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away, Armie asked, “What is your first question?” His manner was brusque.

“Where were you when Duffy was murdered?” I could be brusque, too. However, underneath his rough exterior, I saw trepidation. I didn’t think he could take my brusqueness.

“I was dropping off passengers from a four-day tour in Cape May, New Jersey. Jackson told us that the police think he was murdered somewhere between 8:20 pm and 9:00 pm Friday. On Friday at 8:16 pm, I was in Richmond at my first-drop off location. My next drop-off was Charlottesville. I reached the drop-off at 9:30 pm. From there, I drove to Staunton, my last-drop off, the Frontier Hotel. It took me fifty minutes to get there. I got there at 10:20 pm. After everyone had embarked and collected their luggage, I parked the bus in our designated space at the hotel, then spent the night in the hotel. When I got back to the office Saturday morning to turn in my paperwork, that’s when Jackson told me about Duffy.”

“Can anyone verify that you spent the night in the Frontier Hotel?”

Stunned, Armie froze, then shouted, “What the fuck? Do I need someone to verify that?”

“Just asking. I take it no one can, but you have a receipt showing the room was charged to Brightness’s account.”

“That’s right.”

“Who did you call while you were in the hotel?”

“Just my wife. We talked for an hour, and then I went to sleep.”

The waiter came and deposited our drinks in front of us. I took a sip, and so did Armie.

Armie’s body language was quickly changing. His jaw bone was tense, waiting to square off with me. His furrowed brows, rapid breathing, and clenched fist told me he couldn’t handle my strong-arm approach to questioning him. I decided to change it.

“When was the last time you saw Duffy?”

“I saw him the week before he went to Tennessee. We went out to eat that Friday night with our wives before his trip. I think it was the last Friday in March.”

“Do you have any idea who did this horrible thing to Duffy?”

“Vett, I don’t. He had some problems and hang-ups, but he wasn’t a bad person.”

“I’ve heard he drank too much. Was that one of his problems?”

“No, it wasn’t. Who told you it was?”

“I have my sources.”

“Look. Sometimes when he drank, he was quick to lose his temper. He was working on controlling his temper. I was helping him with that. I don’t drink at all anymore. I was hoping I would be a positive influence on him. He never drank while driving nor while on tour. Jackson would have fired him for that.”

“Can you tell me what his other problems and hang-ups were?”

Armie gave me a fixed stare, filled with indecision. I was beginning to think he was one of those people who think long and hard before making a decision because of being terrified of making the wrong decision. After a few seconds, he saw that I was not backing down from his fixed stare. He then relaxed his body, stared at the table, and began talking.

“It’s just that he wanted a baby, and it appears Nancy didn’t,” Armie said slowly, then looked at me. “She is forty-two and has never had kids. Before they got married, Nancy told Duffy she wanted a baby. But it’s been two years since they got married, and she keeps giving Duffy stupid reasons for not wanting to get pregnant. Duffy was getting tired of it.”

“Why didn’t she want to get pregnant?”

Armie rolled his big brown eyes, but his entire body tilted forward as he said, “It’s not a good time, we don’t have enough money saved up, we need a bigger house, and I’m too old, are the reasons he told me she gave.”

“Are you sure those are all the reasons?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Did you know Duffy had the sickle cell trait?”

Armie stared in shock, “How did you know that?”

“Let’s just say I know.”

“Well, since you already know, I’ll tell you what Duffy told me. He didn’t tell Nancy he had the trait until after they were married. She didn’t like it. She thought that meant he was Black. So yes, she used that as an excuse not to have a baby.”

“What difference did it make? He was still the man she fell in love with.”

“I know, and Duffy told her that. There are still some highly racist people in Attribute, and I think Nancy is one of them, though she claims not to be,” Armie explained.

“Perhaps she is racist and has the sickle cell trait herself. From what I remember about sickle cell, if both parents have the trait, there is a 25% chance that any child born to them will have sickle cell anemia and a 50% chance any child will have the sickle cell trait. One parent with the sickle cell trait can still pass on the trait to their child.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. I know several Black folks who have the sickle cell trait and do not have any health-related problems that I am aware of.”

Armie and I were deep into sharing what we knew about sickle cell anemia when Kit brought a tray to the table with our food on it.

“Is there anything else I can get for you,” he asked, after putting our food before us.

“Nothing at the moment, Kit. This looks great.”

“Enjoy,” he said as he walked away.

Armie blessed the food, and then we began eating.

“I don’t see why she would be hung up on Duffy having the sickle cell trait,” Armie said after taking a bite of food.

“Perhaps, it’s what it represents—his relatives are Black along the line somewhere.”

“Hmm, my wife jokingly says she is afraid of having a Black baby. The two of them get along fine. If it’s true she doesn’t’ want a Black baby, my wife will find out.”

“Do you think Nancy murdered Duffy or had him murdered?”

“No, Vett. She appears to love him. In front of my wife and me,

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