Sequestered with the Murderers by Dr. Tanner (best books to read for self improvement .TXT) 📗

“I’ve been thinking about that. What about a trip to Italy instead of Bermuda?”

“What?”

“One of the guys in the office and his wife are planning on going. He brought some brochures into the office. I heard you and Dimma talking about Rome, Vatican City, Tuscany Valley, and Florence and that statue of David.”

“I would love to go. When?”

“Perhaps, September? The brochure said September is a good time because there are fewer tourist crowds and the weather is nice and warm, not hot like the summer months.”

“Count me in.”

For the remainder of the drive home, Gam and I talked about things to see and do in Italy. I arrived home with fantasies of Italy rolling around in my head instead of a murder case yet to be solved.

CHAPTER 24

Today is Tuesday, and the update I owe Jackson floated in my head as I jumped out of bed. Gam was still sleeping as I put on sweats, then headed for my treadmill. What I needed now was clarity, an event I knew would present itself as I walked on the treadmill. I’ve learned that it is the aloneness, quietness, and listening that bring on the clarity. This morning I sought it wholeheartedly with every fiber in my body.

I stepped on the treadmill and whispered, “I have a profile of the murderer but do not have the murderer. What do I do next?” I immediately heard in my mind: it would be worthwhile to proceed with reviewing the men on the bus, and then come to a conclusion.

Yesterday in the car on the way home, I had weeded out several men. Delve Jones from Blairs, Virginia, who got on the bus at the Danville pickup stop, and Bill Forrester, who got on the bus at the Christiansburg pickup stop, were weeded out. I didn’t have a substantiated reason for doing this. My gut said they were innocence. Plus, they were not from Envyton County. Envyton County played a big part in solving Duffy’s murder, and I knew it undeniably. I just needed to prove it.

Holt Pruitt, Jr. and Joe McCain, though they lived in Envyton County, I weeded out because they were gun enthusiasts. My profile included older males that were inexperienced with handguns. They were the right age, and they knew of Duffy. But they were too experienced with guns, which is why I weeded them out.

As for the other three men, I reviewed the passenger list last night for their home address. Two were from Christiansburg, and one was from Martinsville. I immediately excluded the two from Christiansburg because they didn’t live in Envyton County. I then concentrated totally on Elijah Ackerman, a seventyish-looking gentleman with a head full of white hair. He was traveling with Lydia Miller, a stout woman who appeared to be in her seventies as well. I didn’t get a chance to have a long conversation with them, but they seemed to be by themselves—not traveling with friends. I went over in my head several times all the details about him that I remembered. There was nothing about him that indicated a murderer. Envyton County was west of Martinsville, so there is a probability he has heard of the Lacecap Hydrangea Murders. Though I tried to fit Elijah into my profile, he just didn’t measure up.

“So, what is my conclusion?” I calmly asked myself.

Getting no answer, I turned up the speed on the treadmill and began walking faster. Less than a minute later, I heard in my mind you are back to Joe and Holt Junior.

“What is it about Joe and Holt Junior I missed?” I said out loud impatiently.

“Are you talking to yourself?” Gam asked, poking his head into the room.

“Just getting my thoughts together for my telephone call with Jackson.”

“You are worried again. It’s written all over your face. Why do you worry so much?”

“I worry because I haven’t solved it yet,” I said irritably.

Gam stared at me for a few minutes, then walked into the room. He stood by the treadmill, then said, “Baby, stop for a minute.”

I turned off the treadmill, stopped walking, and then immediately regretted speaking to him so irritably.

“Gam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so cantankerous.”

“I know you didn’t, but what I don’t like that I see you doing with this case is washing away your successes. You solved all your cases. Why do you think you can’t solve this one? Why do you let the unknowns, disconnects, and the knowledge that it’s not solved yet get you down so much?”

“It’s because I care, but you’re right. My successes are my triumphs. I will triumph over this case, too.”

“Yes, you will, my darling. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Oh well, enough lecturing for one morning. I’m off to complete my workout.”

Gam walked out of the room, and I, vastly uplifted by his few words of wisdom, turned on the treadmill to complete my walk.

As I began walking, the .22 handgun used to murder Duffy came to my mind. Immediately after that, the information Solardette said Marjorie whispered to Carolyn and Gwen, ‘Where is the gun now,’ came to my mind. This was my inner voice telling me where I needed to focus next.

I was still walking on the treadmill when Gam came into the room fully dressed.

“Have a good day,” Gam said while kissing me on the cheek.

“You too, have a good day.”

I turned off the treadmill, went into the bathroom, showered, and dressed for my day. After talking with Jackson, I was going to my restaurant for a full day’s work. I was determined not to put any concentration on the statement Solardette heard Marjorie speak until after work. I needed time off from the case to catch up at work.

After dressing, I fixed breakfast—a bowl of oatmeal, a slice of toast, and a glass of orange juice. Now fortified in more ways than one, I was ready to present my findings to Jackson.

At 9:00 am, I