The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

“Good,” Frannie said, with a
little relief. “However, we can’t see either one of them right now.”

Ben said, “I’ll go over and
bring them back. There’s probably stuff I should help Nancy carry anyway.”

“Thanks, Ben,” Larry said, as
Ben headed back to his own camper.

Frannie looked around at the
campground. The approaching dusk cast a pinkish glow on the sky and trees.
A beautiful scene.
Why did she keep hearing the “Jaws” theme
playing in her head? Jane Ann put her arm around Frannie’s waist.

“Ever try to remember what we
do on camping trips when no one gets murdered or kidnapped?” she asked.

Frannie smiled weakly. “I
know, Jane Ann. Things like this cause tunnel vision. Everything else disappears—including
the larger issue of the Trats girl. How horrible for those parents.”

“Even if they are
small-minded witch-hunters?” Jane Ann said.

“Even if. Well, not to make
light of any of that, but I also don’t want to turn the kids into a couple of
paranoid wienies. Let’s try and have a pleasant supper.”

Jane Ann agreed. They both
realized Larry and Mickey were into one of their fire-building ‘discussions’.
Larry favored ‘teepee’ style while Mickey was a ‘log cabin’ man. Insults flew
much faster than wood was added to the fire, interjected with laughter.

“If you want pleasant, we
will have to separate them,” Jane Ann said.

“No doubt.”

The Terells and the kids
returned, Joe leading the parade in his outsized toque and carrying plates.
Sabet had a foil packet containing the sprouts, and Ben and Nancy had other
table items and a basket of homemade bread. Frannie and Jane Ann cleared off
the picnic table. Joe plopped in a chair.

“Cooking
really
makes me tired.”

“Oh, you haven’t
done—,” Sabet started but Larry caught her eye and gently shook his head.

“I partially cooked the
sprouts, so I think if we put the packet in the coals for ten or fifteen
minutes while you cook the steaks, they should have a nice little glaze,” Nancy
said.

“Actually,” Sabet told her
grandmother, “they taste kind of good.”

Frannie smiled. “I can’t wait
to try them.”

The next hour was a fairly
relaxed reprieve, cooking and smelling the steaks, checking the potatoes,
setting the table, and joking with one another. As the day faded, lanterns were
lit for the table and extra jackets pulled out. Mickey pronounced the steaks
“Perfect!” and they settled like a flock of birds around the table.

“Nancy, these sprouts are
magnificent! If Frannie throws me over again, I’ll marry you. What else is in
them—a little thyme and what—apples?” Mickey said.

“Pears, plus a little olive
oil and balsamic vinegar. And you’re right, thyme.”

“Fantastic.” Nodding heads
and chipmunk cheeks registered agreement around the table.

Larry looked at his watch.
“So, are we going back to the storyteller tonight?”

Sabet’s head jerked up from
making a valiant effort with her sprouts. “He’s telling more stories tonight?
Here?”

Inwardly, Frannie cringed.
She had forgotten that Bernie Reid was doing another appearance and didn’t relish
facing the rest of the campground after the day they had. But on the other
hand, she had questions about Mr. Reid and didn’t want to miss an opportunity
to observe him a little more. And she hated to deny the kids something they
enjoyed so much.

“He’s performing at 7:00
again, I think,” she said.

“That’s only fifteen minutes
from now,” Nancy said.

“We can save dessert and
dishes for later,” Jane Ann suggested.

“I’ll take care of the
dessert and you can take care of the dishes...” Mickey fizzled out at a look
from Jane Ann. Joe giggled.

“Me too, Uncle Mickey.”

“See what a bad influence you
are, Mick?” Larry said. “Well, if everyone’s done, we’ll take this stuff in out
of the reach of the raccoons. Let’s all hop to it.”

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

Happy Camper Tip #7

Larry and Mickey’s ongoing
argument about fire style is a common one in campgrounds. The teepee fire takes
some patience to construct. First, the tinder is piled up in a compact heap.
The smaller kindling is arranged around it, like the poles of a tipi. Then the
larger kindling is arranged above the smaller kindling, taking care not to
collapse the teepee. However, as a teepee fire burns, the logs become unstable
and can fall over. The teepee form is excellent for a gathering fire and puts
out more warmth.

A log cabin fire also begins
with a tinder pile. The kindling is then stacked around it, as in the
construction of a log cabin with sticks laid parallel to each other on opposite
sides of the tinder pile and the next pair is laid on top of the first, at
right angles to it, etc. The log cabin is less likely to collapse, but it is
also inefficient, because it makes the worst use of convection to ignite
progressively larger pieces of fuel. However, these qualities make the log
cabin an ideal cooking fire as it burns for a long period of time and can
support cookware.

Saturday Evening

In ten minutes, the table was
cleared and they began the short walk to the nature center. Frannie could sense
stares as they ambled along in the deepening twilight. And although there was
still chatter, people headed the same direction were more subdued than the
night before.

The warmth of the nature
center felt good. It looked like a good portion of the campers were there,
although Frannie reflected that since the sheriff had ordered everyone to stay
in the campground, this was definitely what you could call a captive audience.
Frannie led the group into a row with just a middle-aged couple at the end. As
she sat down, she greeted the woman, who nodded and then opened her eyes wider
in recognition. Not in a negative way either.

“You were with the Ranger
earlier when she talked to the woman in the tent,” she said.

“Yes, my name’s Frannie. Are
you camping in the tent area?”

“Yeah, right next to that
woman. I don’t even know her name. I’m Joan, by the way, and this is my
husband, Ted.”

Frannie nodded at Ted, and
Joan continued. “Now I guess she’s disappeared, is that right?”

“That’s what we heard. Did
you ever see a vehicle at her campsite? No one seems to know how she got here.”

“No, her tent was already set
up when we got here yesterday. I did see a white van there early this morning
but it was only there a short time and then gone again, so it must have just
been someone visiting,” Joan said.

Frannie tucked that in the
back of her mind. “She said she came back to her tent after she sent the little
Trats girl back to her folks. Do you know if that’s true?”

The woman shrugged. “What
time was that? I don’t pay much attention to the clock when we’re camping, and
we went on a hike earlier and then after you were there.”

“Good point. The afternoon
was so confusing, I really don’t know,” Frannie agreed. “Did you visit with Ms.
Sloan since you’ve been here?”

“Just ‘hi,’ ‘nice day,’ that
sort of thing. But, you know,” she lowered her voice, “I don’t think that guy
with Mrs. Trats is the little girl’s dad. I was talking to a woman in the
shower house who’s camping with them and she said the parents are divorced.
Nasty custody fight, I guess.”

Frannie sat up straight and
looked intensely at Joan. “Really? I wonder if they told the Sheriff that?
That’s certainly the most common kind of abduction.”

Joan was about to answer but
Ranger Sommers walked up in front of the group and clapped her hands for
attention. Bernie Reid was behind her with his stool and was busily arranging
some hand puppets on a table beside him.

“Folks, glad to have you back
this evening. Bernie Reid has agreed to give us another performance especially
for the children. Bernie?” She backed out of the way, leading the applause as
she did so.

Bernie Reid stepped forward
and bowed from the waist, his stringy hair falling forward over his face. He
stood and held up his right hand, encased in a puppet that appeared to be a
young girl dressed in ragged clothes.

“I want you all to help me
with this story. Can you do that?” He looked around and received several nods.
“Now, this here’s a princess,” he said and paused.

“Nooo,” came a chorus from
several of the kids.

Bernie’s eyes got wide and he
focused in on a couple of kids in the front row.

“What
?!?
”
And he looked at the puppet on his hand. “This isn’t a princess? How do you
know?”

“She doesn’t have a crown,” a
young boy said in a tentative voice.

“She should have a pretty
pink dress!” added a little girl more forcefully.

He looked from them to the
puppet and back again, laying a left finger alongside his cheek and cocking his
head.

Finally he said, “She
told
me she was a princess.”

The two kids shook their
heads vigorously.

“Well...how are we going to
get her a crown and a pretty pink dress?” he asked the whole crowd.

“She needs a fairy
godmother,” said a matronly woman in the third row with a knowing smile.

The kids nodded and the
little girl in front shouted “Yeah! A fairy godmother!”

Bernie searched the table
beside him, and thrust his hand into another puppet—a wizened old woman
with a scowl on her face, a pointed hat, and voluminous black and gray skirts.

“Ahhh,” said Bernie. “Now she
has a fairy godmother.”

The kids in the crowd all
looked skeptical and the vocal little girl in front said, “I don’t
think
so.”

But before she could say
anymore, the old woman puppet bopped the girl puppet on the head with her wand,
knocking her off of Bernie’s hand and into a cardboard box beside him on the
table in front of the pile of puppets. As the kids strained to try and see in
the box, Bernie looked at the crowd, puzzled. “That must be a powerful spell,”
he said. He peered into the box, and then looked back at the crowd with a
disbelieving look. He leaned over again and picked up the box, tipping it
forward so everyone could see. The box was empty.

A wave of questions and
exclamations spread through the crowd. “So what do you all think? Is she a
good
fairy godmother, or a
bad
fairy godmother?” Bernie held the
old woman puppet up higher.

“Bad!” the kids all chorused.

“How do you know?” he asked,
and pointed to a boy in front of Frannie.

“Because, um, she, um, she’s
gone
!”

“Who’s gone?”

“The princess!” he replied,
and all the kids nodded agreement.

“Princess! You all told me
she wasn’t a princess.” Bernie scratched his head. Some of the kids giggled
hesitantly and looked at each other.

“So, is she—the
princess—hurt?” he continued and looked around the group. He settled on
Tammy’s son, Trevor, in the second row.

Trevor shrugged his shoulders
and said, “I dunno.”

“Does anybody know?”

Most of the audience shook
their heads.

“Well, how are we going to
find out?” He looked around. “I think we need some more characters—more
people—in this story. What do you think? Do you think we need help finding
the princess?”

“Yeah!” the kids shouted.
Suggestions were fired fast and furious at Reid—a prince, a good monster,
a king, a dog,
a
policeman. Soon Reid had several of
the children involved in working various puppets and adding to the story. After
a half hour and a very convoluted plot, the princess was found in another box,
suitably gowned and crowned and, of course, ready to live happily ever after.
Sabet, who had hung back when volunteers were called for, clapped
enthusiastically and Joe confided to Frannie, “I
knew
the princess couldn’t just disappear!”

Sabet scoffed. “It wasn’t the
same princess, Joe. It was another puppet.”

“No, it was the same face,”
Joe insisted.

“But—,” Sabet began,
but Larry said, “Halt! No more arguing.”

“Okay, I’m not arguing,
Grandpa, but how do you think he did it?” she asked.

Larry shrugged. “I don’t
know. It was a magic trick but I don’t know how he did it.”

Sabet frowned. “I just don’t
see how you can hide something in plain sight.”

“That’s magic for you,” her
grandfather grinned at her.

As they got up to leave,
Frannie’s mind returned to Taylor Trats. Maybe trying to figure out who took
the girl, if indeed she wasn’t just lost, wasn’t as important as figuring out
where she might be hidden. Joe was right; no one could just disappear.

If the culprit was someone in
the campground, and all the campers were still here, Taylor would have to be
hidden somewhere nearby. Even with the campground closed, it wouldn’t be that
difficult to get out of the park on foot, but a vehicle was another matter.
Taylor could have been removed from the park by vehicle, but if she was being
kept alive, the kidnapper had to be able to get to her on a regular basis.

Frannie didn’t want to think
about the other option—that Taylor was not still alive. Of course if the
kidnapper was Maddie Sloan or the girl’s natural father, either of them could
have taken Taylor somewhere else. And there was the possibility still that
Maddie Sloan was a victim, not a culprit, or gone for some totally different reason.
Frannie let out a big sigh just as they exited the nature center.

“What’s the matter?” Jane Ann
asked.

“Too many possibilities,”
Frannie said, looking up at the sparkling stars. A few clouds had started to
drift across the moon. She relayed her thinking to Jane Ann. Nancy came up on
Frannie’s other side.

“Have you guys solved this
yet?”

“No, but Frannie’s got some
interesting ideas. You need to pass those on to Agent Sanchez, Frannie.”

“Thinking about it all is
like trying to pick up mercury,” Frannie said. “Like Maddie Sloan—where
does she fit in, or does she at all? I think I see a connection between two
parts of the puzzle, but when I try to tie them together, they scatter off in
different directions.”

“Frannie thinks maybe the
focus should be on where Taylor Trats could have been hidden. Most of the
suspects have had pretty limited movements,” Jane Ann explained to Nancy.

Nancy nodded. “Good point. If
she was kidnapped, how did anyone get her out of the park in the middle of the
afternoon? And where could they keep her nearby?”

All the women were silent for
a moment, not wanting to consider the other alternative.

“Not to change the subject,”
Nancy said, “which of course means I’m going to, is Sam coming to pick up the
kids tomorrow? We could take them back—we’ll have to leave by
mid-afternoon.”

“Thanks, but Sam’s already
planning on the morning. Larry had to work to convince him not to do it
tonight. I love bringing them but frankly this time it will be a relief not to
have to constantly worry about them. I thought Sam was being paranoid with all
his warnings when I picked them up, and look what all has happened.”

Sabet caught up with them
from behind, where she had been chatting with the men.

“Gran, can we watch a movie
tonight when we get back?”

Frannie hesitated. She
normally tried to downplay the electronic entertainment when they camped, but
tonight the thought of the kids being safely tucked in the trailer had a lot of
appeal.

“I think that might be a good
idea,” she said, putting her arm around Sabet’s shoulders.

“Do you have any vampire
movies?”

“Oh, that’d really help you
get a good night’s sleep! No vampire movies, but I have one I’m pretty sure you
haven’t seen, and I think you’ll like it.”

“What? What is it?”

“Another surprise. Plus, we
have bread pudding that we haven’t eaten yet.”

“Gran, you are just full of
surprises,” Sabet complained. She slipped out from under Frannie’s arm and
dropped back to tell Joe the plan.

They had arrived back at the
campsite. While Ben and Larry built the fire back up, Mickey decided to make a
pot of coffee.

Jane Ann brought out bowls
and ice cream for the bread pudding. They sat around the fire to savor the warm
dessert.

Sabet’s thoughts were back to
the disappearing princess. “You know,” she licked her spoon thoughtfully, “I
think the first princess was in that pile of puppets on the table. I don’t
think she ever was in the box.”

“No,” Joe said. “She fell in
the box!”

“I’m not so sure, smarty,”
Sabet retorted.

“Hey,” Larry told her. “Joe
has a right to his opinion, too.”

“Sorry,” she said not very
convincingly. “But we all thought she went in the box because he showed us the
box. But she could have fallen behind the box. He never showed us the whole
pile of puppets, because he wanted us to look somewhere else.”

Larry looked at Frannie,
grinning. “She definitely takes after you. She’s another Sherlock Shoemaker.”

Frannie felt a little warm
rush of pride. “That’s excellent, Sabet. You may be right. But now it’s time
for bed.”

Sabet started to protest out
of habit, but Nancy told her, “You need to rest that brain. Agent Sanchez may
need your help tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right...NOT!” Sabet
said, but had her own proud little smile as she followed Frannie and her
brother inside.

“What’s the movie, Grannie
Fran?” Joe asked. “Sabet said you wouldn’t tell her.”

Frannie got out a DVD from
the end cabinet and held it up. “It’s an old one called ‘The Long, Long
Trailer’ and all kinds of silly things happen to these people when they’re
camping for the first time. Sabet, do you want to make some popcorn? Joe, go
ahead and get your pajamas on while I set this up.” Frannie pulled the DVD
player out of its little travel niche and hooked it up. She put in the movie,
and by the time she was ready to go back out to join the adults, the kids were
tucked in their sleeping bags, on their stomachs with baskets of microwave
popcorn, giggling along with Lucille Ball’s antics.