Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3) (17 page)

“Let’s get him back up to the archery range,” said the guide, looking to Ben for help. “If the sheriff isn’t there, we can use him for a target.”

The kid was startled out of his scowl for a few seconds, but quickly went back into his tough-guy pose. Larry fell in behind Ben and the guide as they marched the kid up the path.

Jane Ann had come over to Frannie’s side. “Are you all right? What did he do?”

“I’m okay. He just grabbed me but fortunately I had my mouth open and was able to bite him—he took his hand away just enough that I could scream.”

Jane Ann chuckled. “And our husbands think we should keep our mouths shut! Where would you be then?”

Frannie shuddered. She didn’t want to think about it. She made it back to the range with the group, by convincing herself that she had to make it because that was the only way she would see her bed again.

Nancy waited for them and they stood in a little group apart from Ben, Larry, the guide, and the prisoner. Donna had been jabbering all the way up the hill, but Frannie hadn’t been listening.

Now she said, “ Frannie, you poor thing! You’d better stay in bed tomorrow!”

“Talked me into it,” Frannie said.

Headlights pulled into the parking lot. Mary Sorenson jumped out of her car and beelined for the men holding the kid.

“Well, Kyle Robertson. You can’t seem to stay out of trouble. This is a little more serious than shoplifting. Assault? What’s the matter with you?”

Late Monday Night

“I want to call my attorney,” Kyle Robertson muttered.

Sorenson cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “You have an attorney? I hope you keep him or her on retainer, because you are going to need one. Turn around.”

She handcuffed him and put him in the back seat of the patrol car, closed the door, then turned back to the group. “So what happened?”

Frannie and Larry told the story with a few additions from the others.

“And you’ve never seen Kyle before?” the sheriff asked Frannie.

“No, I’m sure not.”

“This is really peculiar. He must think you’re a threat for some reason, the way this was set up.”

Frannie told Sorenson about the figure she had seen in the trees earlier.

“Did he see you watching him?”

“I don’t think so. It was so quick that I wasn’t even sure what I had seen.”

“He probably doesn’t know that.”

Donna inserted herself between Frannie and the sheriff. “Do you think they’re connected to the meth lab? Or the murders? Or both?”

“But Barb saw a woman leave the meth lab trailer,” Jane Ann said.

“I don’t know that Kyle and his friend are connected to either. They may have been up to something else tonight and think your friend saw too much.”

While they bandied around theories, Frannie thought about Deborah McCabe’s strange reaction to Frannie’s questions about the dark figure. She couldn’t imagine the woman, unpleasant as she was, being mixed up with the drug trade or the murders, and hated to make wild accusations.

“I wanted to stop by and talk to you tonight anyway,” Sorenson said. “The techs found some interesting things on Valerie’s phone. Are you going to be up for a while?”

Frannie looked at her watch. Only 8:45. “Sure,” she said.

Sorenson walked around toward the driver’s side of her car. “I’ll take him in,” she said over the roof of the car, “and then I’ll be back. Will you be here or at the campground?”

Frannie looked at the others. “I’m ready to go back. How about you guys?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mickey said. “I’m too old for this stuff.”

“Frannie got attacked, and Ben helped catch him, and
you’re
the one who’s exhausted?” Larry chided him.

Frannie sighed and looked back at Sorenson. “We’ll separate these two and go back to the campground.”

“Good,” Sorenson said. “I think I’ll let this guy cool his heels a little bit before I question him so I won’t be long. I want your take on this.”

They speculated on the way back to the campground about what Sorenson might have found, and continued their conjectures around the fire. They didn’t have long to wait. The sheriff’s car pulled up to their site about twenty minutes after they did.

Rob got her a chair and she looked around at the group. “You do understand that you need to keep this in your group.”

They all agreed, and Sorenson continued. “We found a cell on the strangled woman, and assuming that she had her own phone, that was Valerie.” She looked at Frannie. “In that case, you were right in your identification of them. The techs were able to find a deleted message from Richard Ellis-Reynolds arranging a meeting at 9:30 that morning at the power plant and instructing Valerie to wear her necklace.”

Frannie said, “Wow. That means…Valerie told me the night before that Virginia had posed as her in order to break it off with Richard. She must have been trying to do it again!”

Sorenson nodded.

“But if Valerie had her own phone, how did Virginia see the message?” said Jane Ann.

“We don’t know that. We’re assuming that she saw it before either of them left their camper that morning and deleted it. It would explain why one hiked to the plant and one drove. Neither of them knew the other was going there.”

“But how did Valerie find out about the meeting if Virginia saw it first and deleted it?” Ben asked.

Mary Sorenson gave them a smug smile. “There was also a call to Richard’s phone from Valerie’s about 9:00.”

Frannie sat back in her chair. “If nothing else, it certainly puts the lie to Richard’s statement that he hardly knew Valerie.”

“What if it was Virginia with Valerie’s phone?” Mickey said.

“That’s possible,” Sorenson admitted. “But everything except the necklace points to the woman who was knocked into the machinery as Virginia. We should get confirmation of that with the fingerprints tomorrow. We are certain that she died first. Assuming that is Virginia, Valerie’s arm was thrown over Virginia’s legs. And, based on what you say, the necklace would be explained if she was posing as Valerie.”

“
What a tangled web we weave…
” Mickey quoted.

“Seems like the key is that camera case. Val and Virginia
must
have taken pictures that got them killed.”

Mary Sorenson nodded. “It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw. Two of my deputies are picking up Richard now for questioning so I’d better be getting back.” She stood and put her hands in her pockets. “Thank you for your help. You guys are good. But of course that doesn’t mean I want you actively involved. Stay safe.” She turned and walked to her car.

“Could there be any connection between Richard and the guys who set up the attack on you?” Jane Ann said to Frannie.

“Who knows? We ran into the same question at Bat Cave and Bluffs. How could any of these people from all different places be connected to each other?” She paused and looked at the others. “When you guys were on the archery range, I mentioned to Deborah McCabe that I thought I had seen someone dressed in dark clothes going through the woods earlier. I thought maybe it was another exercise they had going on tonight. She seemed to be very shocked and alarmed and jumped up and hurried down that path we took to the night sensory course.”

“Did you tell Mary Sorenson any of that?” Larry asked.

“No—well, I told her about seeing someone in the woods, but not about McCabe’s reaction. I hate to throw accusations around… But we saw her this morning arguing with Dale Dubrak. I wonder if he’s buddies with the guys who attacked me.”

Larry shook his head. “Frannie, she needs to know all this stuff. You can’t keep anything back, thinking you’re going to go off investigating on your own.”

His accusation made her mad. “I’m not planning any investigating! I am just not sure how to interpret Deborah McCabe’s reaction and I don’t want to accuse her just because I don’t like her personally.”

Larry held up his hands but lowered his voice. “I know. But I think Sorenson is pretty level-headed and won’t throw McCabe in the brig without more foundation than that. How about if we call her in the morning and you tell her about it? Maybe she’ll fill us in on what she finds out from that Kyle kid and Richard tonight.”

Frannie relaxed and smiled. “You sneak. You want to solve this as bad as I do.”

“Maybe.”

Later, laying in bed, she mulled over the characters in this drama and tried to see connections. Maybe there were several things going on that weren’t connected—just coming to light because of the murder investigation? She got out of bed and found her sweatshirt.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Me either.” Larry sat up and swung his legs out of the bed.

“Do you want me to start the coffee?”

He looked over his shoulder at her to see if she was serious. “Good Lord, no.”

So he fixed them mugs of herbal tea while she turned on a small lamp over the dinette and found a notebook in a cubby. They sat facing each other, hands wrapped around their steaming mugs. The warmth felt good in the late night chill. She suspected she had the beginnings of arthritis in her hands. Her mother had suffered with it for many years.

“What’s the notebook for?” Larry said.

“Organizing my thoughts—
our
thoughts.”

With a pencil, she started a word web with two circles in the center containing the twins names.

“I’m trying to work out some of the connections in this situation. I thought maybe if I could draw it out it would make more sense.”

“Good luck with that,” he said wryly, but watched what she was doing with interest.

She drew circles around the outside for the names of the major players. “Richard. A couple of possibilities.” She drew a line from Richard’s circle to Val’s and wrote ‘tired of her? Interfered w/ other romance?’ and then a line to Virginia with ‘obstacle to romance with Val?’ on it.

Larry said, “Maybe he thought Virginia was Val because of the necklace, and killed her thinking he was getting rid of Val.” She added that to the web.

“I feel certain that, because of the timing, the murderer had to have known about and escaped through the tunnel. Richard has been here several times and also may have had a relative who knew about the tunnel in the late twenties. I found a Reynolds from Chicago on the ‘Net who was involved in bootlegging in the late twenties. He knew at least one of the twins was at the power plant.”

“Because he set it up,” Larry pointed out.

She looked at him and chewed her lip. “You’re right. But why kill both? If you are right about his motive to kill Val, he had no reason to get rid of Virginia and vice-versa. Eliminate a witness?”

She moved on. Dale Dubrak went in the next circle clockwise. “We know a little about Richard and the twins but nothing about whether Dale had even seen them. The best I can do is ‘training’ and ‘attitude.’ Excellent bases for suspicion. Maybe the twins had compromising pictures of him.”

“Training?” Larry said.

“He mentioned he was ‘training’ when we gave him a ride but wouldn’t say for what. Kind of odd. I assume he knows about the tunnel since he is from the area. He has a temper—we saw that at the tavern.”

She wrote ‘Kyle Robertson’ in the next circle. “I have no idea what his motive might be for the murders, or for that matter, for assaulting me.” She drew a line from Kyle’s circle to Dale’s with a question mark. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find out if they are friends or at least know each other.” Another circle with a question mark represented the ‘messenger’ who undoubtedly knew Kyle, but maybe also Dale. It seemed like any motive these young men might have would involve photos that the twins had inadvertently taken of them doing something illegal.

“Don’t forget the meth lab folks,” Larry said.

She complied but said, “We have no idea whether the twins had any knowledge of this lab or connections with the people who ran it.”

“We don’t know much about any of these suspects,” Larry said.

“True.” She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a huge yawn.

He raised his eyebrows. “You should be exhausted.”

“I am,” she admitted. “Wait—one more.” She added another circle and wrote ‘Claire’ in it.

“Who’s Claire?”

“Richard’s squeeze that I met at the diner.
She
might have motive if she felt Richard was really interested in Val.”

“Not sure how strong Richard and Claire’s motives were,” Larry said. “Richard lived in Chicago; the twins in the Cities. You said their paths hadn’t crossed in four years. There’s no reason they should again. But if the twins had pictures that would expose another suspect’s illegal activity, it would be a much more compelling motive to get rid of them.”

“You’re right. We’ll take a fresh look in the morning. Take me to bed before I have to crawl there.”

Early Tuesday Morning

Frannie slept well, finally, but woke early the next morning. Once the dog chores were done and the coffee made, she sat under the trailer awning, watching the morning unfold, her notebook in her lap.

It was a glorious morning. Her side felt better in spite of her antics the night before. They would be returning home the next day, so she thought about what she would like to do today and heard the putter of Mary Louise’s golf cart.

The hostess’s flaming red curls caught glints of the morning sun as she bounced up the slight grade towards Frannie’s chair.

“Hey!” Mary Louise sported tight jeans and an ice blue t-shirt with a glittery design proclaiming
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

“You are looking a little perkier, young lady!” she said, settling herself in a nearby chair.

Frannie laughed.

“What?” Mary Louise looked offended. “You are!”

“Thank you—I do feel much better. I’m just laughing because I must be twenty years older than you at least. No one has called me ‘young lady’ since one of my dad’s old war buddies when I was about twelve.”

Mary Louise waved her off. “Heck, it’s all in your mind. And
you
have a young mind.”

Frannie smiled. “Thank you again. Would you like some coffee?” She nodded toward the coffee pot.

“No, not me. Can you imagine me on caffeine?”

“I see what you mean. So why are you out and about so early?”

“Just checking to see what areas need to be mowed before the next weekend and saw you out here.”

“I love early mornings,” Frannie said. “Always have. I think when my kids were little, it was the only time I had to myself.”

Mary Louise nodded with understanding. She lowered her voice a few decibels. “You know, I think you’re right about that Ellis-Reynolds guy being a ladies’ man. I’ve seen that dark-haired chick around there a couple of times, but guess who he was flirting with last night?”

Frannie waited, thinking the question was rhetorical. When no enlightenment was forthcoming, she said, “Who?”

“Jonie.” She sat smugly while Frannie’s jaw dropped.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t think of anyone less like Claire than Jonie.”

“Who’s Claire?”

“The dark-haired chick,” Frannie smiled. “So what was he doing with Jonie? I don’t need details…just general terms.”

“Well, I couldn’t hear everything but she started chatting with him as she walked by and I did hear him say he might know someone to help her career. That’s all it takes with Jonie. She’s in love.” Mary Louise rolled her eyes.

“And in for a big disappointment, I imagine. I can’t believe he’d follow through on that offer. But I’m biased. I think he’s pretty sleazy.”

“He promised to come hear her sing tonight at Farrell’s. Jim and I may need to take that in.”

Frannie had a hard time picturing Richard in the down-at-its-heels bar, but who knew? Maybe it would be worth a return trip.

Jane Ann came out of her camper with a steaming mug. “Good morning!”

“And a beautiful one it is,” Mary Louise replied. “‘Specially brought to you by River Bend for your pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Jane Ann said, pulling a chair near them. “You two look like the proverbial cats that ate the canary. What’s up?”

Frannie shared the update on Jonie and Richard. Jane Ann raised her eyebrows and said, “Wow. Jonie? Talk about the odd couple.”

They visited a few more minutes and Mary Louise excused herself to get back to her campground duties. One by one, members of their group emerged in various states of dress and wakefulness. By the time they had prepared breakfast and cleared it away, the sheriff’s car approached their conclave.

“Well?” Frannie prodded, when Mary had joined their circle. “How did the interrogations go last night?”

“Interesting,” Sorenson said. “Your friend Richard admitted that he did know Valerie Peete and that he went to the power plant that morning.”

“And? Did he confess?”

“No, no, he’s totally innocent—according to him. He says when he got there, early by the way, Valerie was the only one there. At least he thought it was Valerie because of the necklace. It had to have been Virginia. Anyway, she told him she never wanted to see him again and that was that. He left and knows nothing more about it.”

Frannie compressed her lips. “I don’t want to believe him. But,” she paused a minute and looked out at the trees, “what if he’s telling the truth? The real Valerie arrives and finds out what happened and knocks her sister into the machinery in a fit of rage?”

“Then who killed Valerie?” Mickey asked.

“Could she have strangled herself in remorse?” Nancy asked the sheriff.

“I’ve done a little research on that. It is possible but not common,” the sheriff said.

“There’s still the missing camera bag. If it was a murder-suicide, what happened to it?”

“Exactly. There’s the rub,” said Sorenson. “That’s a big reason I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“What about Kyle Robertson?” Frannie said. “Did you find out why he targeted me?”

Sorenson shifted in her chair and shook her head. “He’s still not talking. He’s being charged with assault.”

“Do you know if he is friends with Dale Dubrak?”

“As a matter of fact he is. Dale is lucky he hasn’t gotten in trouble with Kyle several times. Why?”

Frannie recounted her dealings with Dale, the argument they had observed with Deborah McCabe, and McCabe’s reaction to Frannie’s questions about the dark figure in the trees.

Sorenson sighed. “Here’s what I think. When we searched Kyle, we found a pamphlet on him called
44 Ways to Support Jihad.
It has become pretty widely known and is popular with loners who are terrorist wannabes.”

“Terrorists?” Donna sat forward, vocalizing the shock they all felt.

“We have found no connection with anyone or any groups outside. But this pamphlet can be downloaded off the internet. Kyle had printed it off his home computer. The pages about physical fitness and arms training are the only ones that show any signs of use. He doesn’t appear to have spent much time on the instructions for prayer and so on. But I think he, his messenger mate, and possibly Dubrak seem to have been trying to prepare themselves physically to join a terrorist group. With the information you’ve given me this morning, I’m wondering if Kyle and his buddies haven’t been using the Nature Center for their physical fitness regimen and also if Deborah McCabe isn’t helping them.”

“Other than the literature,” Larry said, “is there anything else to indicate that?”

“Not anything concrete,” Mary got up and refilled her coffee mug. “And I’m doing a little amateur profiling here. But Dale and Kyle have been mavericks since they were about twelve. Except for each other, they don’t have a lot of friends. It would explain what you thought you saw in the trees—them practicing some kind of maneuvers, real or imaginary. And if for some unknown reason Deb is helping them, she would be angry they were doing this during the open house.”

“But why me?” Frannie said. “All I did was ask Dale what he was training for and told Deborah I thought I saw someone in the trees. I don’t
know
anything.”

Sorenson leaned forward. “It doesn’t matter what you know. It matters what they
think
you know or think you
might
know.” Her brown curls bounced as she shook her head. “They—or at least Kyle and Dale—aren’t exactly grounded in reality.”

“What do you know about Deborah McCabe?” Nancy asked. “Is she from around here?”

“Not originally,” said the sheriff. “She came here in high school—junior or senior year, I think—to live with an aunt and uncle. Her parents were killed in a car accident. She went to community college around here and came back to work at the Center, but she’s never been the most cheerful sort. I don’t know that she has any friends—but it’s pretty tough for any kid to change schools at that stage.”

“Getting back to Richard the Sleaze,” Frannie said, “Mary Louise told me this morning that last night he apparently made promises to Jonie about helping her career. Did you find out anything from him about his background?”

“That’s interesting that he seems to have moved on so quickly. Didn’t learn much—just that he’s in finance and that he and his ‘girlfriend,’ Claire Devon, have been coming here for several years. I checked this Claire’s background and she’s a Chicago heiress, but they have no marriage plans, he says.”

“What about the people with the meth lab?” Jane Ann said.

“Right. We have their names…those prints were in the system. Two men and a woman who have been arrested for drugs before. We have an APB out for them. They haven’t been picked up yet so we don’t know much. But it’s certainly possible that trailer caught the twins’ eye and that they could have taken pictures of it—maybe with someone coming out or looking out a window or something. A definite motive for murder. Well, time to move on.” Sorenson turned to Frannie. “If you think of anything else regarding those boys, please let me know right away.”

“Will do.”

As the sheriff drove away, Larry said, “What’s on the schedule for today?”

“We wanted to ride toward Newton,” Nancy said. “Ben said there is a little farm along the river. All of the buildings are painted purple and the women who own it sell hand-knitted socks and hats.”

“The Purple Goat Farm,” Donna said, sitting forward. “I forgot about that place. I wanna go too.” Only shopping could entice Donna on a long bike ride.

“We didn’t see any purple goats,” Rob said.

“The goats aren’t purple, silly,” Donna said. “They raise angora goats. I don’t remember what the name of the place really is but that’s what we called it. Because the buildings are purple. Remember, Jane Ann? We went there several years ago.”

“Yup, and I took Frannie there the next time we were up here.” Jane Ann looked at Frannie. “Are you up for it?”

Frannie hesitated a minute. “Much as I would love to, I think not. Fear of falling. Think I’ll read this morning and do a little walking.”

After she convinced them again that she was fine by herself, and making them promise not to have pie without her, the rest of the group mounted their bikes and wove and tottered out of the campground.

Frannie read awhile, but found her concentration constantly interrupted by thoughts of the twins’ murders. This intrusion of violence seemed like a collision of universes. The intersection of criminal events with her mundane, very average life was just surreal. Until the murder they had encountered at Bat Cave State Park several months before, she had never in her whole life seen anyone brandish a gun in any kind of threatening way. She thought back over her brief visit with Valerie and later both twins. Val’s biggest concern appeared to be her romance with Richard. She acknowledged to herself that the conversation around the fire was very superficial, yet she felt sure neither twin exhibited any nervousness or sign that they were under threat of danger.

She needed a stretch so she grabbed a walking stick from the trailer and, after deciding that Cuba looked too comfortable curled up in the shade, started along the campground road. Along the way, she detoured to check out the wildlife at the river’s edge and admire a bald eagle circling above the cliffs.

Her wanderings took her to the west end of the campground, not entirely accidentally. She was curious about the path leading up to the Nature Center and whether the power plant was still taped off by the sheriff’s department.

She saw no signs of activity around the Dubraks’ old trailer so decided to try the path. It was an uphill climb but quite gradual.

As she trudged up the path, she noticed a few spring wildflowers nestled among the understory trees. The sun picked out clusters of leaves to highlight gold in the dark woods. A few birds chirped and the air had a musty spring scent—a combination of new growth and freshly turned dirt. She rounded a turn in the path and stopped short at the site of a figure silhouetted and coming toward her.

It was Deborah McCabe. McCabe’s eyes widened in surprise. She stepped off the path to let Frannie pass, looking down at the ground, and then hurried on toward the campground. Frannie turned and watched her, wondering if she was looking for Dale Dubrak. Frannie had never seen her near the trailer, but there weren’t a lot of other people left camping now that it was midweek. Obviously, McCabe wasn’t coming to visit Frannie and her friends.

Still puzzling over Deborah’s visit to the campground, she almost missed the trail to the power plant. Picking her way slowly through the protruding roots and overgrowth, she reached the landing in front of the gaping door. There was no crime scene tape, but she had no desire to go in, the memory of the women’s bodies feeling like a hole in her stomach.

Edging her way along the front of the building, she peeked around the corner. Grass on the steep hillside was trampled and branches broken; she assumed this was the result of the investigation, but maybe others had been exploring there as well, possibly looking for the missing camera bag. Working back to the other front corner, she saw that the view along the other side was pretty much the same.