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own experience in meeting someone new from my hometown or area, we always get around to bringing up names of people we know or our relatives to see if the other knows the same people. So there must be someone in Belated that all four of them knew. Belated is not a big area. Did they not ever run into each other at the grocery store, or the doctor’s office, or community events, I wondered.

“On the way home, I noticed that Marjorie left her seat and walked to the back of the bus. Did she say anything to you or Gwen?” This was a little white lie, but I didn’t want to share what Solardette saw and heard at this point. I wanted to hear what Carolyn had to say about the matter.

“Uh, I think she did as she walked by where Gwen and I were seated. I’m assuming she was on her way back to her seat from using the bus toilet, though I didn’t see her go in. She said something like, ‘I am so glad we are on our way home.’ Yeah, that’s what she said. And I think I said, ‘So am I.’”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Like what?”

“I mean, did she chit chat for a minute or two?”

“No, not that I remember. By that time of night, my joints had stiffened up, and I was in pain. Sitting for a long time is not good for me. I suffer from arthritis, and I was not in a mood for conversations. I was so ready to get home.”

Carolyn’s version completely contradicted what Solardette saw and heard. This was troubling, but my poker face didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry for the discomfort you had to endure. Uh, did you know any of the other passengers?”

“No, I didn’t.”

I had finished eating my pie. I took a swallow of lemonade, looked Carolyn directly in the eyes, and then asked, “Is there anything you can tell about the murder that may help me?”

“Vett, I’m sorry I can’t. I don’t know anything.”

“Did you and Gwen enjoy the trip?” I asked, smiling widely at her. I didn’t want to upset her with my questions.

“Oh, yes, we did. Now that we know about Brightness, there will be other trips.”

“How did you find out about Brightness?” My question appeared to have stumped Carolyn. She put her fork down, and her eyes stared ahead with that look on her face that told me she was trying to remember or trying to come up with the right answer.

She finally said, “If I remember correctly, it was a piece of literature Gwen received or I received that got us interested. We had talked about taking a trip together ever since Nash died. We kept putting it off for one reason or another, then last Christmas we made a commitment to do it as soon as the snow went away. The date, price, and amenities of the Tennessee trip were just perfect. So we signed up.”

“It was a wonderful trip. The Purples and I love traveling with Brightness. Uh, I’ve tried to reach Gwen several times but have not been able to. I’ve left messages. I would like to meet with her, too. Have you spoken to her recently?”

“Not since Tuesday. I can’t imagine where she could be unless she is tending to her next-door neighbor. Her next-door neighbor is sick with a bad case of the flu, and Gwen is Nurse Nightingale. I’ll telephone her later. Would you like another slice of pie or more lemonade?”

“Oh no, my stomach is full. The pie and lemonade were both delicious. I do have another question about the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders. Do you know where Sybil Lloyd lives, and do you know if Ms. Lacecap still has any other relatives around, uh, a brother, or sister, or aunts, or uncles? I want to talk to a member of Ms. Lacecap’s family.”

“No, I can’t help you there. I don’t know that information. It’s been so many years since those murders, and I wouldn’t know where to tell you to begin looking for them.”

It is sometimes wildly surprising the things I’ve learned to pick up on that others don’t. Carolyn had just told me, though I know she didn’t intend to, that there were family members other than Sybil somewhere, possibly in Envyton County. Now I wanted to explore why she was hiding their location. I decided to probe into this with her at a later date.

It was getting late, and I wanted to be in Attribute to watch the visitors as they arrive at the funeral home to gauge whether they were a friend or foe of Duffy. I have become good at doing this, though this process has never unmasked a murderer on site. It has eliminated suspects from my list, which, as expected, saved me time.

We talked a little longer, mainly about her head cafeteria cook job at Envyton High School where she was working when she retired. She shared that she plants a vegetable garden every year and was excited to show me that little plot of land in her backyard. After viewing the area, it was time for me to leave.

As we were walking from the kitchen to the front door, the phone rang.

“Excuse me for a moment, Vett. Let me answer that,” Carolyn said, then walked back into the kitchen.

“Hello,” I heard Carolyn say. The rest of the conversation was muffled. She clearly did not want me to hear her conversation.

I stood in the living room five feet from the front door. I looked around the room. Besides the outdated look, something appeared off. Something was wrong with the room. Carolyn broke my concentration when she walked back into the room.

“Vett, sorry about that. If I can help you further, please call me.”

“Again, thank you, Carolyn, for agreeing to talk to me. Have a good evening.”

I walked slowly with my head down to my Jeep parked in Carolyn’s driveway. Carolyn’s living room was still puzzling me. What was

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