Bats and Bones (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries) (12 page)

“Yes it
would, unless they’re connected. But we won’t know until Sanchez completes his
investigation.”

Frannie
joined them at the table. The other two couples were giving them some space,
Rob and Donna at their trailer and Mickey and Jane Ann building a fire. “Did
Randy have a family?”

“He has one
son in college. He and his wife have been divorced for five or six years.” Stub
looked, if possible, even more miserable at the thought of notifying the
family.

“Oddly
enough,” he said, “This trip was actually Randy’s suggestion, even though he
blamed me when stuff started to go wrong. And he’s the one yesterday who wanted
to keep going after all that had happened.”

Frannie
thought about that while Larry changed the subject to Stub’s family. Why would
someone who was so
not
having a good
time want to continue? She remembered the delivery mentioned in the mysterious
phone call the day before. If it was Randy on the phone—and she was
becoming more and more convinced that it was—could that be his motive for
continuing this trip that was so obviously making him miserable? And what did
it all have to do with Maeve? She realized then that with the discovery of Randy’s
body, they had stopped short of finding the location of waypoint 13.

The coffee
finished and she filled three mugs. “Do you take cream or sugar?” she asked
Stub, setting the mug in front of him. He shook his head so she placed the
container of sweetener and a spoon in front of Larry.

She had
just settled back at the table and looked up to see Stub’s remaining traveling
companions head back across the road toward them. Apparently, they had thought
better of their behavior because the one called Darryl said, “You okay, Stub?”
All he got was a noncommittal shrug. “Hey, look, we know this wasn’t your
fault…” Darryl jealously eyed Stub’s coffee.

“Would you
all like some coffee?” Frannie asked, starting to get up.

“That would
be great,” Darryl said. “We didn’t bring a coffee pot.” Stub winced, another
black mark against him.

Larry
grabbed Frannie’s wrist. “Sit,” he ordered. “I’ll get the mugs.” Rob and Donna
were returning, too. Mickey walked over and said, “I’ll put our pot on. I think
we’re going to need it.”

By the time
everyone who wanted it had coffee and found seats around the fire, Agent
Sanchez appeared at the edge of the campsite. They all looked up expectantly.

“Was it
storm-related?” Rob asked.

“Not
likely,” Sanchez said. “He was strangled.”

The news
fell like a rock. The Shoemakers’ group looked serious, even alarmed, but
Randy’s traveling companions looked positively stricken.

Stub
swallowed and looked at the agent. “Where will they take him?”

“They’ll
have to take him to the county hospital for the autopsy.”

Without a
word, Stub set his mug down, got up, trudged over to the motorhome, and went
in.

Larry
offered coffee to Agent Sanchez, who accepted. “You didn’t follow the GPS to
the coordinates for that waypoint, did you?” he asked the agent.

“Not yet.
I’d like to have you help me do that. But I would like to turn Randy’s over to
the technicians. You said you have one just like it?”

“Sure.
Let’s go inside and we’ll get the coordinates off Randy’s. We have something
else to show you.” Frannie followed them into the camper. She went back to the
bedroom to get the note. Sanchez sat down at the dinette and pulled out a
plastic bag with the GPS in it. He put on disposable gloves and removed the
device from its bag. Larry got out their GPS and showed Sanchez on it how to
navigate to the waypoints and the coordinates. Sanchez read off the coordinates
for waypoint 13 and Larry entered them in his own device.

“Check the
next nearest waypoint also.” Larry showed him how to do that. One other point
entered in the GPS appeared to be in the vicinity of the park so Larry copied
those down too. Frannie stood watching them and when Sanchez finished, she laid
the note on the table in front of him.

“This was
on my nightstand last night when we came in after the tornado warning and the
search.”

Sanchez
examined it and looked up at both of them. “I think you have been meddling too
much. I shouldn’t have to tell
you
—,”
directing this to Larry, “—that this is serious business.”

“We have
been trying
not
to meddle,” Larry said,
speaking mostly for himself.

“Maybe so,
but what is obvious now is that whatever Randy was up to, he’s not the only
one. The danger is not gone. Do you think this note is from him?”

“He was the
only one not in the shower house during the warning, but it could have been
left here when we were helping you search for Randy after the warning,” Frannie
said. “I’m becoming convinced that the phone call I overheard yesterday was
Randy. Did you check his phone for outgoing calls yesterday afternoon?”

“Yes, ma’am,”
Sanchez said with a smirk. “Before
you
wrap up this investigation, you should probably know there were three outgoing
calls to the same number.”

“Well,
maybe that’s it!” Frannie said, ignoring his sarcasm. “Do you know whose number
it is?”

“As a
matter of fact, we do. It belongs to the local funeral home. According to the
assistant mortician, who took the call, Mr. Burton arranged to have flowers
sent to Maeve Schlumm’s family. Apparently he felt pretty bad about mouthing
off to her the night before.”

“Oh.”
Frannie plopped down on the other side of the dinette, discouraged. “Well,
maybe it wasn’t Randy I heard. The person on that call certainly wasn’t
ordering flowers.”

Sanchez
stood. “I’ll take this GPS down to the techs and then when I come back we’ll use
yours to see where those coordinates are.” They followed Sanchez out the door
and rejoined their group. The Chicago crew had returned across the road.

Mickey
said, “Not to make light of it, but this finding a body every morning is
getting old in a hurry.”

Jane Ann
looked at her watch. “It’s only 9:00. Do you still want to do the sausage gravy
and potatoes this morning?”

“Agent
Sanchez will be back and wants us to go with him to find the coordinates on
Randy’s GPS,” Frannie said. “The rest of you can go ahead, though.”

“Why don’t
we wait until tomorrow morning for the gravy and just do our own thing today.
Will that work?” Donna asked, looking at Jane Ann.

“No
problem.”

Frannie and
Larry filled water bottles, took a couple of granola bars, and made sure they
had a bottle of repellent. They sat down to wait for the agent’s return.

Donna said,
“We need to take Bugger for a walk. Can we take Cuba, too?”

“That would
be great.” Frannie looked at the old dog whose ears perked up at the sound of
her name and the magic word in the same paragraph. “Poor girl, we totally
forgot about you in the ruckus this morning, didn’t we?” She leaned over and
administered an ear scratch.

“This
certainly shoots down Randy as a suspect in Maeve’s murder, doesn’t it?” Mickey
said.

“Well, if
it was him, it means he wasn’t working alone,” Larry replied. He looked at his
wife, who had gotten up to get Cuba’s leash. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

Frannie
looked down at what she was wearing. She straightened her arms and the sleeves
covered her hands. She grinned. “Maybe.”

“Are you
out of clothes, Frannie? Do we need to go shopping?” Jane Ann said.

“Excellent
idea, Jane Ann, but I don’t think the sheriff would consider it a necessary
reason to leave the park.”

“Oh yeah.
That.”

The DNR
pickup pulled up and parked. Ranger Phillips and Sanchez got out and walked
over. Phillips looked especially shaken and fretful.

“Ready?”
Sanchez asked. Frannie and Larry gathered up their supplies and Larry powered
on the GPS. The four headed out single file along the same route they had taken
earlier that morning. The foliage had dried some so the going was a little
easier. Halfway down into the first ravine, Frannie broke the silence.

“Have they
taken Randy—?”

“They’re
doing that now,” Sanchez answered. “They’ll take him out a shorter route.” They
plodded on, reaching the still muddy bottom. They climbed the other side and
walked through the small clearing. Entering the woods on the other side, they
soon came to the spot where Frannie had found the GPS. Through the trees off to
the left, the medical examiner, the sheriff and Deputy Smith could be barely
seen supervising the removal of Randy Burton’s body.

Larry
checked the GPS and pointed ahead and off to the right. “We need to go that
way.”

“We’re not
too far from the edge of the park,” Ranger Phillips said.

“Interesting,”
Sanchez said.

“How far to
the waypoint?” Frannie asked Larry.

“357 feet.”

They all
stared in the direction Larry had pointed as if some kind of X-ray vision would
reveal the target that seemed to have cost Randy his life. Larry once again led
the way.

Frannie
stopped to take swig of water and glanced around as she snapped the lid back
on. The trees looked freshly washed and the crisp air sharpened every leaf and
twig. The beauty was almost painful considering the circumstances. She hurried
to catch up with the others. Larry occasionally called back the distances. “250
feet—175 feet—100 feet—50 feet.” When he got to 20 feet, he
stopped and pointed at a clump of multiflora rose ahead.

“Looks like
it’s going to be in that mess.”

“How
accurate is that thing?” Sanchez asked.

“Usually
within a couple of feet.”

They
circled around the multiflora rose, considered a noxious weed in Iowa and
several other states and not to be confused with the state flower, the wild
prairie rose. The ten-foot high branches climbed a nearby soft maple and arched
back to the ground, taking root again and forming a tangle as formidable as any
barbed wire. Brayton Phillips used a long stick to lift masses of branches so
they could peer underneath. If something had been hidden there, it wasn’t there
now. But evidence of the leaves and dirt being disturbed caused Phillips to
shine his flashlight on the area.

Sanchez
crouched, hands on knees, staring at the spot. “I believe,” he said, “the same
container that was in the cave has been here.” He took the flashlight from
Phillips and focused it on the area nearest the tree trunk. “See the rounded
corners?”

“How far is
the edge of the park from here?” Frannie asked Phillips.

“If you
look through those trees, you can just see a bit of fence. That’s an old dirt
road on the other side of the fence.”

“Maybe
that’s how the murderer has been entering the park.”

Sanchez
shook his head. “Maybe, but the conundrum in this case is motive. If the killer
isn’t in the campground, is he—or she—trying to deliver or pick
something up? Stub doesn’t remember there ever being an old green cooler, such
as your friend described, loaded in that motorhome. Why would someone bring it
in and then take it away again?”

Frannie had
an idea about that but didn’t think Sanchez would give it much credence. He
proceeded to wrap the multiflora thicket with yellow crime scene tape. “Well,
let’s head back.” He nodded to the ranger to take the lead.

********************

Happy Camper
Tip #11

Herbed
Garden Potato Salad: In a blender, combine ¾ cup oil, ½ cup cider
or tarragon vinegar, 1 teaspoon of salt, 1 teaspoon onion powder, ½
teaspoon garlic powder and ¼ teaspoon pepper with fresh parsley and
basil leaves. Blend until smooth.

Combine 6
cups cooked sliced potatoes, 3 cups cooked green beans, and 2 cups cooked
sliced carrots. Pour dressing over warm vegetables and chill. Great to make
ahead because it keeps and travels well.

Late Sunday Morning

When they
arrived back at the campsite, Mickey and the Nowaks were enjoying a light
breakfast at the picnic table, joined by Stephanie and River. Donna had changed
from her early morning sweats into a red t-shirt with a large sequined ‘USA’ on
the front in blue and white and jeans. Frannie thought maybe she was trying to
compete with her husband’s lights. Jane Ann sat in one of the loungers, an ice
pack on her knee. The scrape on her cheek from the branch the night before
looked pretty angry. In spite of that, she looked her usual crisp self in a
pale green shirt and dark green shorts.

“Jane Ann!
What happened?” Frannie asked.

“Oh, just
stupid. I must have twisted my knee out in the woods. It doesn’t take much.
After you guys went back out, I noticed it was starting to swell.”

Frannie
poured out her cold coffee and refilled it from Mickey and Jane Ann’s pot.
“Sounds like one of my tricks. You’re usually more graceful than that. You look
like you’ve been hit by a truck. Better take it easy today…no cooking, no
picking up, no waiting on Mickey…” she said.

“Now wait a
minute,” Mickey objected. “That’s what she’s here for!”

“Neener,
neener,” said his wife.

“I think
she should go to the emergency room,” Donna said. “I’d be glad to take her.
They’d have to let us out for that!” It disgusted Frannie that Donna was so
transparent in her motive for being helpful.

“I’m fine,”
Jane Ann said. “I’ll just stay off it the rest of the day.” And then looking at
Mickey, “or year.”

“What
happened to that agent?” Stephanie asked.

“He and the
ranger cut back to the ranger residence,” Larry said, following Frannie to the
pot.

Frannie
noticed the worried expression on Stephanie’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“Trey—my
husband—was here this morning, early. He said he just wanted to make sure
we were okay after the storm, but the agent said I had to be sure and report it
if he showed up.”

Larry
frowned. “How did he get into the park?”

“Oh, he’s
hunted around here for years—not in the park…I don’t think—but he
knows every road in the area. He came in some back way.”

“Did he
threaten you?”

“No, he was
sober and he’s never mean then.” Stephanie looked a little surprised. “I think
he actually was worried about us. We didn’t even know about that other guy
getting killed then.”

Frannie
believed that Stephanie didn’t know but she wasn’t so sure about the wayward
husband. If Randy was involved in a drug drop, Trey could have been a likely
accomplice. But she couldn’t imagine how they would have made contact with
Randy being from Chicago. On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly an expert on
how the drug trade operated.

“Do you
want me to let Agent Sanchez know of his visit?” Larry asked her.

“I would
appreciate it,” Stephanie said. She probably had enough of dealing with the
authorities about Trey.

“What time
was he here?”

“You were
all gone, searching. I was scared at first until I could see that he was okay.
I think it was about 8:00.”

“I’ll walk
down and tell him,” Larry said.

After he
left, Frannie peeled an orange and fixed herself some toast. She had just gotten
comfortable in her camp chair when Jodi Schlumm and her father walked up. She
started to get up to greet them but Jodi motioned her back in her seat.

“I’m sorry.
We’re interrupting. Dad and I just wanted to thank you for all your help
yesterday.”

Dave Schlumm
looked more collected than the day before. Hair combed, shirt clean and eyes
clearer. He offered his hand to Frannie, looking around. “Is your husband here?
‘Fraid I wasn’t more than a lump yesterday.”

“That’s
very understandable. He’ll be back soon. He just walked down the road.”

Donna said
to Jodi, “We saw you drive by a while ago. Did they let you leave the park?”

“We had to
go to the funeral home. So many flowers have come in for Mom, of course, and we
wanted to see those. I got a list so we could start thank yous while we’re
confined here.” She frowned. “Then when we came back, they said at the gate
that one of those men from Chicago was killed last night during the storm?”

“I don’t
know if they have a time of death yet,” Frannie said, reluctant to reveal any
more. “Ironically, one of the last things he apparently did yesterday was order
flowers for your mother. They had words on Friday night and he must have felt
pretty bad about it.”

Jodi looked
puzzled. “Really? I didn’t see any names I didn’t recognize.”

“His name
was Randy Burton,” Frannie said. She almost said Harry Beaton.

Larry
returned from his errand just then and Dave shook his hand, again thanking him
and apologizing for his helplessness.

“Glad to
help. Would you like to sit awhile?” He gestured toward the array of lawn
chairs.

“No, no,”
Dave held up his hand. “We just wanted to say thanks. We need to get
back—my son will be arriving later today.”

“Oh, that
will be a help,” Jane Ann said, but the way Jodi rolled her eyes behind her
father said maybe that wasn’t the case.

“Yeah.
Darren’s a good boy. Well, time to go, Jodi.” He put his hand on her shoulder
and firmly turned her back toward the host site. She turned and gave a small
wave as they left.

Stephanie
said to Larry when they had gone. “Did you talk to Sanchez?”

“Yes, he
said thanks for telling him. He was pretty surprised that your husband was able
to get to the campground with all the searching going on.”

“Believe
me, he knows trails in this park that the rangers probably aren’t even aware
of. Thanks for doing that. I think it’s time to get River in the shower.”

River
whirled around from where he played on the ground with Bugger. “Noooooo!”

Rob said,
“I was just about to head there myself. Want me to take him along?”

“I don’t
need a shower!” River appeared to be on the verge of tears.

“River, go
with Rob and take a shower and then I’ll play some more Slap Jack with you, how
about that?” Donna said.

“We need to
teach him Chicken Feet too,” Frannie said.

River
perked up. “What’s Chicken Feet?”

“Another
game we play when we’re camping.”

He slowly
got to his feet. “Mom, I’m going to go to the shower with…” He looked at Rob.

“Rob.”

“Yeah,
him.”

Stephanie
smiled. “Let’s go get your towel and clean clothes.” His face fell again at the
mention of clean clothes.

“But—“

“C’mon.
You’ll miss out.”

He
dutifully followed his mother around the end of Shoemakers’ trailer while Rob
headed to his own.

“I’ll meet
you in the road!” River hollered after him.

“Okay,
buddy!”

Jane Ann
stiffly pushed her chair upright. “I’m thinking a shower sounds pretty good.”

“Me, too,”
Frannie said. “I’ll go with you since Larry won’t let me out alone.”

A few
minutes later, they were following Rob and River up the road, although much
slower because of Jane Ann’s sore knee.

“Frannie,
I’m not sure how you’re going to cover this weekend in your scrapbook,” Jane
Ann said.

“I know. It
may be a chance to use that ‘Serial Killer’ font. Seriously, this is pretty
unbelievable. I’m also thinking it’s odd that the funeral home told Sanchez
that Randy had ordered flowers and Jodi didn’t see anything with that name.
Didn’t Sanchez say he talked to the assistant?”

“I think
so.”

“That’s the
guy who gives me the creeps. You know—“ She stopped stock still in the
road. “I think the director, Bonnard, said the assistant, Joel is his name, is
from Chicago. Maybe he and Randy knew each other?”

“Frannie,
you sound like those people who say ‘Oh, you’re from Iowa? Do you know
so-and-so?’”

“I know.
But I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Stub said this trip was Randy’s idea.”

“Seems so
complicated, though. Don’t forget that Dave Schlumm was not a model husband.
And he was pretty controlling just now with his daughter. I think I’ve heard
that most murders are committed by a family member.”

“But then
what about Randy? It would be even more of a coincidence to have two unrelated
murders in this park the same year, let alone weekend.”

“I know.”
They reached the shower house and found the women’s side empty. A half-hour
later, refreshed and freshly attired, they gathered up their things and headed
back to the campsite.

“I was
thinking,” Frannie said, “Dave seemed much more relaxed today. What if he did
kill Maeve and Randy knew something, so last night he got rid of Randy and now
he thinks he’s home free?”

“Yeah,
that’s a
lot
simpler.” Jane Ann
laughed. “And the cooler or box? And the phone call you overheard?”

“I didn’t
say it explained everything.”

“How about
this? Maeve and Randy were having an affair which is why Randy had the idea for
this trip, Dave caught them but Randy got away, the mystery box was Maeve’s
suitcase in which she had packed all her sequined cruise clothes to run away
with Randy, Randy had to get rid of the suitcase and made the phone call to
arrange for someone to pick it up, Dave caught him and killed him and took the
suitcase and buried it under an old oak in the woods.” She took a deep breath.

Frannie
covered her mouth and started to giggle, glancing sideways at Jane Ann and
losing all control.

“Jane Ann,
you’re incorrigible.” She gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “How long did it
take you to come up with that?”

“Just
seconds. I have a mind like a steel trap you know. These criminals can’t pull
the wool over my eyes,” she said, cool and straight-faced. They arrived back at
the campsite, and Jane Ann had to explain to their husbands why Frannie
dissolved into fits of laughter every time she tried to talk.

“I think
she’s overtired,” Larry said. “It’s funny, but not that funny.”

Jane Ann
was indignant. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

They had
just settled again like a flock of birds quieting after a flurry of activity
when Ranger Phillips stopped on his rounds of the campground. He still looked
like his breakfast hadn’t agreed with him and his nervousness of the day before
was increased by a second death on his watch.

He started
to thank them for their help that morning when the air was riddled with machine
gun-like explosions. Everyone, including the ranger ducked and then peered
around cautiously. A slow flush crept up from Phillips collar to his face as
realization dawned.

“Firecrackers,”
he said and shook his head sheepishly. “I suspected those kids down there were
up to something.” He nodded back toward the campground entrance. “I’d better
check it out.” He headed back in the direction he had come from.

Frannie had
her hand over her pounding heart and said to the others, “I know it’s early,
but maybe I should go take a nap.” Everyone agreed. Donna put cards out on the
picnic table in preparation for River’s return. She even smiled sympathetically
at Frannie.

Frannie
climbed the steps into the trailer just as Rob and River came back from the
showers. River still looked grubby, although he wore different clothes, and was
jabbering excitedly about the firecracker noises.

“We had to
stop at the playground afterwards,” Rob said.

Frannie
smiled to herself at the futility of trying to keep a five-year-old clean. She
put away her shower bag and collapsed on the bed. The windows were open on both
sides of the little bedroom and a fresh breeze moved the blinds almost
hypnotically. She could hear River’s delight as he slapped jacks, and
apparently every other card, with Donna and Mickey but it did not keep her
awake.

However,
she was jolted out of her dreams a short time later by whispered voices coming
from the back side of the camper, the side where Stephanie’s pop-up was. It
took a moment for it to even register in her sleep-addled brain where she was
and what time universe she was in. Gradually the voices clarified.

“What’s the
matter with you, Steph? You
narced
on
me?” She didn’t recognize the voice but could guess.

“They told
me yesterday I had to. Two people have died here—the cops aren’t foolin’
around,” Stephanie said in a hoarse whisper. “And now you’re wasted
again—whadya expect? Ow! Let go! I’m sure people saw you this morning
anyway so someone was bound to tell.”

“You are an
idiot but we both knew that. Well, you’re on your own, now. I’m outa here. I
ain’t goin’ back to jail.”

Stephanie
didn’t reply—she’d been on her own for a long while. The sounds of Trey’s
exit into the woods came through the open window. Frannie looked at her watch
and was surprised that she had been asleep less than an hour because she felt
quite refreshed.