Sequestered with the Murderers

probably be the next person to speak to you. In any case, we will update you as soon as we know more. Thank you for your patience and cooperation,” explained Trooper Dryden. He handed the microphone back to Lemmonee, then turned toward the door.
“Thank you, Trooper Dryden,” Lemmonee said.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” Trooper Dryden replied, then swiftly walked off the bus.
As soon as Lemmonee closed the door, the grumblings started up again.
“We are stuck on this bus at a rest area of all places. I’m cold, and it’s so misty outside I can barely see anything. Why are we stuck here! All because Sybil Lloyd chose this night to get even with that snake,” Marjorie said in frustration, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You don’t know that Sybil had anything to do with this. You need to keep your voice down,” Rebbie responded, barely audible.
“That snake of a bus driver is missing, isn’t he? How long does it take to go into the men’s room to take a piss?” Marjorie said so forcefully that I and several people in the seats behind me turned around and glared her way. Her outbursts were clearly upsetting some of the passengers.
Marjorie had been a busybody the entire trip. She knew something about everybody and something about everything. Marjorie was White, sixty-five years old, five feet eight inches tall, I guessed, and physically fit. Her hair was dyed auburn, and she had small facial features. The heavy makeup she wore was unbecoming. Her Southern drawl was understandable, but she talked so fast that she sometimes ran words together. I found myself paying close attention when she spoke to understand her. There was a harshness to her face, and it magnified every time she said anything. I don’t think she realized how harsh she came across to people.
Her traveling companion, Rebbie, was the same in age and stature as Marjorie. I assumed they were workout buddies since they wore workout outfits each day of the trip. Rebbie was White, too, and her facial features were slightly larger than Marjorie’s. Rebbie’s natural salt and pepper hair was cut into a short pixie style, the same way I wore mine. She had a softness and likeability about her that Marjorie didn’t have.
After the grumblings on the bus had continued for approximately fifteen minutes, Lemmonee and I noticed at the same time another state trooper car and a white van park near the bus.
“That’s our van. Jackson Stevens, the president, is here, and Carter. That’s Carter in the white cap,” Lemmonee said to me, then announced to everyone that they had arrived.
“Everyone, Brightness’s president, Jackson Stevens, and our director of bus services, Carter Richardson, are here. They’ve arrived in a white van. We should have some information soon. So please be patient and stay in your seats. I’ll update you as soon as I know more. Thank you for your patience.”
I assumed the trooper in the trooper car was Trooper Dryden’s Sergeant. The three men walked hurriedly toward Trooper Dryden, and it appeared that introductions were being made. Less than a minute later, a flurry of activity began. Trooper Dryden started talking into his two-way shoulder radio, and his Sergeant did the same to his radio. They both stop talking. Then the Sergeant said a few words to Jackson and Carter. Trooper Dryden pointed south as Jackson, Trooper Dryden, and his Sergeant began running south toward the front of the building.
Carter began running toward the bus door. Lemmonee quickly opened the door, and Carter rushed in bringing cold air with him, much colder than the air that had flowed in earlier after Troop Dryden entered the bus.
He whispered, “Hey, Lemmonee. They’ve found Duffy’s body inside the maintenance’s room, and he is dead. They know it is him by his name tag and wallet. He has been shot several times. That’s all I know now. You are to keep the passengers sequestered. The troopers will come onto the bus to talk to them as soon as they can. You can relay this information to everyone. Keep the door closed. I will be back as soon as I can.” Carter rushed off the bus, running toward the front of the building.
Lemmonee then picked up the microphone and made another announcement to the passengers in such a solemn tone that I thought she was going to burst into tears. There was a combined loud gasp from the passengers, then a few moments of silence, and then discussions of what happened began. Lemmonee did not burst into tears, but it would have been understandable if she had.
It was 9:55 pm. The investigator in me was on high alert. I had to get a close look at the crime scene. I needed to see the exact crime scene while the body was still there. Even if I didn’t get to work the case, I needed to see the scene. Investigating is in my blood; I can’t control it. As Lemmonee was making the announcement, I devised a plan in my head to see the scene.
After her announcement concluded, I said, “Lemmonee, I’m going back to my seat to get my phone to call my husband.”
“Okay, Vett. Come on back when you’re done.”
Hurriedly reaching my seat, I asked Dimma to do me a favor. She agreed.
After I made the call to Gam, Dimma said, “Lemmonee, I can’t hold it any longer. I need to go use the restroom. I don’t want to use the toilet on the bus. I don’t want to add “flavor” to the bus since we are going to be sequestered longer than anybody knows.”
Lemmonee thought about it for a few seconds, then asked, “Does anyone else want to use the rest area restrooms?” Three hands went up, all women.
“Lemmonee, I will take them. I know you can’t leave the other passengers,” I said, putting my cell phone in my coat pocket.
“Okay, Vett, you take them, and please everyone stay together.”
The five of us disembarked quickly and walked to the front of