By all accounts it was a clean, pleasant rest stop in a small, quiet, rural Tennessee town.
Elam and his wife, owned the hotel where Inspector Lamberth intended to stay for the night. They lived in a small, white-framed home on the adjacent lot. The hotel, a singlestory building with high ceilings that let the summer heat rise above guests’ beds, proudly offered dining amenities, a porch, and a fenced-in courtyard. By all accounts it was a clean, pleasant rest stop in a small, quiet, rural Tennessee town. After visiting his room, Inspector Lamberth ate dinner at the hotel, leaving his unpacked bag in the room along with his coat. Packed in his travel bag was a personally owned .41-caliber derringer. Lamberth probably carried the weapon more for protection from strangers he might encounter on isolated country roads than from mail thieves or other postal offenders. Besides, his investigation in Stantonville appeared to be nothing more than a dispute between a letter carrier and his boss. According to two ladies dining at a nearby table, Lamberth was finishing his meal around 8:00 p.m. just as Carrier Gibson walked up the porch steps and asked to speak to him. Lamberth amiably obliged the carrier, the two shook hands, and they walked out to the porch and sat down together. The sun was setting behind the hotel, and the porch must have been considerably cooler than the interior of the building. No one else heard any of the nearly hour-long conversation between the two men, but there was no indication of any trouble, at least not until they both rose from their chairs and walked off the porch into the dark courtyard.