Bats and Bones (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries) (14 page)

“What a
beautiful spot,” she said.

Donna
agreed. “It’s hard to imagine what people first thought when they saw these
places.” A pause while she looked around. “‘Course, I guess most of the world
looked this way then.”

“This spot,
yes. The caves had to be somewhat unique, even then.”

“Have you
been to the old cabin Jane Ann talked about when we first got here?”

“Not for
several years. It’s pretty neat.”

“Is the
cabin open?”

“Not
usually, unless they have something special going on. You can look in the
windows, though.”

Rob and
Mickey had been examining the ragged bark of one of the hickories and walked
back to the women.

“Neat
place,” Rob said. “Ready to head back? I feel a nap coming on.”

“You men,”
Frannie told him with a grin. “You’ll sleep your lives away. I feel just fine!”

Mickey
hooted. “Not all of us got our naps in
before
lunch.” They proceeded single file back up the trail, relishing the perfect
breeze and intermittent dappled sunlight. Back on the campground road, they
walked four abreast, stopping to visit with other campers.

When they
reached the turn in the road and Dave Schlumm’s camper, Jodi was just coming
out the door, her arms full of clothes on hangers and a small suitcase. She
glanced up at them and nodded, her eyes red and her face pale.

Frannie
walked over to her and took the suitcase off her hands. “Jodi, what’s wrong? Is
there anything we can do?”

Jodi’s
shoulders heaved as she let out a big sigh. “It’s my stupid brother. Whenever
he’s around, my dad goes all macho. I thought we should work on those thank you
notes this afternoon and then have a quiet supper but Darren says if he
had
to come all the way back
here—get that, because of his mom’s death—he wants to see some of
his old friends. So he and Dad decided to go to the tavern. I usually ignore
their stupidity but this time I told them that would be disrespectful to Mom’s
memory. You know what Dad said? ‘She’s not gonna know!’”

“Oh, Jodi,
I’m so sorry.” Maybe Frannie was lucky that she had to handle her mother’s
death on her own.

"But
how did they get out of the campground? No one's supposed to leave," said
Donna, who had followed Frannie.

“Oh, I'm
sure they said they had to go back to the funeral home or something. But I
really let them have it. Darren didn’t even bring his family because it would
have cramped his social life. Dad finally told me I’d better be gone when they
came back!”

Now the
tears were running down her face.

“Let us
help you load your car and then come and have a glass of tea or something
before you leave. Give you a chance to catch your breath,” Donna said.

“Well…”
Jodi hesitated and then gulped some air. “Okay, that sounds good.”

They put
her stuff in her car and while she went back to get her purse and lock the
camper, they walked back to their own site, filling Rob and Mickey in as they went.

“What a
couple of jerks,” Mickey said.

Jodi moved
her car down behind Ferraros’ RV so that if her dad and brother returned before
she left, they couldn’t criticize her for still being at the Schlumms’ camper.
Rob went in to get the glass of iced tea. Frannie had just finished telling
Jane Ann and Larry what had happened.

Jane Ann’s
mouth dropped open. “Larry, I promise I will never call you names again.”

Jodi looked
at them both more closely. “Are you brother and sister?” They both nodded. “And
you camp together and everything?”

“That’s
because Frannie and Mickey are such good friends…” Larry said, but his wife
slugged him in the arm.

“They’ll
never admit it but they’re actually very close,” Frannie said.

“That’s
great,” Jodi said. “You don’t know how fortunate you are.”

“So, are
you headed home?” Jane Ann asked.

Jodi
nodded. “My son, Aaron, is home today and tomorrow. He has a summer job in a
county park near Waterloo. He’ll be a sophomore at Iowa State next fall in
forestry. Mainly due to Mom’s influence.” She was quite proud. And Frannie
thought again how little they knew of Maeve Schlumm based on what they had
observed Friday night.

Jodi asked
about their families and jobs and camping experiences. By the time she finished
her tea, she had calmed down. “I’d better get going—I told Aaron I’d be
home by supper time. He said he would take me out.” She even beamed a little.

They said
their goodbyes and wished her luck. She got into her car, adjusted her seat
belt, waved and backed out.

The air was
just cool enough that the campfire was welcome, and the group had plenty of
wood to burn. Talk centered around the events of the day and the night before.
Agent Sanchez, the sheriff and Deputy Smith were back going from campsite to
campsite, questioning other campers.

Donna and
Frannie filled the rest in on Joel Marner’s strange and unprofessional
behavior. Larry expanded on Trey’s record of skirmishes with the law.

Rob, the
accountant, said, “We need a spreadsheet to keep track of this mess. As I
understand it, we’ve got two murders and at least four suspects and one person
is on both lists.”

“Both
lists?” Mickey said.

“Randy,”
Larry said.

Mickey
frowned. “Why would he still be a suspect in Maeve’s murder? I don't see any
connection between them.”

Jane Ann
sat up and barely opened her mouth when she received a withering look from her
brother.

“You don’t
know everything,” she said to him instead.

Frannie
looked at Larry. “Remember this morning Sanchez said the most important problem
in this case is motive?”

Larry nodded
and Donna asked, “What did he mean by that?”

“Well,
either both murders were committed by one person acting alone or something
connects two or more of the suspects. On the surface, there doesn’t appear be a
real connection but motive would provide that. Dave and his wife are locals,
retired, and campground hosts. Trey is local with a drug history and much
younger. Even though Dave has had brushes with the law over domestic abuse,
he’s never been in trouble for drug use or even heavy drinking. And Stephanie
told the agent that she and Trey didn’t know the Schlumms other than to see
them here at the park. She claimed they had never even talked. ”

Frannie
picked up the thread. “Randy just intended to be here overnight and he’s from
the Chicago area. Joel Marner is also from Chicago but that’s a big area and
he’s worked here a couple of months. So maybe there’s a connection, maybe not.
Today when he tried to get Randy’s things, he didn’t indicate that he knew
Randy. I’m sure Stub didn’t know him. And the funeral director just introduced
Marner to Dave yesterday. ”

“What about
Marner and Trey?” Jane Ann asked. “They could know each other.”

“Possibly.
But not that anyone knows, not yet anyway. And there’s always the possibility
that someone else is involved that we don’t suspect—or even know,” Larry
said.

“Seems like
drugs could be a logical motive,” Donna said. “It seems obvious that something
illegal is changing hands—what else could it be?”

“Lots of
things. Drugs are just the most common,” Larry said.

“Don’t forget
the mysterious people in the Airstream,” Jane Ann said. “What if the whole
family is dead in there?”

Frannie
said, “Jane Ann! Things are bad enough as it is.” But they all looked down the
road at the abandoned camper. It sat gleaming in its aluminum skin, sunlight
reflecting off closed windows as well. All of the usual camping accouterments
were stowed or missing. It was not telling any secrets.

“Why would
someone tow a camper somewhere, spend one night, and then leave it sit the rest
of the weekend?” Rob said.

“It’s like
the motives for the murders,” Larry said. “There are all kinds of
possibilities. Someone got sick, they had other plans for part of the weekend
but wanted to hold their place, who knows?”

Sheriff
Ingrham walked toward their circle just then and selected a lawn chair to
collapse in.

“This case
is sure getting me down,” he said. “We don’t often have a murder in this
county, then to have two in one weekend in a place with people from all
over—it’s crazy.”

“We were
just talking about how crazy it seems,” Frannie said. “Larry said you didn’t
ask Joel Marner to pick up Randy’s things.”

“I did not
and as soon as I get back to town, I’ll be talking to him. Nothing really adds
up. None of these people seem to have any connection with each other. Wish I
could figure out the motive—that ought to point to somebody.” He looked
at Larry. “Did you ever handle any murder cases?”

Larry shook
his head. “Not like this. Perfection Falls is a very small town. We had a
couple of killings over the years but more in the line of a knifing in a bar
with twenty-five witnesses.”

“I still
like Dave Schlumm for the murder of his wife—he didn’t treat her very
well. But that doesn’t explain Randy Burton.” Larry glared at his sister who
pantomimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. “Better get back to town
and see what this Marner has to say for himself.” He got up to leave.

“Sheriff,”
Rob said, “On another note, we haven’t seen any news. Was there a tornado last
night?”

“Actually,
yeah, one touched down south of here and took an old barn on an abandoned
homestead. No damage other than that. We were lucky.”

They all
agreed and the sheriff left, heading down the road to his car. Everyone was
quiet for quite awhile, mulling over events in their own minds.

Someone was
bound to ask. This time it was Larry. “What’s for supper tonight?”

“Pork
chops,” Donna said. “And a special surprise. We’ll put them on in a couple of
hours.”

“Excellent!”
Mickey said and picked up his book.

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

Happy
Camper Tip #13

Pie irons
resemble a small square (usually) waffle iron without grids but with very long
handles. They can be used to grill sandwiches or make 'pies' consisting of two
pieces of bread with a fruit filling over an open fire. Very popular with
children.

Late Sunday Afternoon

Frannie got
out of her chair and stretched. “Potty trip,” she said. “Who wants to
chaperone?”

Donna
jumped up. “I need to go too.” Frannie cringed inwardly, but smiled and nodded.
She was spending a lot more one-on-one time with Donna this weekend than she
had planned. They started up the road together.

“What a
waste of a beautiful day,” Donna said. “Doesn’t it just drive you crazy that
we’re stuck here and can’t go anywhere?”

Frannie
shrugged. She realized that her instinct was to disagree with Donna, whatever
her real point of view, but she was getting a little antsy herself. “Not crazy,
but it is a little frustrating. We spend a lot of weekends, though, without
leaving the park. We’re more likely to find something outside the park if the
weather is bad.”

Donna
looked at her, disbelieving. “Sometimes you never leave?” she said.

“Right. We
mainly hike or do a little geocaching and a lot of just relaxing.”

Donna shook
her head slightly but didn’t say anything else. When they came out of the
restroom, they stood for a moment and watched a few kids on the playground.
Frannie glanced over her shoulder at the area behind the shower house to assure
herself that no one lurked nearby with a cellphone. Donna pointed at a
little-used path leading into the woods behind the shower house.

“Do you
know where that goes?”

“To the old
cabin that Jane Ann talked about.”

“Is it very
far?”

“No, not
terribly. Why?”

“Let’s walk
down there.” Donna sounded like a small child, begging for one more cookie.

“I should
tell Larry.”

“Oh, c’mon.
What will it take—ten or twenty minutes? He won’t worry in that time.”

“Okay but
we won’t be able to look around much.”

“We can
come back later to do to that. Rob would like to see it too, I’m sure. This
will just be a little walk.” She turned and headed to the path.

Frannie
followed and they had to step cautiously to avoid protruding roots and
ankle-twisting depressions.

“Doesn’t
look like this path gets used much,” Donna said over her shoulder.

“Apparently
not. We’ve noticed that, with all of the budget cuts in the last year or so, a
lot of park trails have gotten overgrown.”

After about
ten minutes, they reached a clearing. The ground sloped up behind the cabin.
Towering trees loomed over the cabin roof, some branches hanging down so far
that they appeared to be about to pluck the roof off the little building.

“Kind of
spooky,” Donna said, picking her way to one of the windows and peering in.
“Wow, it’s only one room!”

“Yeah,
pretty rustic,” Frannie answered, rubbing her arms in the chill of the deep
woods and looking around. Donna went around the corner to another window and
then to the back. “Frannie, come here!”

Frannie
hesitated, feeling uneasy, but Donna didn’t sound alarmed, just surprised. When
Frannie arrived at the back of the cabin, Donna pointed at a weathered wooden
door buried in the side of the hill.

“What is
that
?”

“It’s a
root cellar, built by the first settlers. I think they used it for storm
protection too. This place has suffered from lack of maintenance lately. It
used to be better kept up. We’d better get back—they’ll be wondering
about us.”

“Sure, but
I’m going to bring Rob back here.”

They
returned to the front of the cabin and started back up the path. Frannie was in
the lead this time but was concentrating on her feet and not falling on her
face when Donna hissed, “Frannie!” She looked back to see Donna wide-eyed and
pointing off to the right. Frannie caught a glimpse through the trees of a
spectral figure in black sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt headed their way. He
(she assumed it was a he by the size) did not seem to be aware of them but
instead focused on his own footing. Frannie was not normally skittish but
decided this was not the time to take chances.

She glanced
to the left and noticed that the ground sloped down around a protruding
limestone bluff. She motioned for Donna to follow, and as quickly and quietly
as she could, worked her way down the slope. Because the path was along a ridge
and the ground fell away on both sides, they were soon out of the sightline of
the approaching figure. When they reached the outcrop, they ducked around the
backside of it.

Frannie was
just saying a little prayer of thanks that for once Donna was quiet when her
companion erupted with a dainty sneeze, clamping both hands over her mouth and
nose. Fannie peeked around the outcrop. The figure had reached the trail and
peered around trying to locate the source of the sound. However, what made
Frannie’s heart thunk as she pulled back behind the rocks was the gun in the
man’s hand.

Donna
tugged on the back of her shirt. Frannie turned. Donna was making animated
gestures apparently meant to ask, “Can you see him?”

So Frannie
nodded and mouthed, “He has a gun.” Donna’s eyes bugged and her face paled.
Frannie took another quick look and whispered, “It looks like he’s heading back
the way he came.”

Donna took
a deep breath. “Let’s get back to the path and the campground. Sorry I even
suggested this.”

Frannie
shook her head. “He’s armed, Donna. If we go back to the trail, he’ll be able
to see us again. We need to keep going around this little cliff and find
another way.”

Donna
didn’t argue. She was all too happy to let Frannie take charge. Frannie checked
again around the outcrop and when she didn’t see any sign of the man with the
gun, crept along the cliff going away from the path and Donna followed.

Walking was
tricky. The ground dropped away from the cliff and numerous loose rocks made
footing difficult. The women scrabbled on all fours as often as they walked
upright. Frannie stopped to catch her breath and Donna ran into her.

“This cliff
curves
away
from the campground,” she
whispered.

“How are we
going to get back? Frannie, you’re so calm.”

“Not
really. My stomach’s in my throat.” She brushed a couple of insects away from
her face. “Let’s think a minute. I don’t know this part of the park at all.”

She looked
around. The cliff they had been skirting appeared to form one side of a bowl,
curving around to meet the hill behind the old cabin. With their backs to the
cliff, the ground sloped away from them, heavily wooded, but Frannie could make
out a small ravine through the trees where the ground started to climb again.
If she wasn’t completely disoriented—and that was certainly in the realm
of possibility—that climb would lead back to the old cabin.

They heard
a scuffling noise above them and small stones rattled down the cliff a few
yards to their left. A disembodied voice called “Who’s there?” Frannie and
Donna tried to flatten themselves against the cliff as much as possible. They
looked at each other in alarm, frozen with fear. Footsteps shuffled along the
cliff top in their direction and then away again.

Finally,
the footsteps indicated their stalker was moving away from the cliff back
toward the trail.

“He’s trying
to find a way to get down here,” Frannie said, her palms wet and fingers
tingling.

“I thought
you saw him go the other way?” Donna croaked.

“He must
have circled around. He knew someone was out here. Here’s what I think we
should do. First, do you have your phone?”

Donna shook
her head. She looked miserable.

“Crap. Me
neither. All right, let’s head down the hill—I think if we keep going
that way, we’ll get to the cabin. Then we can get back to the campground on the
other side of the trail.”

Donna
nodded her head eagerly. All she heard was ‘back to the campground.’

Frannie
listened a few seconds and was satisfied that the noises from above were still
going away from them. She started down the slope and mumbled back to Donna, “Be
careful
. The last thing we need is
for either of us to sprain an ankle.”

They
threaded their way around fallen trees and thickets of brambly-looking shrubs.
When they reached the bottom, Frannie took a quick survey back at their route.
She couldn’t see or hear anything unusual and started up the hill, she hoped
toward the cabin. In places, the ground was so steep that they had to hang on
to roots to make progress.

Part way
up, they heard crashing sounds coming from the slope they had descended.
Frannie glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed their black-shrouded nemesis
starting down.

Donna saw
him too. “He’ll shoot us!” she gasped.

“Not unless
he gets a clear shot,” Frannie panted as she sped up her pace—and she
hoped she was right. “They would hear it in the campground.”

Donna
groaned and stubbed her toe. “Oof! That’s reassuring.”

A squirrel
scrambled out of their way and raced up a tree where he scolded them roundly
for invading his space.

They
stumbled and clutched their way up the slope. Frannie grabbed a branch and felt
a thorn pierce her palm.

“Ow!” She
stopped and checked the wound, then kept going thinking: ‘if he shoots us, I
won’t need a tetanus shot,’ and: ‘I’m too old for this.’ Donna stumbled going
over a branch and ripped the knee of her jeans.

“I
should…know better…than to wear…my best ones camping,” she gasped as they
continued the climb.

As they
neared the top, Frannie stopped and said, “Listen!”

Donna bent
over, catching her breath. “I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s
just it. I think he quit following us.”

“Oh my God,
that was scary.” Donna straightened up. “I didn’t think we were going to get
away from him.”

“It isn’t
over. He’s probably circling us again—going to try and cut us off.”

“Oh.” Donna
sagged. “Now what?”

“I don’t
know. We could back track. He might not expect that.”

“He could
be just waiting for us though.”

Frannie had
to admit that was a possibility. “We’re not far from the cabin. We can either
hide there or at least find something to use as a weapon.”

“Against a
gun
?”

“
I
don’t know, Donna—we just have
to do what we can.” They got to the cabin without any more sign of the stalker.
They checked the front door. There was a latch with a padlock, but the wood had
rotted around it and the screws were rusty. Frannie was able to pull one side
of the latch out and the door swung open with a screech. They hurried inside
and looked around.

“Well,
there’s no hiding place in here,” Frannie said looking around at the one room
and spare furnishings. The rope bedstead had no mattress or linens and the
table and chairs were of the simplest primitive construction that offered no
concealment whatsoever.

“What about
this?” Donna asked pointing above the large fireplace where a cast iron poker
hung.

“Yes!”
Frannie said, but neither of them was tall enough to reach it.

“Where’s
Jane Ann when we need her?” Frannie said, pulling one of the chairs over to
stand on. It looked sturdy but emitted a protesting crack as she climbed on. It
held; she grabbed at the poker but it was fastened to the wall to prevent
theft. She wrapped her hands around the rod, skinning her knuckles. She stepped
off the chair into space, and her toes barely skimmed the floor so that her
weight was enough to pull the fastener out of the brick on the right side and
break the hooked end off the left side. She dropped on her feet falling
backwards. Donna, who had been watching out the window, caught her and helped
her right herself.

“Thanks,”
Frannie said. “You probably saved me from six broken bones.” She let go of one
end of the poker with her sore hand and licked her palm. It felt like it was on
fire.

“I don’t
see anyone out there yet,” Donna said.

Reaching
down and grabbing the broken hook end as well, she said to Donna, “Let’s get
out of here before he does come back.”

After they
left the cabin and closed the door, Donna shoved the loose latch back in so
that it wasn’t obvious that anyone had been inside. Frannie put the iron hook
end in the cargo pocket of her pants—so that’s what those were
for—and carried the rest of the poker in her uninjured hand. They
prepared to go into the woods on the opposite side of the trail when they again
spotted the man coming that very way.

Frannie
grabbed Donna’s hand. “Quick! The root cellar!”

They ducked
around the back of the cabin and ran to the door in the hillside. There were no
fasteners or handles, so Frannie pried her fingers under the bottom edge. It
was heavier than it appeared and when they got it open together, they could see
why. The inside had been reinforced with steel to preserve the door but
maintain the authentic look on the outside. Four wooden steps led down into a
small, squared off hole in the ground. Donna went down the steps and Frannie
reached over and tried to pull some weeds and loose brush partially over the
door as she closed it.