Sequestered with the Murderers by Dr. Tanner (books for 8th graders TXT) 📕

“Did he talk about anyone in particular? Anyone on the bus?”

“No, not on this trip. He was excited about meeting some comedians and magicians. He talked a lot about them. Seems like on this trip he talked more about the big breakfasts the hotel served.”

“They were delicious and worth talking about.”

“Well, he certainly was more occupied with the food on this trip than people.”

“Nancy, what about his family? Did he have family in town?”

“His parents and grandparents are dead. He has no siblings, but he has some cousins and distant cousins in Envyton County. They weren’t close. They never came to visit Duffy, and Duffy never visited them, at least in the time I’ve known him. That’s one of the reasons we hit it off. I have no siblings or close relatives either. Uh, that’s all I know about his family. Oh, he has an ex-wife in Envyton, too. I guess you know all about her.”

“You mean the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders?”

“Yeah. Duffy had nothing to do with those murders. He told me he didn’t.”

“I understand he was cleared of Ms. Lacecap’s murder, but the murderer of her niece has not been found.”

“Well, Duffy had nothing to do with it,” Nancy stated quite aggressively.

I wrote down some notes. To ward off her aggressiveness, I decided not to ask any more Lacecap Hydrangea Murder questions. Instead, I asked about Duffy’s hobbies, friends, work, church, education, criminal record, credit history, and drug and alcohol abuse. The only question she took real offense to was the drug and alcohol question.

She answered with, “Duffy never took drugs. Sure he drank some, but it never affected his job. And if Jackson is saying he drank too much, it’s a lie.”

“I’ve not heard Jackson say anything about Duffy and drinking.”

“Well, I want you to know, in case he did,” Nancy spit out, then glance surreptitiously to the clock on the wall to the left of me.

“I’m sorry, am I taking up too much of your time?” I looked at her, my body still as a statue. My eyes bore into her brown eyes without blinking. She shifted in her chair, then began blinking her eyes and plucking her fingernails.

“No, no, my girlfriend is picking me up at 10:15 to go with me to buy a black dress. Duffy’s viewing is Thursday night from 6:00- 8:00 pm, and the funeral is at noon on Friday at Mineral Funeral Home,” Nancy explained.

I stared at her, then said, “Really? Well, I understand. I won’t hold you any longer, just a few more questions.” I didn’t mean for my statement to sound so skeptical, but she had just lied to me.

“Do you or Duffy have children?”

“No, we don’t. We were planning on having a baby, but we never got around to it. Duffy was the best thing that happened to me. I miss him so much already.”

“I know, I know, what a terrible thing to happen. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“This room is beautiful. Are you an interior decorator?”

“Oh, no. I’m not a decorator. I am a hairdresser. I work for Laverne’s Hair Salon. I’ve worked there for the last four years,” Nancy said while admiring the room.

“Well, I won’t keep you much longer. Just two more questions. Was Duffy sick or anything like that? His autopsy report mentioned he had the sickle cell trait.”

“Yeah, he had it, but that didn’t make him sick. He was healthy.” I could tell she was not going to comment on the matter any further.

“My last question is this, would you tell me where you were when Duffy was murdered?” I watched her sort out what I’d asked and watched her prepare a reply, the whole time that facade of amiability she was trying to pass off crumbled. I had picked up on the crux of who she was the moment I met her. She was not an amiable unassuming woman.

“Ms. Brayborn, do you have an issue with me?”

“No, not at all. I just want to make sure I have all the facts.”

“You’re just like the rest of them—Jackson and the police asking all their insinuating questions. I don’t understand why I have to put up with this intrusive bullshit. I was home alone when Duffy was murdered. He telephoned me earlier that day before you all left the hotel, and that’s the last I heard from him. I didn’t murder him, and I don’t know who did. Now get the hell out of my house.”

“Nancy, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you did. Now get out.” I put my notebook into my bag, then quickly walked to the door

“Again, I am so sorry for your loss,” I said as I walked out the door.

She slammed the door behind me.

I’ve been an investigator long enough to know when someone is hiding something. And Nancy’s behavior was a prime example of someone doing just that. It was now 9:57 am. I got in my Jeep and drove away from the house. If she was watching me from her window, I wanted her to see me drive away. I circled the block, then returned, parking discreetly behind another car on the same side of the street as her house. I got my phone out of my bag and clicked on the camera. I wanted to see the person who was her 10:15 appointment. I kept the car running. I didn’t have to wait long. At 10:10 am, a white Toyota Camry parked directly in front of Nancy’s house. A slender White man, approximately six feet tall, got out and walked to Nancy’s door. I began snapping pictures quickly. I then drove slowly past Nancy’s house. Nancy and this man were standing in the doorway embraced in what appeared to be a passionate kiss. I snapped a picture but was unsure I photographed what I had intended to. One of the adages my mother loved repeating came to mind: the condition of one’s heart will reveal