The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (11 page)

“I know, dear. My bad.”
Fortunately, Joe didn’t see her deliberately step on Larry’s
foot
which
put an end to his smirk. “Let’s get you a plate of pancakes, Joe,
okay?” She wove through the group to the kitchen area with Joe deftly
following. Soon, he and Sabet were seated at the dinette attacking stacks of
cakes and sausages with unbridled gusto. The others perched their plates on
their laps and tried to keep up with the kids. Mickey ate standing up while he
continued flipping pancakes. A knock on the door interrupted the only sound of
forks scraping on plates.

They stopped eating and
looked at each other in surprise long enough for Sam Shoemaker to open the door
and poke his head in.

“Anything left?”

“Daddy!” Sabet and Joe
shouted in unison.

He mounted the inside steps,
filling the little space that was left.

“Sam!” Mickey said. “We do
have a couple of cakes and three sausages just for you. I think your kids ate
half of them.”

Sam slipped out of his rain
jacket and Jane Ann added it to the pile in the shower. Sabet scooted over on
the dinette bench to make room for him.

He rubbed his hands together.
“I figured you must be over here,” he said to his parents. “No one at your
place except Cuba, and she didn’t even offer me coffee.”

“She’s gotten pretty lazy in
her old age,” Frannie said. “I didn’t expect you quite so soon.”

“I figured with the rain,
you’d be pretty confined and ready to throw these two out.”

“Well, you’re
right—there won’t be much to do in this weather. But we aren’t tired of
them.” Tired
from
worrying about them
but not tired
of
them, Frannie
thought.

“They had a storyteller here,
Dad! He was really cool,” Sabet said.

“Wait ’til you see our
marshmallow guns!” Joe was not to be outdone.

Sam raised his eyebrows and
glanced at his mother, who simply shrugged and smiled.

“Any news on the missing
girl?” he asked.

“They just said on the news
before we came over that they are actively looking for her dad. Apparently
there’s been a custody battle,” Larry said.

“Really?” said Nancy. “We
didn’t turn the news on this morning.”

Ferraros hadn’t either. “That
should take the heat off Larry,” Jane Ann said.

“I think Sanchez already
helped with that, but it also would be better for Taylor Trats, I hope anyway,”
Larry said.

Sabet and Joe helped Jane Ann
with the dishes while Frannie did a once over on her own trailer checking for
the kids’ things. She found a toothbrush in the bathroom and one of Sabet’s
socks behind the chair. Joe’s wet clothes from the day before were still on the
clothesline and now wetter than ever, so she took a plastic bag out to collect
them.

The rain had let up, and
Larry and Sam stood discussing the events of the weekend. Larry filled Sam in
on Joe’s brief disappearance that morning. Sam shook his head, looking
apologetic. She was struck by Sam’s resemblance to his father—in profile,
stance, and mannerisms. It wasn’t often that she observed them from the
periphery. Larry had been very subdued this morning; he hadn’t even argued with
Mickey. She and Larry hadn’t had a chance to further discuss the tiff of the
night before.

Larry helped Sam load the
kid’s bags and bikes in the back of his SUV. Sabet got in the back seat,
arranging iPod, earphones, and other paraphernalia, and Joe started to join her
but stopped.

“Wait!” he said, and ran back
to the trailer. He stood at the corner, stretching his arms along both sides,
giving the camper a hug. Then he came running back and looked up at his father.
“I’ll miss ‘Terry,’” he explained. The adults all looked at each other, trying
to suppress laughter.

Frannie was giving Sam a hug
when a frog croaked. She looked around a second and then remembered and pulled
her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen.

“It’s a text from Sally.”
Frannie and Larry’s daughter Sally lived in St. Louis and was a social worker.

Sam looked at the kids,
already buckled in their seats. “You
guys been
messing
with Grannie Fran’s phone?”

Sabet shrugged, trying to
restrain a smile. Sam turned back to his mother. “They do that to us all the
time,” he explained. “The frog is one of their favorites. How’s Sally doing?”

Frannie read the text. “She
heard about the abduction on email. Thinks we’re a magnet for crime.”

“You might want to talk to
her about the abuse investigation. Missouri laws are different, I’m sure, but
she might be able to help. Is she coming home for Thanksgiving?”

“She hasn’t said yet. But
that’s a good idea to talk to her.”

Sam hugged her again. “We’d
better head out. Keep us informed about what happens here, okay?”

“Will do,” Larry said. “Drive
carefully.”

As Sam slowly pulled out of
the site, Frannie noticed Tessa sitting on the picnic table at her site. She
gave Sabet a surreptitious wave as the car passed. Frannie and Larry turned
back to their friends. Larry got a fresh tub of wood out of the truck and
started building a fire.

“We’ll miss them,” Jane Ann
said. “You guys aren’t nearly as entertaining as they are.”

“I agree,” Frannie said with
a wistful smile. “But I have to say this weekend that it is a relief not to
have to worry about them. That little spell with Joe this morning just about
did me in.”

Nancy shook her head. “That
he chose this weekend to sleepwalk...he’s never done that before when we’ve
camped, has he?”

“No, never...I thought he’d
outgrown it. Never even crossed my mind when I found him gone.” Frannie sighed.
“I think I’ll go put the trailer to rights and make a fresh pot of coffee.”

Inside, after plugging in the
percolator, she started to put the extra pillows, blankets and sleeping bags in
the storage area under the bed. Larry came in just then and took them from her.

“Listen, I’m sorry about last
night,” he said. “Taylor’s disappearance has really been bugging me.”

Frannie replaced the throw
pillows on the couch, and wiped off the counters. “I didn’t mean that you were
to blame. You just surprised me so.”

“I know. I really lost
control.”

She went to him and hugged
him. “The kidnapping is the fault of whoever took her.”

“Yeah,” he said but he didn’t
sound convinced.

Back outside, the rest of the
group had pulled chairs up around the fire. The clouds still hung low, blocking
the sun, but the rain seemed to have moved on.

“Do you think we’re still
restricted to the campground? Most people plan to leave today,” Nancy said.

“I’m sure we’ll see something
of the sheriff or Sanchez sometime this morning,” Larry said. “I can’t imagine
that they will try and keep everyone here.”

Shouts coming from the center
of the campground racked the quiet air. Larry sat forward, hands on the arms of
his lawn chair. “Sounds like over by the host site.” He launched himself from
the chair and headed for the road, followed by the others.

The trees and shrubs that
secluded each campsite also blocked most views of the rest of the campground.
As they neared the host site, they saw no sign of anyone, but now the noise
seemed to come from around the corner. Crashes punctuated the shouting.
Rounding the hosts’ trailer, they saw the source of the ruckus.

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

Happy Camper Tip #10

Mickey’s Famous Wheat Germ
Pancakes: Mix the following dry ingredients in a plastic bag before camping
trip: 4 heaping tablespoons of wheat germ plus enough flour to make two cups,
1/2 cup buttermilk powder, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. When
ready to cook, add 2 eggs lightly beaten, 4 tablespoons of oil, and 2 cups of
water to the dry ingredients. Cook on lightly oiled griddle over the fire or in
electric skillet. Makes about 16.

Late Sunday Morning

The campground host stood at
the edge of the road, hands on hips, trying to get the attention of the three
road workers. The one called Don and one of the other two wrestled on the
ground, kicking over lawn chairs and knocking against tables while the third
dodged in and out, apparently trying to break them up.

“What’s this about?” Larry
asked the host when the group reached the site. The host turned and scowled.

“Who knows? My wife went to
get the ranger.”

Larry stepped into the fray,
followed by Ben. “You get the red shirt, I’ll get the blue,” he yelled to be
heard over the shouting.

Ben grabbed the arms of the
guy in the red shirt, Don, from behind and yanked him back from the other man.
Don twisted his head around in surprise to look at Ben. “Can’t we just play
nice together?” Ben asked him.

Meanwhile, Larry had collared
the other man, literally, by the neck of his shirt. By the time they were both
hauled to their feet, the man in the blue shirt was looking a little sheepish
while Don glowered at him, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“You want to talk about what
started this?” Larry asked.

“Well
...,
”
started the man in blue, but Don said, “Shut up! It’s nobody’s business!”

The third man put his hand on
Don’s shoulder. “C’mon, Don, let’s calm down a little.”

Don wrenched his shoulder
sideways, out of the man’s hold, and glared at him. “Tell your buddy to calm
down and keep his damn lies to himself, Harry!” He stomped over to their picnic
table and sat down with his back to them.

Harry turned to the rest of
the group and shrugged. “Thanks for your help. I would have gotten them split
up but it would have taken a little longer,” he said to Ben and Larry.

Larry introduced himself and
his friends just as the ranger and campground hostess arrived.

Ranger Sommers looked at them
all. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing serious, Ranger,”
Harry said. “Don and Clete got into a little argument and got carried away.”

Sommers looked skeptical.
“Argument about what?”

“It was personal!” Don almost
shouted, never turning around to look at them.

Sommers walked over to the
other side of the picnic table where she could look Don in the eye. “Look,” she
said, “with the DCI
and
the sheriff
in the park, now is not the time to vent your
personal
feelings. I suggest you get your
personal
feelings under control or you’ll find yourself charged
with disorderly conduct.” She turned and walked back to Larry. “Do you know
what this was about?”

“No, we just heard the
commotion from our campsite.”

“Okay, I think you can return
there now.” Her tone was firm.

The group headed down the
road, but they had only gotten a few steps when Sommers caught up to them.

“Ranger Sommers, is everyone
still restricted to the campground?” Frannie asked.

“Don’t quote me,” she smiled
slightly now, “but I think they’re going to give the go-ahead for people to
leave about noon. It’s really up to Sanchez. I thought you were staying a
couple more days.”

“We are, but Ben and Nancy
have to get back to work tomorrow.”

“Right—that’s the case
with many of the campers, I think. However, those guys—,” she indicated
the road crew with a backward toss of her head, “—are here for another
week.” She grimaced. “This isn’t the first altercation they’ve had.”

They reached their campsite.

“We heard on the news this
morning that there’s a serious search on for Taylor Trats' father,” Jane Ann
said.

“Yes, right now that seems
like the best possible scenario for the girl’s safety, although that might be
just wishful thinking. No one saw her father anywhere around here at the time of
the abduction.”

The others headed back around
the campfire, but Frannie remained in the road with the ranger.

“When’s the last time Mrs.
Trats
saw
him?” Frannie asked.

“She says about two weeks
ago, and that he lived in Des Moines the last she knew, but he’s not at the
address she gave Sanchez and there was no forwarding address.” Sommers shook
her head at the futility of it all. “I’d better check on those guys and get
back to the ranger station.”

Frannie watched her go and
marveled at her change of attitude. Sanchez must have been pretty convincing
that Larry was not a pervert or kidnapper. Sommers shared more information than
Frannie ever expected her to—probably more than she was supposed to.

“If they let us out of here
at noon,” Mickey was saying, “we should take a drive and have lunch in Orien at
that place that was on the diner show on TV.”

“Getting a little cabin
fever, Mickey?” Ben asked and then coughed as the breeze picked up and blew the
smoke from the fire right at him. He picked up his coffee and his chair and
moved to the other side.

“Yeah, it’s crazy because a
lot of times we never leave the campground, but as soon as someone tells you
that you can’t leave, you’re itching to get out.”

“It isn’t even 24 hours since
we got back from the bike ride and the flea market,” Nancy pointed out.

“Exactly. Proves my point,”
Mickey said.

Larry placed another log on
his carefully constructed teepee. The flames licked at it and another drift of
smoke headed toward Mickey. He backed his chair away but still couldn’t avoid
it. He moved his chair by Ben.

“And of course you’re worried
about food less than an hour after breakfast,” Larry said.

“So?”

“I don’t suppose you’d
consider taking Larry and Mickey back with you?” Frannie said to Nancy. Smoke
engulfed them both and they moved their chairs to the spots Mickey and Ben had
recently vacated.

“Are you kidding? If we
wanted that kind of stress, we would have brought the cat along to ride in the
back seat with Chloe.”

“Oooh. Excellent simile.”

“Metaphor,” said Mickey,
waving his hands to dissipate the gray cloud suddenly attacking him again.

“Maybe not,” Larry started to
say, but they were all saved from further pointless discussion by the
appearance of the sheriff’s car with Agent Sanchez riding shotgun. The sheriff
rolled down his window.

“People will be allowed to
leave the campground at noon today,” he said. Ben raised his hand in
acknowledgment. Frannie thought what a tableau they must have presented to the
sheriff—three bunched together on one side of the fire, two dragging
chairs to different spots and one swatting at the air.

“What is with this wind
today?” Mickey complained. He pulled out a bandana and wiped his watery eyes.
“Why can’t it make up its mind?”

Larry put another log on and
his teepee toppled sideways in a shower of sparks and smoke.

“Another point for a log
cabin fire,” Mickey said, shifting his chair again.

“You know,” Ben leaned
forward and pointed his coffee mug at Mickey and Larry, “I’m with the girls. If
you two don’t shape up, I’m going to clean both your clocks!”

Mickey grinned at Larry. “I
think he could do it.”

“I know he could,” Larry
agreed.

“So, let’s talk about
somebody else’s arguments,” Ben said. “What do you think those guys were
fighting about?”

Frannie realized she had told
only Larry and the sheriff about the conversation she had overheard at the flea
market. She repeated it now to the group.

“Something has happened
before with that group,” she finished. “But nothing they said told me what it
could be.”

“Maybe the sheriff has been
able to find out,” Jane Ann said and sputtered as a gust of smoke hit her in
the face. She folded up her lawn chair and moved. “I bet people think we are
practicing for one of those lawn chair brigades they have in the college
homecoming parades.”

“If so, I’m sure they think
we
need
practice,” Nancy said. “I’ve
had it with this smoke. I think I’ll take Chloe for a walk and maybe just
happen to see if things have settled down with those guys.”

“I should go with you,”
Frannie got up. “For protection, you know.”

“Frannie
...,
”
Larry cautioned.

“Just a walk, Larry. Nancy
will keep me in line.” She got Cuba’s leash off the awning strut. “C’mon,
girl—go for a walk?” Cuba’s ears shot forward and up. She lumbered to her
feet and stretched. Frannie attached the leash to her collar and followed her
to the road where Nancy waited with Chloe. Cuba could still move pretty briskly
at the beginning of a walk.

Jane Ann caught up with them
as they started down the road. “You’re not leaving me there with those guys.
Let Ben deal with them.”

They laughed and bent their
bodies into the wind, pulling their jackets closed. No one was out at the host
site, but Harry was tending the fire at the road workers' site while Clete
pulled a bundle of wood out of the back of their pickup.

Harry nodded and ambled over
to them. He was a big guy, solid, and his whole appearance seemed to radiate
squareness. His head was blocky, his nose as wide at the top as at the bottom.
Salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and parted on the side. Yet he was not
unattractive and seemed friendly.

“Nice looking dogs,” he said.
Not really a pickup line—more of a conversation starter to use on people
who had to break up a fight between your friends.

“Thanks,” Frannie said,
craning her neck a little to look up at him. “They’re pretty good campground
dogs. They don’t bark much. How are your friends doing?”

He shrugged. “They’re okay.
Don’s such a hot head.” Clete dropped the bundle of wood by the fire. He only
came to Harry’s shoulder and unlike Harry, exuded meanness.

“I don’t know why we don’t
dump him, Harry. He’s nuthin’ but trouble.”

The ancient little trailer
behind them shook as Don came to the door and stuck his head out.

“You keep your mouth shut,
Clete! Don’t be gossiping about me. You’re no better than an old lady.” Then he
took more notice of the women in the road and his demeanor changed. “No
offense, ladies.”

Nancy’s jaw dropped and Jane
Ann smirked, mumbling “It wasn’t offensive until he obviously decided we
are
old ladies.”

“We don’t have to gossip
about you, Don! Pretty soon everyone will know,” Clete yelled back over his
shoulder, cackling.

“You—!” Don started,
but Harry was already
back
at the trailer. Even
looking up at Don, he was formidable.

“Go back inside until you
cool down,” he said firmly. “I
will
turn you over to the cops if I have to deal with any more of this.”

Nancy said in a low voice,
“Let’s move on. If Frannie ends up in the middle of this, her private cop will
get me.” They nodded good-bye to Clete and urged the dogs on.

When they were out of
earshot, Frannie said, “All I asked was how the other guys are doing.”

“That’s all it took. That
group is a tinderbox,” Jane Ann said.

“You know,” said Nancy,
“Harry is certainly big enough to have broken up the fight earlier. Yet when we
got there, he didn’t seem to be making much effort. Ben and Larry had to do
it.”

“You’re right, Nance,”
Frannie said. “Suppose he has some other agenda?”

“And Clete’s comment about
‘soon everyone will know.’ What’s that about?” Jane Ann said.

Frannie said, “The sheriff
must have done a background check on Don by now. He gives me the
creeps—ever since he was chatting with Sabet and Tessa the first night.”

They had to move off the road
a couple of times to let campers pass
who
were leaving
the park. They must have been ready to go as soon as the sheriff gave the word.
The scene resembled striking a circus—awnings were furled, bins packed
up, and colorful outdoor rugs rolled up. Dogs barked and kids chased each
other.

As they came around the curve
by the shower house, they found Agent Sanchez leaning against his car, talking
on his phone.

Frannie said to the others,
“I want to ask him what they’ve found out about Don.” They stood across the
road from the agent, watching Tammy and her family pack up.

Tammy looked up from folding
a tablecloth and smiled. “Are you leaving today, too?”

Frannie shook her head. “Ben
and Nancy are—they’re still working. But the rest of us are lazy retired
folks and we’re staying a couple more days.”

“That should be fun,” Tammy
said, sounding a little doubtful. “I hear they’re looking for Taylor Trat’s
father.”

Jane Ann nodded. “We all hope
he’s the culprit and it’s just a custody issue.”

“Good morning, ladies,” came
a deep voice behind them. Warren Sanchez was slipping his phone in his pocket
as he crossed the road toward them.