or Miss Personality.
They both looked like they had been told they had the right to remain silent. I
stood and made a pretense of stretching, but the only people I could see were
the ones still getting on the bus. The others were hidden by the seat backs.
One man who got on looked like someone who had recently been paroled. He was
followed by a couple who looked like they had escaped. I was wondering where
the friendly people were. Maybe it was just that none of my fellow passengers
had had their first cup of coffee. I hoped that no one got trigger happy before
breakfast.

I was concentrating so
much on our fellow passengers that I didn't notice the change in Lou's
disposition. Well, I did, but it took a minute.

"Was it something
you ate at breakfast?"

"We haven't eaten
breakfast yet, Cy. Remember that doesn't happen until Sevierville."

"Well, something
already looks severe."

"I might as well
tell you. I just got a message."

The message Lou was
referring to was a message he had always received each time someone was
murdered during our years in the homicide department. Each day, until the case
was solved, he received a new thought, which had something to do with the
murder. I called them his messages from God, because they always helped us in
our case.

"Okay, what's the
message?"

"Last trip."

"Last trip?"

"That's what I
said."

"Do you think it
might mean that we won't like this vacation, and it will be the last one we
take? Or maybe it means the bus driver is retiring. He looks worn out enough to
retire."

"He doesn't look
that old."

"That's because
you're comparing him to the AARP crowd we're traveling with.”

"Most of these
people are our age or younger. You know how it is these days. Some people are
able to invest their money wisely and can retire earlier."

"What economy are
you talking about?"

"Okay, forget the
fact that he's retiring. So, what do you think, Lou?"

Lou never liked it when
I asked him what something meant, just after he had gotten the message.

"I think that you
and I are retired, so we aren't getting any more murder clues."

"So, why did you
get this one? Which one do you think? Will this be our last vacation or is the
bus driver retiring?"

"Right now I'm
leaning toward our last vacation. At least our last one together."

"Don't get huffy.
If you do I'll make you sit up front with the old biddy."

"Sorry! I guess I'm
a little nervous about taking this vacation."

"And I thought I
was the one who was nervous about taking this vacation, and retiring so
young."

"Who said I'm
nervous about retiring this soon?"

"You'll feel better
when God sends you a 'Gotcha' text, saying He was just playing with your mind
and there's no murder."

"I don't think I'll
feel any better until the bus driver passes out the muzzles."

"Muzzles are passé.
Today's crowd uses Crazy Glue Lip Balm or a burlap gag. Why don't you go up and
introduce yourself to Miss Friendly."

"She seemed more
attracted to you, Cy."

Just after that I heard
a strange noise, and it seemed to be coming from my body. It took me a little
bit before I realized that I was getting a text. My first text, other than the
parting message I received from my girlfriend Jennifer, which was for my eyes
only. I was glad that Mark spent an afternoon with Lou and me walking us
through how to use a cell phone. And then there were the repeated phone calls
on my old-fashioned phone to ask him question after question when I couldn't
figure something out. It might be a while before I get up the nerve to ask Mark
what Skype is or does. All I know is that it sounds dangerous.

I smiled when I saw I
had received another message from George. I cringed when I looked at it and
read what it said. Especially since I received it right after Lou got his message.

I understand you have
already had a murder on board.

Once again I remembered
George saying that he would have an informant on board. I assumed he was
kidding, but I wished I had the opportunity to look every passenger in the face
and see if any of them looked as devious as George. Maybe it was someone George
arrested at some point and the guy had recently got out. Maybe George told the
guy he would go easy on him as long as he did George a favor. And spying on Lou
and me was that favor. 

I showed Lou the
message. He looked even more constipated than he had when he received his
message.

"Lou, do you think
God and George are working together?"

"Now that would be
quite the odd couple."

"I don't think God
would like us calling Him odd."

"I'm not. George is
the odd duck. And I don't think God and George are in cahoots."

"Then we might be
asked to solve a murder on this trip. Maybe someone has already been
murdered."

"I just checked. No
one has fallen out into the aisle."

"Maybe it was
someone who didn't make it as far as the bus. Why don't  you go scour the
parking lot and see if there are any dead bodies?"

"Do possums
count?"

"Most of them I
know can't count."

"Then we're fine. I
covered the whole parking lot while you were spending an hour polishing Tweetie
before we left."

"It's Lightning, and
I spent only a minute saying goodbye, and I just patted her on her
fender."

"Well, just
remember not to pat any of these old biddies on their fenders. They might like
it."

"I don't plan on
it. I'm going up and ask Mr. Warmth if everyone is here. If he says, 'yes'.
then I'll check out all the passengers on the way back, make sure none of them
have been poisoned. Maybe you can check out the restroom while I'm gone, just
in case the body is in there."

Before Lou could answer,
I stood up and stepped over him. I could do that better since I lost a bunch of
weight. I walked up the aisle like I was John Wayne, or maybe Gary Cooper in
High
Noon.

"Hey, Earl, how's
it going?"

The bus driver seemed
oblivious that I was almost upon him. When he spotted me, he jumped.

"Sorry, but I did
call you by name."

"I guess I didn't
hear you. I was looking in my side mirror, concentrating on some
strange-looking guy who is darting in and out of the shadows. I might not have
noticed him if he didn't have a severe limp. For a minute I thought he looked
familiar."

"Yeah, I know the
guy you're talking about. We saw him on the way to the bus. He looks creepy.
Anyway, sorry to bother you. I was just checking to see if all the passengers
are here."

"They are
now," he said as he stepped by me and down the steps to help a woman
running toward the bus with her luggage.

Abandoned, I pirouetted,
kept my balance, and started back to my seat, checking out each passenger in
the dim light. I was fine until I looked at the woman in the third seat behind
the driver. I looked down at a woman who didn't appear to be breathing. She was
as still as could be. And then I recognized her. It was Miss Friendly, the
woman who got on the bus before us. I wondered if it could be an answer to prayer,
and then remembered that I hadn't prayed for her demise. I knew better than to
do that. I stood there, studying her. She never moved. 

I didn't know what to
do, but that didn't stop me from flying into action. I bent over, put my ear as
close to her nostrils as I could, to find out if I could hear or feel anything.
It only took a moment for me to feel something. Her elbow connected with my
ear. If I had faced her, she could have broken my nose or blackened my eye. Or
both. Considering I didn't see the blow coming, I lost my balance. I fell into
her lap, which smelled like mothballs. Quickly, I tried to get up, and she gave
me some assistance. As I stumbled back she called me a couple of names that I
didn't think described me all that well.

The push sent me
backward into a prone position. I was dazed, but I heard a woman say, "No,
he's mine. He landed on my lap first."

I opened my eyes and
looked up. It was true. People on vacation do smile. Two women were grinning at
me like a cannibal who hadn't had a meal in a while. One of them started
running her hands through my hair. The other one's index finger was navigating
the interior of my ear.