Read Murder in Gatlinburg Online

Authors: Steve Demaree

Tags: #Maraya21, #Children's Books, #Literature & Fiction, #Humor & Satire, #mystery, #Thriller & Suspense, #Cozy

Murder in Gatlinburg (7 page)

BOOK: Murder in Gatlinburg
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I stayed awake the rest
of the trip, spent some of the time reflecting, the rest of it talking to Lou.
It took us an hour and a half until we arrived at the first stop mentioned on
our itinerary. It's a good thing the bus driver knew where it was. One minute
we were riding along through a small town, and the next minute we turned right,
rode only a block or so, but it looked like we  were out in the country. I was
glad Earl knew which one of the buildings was the Farmhouse, because there were
a few buildings stretched out over a quarter of a mile, and I knew that at
least two of the Applewood buildings were restaurants.

This time Lou didn't
have to elbow me when we stopped, and I got up just after he did, stepped off
the bus, and looked around. I couldn't believe I was on vacation. I wondered if
I would get tired of it before the week was up. I didn't think so. Maybe I
could get used to this vacation thing. Being retired meant Lou and I could go on
vacation again before the year was over. Maybe even take the girls along. We
wouldn't be sharing rooms, so I wasn't sure that if we went if I should offer
to pay for Jennifer's room or not. I quit thinking of that as the group headed
to the front door of the restaurant.

A couple of minutes
later, we were all seated in the same section, but Lou and I made the mistake
of sitting down before some of the group did. We took two seats at an unoccupied
table with four chairs. The other two were about to be occupied by the two
women on whose laps I did my swan dive. Since Lou and I sat on opposite sides
of the table, each woman sat down next to one of us.

"You boys mind if
we sit here?" said the one who sat down next to me.

"Looks like you're
already there."

"Oh, Inez, I like
this one. He's funny. I'm Sylvia and this is Inez. And you are...?"

"I'm hungry."

"See how funny he
is, Inez?"

"Inez, doesn't talk
much, does she?"

"Neither does your
friend. So what names do you go by other than hungry?"

"I'm Cy. He's
Lou."

"Si. Like Duck
Dynasty."

"Huh?"

"Duck Dynasty. The
TV show. Don't tell me you haven't seen it."

"If I do does that
mean that two of us will have to move?"

"It depends on
which two. I wouldn't mind having you all to myself."

"I'm sorry, but I
told them before we left the home that I would keep an eye on Lou at all times.
He hasn't been out of his straitjacket all that long. They said he could have a
relapse."

"Oh, you are a
funny one. So, Cy and Lou, is this your first rodeo?"

"Other than the Calgary Stampede."

"So, you haven't
been on one of these trips before."

"No. It was a gift
from our friends. We just retired."

"I see you're
together. You do like girls, don't you?"

"Well, at our age we're
more into women, and we've both got one at home. But our friends didn't foot
the bill for our girlfriends."

"Inez and I are
into Zumba and Pilates. How about you and Lou?"

"No, we're
Christians. We don't experiment with other religions."

"See, Inez, didn't
I tell you this one's funny. Lou, can you talk?"

"When he lets me.
Cy, show them the picture you snapped on the bus, as sort of an ice breaker."

"I have something
in mind to break, Lou, but it's not ice."

Luckily, Sylvia got over
her shyness and seized control of the conversation again. Only this time she
spoke to Lou.

"He does know what Zumba
and Pilates are, doesn't he?"

"My guess is
no."

"Here, let me show
you. No, I'm not going to do anything in the restaurant, but I have my tablet
with me. Here. Let me pull it up. Cy, this is Zumba."

I looked at the tablet
and then I realized where she was coming from.

"Now, you've seen
this before, haven't you?"

"Oh, sure, but
where we come from it goes by a different name."

"Oh, what do they
call it where you live?"

"I think it's
either Pentecostal or Charismatic. I'm not sure which one. We go to a
nonexercising church."

"Inez, doesn't he
make you want to take him home with you?"

This time Lou
interrupted, since he knew that Sylvia asked a rhetorical question.

"He does Wii. There
was a video of Cy Wiiing that went viral."

I looked around to see
if there were empty seats at any of the other tables. The only empty seat I saw
was where the psycho couple was sitting. I decided to remain where I was and
take my chances. Maybe sometime during the middle of the night I could sneak
into Lou's room and empty an ant farm onto his bed. I planned to check the gift
shop to see if they sell ant farms. 

I was glad when someone
came to wait on us. I figured if Sylvia and Lou had food they would have less
time to talk. I tried to remember who picked the table. Lou or me. I made a
point to exercise more caution the next time we stopped somewhere to eat.

I didn't think things
could get any worse, until our server came up.

"George said to
tell you that Big Brother is watching."

"Excuse me."

"George said to
tell you that Big Brother is watching."

"George who?"

"Michaelson."

"So, you are
George's contact?"

"I don't know about
that. He called the restaurant a few minutes ago, told us he was with the
police, and asked us to give you a message when you came in."

"And how did you
know which one I am?"

She took her cell phone
out of her pocket, touched it, made a couple of swipes, and showed me a picture
of myself. I made a mental note to send George's picture to the cannibals on Bora Bora.     

Message delivered, our
server took our drink orders, and spun away to get them. She returned with
those and asked if everyone was ready to order. Some people had been having too
much fun at my expense, so the answer was "give us a couple more
minutes." The next time she came back she set apple fritters in front of
us. I moved my water and orange juice off to the side to give her room to set
them down. Then she took our orders. I was glad that no one in our group talked
with his or her mouth full. I could take their smiles and smacking lips. After
all, the apple fritters were worth a smile and smacking lips. Shortly after we
finished them, our server brought our orders. There were no new messages from
George. I took a bite of everything. Well, just the stuff on my plate, although
I was sure that Sylvia would have no problem sharing her food with me. I gave
the food a thumbs up, which was good because I remembered from when I took the
itinerary final that we would be stopping here again, provided we lived through
the trip. I also remembered that I needed to buy a souvenir for whoever it was
who told me to try the apple fritters. But then they  were complimentary for
everyone. So, did I still have to buy this person a gift?

As I ate, I did my best
to look around and study all the rest of our group. If there was to be a
murder, I ruled out our group's only two children as either victims or
murderers, unless they turned out to be like the boy in
The Ransom of Red
Chief.
A few people in our group stood out as a possible murderer, but only
Mrs. Friendly, who didn't seem to be speaking to anyone else at her table,
seemed to be nervous. Was she planning something, or did the murderer slide a
threatening note her way at breakfast?

 

12

 

 

As I said earlier, I
aced the itinerary final. At least as far as the first day was concerned. I
merely glanced through the rest of it to see where we would be going, but not
learn enough about each place that I could be a docent there. I remembered that
the itinerary said that it was only a short distance from the Applewood
Farmhouse to the first attraction on our agenda, the Titanic exhibit. The Titanic
was far enough back in history that I studied it in history class. Once I
graduated from high school, I no longer had any reason for reading the front
page of the newspaper or watch the news, so recent history and current events
were not one of my strong suits.

Five minutes after we
pulled away from the Applewood property, we arrived at the Titanic, and I saw
that the ship didn't sink, but had run aground in a parking lot. Evidently no
one had mentioned this to my history teacher.

I tapped Lou on the
shoulder and cautioned him to hang back. Sylvia had planned the same strategy
for herself and Inez, but some gentleman insisted that they get off before him.
I wondered if that was enough to take him off my suspect list or if he was
sizing them up for the kill. At least he didn't remove a garrote from his
pocket once they stepped ahead of him. Besides, he looked like one of the
group's more normal passengers.

As I stepped off the bus
and tried to hide behind all the other people in our group between myself and
Sylvia, I noticed that there were other attractions seeking our money, too. The
Titanic was included in our agenda. The other places were not. I wondered if I
bought Sylvia and Inez tickets to one of the other places seeking tourists if
they would go off on their own and miss the bus.

One place looked
intriguing. It was called Wonderworks, and the building housing the attraction
appeared to be upside down. Maybe the Titanic flipped it over when it came crashing
into the parking lot.

Inez was impatient and
grew tired of waiting for the two stragglers who were way in the back, and she
convinced Sylvia to walk ahead. Evidently Sylvia felt she could accost us
aboard ship, because she headed off with Inez.

Our group walked ahead
to get our tickets. I took advantage of the time to talk to one of the men who
was traveling alone.

"Tom Jenkins,
computer software."

"Cy Dekker,
retired."

"Looks like you
were fortunate to retire at an early age, Cy. What kind of work did you
do?"

"City
management."

"Sounds
important."

"It was. It looks
like they might have to close down the whole city just because Lou and I had
had enough."

"Lou?"

"That's Lou. He was
my assistant."

"Hi, Tom. I'm Lou.
I did all the hard work."

I was thinking of a
comeback when it came our turn to pick up our tickets. I remembered that I
would be given something with the name of one of the Titanic's passengers on
it. I looked at mine. It said John Jacob Astor. I'd heard of him. He was famous
for something, but whatever it was I had forgotten from my school days and they
didn't give us a refresher course at the police department. I wished I had my
laptop with me. I wanted to know if Astor made any money after 1912. I only
knew that the Titanic sank then, and when the tide came in the ship ran aground
in the parking lot. I didn't actually remember the date the Titanic sank, but
there was some information in front of me that was my cheat sheet. But there
was nothing telling how it got to the parking lot. Only when it sank. I wasn't
too optimistic about Astor's chances of survival. I knew more women and
children made it  into the lifeboats.

When we got inside I
soon learned that we weren't inside of something that was equal in size to the
Titanic. Maybe only part of the Titanic sank. I didn't see any of the Titanic
movies either, so I didn't know if only part of the ship sank. I just knew that
there was an iceberg involved. There was an iceberg in our group, too. I
spotted Miss Friendly ahead, and was careful to steer clear of her and the
other two who seemed way too friendly.

Over the next couple of
hours I got to see a staircase more grand than anything in my house, utensils
that cost more than anything in my house, and a replica of a stateroom with a
commode that offered no privacy. I also got to steer a ship long after steering
it would do no good, and ran my hand across something that resembled an
iceberg. I also found out that Astor wasn't one of the lucky ones. But I was
fascinated to learn that forty-eight-year-old Astor had a seventeen-year-old
wife, who did survive. I guess it was fitting that he died there, because I
know he couldn't have survived much longer with a seventeen-year-old wife. As
our tour came to an end, I stepped from the ship replica, which just happened
to deposit us in the gift shop. I wondered who had thought of that ingenious idea.
As I looked at the trinkets, I thought again of Astor and his young wife. Somehow,
I couldn't picture myself with a seventeen year-old wife, and then I remembered
Heather, who wasn't too many years older than that. Maybe a young wife might
not be too bad after all. That thought didn't last long, because I remembered
that the woman of my dreams is named Jennifer, and Heather is about to be
married to someone else. If only I had let Heather know I was available she
might have chosen me instead of Dan.  

BOOK: Murder in Gatlinburg
8.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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