Hyacinth and Homicide

by Pyper James

  When they re-entered the lobby, the trio was a united front; at least how it looked to everyone else.

  The group was still standing near the front when Harper addressed them again.

  “We are going to divide the group up and start the interviews. If the rest of you waited in the dining room where there are plenty of seats, that would help. Vivica is going to start with the children.”

  “The children,” one of the parents asked; clinging to a child that obviously belonged to her.

  “Yes,” Harper answered. “We have to speak with everyone, including the children. Something they may have seen or heard may give us some insight into what happened. Parents, we will need your permission of course.”

  “Do we need lawyers,” another guest asked from the back of the group.

  “Well, you always have a right to legal counsel,” Harper began. “Hopefully, you will cooperate with us as we just want to know what happened, if anything, to Mr. Gingham.”

  There was some mumbling within the group, but the person who raised the question didn’t ask another.

  “Kiddos, if you would come with me to the kitchen,” Vivica said, stepping from behind the law enforcement officers. The kids were hesitant and visually checked in with their parents before taking a step forward. When the parents raised no objection, the three children that were there followed Vivica into the kitchen.

  “Any volunteers to go first,” Gathright asked to those standing around.

  “I’ll go.” It was Caldwell Jones. Mr. Jones followed Deputy Cartwright into one of the smaller rooms off the lobby. Mildred went with Harper into the study and those remaining followed the sheriff’s instruction and convened in the dining room.

  The children looked nervous, the three of them; each taking turns looking at the entryway as if they wanted to be back under the protection of their parents.

  “Who would like some milk and cookies,” Vivica asked, hoping to make them feel more comfortable. She’d seen them around but other than the occasional ‘hi’, Vivica hadn’t spent much time with them. When all three of their lands popped up in response to her question, Vivica felt like that was the first step to warming them up. As she turned to get the goodies she’d offered, Vivica thought about her parents and how she felt with her first introduction to the concept of death. Although the kids might not have seen Mr. Braxton carted away, they had to know something serious, maybe even something bad happened. But that would be a hard place to start. She didn’t want to be the person that discussed the notion of death with kids that didn’t belong to her, and Vivica wasn’t sure whether their parents had time to explain what happened fully. Vivica decided not to venture into those depths. Instead, she would generally ask if they saw Mr. Braxton, alive of course, and if anything stood out for them tonight before the incident took place.

  “I don’t think I got your names,” Vivica said as she sat out their glasses of milk and a plate of cookies. “My name is Vivica. And you are?” She pointed gingerly to the first little boy. He looked to be about six or seven.

  “I’m Timmy.”

  “Nice to meet you Timmy,” Vivica replied. She smiled as she watched Timmy take a huge bite out of one of the chocolate chip cookies.

  “And who’s sitting next to Timmy?”

  The little girl dropped her head and then looked up at Vivica through hooded eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Vivica said, doing her best to sound unthreatening. “Can you tell me your name?”

  “…Missy… my name is Missy.”

  “How old are you Missy?”

  “Six.”

  “Me, too,” Timmy chimed, chewing the last bits of his first bite.

  “And last but not least, you are?”

  “Noah, and I’m nine.”

  Well, it’s good to meet all of you,” Vivica replied.

  “I wanted to ask you guys a couple of questions if that’s okay.”

  “Did either of you get a chance to meet Mr. Braxton?”

  Missy and Timmy shook their heads. The name didn’t ring familiar to either of them.

  “I did,” Noah replied.

  Sharing a smile with Timmy and Missy, Vivica turned her attention to the older of the three, while the younger two busied themselves with their snack.

  “When did you meet him?”

  “Out in the vineyard, the other day,” Noah replied matter of factly.

  “When was this, Noah?”

  “The first day we got here, I think, two days ago.”

  “And what were you doing in the vineyards?”

  “Picking grapes,” he replied quietly. “The lady who runs the place said it was okay.”

  “Oh, you’re not in trouble,” Vivica answered. “We have the best grapes in Dahlonega.”

  “They are good,” Noah replied with a smile. “Mr. Gingham was picking them too, that’s how we met. I remember ‘cause I thought his last name was funny.”

  “Have you seen Mr. Gingham since?”

  Noah posed for a moment as though he was considering the question.

  “Maybe breakfast yesterday, but I’m not sure.”

  “And you haven’t seen him at all today,” Vivica asked, trying not to make the questions frightening.

  “No, I haven’t,” Noah replied. “Is that all because I’d really like to have a cookie now.”

  “By all means,” Vivica answered.

  The kids told her what they knew. It wasn’t much but kids tend to be honest; at least that was Vivica’s estimation. Once they were done, she escorted them back to the dining room and back to their parents. She hoped the fellas were faring better. Vivica requested a volunteer from those in the dining room. At least the next interview she had was with an adult.

  “Mr. Jones, can you tell me the last time you saw Mr. Gingham,” Deputy Gathright asked.

  “Braxton Gingham,” Caldwell Jones mused. “He was one of the first guests I met when I came to Mulberry Grove fifteen years ago.”

  Caldwell’s face warmed with a smile. “When I first met Braxton, I thought him peculiar; appearing and then disappearing for days at a time. I asked him once why he shut himself off for days like that. You know what he told me? He was his own best company,” Caldwell chuckled from the memory.

  “He was his own best company. I liked that, and it made his behavior less peculiar. I just learned to accept it; enjoying him when he made himself available and tried not to miss him too much when he was gone.”

  The smile on Caldwell’s face faded as he continued. “The difference between then and now is that he’s not coming back, and I miss him already.”

  “You all were friends it sounds like,” Gathright asked.

  “Inasmuch as Gingham would allow it,” Caldwell answered. “He didn’t readily warm to people whether you warmed to him or not.”

  “And when was the last time you saw Mr. Gingham,” Gathright asked, jotting notes as he went.

  Mr. Jones paused for a moment and placed a single finger on his chin as though contemplating deeply.

  “I would like to think that the last time I saw Braxton was at breakfast yesterday.”

  “You’re not sure,” Gathright pressed.

  “I didn’t know then that keeping up with knowing would be so important.”

  “Did Mr. Gingham have any enemies? Can you think of anyone that would want to hurt him?”

  “Braxton didn’t involve himself with anyone unless he wanted to and on his time. I can’t imagine if he detected ill will towards him that Braxton would have tolerated their company.”

  “Ms. Mildred, I understand Mr. Gingham has been coming here for years,” Sheriff Harper began. “How much do you know about him personally?”

  The whole thing was still hard for Mildred to process. Nothing like this had ever happened at Mulberry Grove. It took Mildred a minute to gather her thoughts as she fought back the tears.

  “In all the time Braxton has been coming here, he never really spoke about family or friends. Come to thin
k of it, he rarely talked about himself at all,” Mildred explained. “It’s kind of sad when you think about it,” Mildred reflected. “I’ve known Braxton some fifteen years, but apparently I just know of him.”

  The first tear fell, dotting Mildred’s cheek. Sheriff Harper paused his questioning for a moment, respecting the struggle she seemed to be in.

  “Can you remember when you saw him last?”

  Mildred patted her cheek, but her eyes remained sorrowful.

  “Braxton came down to a late breakfast, the other morning. He didn’t say much; just grabbed some coffee, and I think a piece of fruit, and disappeared again.”

  “And you hadn’t seen him since?”

  “No, but that didn’t raise a brow for me. That was his pattern.”

  “What made you send Vivica looking for him this afternoon?”

  Mildred smiled, even though her eyes remained sad. “Because I cooked his favorite meal.”

  That made sense to Sheriff Harper.

  “Can you think of anyone that wanted to hurt Mr. Gingham?”

  Mildred pondered for a moment, much like Caldwell Joes did.

  “I think Braxton was misunderstood, and probably standoffish to some people. But I can’t imagine anyone who would want to hurt him. He didn’t bother anyone.”

  “Was he close to anyone here at the inn?”

  “All the long-timers were close, in their own way,” Mildred replied.

  “That was,” Harper inquired.

  “Braxton, Caldwell Jones and Sophie Singleton.”

  “And no squabbles between them?”

  “None that I know of,” Mildred answered.

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the guests were interviewed. After which, most retired to their respective rooms. Vivica conducted the last one of the evening with Ms. Sophie Singleton.

  “Ms. Sophie, I know it’s late, but I just have a few questions,” Vivica began as the two women sat at the kitchen table.

  “Don’t worry about me, dear,” Sophie sang. “I am a child of the moon. I love the nighttime. It’s never too late for me.”

  Initially, Vivica was surprised at Sophie’s chipper mood, but then she remembered, that’s kind of how Sophie always was.

  “About Mr. Gingham,” Vivica began.”

  “Such a terrible thing,” Sophie replied. “Poor, poor Braxton.” Sophie’s tone was a little less chipper but nowhere near sad.

  “How well did you know him, Ms. Sophie?”

  “Braxton was a mystery man, well at least to most people,” Sophie chimed.

  The glint Vivica saw in Sophie’s eye, intrigued her.

  “Go on,” Vivica encouraged.

  “It’s just, he and I had a special understanding.” Vivica watched Sophie, and for the first time, the smile that she entered the interview with began to falter.

  “What do you mean,” Vivica asked.

  “Braxton didn’t mingle with a lot of folks, well hardly anyone really, except for me. Those times when he disappeared or shut himself off from the rest of the outside world, he let me in. There were times when it was direct or indirect, but he let me in.”

  “What was he doing during those times?” Vivica’s interest was certainly piqued. She always wondered what the ‘do not disturb’ sign was about.

  “Two things occupied his alone time other than me. Reading and writing,” Sophie answered.

  “Writing?”

  “Yes,” Sophie replied. “He was writing. He never told me exactly what he wrote about, but I do know he spent a great deal of time, thinking, reading and writing.”

  “How did he let you in?”

  “I think I was the only person he told about his interests,” Sophie continued. “I would like to think he was writing his memoirs. Since he was a man of few words literally, maybe he put them all down on paper somewhere.”

  “We searched his room. We didn’t find anything like that.”

  “He wouldn’t have kept it in a place for someone to stumble upon it. No, Braxton would have kept it as secretive as he was.”

  “Were you and Mr. Braxton…”

  Vivica hesitated to continue. She didn’t want to be disrespectful.

  Ms. Sophie giggled. “There was a certain fondness there. Not tawdry like so many young relationships I’ve seen, but sweet and respectful.” Sophie was almost swooning. Had the circumstances been different, it would have been sweet. But this time when Vivica looked at Ms. Sophie, Sophie’s gaze was far-off; like she was no longer in the same room. The quirkiness and perkiness were gone. Ms. Sophie looked truly saddened.

  “Can you think of anyone who had ill-will toward Mr. Braxton?”

  “Only the cruelest kind of coward would want to harm such a sweet soul.”

  After finishing up with Sophie, Vivica joined Sheriff Harper and Deputy Gathright outside on the front lawn.

  “So, did you guys find out anything,” Vivica asked.

  “Nothing stood out from the people I talked to,” Gathright replied.

  “Nothing jumped out for me either,” Vivica concurred.

  “Let’s reconvene in the morning and talk about the interviews. I think we’re all spent now,” Harper concluded.

  “Some sleep sounds good right about now,” Vivica agreed.

  “Hopefully, the coroner will have an initial report in the morning and we’ll at least know if a crime has been committed.”

  The next morning, Vivica awoke to a much quieter morning than she’d known in Mulberry Grove. It was eerily quiet; uncomfortably quiet. Aunt Mildred did follow her regular routine and made breakfast, but more of the guests were interested in how soon they could leave versus whether there were waffles or pancakes on the breakfast menu. When Vivica met her in the kitchen, they were alone.

  “How are things,” Vivica asked, reaching for a mug for some coffee.

  Aunt Mildred let out a huge sigh before speaking.

  “Tenuous, everyone is on edge.”

  “That’s understandable,” Vivica replied, pouring herself a hot cup of coffee. “Hopefully today, we will know whether Mr. Gingham passed away from natural causes or something else.”

  “I hope it’s not the something else.”

  “Before I run off, did you by any chance put the do not disturb sign on Mr. Gingham’s door after I went to look for him?”

  With a confused and quizzical look on her face, Mildred turned to face Vivica.

  “Why no dear,” Mildred answered putting a hand on her hip. “I never went back upstairs after dinner was served.”

  “Did you notice anyone else leave the dinner table after I left?”

  The look on Mildred’s face only changed slightly as she pondered her niece's question.

  “I wish I could say with some certainty, dear. But there was just so much going on; kids moving about, everyone trying to get served.”

  “That’s understandable,” Vivica answered, taking another sip of the hot java. “It’s just, when I went to Braxton’s room right after you asked me to, the sign was not on the door. I double-checked because I know how fickle Mr. Gingham can be about being disturbed when asked not to. But then, when we went back, after Mr. Gingham was taken away, the do not disturb sign was on the door.”

  “That is weird,” Aunt Mildred pondered. “

  “Yeah, I thought so, too.” Vivica finished up the last of her coffee and rinsed the mug out before sitting it on the drying tray. “Who would put the sign? It's not like he was in the room or anything. What is it they didn’t want to be disturbed?”

  “Great questions,” Mildred replied. “And I hope you find the answers to all of them and fast.”

  “Any luck with finding Braxton’s family?”

  “My plan is to work on that today,” Mildred sighed again. “Things went so late last night, and my heart just wasn’t in it. I hope I can find out something,” she continued. “If he does have a family, they have a right to know.”

  “Well, if you haven’t found anything by t
he time I get back, I’ll help you,” Vivica said, walking over to her aunt and giving her a hug. “You might want to check in with Ms. Sophie or Mr. Caldwell. They’re long-timers. Maybe they know something.”

  “I’ll do just that,” Mildred answered, squeezing Vivica one more time before letting her go. “And you be careful out there,” Mildred cautioned.

  “I will,” Vivica called back over her shoulder as she exited the kitchen. Maximus had abandoned Vivica before she crawled out of bed this morning. She wasn’t the least bit surprised to see he and Boris hanging out in the study, soaking up the morning sun.

  “See you later boys,” Vivica called out. She was headed to the sheriff’s office to pick up where they left off the night before. Boris and Maximus offered no meow or bark as Vivica passed. Max did lift his head a bit, acknowledging she’d been there.

  As Vivica exited, one of the guests descended the stairs and went into the kitchen.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Mildred.”

  Turning from the sink and wiping her hands on the apron she wore, Mildred turned around.

  “Yes,” she began. “Please forgive me, but I forgot your name.”

  “That’s okay. It’s understandable with everything that’s been going on.” The man replied. “It’s Bradford, Graham, Bradford Graham.”

  “Aw yes, Mr. Graham,” Mildred replied, finally putting a name with the face. “Let me apologize again for what’s happened,” Mildred offered, walking closer to where Bradford stood. “This is your first time at Mulberry Grove, right?”

  “Yes, it is,” Bradford replied, leaning gently against the kitchen island. “And you can’t fault yourself. Things happen,” Bradford replied.

  “I agree, but as the owner, I can’t help feeling responsible when my guests don’t have a pleasant experience.”

  “Like I said, not your fault,” Bradford concluded. Mildred slightly shrugged her shoulders, in her feelings about a lot of things.

  “Can I offer you some breakfast,” Mildred inquired, still trying to be a good hostess.

  “Sure,” Mr. Graham replied. “I did have a question, though.”