Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 03 - Trouble at Glacier (6 page)

“Oh, you told someone I was coming?” he looked down at Amanda with narrowed eyes.

“John…” Amanda fought tears. “John and I were looking for you, and since her RV looks like yours, we thought it was you.”

He nodded.
 

What was his deal, I wondered?
 

His expression eased, and he nodded again.
 

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I noticed your RV was the same brand as mine. Well, look, I’d better get Amanda inside. She’s about ready to collapse. She didn’t get any sleep last night.”

I nodded, not quite certain how I felt about ole Uncle Steve. He seemed to be an intense sort of guy, short tempered.

“Take care of her,” I said with hope and a warning. I was going to be keeping my eye on Uncle Steve while they were here.
 

I returned to my RV and unhooked my car.

“Any thoughts, Ben?”

Perhaps you should tell me your thoughts first, Minerva. I do not wish to influence you with my musings.

“Well, I think there’s something not quite right with Uncle Steve. I didn’t like the way he sort of grabbed Amanda from me.”

I noted his roughness as well. However, he seemed quite unobjectionable in our brief encounter yesterday. I sense he cares for his niece. I cannot make excuses for him though.

“I thought she looked at him with fear for a moment, but I could have been mistaken. Maybe I’m making too much of this. Ya know, Happy Trails. Sunny Lake. Too many murders. Everyone is a suspect.”

Perhaps,
Ben said.
 

I stepped inside the RV and grabbed my purse, sunglasses and some water.

“Are you ready to hit the road?” I asked as I locked the door and headed for my car. “It feels weird just driving away from all of this and not knowing what’s happening. But I can’t sit around all day either, hoping some kind law enforcement sort will drop some info my way.”

I had to admit that I hoped Rangers Jackson or Schwin might pop back into my site to ask me further questions, at which time I could ask them a few nonchalant questions about what happened to John, such as was he murdered and who did it.
 

 
I am ready, Minerva. It will be good for you to enjoy a small reprieve from this tragedy. It is my dearest wish that your visit to this magnificent place hold delightful memories in the future, not the tainted images that you must now surely recall.
 

“Thanks, Ben,” I said, touched at his words. “Let’s go make those memories.”
 

I climbed in the car and pulled out of my spot. As I neared the entrance of the campground, I saw a white park ranger truck on the main road, and my pulse started jumping. Was it Jackson? Would he turn into the campground? If so, would he stop to say hello? Would he answer my questions?

It
was
Jackson, and he did pause at the entrance to the campground.

“Are you off to see the park?” he asked with a return of his charming smile.
 

I grinned, poor John almost forgotten. Jackson’s white-toothed smile was hard to resist.

“Yes, I’m going to drive over Going-to-the-Sun Road. See the sights.”

“You’ll love it. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
 

“I am,” I said, scrunching my nose. “I’ve read the road is pretty high, but I’m sure tons of people drive over it every year and don’t go over the edge, right?”

He grinned even wider. How could he be so pleasant after such a horrific evening?

“Tons!” he agreed. “There are stone walls along the road in spots where a rubber-necking driver might miss the curve. You’ll be fine.”

I was reassured. Now, how to ask the other questions that were uppermost in my mind.

“Are you here because of…?” Way to lead!

His smile vanished, and his tanned face took on the grim look I’d seen last night.

He nodded.

“Yup. They found the bear early this morning, tranquilized it and took a look at it. No evidence that fellow had been clawing at anything other than huckleberry bushes. They relocated him to another part of the park though.”

I was grateful to hear they hadn’t killed the bear first and checked later.

“Oh!” I said, more for an acknowledgement of his words.
 

“What about a bird of prey?” I asked.

Jackson shook his head. “No. The claw marks weren’t right. It looks like John Nash was murdered. We think someone was trying to make it look like he was killed by a bear.”

Jackson was giving me so much more information than I had hoped for.

I opened my mouth to ask further questions, but a glance in my rearview mirror showed a truck approaching behind me. Our vehicles blocked the entrance and exit to the campground.

“Well, I’d better get out of the way,” I said with regret. Another glance in my rearview mirror showed the driver of the truck was the host, Rick Cannon. Someone else was in the truck with him, but all I could make out was scruffy hair and a beard.

“There’s Rick. Just the man I need to see,” Jackson said. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy your day.”

I let my car roll and looked in my rearview mirror as Rick and Jackson pulled up next to each other. Jackson got out of his vehicle to speak to Rick.

I pulled out of the campground and turned right to find this so-called Going-to-the-Sun Road.

“I wish I could have asked Jackson questions while he was so talkative, Ben. Clearly, John couldn’t have been killed randomly. My guess is that he was killed by someone who knows a thing or two about bears.”

Yes,
Ben agreed.

“Which is just about everybody in this park, except me.”

It would take a person with some knowledge of bear behavior to devise a weapon that could imitate the claw marks of a bear. However, the murderer did not appear to have the strength to convincingly simulate a bear attack.

“No, I guess not. I’ve probably seen bear claws at some point or another in my life, but I can’t really picture them at the moment. Are they super sharp?”

Yes, very sharp, and long.

I shivered and turned my attention to the vista. The road wound its way along the long expanse of Lake McDonald before climbing up the sides of the mountains. The vistas were spectacular. Snow-capped peaks dropped down to white waterfalls that cascaded over rocky cliffs beneath emerald green foliage. The road narrowed as it hugged the mountainsides, but as Jackson had said, rock walls kept sightseeing tourists on the road. I had to admit to a few tense moments, but I white-knuckled the drive and kept my eyes on the road. Thankfully, there were pullouts along the way where I could stop to take pictures.

Words fail me,
Ben said as we gazed out over the wide expanse of lush green canyons formed between the purple-blue mountains.

That would be a first,
I said silently with affection. Other tourists stood nearby, so I opted not to speak aloud.
 

I have my moments,
Ben said.
You will note that I made no comments today regarding the handsome and dashing Ranger Jackson. Does the man have a given name or shall we always refer to him as ‘Jackson?’”

I smiled. I should have expected as much. Ben had once told me he could hear my heart beat, so I knew I couldn’t hide a racing pulse from him.
 

It suits him, don’t you think?
I asked.

Ben snorted.
Look there, on those rocks above us,
he said.
Do you see?

Cupping my eyes against the noon sun, I followed his direction. Three white spots moved along the sheer face of a rocky cliff. Mountain goats! They didn’t cling to the rocks so much as hop over them lithely.

Ben! Mountain goats! How do they do that? Don’t they ever fall?

I do not know,
Ben said.
I imagine they must on occasion, but let us hope that today is not one of those occasions.

The tourists standing nearby returned to their cars.

“I hope not!” I said aloud. “We’ve had enough death for one day.”

Steer your thoughts in another direction, Minerva. See there? That waterfall? Admire the height from which it falls. Or the mass of white bulbous flowers just there. Fodder for wildlife. Captain Clark was most excited to discover this species.

I smiled and did as Ben suggested. The plant, consisting of white flowered bulbs atop thick stalks, sprung up happily throughout the nearby grassy slope.
 

“What’s it called?”

Ben didn’t respond, and I looked around. I couldn’t see him, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

“Ben?”

He sighed heavily. “It is called bear grass.

Chapter Four

I could have laughed if the name ‘bear grass’ hadn’t been so ironic.

“Oh, nice going, Ben!” I said. I smiled to take the sting out of my words.

Forgive me. I did not think before I spoke
, he said shortly.
And here was I, trying to brighten your spirits.

“You always do, Ben,” I said. “Come on. Let’s keep going.” I climbed back into the car and chugged my way through the mountains.

On our return to the west side of the park after a fabulous but tiring day of sightseeing, I was happy to see the entrance to the campground. However, questions about the murder, never far from my mind, returned in full force. I stifled a yawn, the remnants of a sleepless night, and spoke.

“Ben, what if John’s murder wasn’t planned? I mean, what if John wasn’t really the target? What if the killer just wanted to kill anyone? I wonder if they caught the guy today. I wonder what’s been going on since we’ve been gone.”

So many questions,
Ben chuckled.
Where are the good Rangers Jackson and Schwin when we need them?

“Hey, I’m just going to park the car and mosey over to Rick Cannon’s RV to see if there’s any news,” I said. “The worst he can do is tell me that it’s none of my business.”

I pulled into my space and hopped out of my car. After dropping my purse off inside the RV, I returned to the road on foot to follow the loop around to the campground host’s RV. I had no intention of cutting through the woods as I would have had to cross the spot where I found John’s body.

I found Rick’s RV, a smaller white travel trailer, by a sign posted near the road which marked him as the campground host. His truck was there, and I knocked on the door.

Rick opened the door promptly and descended the steps to stand beside me.

“How are you doing today, Minnie?” he asked.
 

I wasn’t sure whether that his way of making a normal inquiry or whether he was specifically asking how I managed after the events of the previous night.

“Jackson said you were planning on doing some driving around today,” he continued. “I’m glad to hear it. After last night, I wasn’t sure you weren’t going to fire up your rig and head on down the road.”

I nodded with a grimace. “The thought crossed my mind, that’s for sure. Somehow, I imagined the park would be a safe, peaceful place.”

He put his hands on his hips and looked off into the woods.

“Well, generally it is. We might get a lost hiker or two, but that’s about it. Oh, and the occasional bear encounter, of course.” His face darkened, and he looked at me sideways.

“Ranger Schwin told me last night they didn’t think this was a bear attack. Jackson didn’t think it was any other kind of wildlife either. So that leaves murder.” I offered that up for discussion.

Rick sighed heavily and shook his head. He looked down at the ground.

“No, I heard that, too. Nasty way to kill someone, though. Someone must have hated him. Why not just shoot him or something?”

“Cuz
that’s
a pleasant way to die,” I said with more sarcasm than I meant to let on.

He looked at me and bobbed his head.
 

“No, you’re right. Murder is murder.”

“You said someone must have hated him,” I said. “Maybe it was random. Maybe it could have happened to anyone.”

“Could be,” he said. He settled his hands on his hips and gazed into the woods. “They’ll figure that out soon enough, I guess.”

I looked around, and a shiver went down my spine as if the random killer was watching us.

“Whoever did it, the rangers haven’t found the murder weapon yet. Schwin stopped by today, told me they think it was some kind of device rigged with bear claws.”

I remembered Amanda’s comment that her uncle had a collection of bear claws in his house. I opted not to say anything though. It was just speculation on my part, and I didn’t want to insinuate that her uncle had murdered John.

I scanned the woods again. “Is it safe here?”
 

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s broad daylight and there are plenty of people around. But I wouldn’t recommend you walk around alone at night. They’ve stepped up patrols through the area, and one ranger will stay posted here at the campground. They’ve only got about five rangers on this side of the park, so they’re spread pretty thin.”