Bats and Bones (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries) (2 page)

Friday Evening

The cord
pulled taut and then jerked out of the post before Larry got there. But seeing
Larry, Stub stopped the motorhome and rolled down the window, his usually
jovial expression replaced with confusion and concern.

Larry
pointed at the cord. “You forgot to unplug your electrical hook up.”

Stub banged
his head down on the steering wheel, fortunately cushioned by his hands.
Raising his head again, he looked at Larry. “Oh, man, what did I do? Did I
wreck something?”

“I’ll
check. Don’t move any farther.” With that Larry headed to the back of the coach
and picked up the end of the cord. He examined the plug and shook his head back
at Stub. “It looks okay—the prongs are a little bent but it should work
fine. I’ll stow it for you.” He began to push the cord back into its
compartment. Stub’s fellow travelers had stopped their frantic packing up.
Grumpy, a small, thin man with a prematurely receding hairline and wire rim
glasses, said, “This trip is Stub’s worst idea ever!”

“Relax,
Randy,” another man said. “Nothing’s hurt. We’ll get moved to the right spot
and start over. It’s not that bad.”

Randy’s
face reddened, and he started to retort but apparently thought better of it. He
threw down a lawn chair, said, “I’m going to the can!” and marched off toward
the shower house. Larry had finished with the cord and walked back to the
driver’s window. “You’re good to go now. Been there, done that. Are you in the
wrong spot?”

Stub
sighed. “Yeah, we didn’t check the reservation number on the site and we’re
supposed to be on the other side of your friends.” He nodded at the Nowaks’
unit.

“Your
friend seems really upset,” Larry said, nodding at Randy trudging down the
road.

“Don’t mind
Randy. He’s a little uptight right now—the Feds are after him.” Then
noticing Larry’s jaw drop, Stub added, “Tax problems.”

“Bummer.
Well, I’ll let you get back to your move. Think of it as practice.”

Stub
chuckled. “Hey, thanks…for everything!”

Larry
nodded and headed back across the road. He managed to keep a straight face all
the way to the picnic table. “Good thing supper started out cold,” he said to
the group.

“What’s the
scoop?” Rob asked. “Do they have to leave or just move?”

“They’re
just in the wrong spot. They are supposed to be on the other side of you.”
Larry then repeated what Stub had said about Randy. “I thought at first he was
on the run from the FBI, but apparently he’s in trouble with the IRS.”

“Those guys
oughta be in a movie,” Donna said. “I can’t imagine they’ll make it two weeks
without killing each other.”

Frannie got
up from the table. “Ladies, I propose a stroll around the campground and let
the men clean up.”

“I’m up for
it,” Jane Ann said, “although we’re letting them off easy with paper plates.”

The women
leashed up the dogs and ambled along the road. The temperature discouraged
brisk walking. Just past the shower house, they spotted the hosts’ camper. The
usual official park host sign marked the site, but keeping it company were a
four-foot plastic lamppost with a swinging sign announcing “The
Schlumms—Dave and Maeve,” a stars and stripes windsock, three spinning
yard ornaments, four sets of wind chimes, a bird feeder, a large bright green
artificial turf rug and a wooden cutout Uncle Sam who appeared to be lecturing
to a pink plastic flamingo. The woman who had confronted Stub and his friends
was now arguing with a short sturdy older man with a shock of thick white hair.

“I’m just
saying, you could be a little more tactful,” he offered.

“Who cares?
I’m sick of this whole gig. These people are too lazy to even read the signs!”
She had not cooled off much but struggled to keep her voice down.

“Well, it
won’t be for much longer—you’ve seen to that.” He went in the camper and
slammed the door.

Frannie and
the other women kept moving until they were out of earshot. Frannie raised her
eyebrows. “Dave and Maeve? Really?”

Donna said,
“Maybe they just made it up for this host ‘gig’.”

“Apparently
the ‘gig’ is almost up, so to speak,” Jane Ann said.

Frannie
groaned. “Doesn’t sound like a scheduled end either. I wonder what’s up.”

Across the
road, Donna pointed at a couple of odd-shaped tents. “Check those out!” The
small tents were half perched on small-wheeled trailers and half on the ground,
forming a step shape.

“I bet
those belong to bikers,” Jane Ann said. “The tent folds out of the little
pull-behind trailer. You have a bed in the trailer section and a stand up area
on the ground where you can change clothes and store stuff.”

“Wow!”
Donna said. “That’s cool! Not that I’m about to give up my new trailer, but
they look neat.”

The women
reached the end of the campground and headed back. Many campsites sported
American flags and patriotic ornaments in observance of the holiday weekend. Jane
Ann’s cell phone rang and she stopped, pulled the phone out of her pocket and
moved slightly away from the other two. Frannie had caught the look of concern
as her sister-in-law answered the call and distracted Donna by pointing out
some children in one site preparing to light sparklers.

A moment
later, Jane Ann turned back to them, frown lines gone and the usual glow
returned to her face.

“That was
Mona,” she said to Frannie. “She said it was uncomfortable at first but things
are going well, and she misses us.”

Jane Ann
and Mickey, unable to have biological children, had adopted young sisters as
toddlers. Now in their twenties, the girls had grown into delightful,
responsible young women and out of the blue had recently embarked on an effort
to meet their birth mother. Mickey and Jane Ann had given them somewhat
reluctant support and helped them arrange a reunion this weekend. It was part
of the reason Larry and Frannie had suggested the camping trip. Jane Ann had
confided to Frannie that while she naturally felt a little threatened, she was
more concerned that the girls were building up expectations that may be
crushed.

“Of course
she misses you,” Frannie assured her. “And Justine is getting along okay too?”

Jane Ann
nodded and explained the situation to Donna. Once enlightened, she was
uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the walk.

As they
neared their campsites, they spotted Rob perched precariously on a small
stepladder with strings of lights in both hands and around his neck.

“I almost
forgot about Rob’s new lights,” Donna said. “Wait till you see this—he’s
gone totally wacko this time.” Rob obsessed over his outdoor lighting. Their
remodeled ranch house sported special decorative lights for every season,
holiday, and Rob’s favorite sports teams, and he outdid himself with their
travel trailer. While Rob worked, Mickey and Larry sprawled in their lawn
chairs each enjoying a beer and Frannie got out a tin of dominos.

“Chicken
Feet, anyone?” she asked. Jane Ann joined her at the picnic table for the simple
game. Donna said she didn’t like games and opted to keep an eye on her
husband’s exertions across the road.

“He reminds
me of that squirrel that annoyed us so much last fall,” Larry said. Rob had
strung small American flag lights along the awning and outlined the bottom of
the trailer and the steps with strings of red, white and blue lights. Then he
assembled a portable lamppost at the corner of their campsite and ran a wire
back under the outdoor rug to the external outlet on the trailer. Finally, he
plugged everything in and the twilight blazed with a garish display of red,
white and blue. The lamppost glowed white, faded, blazed red, faded again,
burned royal blue and repeated the cycle. His camping mates clapped and gave a
couple of shrill whistles.

“I’m not
done yet!” Rob disappeared into the camper. He reappeared with a small speaker
and placed it on their utility table. Then he bounded back inside. Suddenly the
humid evening air filled with the stirring sounds of “Stars and Stripes
Forever” as the lights flashed and cavorted to the beat of the march.

As Rob
reappeared flush and beaming, mopping the sweat off his forehead, Mickey burst
out in deep laughter, Larry whistled and clapped again, and the women, after a
moment of speechlessness, joined in. Meanwhile, Stub’s group, now relocated,
came into the road laughing and pointing. Stub came over and slapped Rob on the
back while shoving a beer at him. Rob accepted it gratefully while the rest of
Stub’s group showered him with praise for his artistic achievement. Frannie
stood shaking her head, speechless.

Donna
shrugged. “I can’t control him.”

A small boy
slowly rounded the end of Frannie and Larry’s trailer. He looked to be about
five, had brown spiky hair and wore baggy denim shorts and an oversized
T-shirt, both grubby. He stared with open mouth at the display. He slowly
pivoted to address the women hooting behind him.

“That is
awesome!”

Frannie
grinned at Donna. “No accounting for taste.”

“Do you
know him?” the boy said.

“I’m afraid
so,” Donna said. “He’s my husband. Are you camping next door?”

“Yeah. I
think my dad’s going to do lights like that!” He spotted Bugger straining on
his leash. “Is that your dog?”

“Guilty on
two counts. His name is Bugger. Would you like to pet him? He’s very friendly.”

The boy
fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Bugger’s neck. Bugger promptly
paid for the affection with several licks of the boy’s face. The boy began to
giggle and struggled to his feet.

“What’s
your name?” Frannie asked.

“River. My
dad’s going to get me a dog like that!”

“River?
Like a stream?”

“A what?
It’s just my
name
!” he shrugged his
shoulders.

“River!” A
voice came from the other side of the Shoemakers’ trailer.

“Gotta go!
See ya, Bugger!” and he took off.

As they
watched him go, they also saw the hostess, Maeve, marching down the road headed
toward Rob and Donna’s trailer.

“Uh-oh,”
Donna said and went to join her husband. She reached Rob’s side just as Maeve
planted her short stocky body, hands on hips, in front of him. Her frizzy grey
hair shook as she issued orders.

“Turn that
off! We have quiet hours in this park!”

Rob looked
sheepish. “I thought not until 10:00, right? It’s only 8:30, but I will turn it
down. I was just trying it out—sorry.”

“You can’t
cause a disturbance like that anytime!” Maeve insisted, getting almost in Rob’s
face.

“Give the
guy a break! You and your stupid rules!” Randy had moved up behind Maeve,
accompanied by Stub.

Stub was
more conciliatory. “He said he would turn it down, ma’am. He’s not bothering
us.”

Maeve spun
around to face Stub. “
You
are not the
only campers here, despite what you may think!” She gyrated on her heel and
marched back up the road.

“She’s
pretty crabby,” Stub said.

“Crabby?
She’s a bitch!” Randy said and stomped off in the other direction.

Stub
shrugged, hands palm up. “The ranger told us that they have been asked to leave
at the end of next week because so many people have complained about her.”

“Ohhh—“
Donna said, “we overheard a bit of conversation between her and her husband
when we were on our walk. That explains it.”

“Well,” Rob
said, “I for one am ready to kick back in my chair for the rest of the evening.
Camping is supposed to be relaxing right?” He added to Donna. “Ready, Punkin?”

Donna
grinned and winked at him. “Better turn your music off first.”

Soon the
group was back at the empty fire ring and spent a relatively quiet hour
rehashing the events since their arrival. Around 9:30, they heard a loud rumble
down the road toward the entrance. The roar grew and two huge shiny Harleys
came into view. Each had two riders, a man and a woman, dressed in leathers and
do-rags, gray hair in ponytails or flying wildly behind them. All four waved at
the campers, who responded in kind.

“Must be
the owners of the funny tents,” Donna said.

“But they still
have to run the gauntlet,” Mickey said. He nodded down toward the host site.
Sure enough, Maeve stood by the road, hands on hips, with a glare louder than
the bikes. As they passed, she followed them to their campsite, disappearing
around the corner of the road.

“Glad we’re
not within earshot of that,” Frannie said. “I think there’s been enough
excitement tonight for the whole weekend.”

Jane Ann
stood up and gathered her book and wine glass, folded her chair and announced,
“I’m ready for bed and some decadent air conditioning. See you all in the
morning.”

The others
gradually followed suit after making tentative plans to hike the cave paths in
the morning.

“The ranger
said the caves are closed right now because they’re afraid of that white-nosed
bat syndrome being spread to bats here but the trails are open,” Larry said.