Murder in Gatlinburg (25 page)

"So, Lieutenant,
what brings you here to see me off? I haven't been meddling."

"No, I think you've
been good for the most part. At least I didn't receive any calls from a
murderer telling me that you were pestering him or her to death. Although I do
suspect that while I had my back turned you stepped out of the circle once or
twice."

"Maybe I just
thought about stepping out of the circle. So what brings you to see me? A job
offer? If so, I want you to know that I'm happy being retired."

"Well, that remains
to be seen. You haven't been retired long enough. Your chief said there haven't
been any murders in your burg since you retired. Wait until the first murder
and then see how you feel."

"You might be right
there. I guess as soon as I hear there has been a murder I need to head on
vacation and hope no one is murdered while I'm there."

"Well, murder is
why I'm here. I thought you might want to know that we caught the murderer last
night."

"Really? Who was
it?"

"Any idea?"

"You wouldn't let
me get close enough to solve it."

"Just guess."

"Oh, I don't know.
The bus driver."

"How did you
guess?"

"What are you talking
about, how did I guess? I just said that because I knew the bus driver was the
first one murdered. Well, maybe Miss Friendly, I mean Miss Trueblood was
murdered first."

"No, you're right.
The bus driver was the first one murdered."

"So, who did
it?"

"A guy by the name
of Reid Chumbley."

"Who in the world
is that?"

"The bus
driver."

"But the bus driver
was the first one murdered, and his name was Earl something or other."

"That's
right."

"Are you trying to
tell me that Harlan's real name is Reid Chumbley?"

"No."

"But you said the
bus driver did it. We only had two bus drivers."

"I know."

"But you said the
bus driver did it."

"He did."

"You mean it was a
suicide and he shut himself in that crate underneath the bus?"

"No. He was
murdered."

"Who was murdered?"

"Earl. The bus
driver."

"And who murdered
him?"

"Weren't you
listening? Reid Chumbley."

Lt. Curlee was having
fun playing with me, and he couldn't hold it in anymore. He starting laughing
so hard he started shaking.

"So, who is Reid
Chumley?"

"The murderer. But
he was the bus driver, too."

"Oh, you mean he
used to drive a bus?"

"That's
right."

"Then how would I
know him?"

"You rode down here
with him."

"Oh, you mean he
was one of the other members of our tour group. Which one?"

"The bus driver."

"Are we back to
that again?"

"We are."

"And he was on our
bus?"

"He was."

"So, he was one of
the passengers?"

"No. I told you he
drove the bus."

I wondered how long they
would send me away if I choked a cop. I was too scared to find out.

"Let's try this
again. Earl drove the bus."

"No, Reid Chumbley
drove the bus."

"I don't
understand."

"Earl was already
dead and inside the crate where he kept his belongings."

"And Reid Chumbley
pretended to be Earl?"

"Now, you got it.
It takes you a while, but sooner or later you come around."

"And you caught
him?"

"And he
confessed."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he knew we
had him dead to rights.  See, he was really a hired killer sent down here by
Inez Weddle's husband to kill her. He made a trial run a few weeks ago on
Earl's bus, found out what all the bus driver did and learned the route. So, he
shows up, kills Earl, and dumps him in the luggage compartment. It all worked
because he was the same size as Earl and Earl brought some spare uniforms on
the trip. But it took him a little longer than he thought to drag Earl out of
the bus and hide him, so he almost got caught by Agnes Trueblood. He wasn't
sure whether she saw him dispose of the body or not, so he had to make sure she
was out of the way. He kept a close eye on her whenever he could, and after
everyone returned from Dixie Stampede on Friday night he knocked on her door,
knocked her out when she answered it, dragged her back inside, and eventually
threw her over the balcony."

"So, Inez is dead,
too?"

"No, Inez, was how
we caught him, and it was pure luck. One of our officers, Officer Durst, was
making his rounds, driving down a mountain road, when he rounded a curve and
saw a man chasing a woman across the road. The man chased her through the woods
and Durst gave chase. Chumbley turned and fired at Durst, and he returned fire
and nipped him in the leg. It caused Chumbley to trip and fall and Durst caught
up with him. Once  Inez Weddle saw that the officer had cuffed him, she came
running back and gave him the story as she knew it. She recognized him as the
man who drove the bus to Gatlinburg and told Durst we should check him out,
that he might be a hit man hired by her husband. At that point Chumbley
confessed. He knew that he would be found out as soon as they checked out his
picture and prints."

"And what happened
to Inez?"

"She's at an
undisclosed location until her husband is out of the way. We've contacted the
police in Kentucky and they are paying him a visit. They plan to pick him up
and hold him as long as possible."

"And none of these
suspicious people traveling with me are guilty of anything?"

"I don't know about
that, but I think our guy acted alone. That's the way he worked in the
past."

I took out my phone and
located the photographs of the guy with the limp and the two men in sunglasses.

"What about these
people?"

"This guy comes to
town from time to time. We've arrested him for some petty crimes, but nothing
major. As far as I know the two guys in sunglasses are tourists."

"Oh, and one other
thing. I understand that you were attacked the other day at one of our
attractions."

"Someone called you
about it?"

"No, Chumbley
admitted to that, too. He said he was afraid you were on to him. He wanted to
scare you away before you found out who he was and why he was here."

"I think a police
lieutenant scared me off the case."

Lt. Curlee laughed.

I stood there,
dumbfounded. I had ridden all the way down to Tennessee on top of a body and
never considered that the bus driver was a fake. As I stood there contemplating
that, I heard a door open. Lou had stepped out of his abode and was making his
way down the step, careful that he didn't drop any of his luggage. I couldn't
wait to make Lou guess the murderer's identity. When he got close enough I hollered
at him.

"Hey, Lou, the
murderer has been caught. Guess who it was?"

"Oh, I dunno. I
guess maybe the bus driver."

"Funny, Lou. The
bus driver was the first one murdered."

"Oh, you mean the
real bus driver. I mean the one who took his place and drove us down
here."

I don't know how far
open my mouth flew, but it remained there.

"You knew that our
driver was a fake, and that he was really a murderer and you didn't tell
me?"

"Cy, I know how
much it means to you to figure out things for yourself. I was going to tell you
eventually."

Lt. Curlee was enjoying
our conversation, but he felt it was time to go, so he told us how much he
enjoyed meeting us and told us to come back to Sevier County sometime and look
him up.

A minute or so after Lt.
Curlee took off our ride arrived. We dropped all of our stuff off at the bus,
then went into the dining room to eat our last breakfast buffet at Westgate.
Well, our last one for a while. We both filled our plates, prayed, and I dug
in. Lou waited until I had a mouthful of food and then started grinning.

"What's so
funny?" I asked, trying not to spew food all over the table.

Lou waited until I had
another mouthful of food before he answered me.

"Lt. Curlee called
me this morning and told me they had found the killer and who it was."

"What? He called
you and not me."

"He said that I
never tried to overstep my bounds into his case. We both had a good laugh
afterward, and I'm sure he laughed all the way down the hill when he left here
a few minutes ago. I thought about not telling you, but I knew it would bother
you the rest of you life if you thought I solved a case you couldn't figure
out."

I sat there, shook my
head, and then laughed with him. That was a pretty good trick on me.

At 9:30, with everyone aboard except Inez, Earl, and Miss Friendly, the bus left Westgate. Harlan was
driving. At least he told us his name was Harlan, and the chances of riding
with two murdering fake bus drivers on the same trip were slim. I turned around
the best I could and looked at the resort we were leaving behind, the place I
didn't know existed a month earlier. I knew that I would soon be ready to come
back; to Westgate, to Gatlinburg, to Pigeon Forge, and to the mountains.

When we got to our first
stop I motioned for Lou to wait until last for us to get off. I wanted to talk
to Harlan. When I was sure that everyone had gotten off and were out of hearing
distance, I bent over and asked him a question.

"Have you heard any
more about Earl?"

"Like what?"

"Like how he was
murdered or who killed him."

"Not yet. I assume
the company would be more likely to hear something than I would."

I didn't know if he was
telling the truth, or hiding something from me because he didn't know I knew
who had murdered Earl. I wasn't going to enlighten him. That wasn't my place.
With Harlan's last statement I motioned to Lou to step down off the bus, and we
were off to our last day of shopping.

We stopped and shopped
at a couple of places in Pigeon Forge, and it was 12:30 when we left. The one that grabbed everyone's attention was this huge store that sold
everything imaginable that could be considered Christmas decorations. While Lou
and I both live alone and don't give or receive a lot of Christmas presents, we
both put up a tree each year. We didn't buy a lot at the Christmas store, but
we both made sure that we bought an ornament with the year on it, so, if we
were fortunate enough to live another twenty to thirty years, we would always
remember the year that we took our first real vacation.

Our vacation in Sevier County ended the same way it began. On our way back home the bus stopped at the
Applewood Farmhouse and Lou and I helped ourselves to the apple fritters and
everything that went with them. The only difference was that we were enjoying
lunch and not breakfast, and that Sylvia wasn't sitting next to me, and no one
in our group knew where Inez was.

+++

The one thing I saw that
I wanted to buy for myself was a Thomas Kinkade print, but I knew that I didn't
have room for it on the bus. I promised myself that I would return in my own
vehicle and buy it then. Of course I never thought of that until I fluffed my
pillow and was ready to nap on the bus ride home. Just as I got settled, Lou
opened his mouth, as if he had been able to read my mind.

"Cy, did you get
that Thomas Kinkade print you wanted so bad?"

"You know I didn't.
Did you get yours?"

"Yep."

"You did not. It
was too big."

"I know that, Cy.
That's the reason I had them ship it to my place. I bought it when you had to
go to the restroom."

I closed my eyes. I
would be miserable until I got home, so to rectify that situation, I called the
gallery, described the print I wanted, and had them ship it to my house. Then
Lou and I would be even again.

I kept my eyes open
until we were out of Sevier County. I looked at everything like a little boy
who was making memories of his first vacation. Once we passed through Sevierville
I closed my eyes and took a nap. It would make the trip home seem faster, and
it would make me alert for the drive from Lexington to Hilldale. I opened one
eye and looked over at Lou. He too would be alert later. Maybe we would discuss
our next vacation on the way home.

And as we traveled home,
I had no idea that back in Hilldale some members of Hilldale's Finest were
decorating my yard for my return.