Sequestered with the Murderers

had taught me that there are ulterior motives behind the most straightforward requests.
While he was standing by the driver’s seat last night, my first impression of Jackson was inaccurate. I thought he was insensitive. Now I realize he was in shock: he had lost an employee to a gruesome murder. He once was a robust man. He was somewhat shrunken from a notable six feet four inches tall, I guessed. I could tell this by his stance and the signs of aging his body carried. His Brightness uniform—white shirt and khaki pants—hung on him, a great indicator that he had lost thirty to forty pounds. I guessed his age to be early to mid-seventies. He looked like a preacher, or a teacher, or some type of educator, someone in authority people respected and admired. His white hair was pulled back to the back of his neck. His brows and lashes were white, his eyes were blue, and his pale White skin was speckled with spidery, reddish blemishes. Though I had thought him insensitive last night, I was impressed by his words to the passengers, the just the facts attitude, and the authoritativeness of his voice.
Now, I wanted to know whether Duffy had lied to Jackson and if the company was at risk for his murder. I quickly showered and dressed, then walked to my kitchen for a cup of coffee. While the coffee was brewing, I sat down at the kitchen table and called Dimma. Dimma and I had been best friends since elementary school. We were the same height, five feet six inches, had the same caramel skin coloring and had similar small facial features. People thought we were related, but we were not. Dimma owned a successful real estate company that she started soon after we graduated from college.
“Hello, Vett. How are you this morning?” Dimma answered. I could hear sleep in her voice.
“I’m good. Still tired. Sorry to wake you up, but I need to ask you something.”
“No problem. Give me a minute to get out of bed. I need to be up anyway. I have a 1:00 pm appointment in the office today.” I could hear her moving around and the sound of her walking.
“I’m back.”
“Can’t Myra handle that appointment for you? You sound beat. We had a long, exasperating night last night.” Myra Dovely is a real estate agent who works for Dimma. Dimma’s business had grown so much in the last few years. So much so that she had to hire a real estate agent to help her.
“No, this is a personal friend of Simon’s that I promised to take on.” Simon was Dimma’s husband.
“I see. Well, before I ask my question, I’ve got some news. Jackson Stevens called me this morning and asked that I look into Duffy’s murder. I agreed to do it.”
“What! Why would he do that?”
It took fifteen minutes to relay my conversation with Jackson to Dimma. She asked questions along the way. When she was all out of questions, she said, “There is more to this murder than meets the eye, isn’t it, Vett?”
I shrugged, though I know she couldn’t see me. “I’m beginning to think so. I’m intrigued by the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders. I’ve never been on a case where a madam was part of the case.”
“It is hard for me to believe she got away with that business for so many years. Why did the police turn a blind eye to it?’
“I don’t know, Dimma. But I will find out.”
“Duffy was such a fun guy. The informational brochure given to us at the beginning of the tour said Duffy had driven for Brightness for six years and had won several driving awards. I felt good about his driving skills, but last night’s disparaging remarks caused me to wonder about his character. Was his outgoing and joking personality a cover for something more menacing?” Dimma said.
“Yeah, he was an excellent driver and maneuvered that beautiful bus with skill. He drove us to our tour sites in both Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg without any incidents. I must say the trip was absolutely wonderful as Brightness had promised. For it to end so tragically is heartbreaking.”
With a sigh, Dimma replied, “I agree with you.”
“I know we just met him, but he seems to be a really nice guy. He was so funny, I mean, literally. Duffy made me laugh. I am anxious to talk to Marjorie Brown and Rebbie Shields. Marjorie didn’t care who heard her disparaging remarks. They know something, and it doesn’t appear to be good. I’ll get it out of them. They may know more about the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders than Jackson. Are you available to ride with me tomorrow afternoon to Attribute? I’m planning on coming back home Monday afternoon.”
“Oh, Vett, I would love to, but I can’t. I have a meeting Monday morning that I don’t want to miss. The mayor is holding a meeting regarding a mixed-use building project that the city is undertaking. I want to hear firsthand about the project. There may be some opportunities for my company in this project.”
“I understand. That’s no problem. I’ll keep you on the list for my next adventure.”
“Please do. You know I love helping you on your cases.”
“Oh, I know you do. You know I’ll be calling you to walk through certain things with me as I always do. I’ll call you tomorrow once I get there. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Vett. Be careful.”
I was still sitting at the kitchen table, going over in my head the murder scene when Gam appeared in the kitchen doorway with a bag of groceries in his arm.
“Hey, Baby. Didn’t you hear me calling out to you?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry, Gam. I’m so absorbed in what happened last night.”
After he put the bag of groceries on the counter, I got up and hugged him. Gam, Gammon Ellison, was the original lead investigator assigned to the sacks of human remains found on my great Aunt Hannah’s farm after she