http://www.fayobserv...ticle?id=289518
Cabbie's not the kind to vanish with no word
Elizabeth Simon didn't like it.
The way her estranged husband drove his red taxi around town all day and night, picking up strangers, catching naps when he could, in his bed or on the side of the road.
But you don't tell a man who worked hard his whole life when to stop.
You just tease him, just enough to let him know you'¢re concerned.
“You know, Willie," Elizabeth would say, “you don't have to make all the money."
But it was only a few months ago that William James Simon, 61, lost his job driving trucks for the cinder block company Fay Block.
He stared unemployment in the eye, imagined what it would be like without the money to pay the bills. It scared him more than picking up strangers.
So he kept right on driving, until early Friday morning.
It was just after midnight when Willie telephoned his boss at L&M Taxi Service to say he'd picked up a passenger and was headed north to Raleigh.
“I told him I'd talk to him when he gets back," Larry Morrisey told the Observer on Sunday. “I haven't talked to him since."
Morrisey reported Willie missing Friday evening. A passer-by spotted his abandoned cab later that night, off Rosser Road in Spring Lake.
On Monday, the Cumberland County Sheriff's Office assigned homicide investigators to look into the disappearance, though they're still classifying it a “suspicious missing person" case.
Willie's roommate, Yolanda Murphy, thinks “suspicious"is just the right word.
Willie took Murphy in four years ago, like a kindly grandfather, when she had nowhere else to go. He let her live in one of the empty bedrooms in his mobile home on Gillespie Street.
In those four years, she rarely saw her roommate, unless he was home to eat and shower or to catch a nap and a few minutes of the evening news.
Last year, he quit drinking cold turkey.
Often, he picked up his grandchildren from day care and took them to McDonald's.
Always, the radio in his cab was tuned to the local gospel station.
He wasn't the kind to disappear without a word, to leave his family worrying and his boss in a bind.
“He wouldn't have left his cab," Murphy said.
So when investigators told her that cab was sitting alone in Spring Lake, with nothing but Willie's Bible on the front seat, she knew something had gone wrong.
She hadn't seen him since Wednesday, the last time he stopped by his home. She hadn’t talked to him since Thursday, the last time she reached him on his cell phone.
She spent the weekend wondering how she could take care of his three dogs Ranger, Little Scary and Itty Bitty until he came back, and worrying how she could pay the bills if he doesn't.
Drivers community
Meanwhile, the news of Willie's disappearance seeped slowly through the city, passed along in sadness by friends and in caution by cab drivers.
Carl White, who drives for Up All Nite Taxi, heard about it Monday. It shook him a little. He's tried to be cautious in his 15 years as a cab driver, to pass on fares that didn't feel right, to drive the day shift more than the night. But, sometimes, in the repetition of the job, he lets his vigilance wane.
But not today. Willie's disappearance served as his reminder that driving a cab may be the best way he's found to make a living, but it's also dangerous.
“In this job, your biggest safety device is common sense," White said. “If (the trip) doesn't feel right, by all means, refuse it. I hate doing it but there's no other way to enhance your safety."
Because it's the best outcome he can imagine right now, White hopes Willie simply tired of the job and took off. In the world of driving cabs, it happens.
But Debbie Tanna, spokeswoman for Sheriff's Office, says it's unlikely. Investigators don't believe Willie left his cab of his own accord.
“Nothing in his background would indicate he would hole himself up and not want to be found" Tanna said.
No one knows that better than Elizabeth. Her husband had too deep a sense of responsibility to disappear, too many people to disappoint.
He grew up on a farm of cotton, corn, peanuts and soybeans in rural South Carolina, the oldest of 12 children.
Elizabeth met him when he settled in Fayetteville more than 20 years ago, after he'd been married once and had two children.
They dated for 14 years, were married for 10. They have one son and two grandchildren.
And they've never, not even after they separated a few years back, went a day without talking.
Some mornings, Willie picked Elizabeth up before 5 to drive her to the Biscuit Kitchen on Grove Street for her morning shift. Other days, he'd stop in for a cup of coffee and a bacon platter, squirt too much ketchup in his grits, chat up everyone in the place.
The last time Elizabeth saw him was Thursday afternoon. He walked into the restaurant just as she was going on her break.
They ate lunch together. When her break was over, he heaved his hulking body out of the booth and gave her a wave. "I'll see you later," he told her.
She'd give anything for that to be true, for Willie to walk right back into the Biscuit Kitchen and order a bacon platter.
"I'd just jump up there and give him a hug," Elizabeth said. “And I'd thank God that they found him."