Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3) (19 page)

“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean that. I just thought they usually look for the money in a case.”

It was Frannie’s turn to shrug. “I can’t think of any connection of money to this case, though.”

She mulled over Donna’s comments as she fixed some sandwiches for lunch. She and Larry washed up their dishes, and she sat back down at the dinette with her notebook. Looking at the circles, she tried to think of any financial reasons the twins might have been killed. Obviously one of the main motives for operating a meth lab is financial, but the other suspects didn’t seem to have money issues that she could see.

The circle with Claire’s name caught her eye. She had drawn a line connecting it to Richard’s circle. What had Mary Sorenson said about Claire? That she was an heiress, but she and Richard had no plans to marry. She then remembered that the twins had inherited enough money to live comfortably without working full time. But Jonie? How did she fit in? Jonie’s and Mary Louise’s words came back to her—a rich uncle who was leaving everything to Jonie. She put dollar signs in the twins’, Jonie’s, and Claire’s circles. Maybe Donna had something.

She opened her laptop and did another search on Richard. Scrolling down the list of references, she found the article referring to an investigation into his firm’s financial practices earlier in the year. Apparently, it was dropped, because she couldn’t find any other mention of the matter.

“Feel like hiking up to the power plant? You said you wanted to go back there,” Larry said.

Frannie looked at him skeptically. “What are
you
up to?”

Larry shrugged. “Thought maybe we should see where that tunnel is.”

Tuesday Afternoon

They arrived at the power plant without incident or meeting anyone. Frannie followed Larry down the staircase, one hand on the wall and one on Larry’s shoulder.

“Well, the water had to come through the tunnel to the blades of the turbine, and then out the front of the building back into the river,” Larry said.

Frannie tried to picture the front of the building as they had passed it on their canoe float.

“Larry! I remember seeing what I thought was a door in the front but it’s nowhere near water level. I thought how odd to have a door that high off the water. I bet it’s the old outlet.”

“Is it on the side? Or in the middle?”

She thought about it. “Definitely on the side.” She pointed at the room near where the twins had been found. “I think it’s below that window.”

Larry took her hand and guided her around the piles of scrap into the smaller room and the window opening. He leaned out the window and looked down.

“Yup. It’s down there.” He turned around and looked at the back wall.

In the corner a rusted shaft thrust up through the floor. Behind the shaft yawned a gaping hole in the wall.

“We never saw that because we didn’t come in here,”  Larry said. He went behind the shaft and peered into the hole. “There’s a ladder down to the tunnel floor, maybe about four feet. I’m going to check it out but you stay here.”

“But—.”

“No buts. Worst thing you could do for your side.” He pulled a small flashlight out of a cargo pocket in his shorts. “I’m just going to see how open it is.”

“I don’t really want to stay here either.”

“I’ll stay where I can hear you.”

“Okay,” she said in a small voice. This stupid injury. She had no patience with being an invalid or being treated like one. She supposed Larry would be in for a rough time, the older she got.

“I could sing,” she added.

He grinned. “That might scare some bats out of the tunnel.”

“Bats! I forgot about that. I’ll stay here.”

“I thought you would.” He swung a leg over to the second rung of the ladder. Soon he stood on the floor of the tunnel shining his light down.

“A little water still runs through here,” he said. “I’m going to check out the part under the power plant and that opening to the river first. I’ll just be a minute.”

She began reciting some of A. A. Milne’s poems that she had read many times to Sam and Sally when they were young, starting with the one about King John’s breakfast. She had just gotten to the part where the cow agrees to give milk for the butter for the bread when Larry appeared again at the bottom of the ladder.

“I don’t see how anyone could have gotten away that way. It’s quite a drop down to the river. I’m going the other way just ten or twenty feet.”

He disappeared but she could see the reflection of his light on the walls of the tunnel. She lost her place in the poem, so she started in on “Disobedience” which began with the rhythmic ‘James James Morrison Morrison Weatherbee George Dupree’ and had only finished the first verse when the light reflections suddenly bounced erratically and she heard scuffling and grunting.

“Larry?” she called out in a panic.

“Call 911!” he yelled back.

“No!” another voice insisted. “I didn’t do it!” It sounded like Dale Dubrak but she hadn’t heard him talk enough to be sure.

“Hold on, Frannie,” Larry said. And then in a lower tone, “If you didn’t do it, you
know
something.”

“I can’t say!” The voice almost squeaked in fear. The light steadied and the shuffling moved back toward the ladder. When they came into view, Larry had Dale’s arm twisted behind his back.

“Get up the ladder, and remember,
I
have your gun now.”

Frannie pulled back as Dale’s head appeared in the opening. He clambered out of the hole ahead of Larry and raised his hands as soon as he got to his feet.

“They’re trying to pin those murders on me!” he whined.

“Who is?” Larry asked.

“The sheriff. She’s always out to get me and my dad.”

“So how did you get the camera bag, if you didn’t do it?”

“The what?”

“The sheriff found the camera bag belonging to the murdered women hidden under your dad’s trailer.”

Dubrak shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that. I saw the sheriff’s car coming and got out of there. This is a good place to hide.”

“Dale,” Frannie said gently, playing good cop, “Were you in the tunnel when the women were killed? Did you hear or see something?”

“No!”

“Was it your friend, Kyle?” she pushed.

“No!” he said, more forcefully. “Kyle wouldn’t do that!”

“He attacked
me
,” she pointed out.

“That was—that was just—” he hung his head and shook it, then looked back up at her. “We just wanted to scare you off. You asked too many questions about what we were doing. He wasn’t going to do anything more than that.”

Larry got out his phone. “I’m calling the sheriff.”

“Please, no,” Dale said, his voice muffled. “He threatened me.”

“Who? Kyle did?” Larry said.

“No, not Kyle.” His voice got back the sarcastic edge. “You pigs always pick on anybody who looks different.”

Pigs? Frannie hadn’t heard that term since the sixties.

“Well, who threatened you? C’mon, Dale, you need to help yourself here,” Frannie coaxed.

“This isn’t a game,” Larry added. “The sheriff will check what’s on the camera and if there’s pictures that could get you in trouble, you’ve got a motive to get rid of those women. You’ll go away for the rest of your worthless life.”

“What did the bag look like?” Dale said.

“Maybe you should tell us—” Larry started to say, but Frannie interrupted.

“Dark green with tan straps.”

Larry shot her a warning look.

Dale clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, looking down at the floor.

“Dale,” Larry said, holding his phone poised to call.

When Dale looked back up, his left eye twitched and fear clenched his face. “He knows people. He said they’ll get me if anything happens to him.”

“
Who
said that?”

Again Dale shook his head and lifted his chin. “I know my rights.”

Larry smirked as he dialed the sheriff. “But apparently that doesn’t give you much respect for the government that protects them.”

As he pocketed the phone, he held the gun steady on Dale.

“No reception here. We’ll head up to the parking lot, and then you’ll have a chance to expound on your rights to the authorities.”

Dale had regained some of his confidence. He turned and spat to the side and said, “Pigs.” again.

Frannie could see that it took all of her husband’s self-control to refrain from backhanding the arrogant young man. Instead, he ordered Dale ahead of him up the stairs and Frannie followed. She worried that Dale might try something on the way to the Center but it seemed his toughness didn’t extend to challenging a gun.

In the lot, Larry dialed the sheriff. He spoke into the phone, relaying the information to the dispatcher about Dale’s apprehension.

As they waited, a few flies buzzing in the stillness were the only thing convincing Frannie that time was passing. The parking lot was mostly empty, being mid-afternoon on a weekday.

Dale shifted position a couple of times and finally said, “They can’t do anything to me. I’m innocent.”

“Shut up,” Larry said.

Sorenson’s car pulled in to the lot, and she got out along with one of her deputies, a big man with the start of a pot belly but the look of being able to hold his own. He snapped the handcuffs on Dale while the sheriff arrested him for suspicion of murder and Mirandized him. Larry handed her Dale’s gun while giving her a rundown of his capture.

“We’ll see if he has anything more to say as soon as the techs are done with that camera bag.”

Dale scoffed and the deputy firmly marched him to the car. The sheriff said she would let them know what developed and Larry and Frannie headed back down the path to the campground. Frannie breathed deeply as she realized how tense she had been. She still questioned Dale’s involvement but his behavior was so erratic that she was relieved to be rid of him.

When they reached their site, Mickey, Jane Ann and Nancy were playing dominoes, Donna had headed to her camper for a nap, and Rob and Ben had gone fishing. Frannie and Larry related their latest encounter to a small, but rapt audience and then joined in the game.

After being skunked by Nancy three times in a row, they stacked the pieces in the tin box while discussing supper. They had decided earlier in the day on a taco bar and Mickey already had the meat cooking. Nancy said now that she would put together a bowl of fresh fruit. Larry and Frannie were providing the lettuce and other fixings, Donna was taking care of the tortillas.

Larry and Mickey were in the midsts of an argument about which of them made the hottest salsa when Larry’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, puzzled, and said, “Hello?”

As he listened, he got up from the picnic table and moved away from the group. When he returned, he said, “Well!”

“What?” Frannie asked. She knew it was news and he was going to try and drag it out.

“That was the sheriff. They’ve released Dale.”

“I’m not too surprised but on what basis?” Frannie said.

“They got the report on the camera bag. Dale’s prints aren’t on it, and there are no photos of him in either of the cameras in the bag. There are a couple of shots of the trailer but nothing incriminating. Since they found it outside, anyone could have put it there.”

Jane Ann said, “How about that meth lab in the log cabin trailer?”

Larry nodded. “There are some shots of that trailer and people coming out that will be good evidence in that case.”

“So they could also be the murderers,” Mickey said.

Larry shrugged. “She didn’t mention whether they found anyone else’s prints on it.”

“But if the meth dealers had the bag, why leave the incriminating evidence in it?” Frannie said.

“No one said you have to be a mental giant to make meth,” Nancy said.

“There’s one other thing,” Larry said.

“For heaven’s sake,” Frannie elbowed him in the ribs. “What?”

He held his side in mock pain. “The camera bag was apparently used to knock Virginia into the machinery. They found her blood on it.”

Tuesday Late Afternoon and Evening

They all sat quiet for a minute. “No wonder it disappeared,” Frannie said. “It wasn’t the photos at all.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “Can’t say for sure.” They rehashed what they knew but nothing seemed to fit. They planned to go back to Farrell’s after supper to see Jonie’s ‘final’ performance, so the tacos needed to be started.

Farrell’s Tavern seemed especially busy for a week night. In spite of the dim light, two couples played cards in one corner, and a couple of rough looking men argued the merits of the local stock car drivers at the bar. Two women shared fries and burgers with three kids. One of the kids tried to stick a french fry in his sister’s ear while the mothers exchanged important gossip, oblivious of the kids. The scent of beer and fried food suffused the air.

Mary Louise and Jim had joined the group and they found a large table near the back wall. Jonie was into her first set when they came in and she gave them a little wave from the stage. After all, this wasn’t Carnegie Hall. Ben and Mickey went to the bar for pitchers of beer and soda, while Jane Ann scooped up free baskets of popcorn from an antique-looking popper in the corner.

As Frannie’s eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed Dale and his dad at a table off to the side. Dale stared into a glass of ice water while Mel, chin in hand, gazed up at Jonie with a look that reminded Frannie of the old Mickey Rooney movies.

Mickey, serious for once, said, “You know, I think she’s got a pretty good voice, if she wasn’t trying so hard to do her impression of country.”

Mary Louise agreed, and Jim said, “She had a wonderful voice in high school and people always thought she would go places. If you had heard her then, it’s almost painful to listen to her now.” He pulled out his pipe. “Matter of fact, I think I’ll go out for a smoke.” And he hefted his bulk out of the little chrome chair.

Jonie introduced her next song. “Sum of ya know Ah’m planning ta leave Minnesota next week and take my career to Nashvul. Ah’ll miss y’all and Ah want to dedicate this next song to a special friend, Mel Dubrak. Heah’s my version of ‘Ah’ll be Seeing Y’all.’” As the recorded background music picked up, Mel sat up straight looking surprised and confused. Frannie felt sorry for him.

Jonie launched into the song, and Frannie realized that the title Jonie had mangled with her fake drawl was the World War II era song, “I’ll be Seeing You.” All semblance of the drawl gone, Jonie transformed into a Forties torch singer. Her voice, husky and low at the beginning, soared in spots with a quality that Frannie had not heard in her previous numbers. She really
could
sing. Conversations and laughter in the crowd subsided, all eyes on the stage, except for Mel who fidgeted and looked down. When Jonie finished, he glanced at her, dropped his eyes again quickly, and said something to his son.

The silence of the crowd continued for a moment until recorded country music came over the speakers and the whole room exploded in applause. Jonie smiled broadly, gave a little bow, wiped a real tear from her cheek and stepped down from the low stage. She bent over a nearby table, smiling and nodding, accepting good wishes and continued from table to table around the front of the establishment.

Frannie got up to get more popcorn and when she turned around, noticed a familiar figure standing near the front door. Richard Ellis-Reynolds. Dale Dubrak apparently noticed him at the same time, and the fear Frannie and Larry had glimpsed that afternoon returned tenfold to his face. So. Richard was the man who had threatened Dale, the man who ‘knows people.’

Dale leaned over to his father and frantically whispered to him, indicating Richard with a jerky bob of his head.

By this time, Jonie had reached Richard and stretched up to give him a kiss on his cheek, her eyes shining. He smiled but his eyes seemed almost menacing. Mel jumped out of his chair and headed across the room to them. Frannie set the popcorn down and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She looked back at her own table on the other side of the room, hoping to catch Larry’s eye but he had his back to the scene, deep in conversation with Mickey.

She dialed 911 and said in a low voice to the dispatcher, “Tell the sheriff this is Frannie Shoemaker and there’s trouble brewing out at Farrell’s.” She punched the phone off and watched the scene unfolding at the door, unsure of what to do.

Mel was much smaller than Richard but had managed to get up into Richard’s face. Frannie couldn’t hear Mel’s words but the tone was threatening. Richard had grabbed Jonie around the waist and had pulled her to his side, his eyes hooded and his expression disdainful as he let Mel rant for a minute. Jonie’s expression went from delight to terror as Mel talked and Richard said something low and slow.

Mel raised his hands, palms out, and backed away. It was then that Frannie saw the small knife in Richard’s other hand, pointed at Jonie’s stomach. She looked back at Larry—too far away—and could not think of any way to intervene that would not endanger Jonie. She knew now the sheriff couldn’t arrive in time.

The door crashed open. Richard was knocked slightly off balance. Big Jim Larson filled the doorway and wrapped Richard from behind in a literal bear hug, forcing him to drop the knife. Frannie scrambled for it, dropping her phone and knocking popcorn onto the rough board floor.

By the time the rest of the crowd realized what was happening, it was all over. Jim forced Richard down in a chair and held him there. The disdain and arrogance vanished from Richard’s face; only disbelief remained. Mel faced him, his arms around a sobbing Jonie, and harangued him.

“You murderer! You murdered those women and my Jonie was going to be next!”

Richard shook his head. “No, I didn’t—”

“Liar!” Mel screamed. “You threatened my boy not to tell! You are nothing but…” he searched for a word vile enough but spat out “
scum
!” in frustration.

Frannie went over to Mel. “Mel, the sheriff will be here soon. It’s all over. You and Jonie need to sit down. She needs you right now.”

Mel looked at her and his face softened. He nodded and led Jonie back to his table. Larry and the others had reached the front and gathered around Jim, patting him on the back, Mary Louise giving him a hug. The sound of sirens cut the night while the stunned crowd replayed events and speculated in hushed tones.

Sheriff Sorenson put handcuffs on Richard and turned to Frannie.

“I would like you and your husband to follow me to our headquarters and give us a deposition about what happened here tonight.” She peered around the dim bar and spotted Mel and Jonie. “Mel,” she called, “I need you, Jonie, and Dale to come down and give statements too.”

Mel frowned. “Now?”

“Yes,
now
,” the sheriff grinned. “Why? Are you that busy?”

Mel smiled back. “Not really.” They followed the sheriff out the door.

After separately writing down their recollections of the nights events, Frannie and Larry were taken to an observation room. The deputy explained that the sheriff wanted them to watch Richard’s interrogation.

“She thinks you might notice something because you’ve been watching him.”

Larry stood while Frannie took a hard chair in front of the two-way mirror. In the next room, the sheriff sat across a simple wooden table from Richard.

“So, Richard, tell me what happened that morning. How did you happen to murder two women in cold blood?”

“I didn’t murder them…both.” He looked down at his hands and then up at her, the old arrogance back.

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Tell me what you did do.”

He sighed deeply and looked away.

“I was supposed to meet Val at 9:30. On my way in, I heard Valerie screaming at her sister.”

“How did you—?”

“Know it was Valerie? She was yelling about her sister impersonating her and breaking up with me. Valerie told me Friday night that’s what happened four years ago. I never even knew she had a twin until that afternoon.”

“And then?”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I heard a horrible crunch and came around the corner to see…Val on the floor, her head in the machinery, blood all over. Her sister was standing there with that camera bag.”

Frannie looked at her husband. “He looks like he’s reporting the death of his goldfish.”

“How did you know which one was which?” the sheriff asked.

He leaned forward on the table and folded his hands and cocked his head. “The one on the floor was wearing the necklace I gave her.”

“Then what?”

“I got out of there—the sister turned around and she was wild! I think she was crazy.”

“I don’t think so,” the sheriff said quietly. She tapped a paper laying on the table in front of her.

Richard straightened up. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you left. We have another witness,” she said.

“He’s lying.”

“
Who
is lying, Richard?”

“That worthless kid. I left by the tunnel. I knew about it from my grandfather. That kid was hanging out down there—probably doing drugs or something. I told him to keep his mouth shut. I knew how it looked. But I didn’t kill Valerie.”

Mary Sorenson leaned back in her chair and stared at him, tapping a pencil on the table. “Actually, you did. The woman on the floor was Virginia. The one you strangled before going in the tunnel was Valerie.”

Finally a crack in Richard’s cool demeanor. “What? I didn’t…”

“
Before
you went in the tunnel, you grabbed Valerie’s scarf and strangled her with it. The kid heard her beg you—try to tell you who she really was. But you thought she was Virginia, that she had removed a meal ticket from your grasp again.”

Realization dawned. Richard looked at her speechless.

“Why did you take the camera bag?”

Richard shrugged, shook his head, looked away.

“Richard?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled finally. “I didn’t think—I didn’t mean to—,” he composed himself again. “I want to call my lawyer.”

The sheriff nodded to a deputy in the corner of the room to take Richard away. She sat for a moment and then left the room to join the Shoemakers, speaking to another deputy on the way in.

“What do you think?” she asked them.

“I think you have him,” Larry said.

Frannie nodded. “It makes sense. It explains the two different MOs.”

Larry raised his eyebrows at that and smiled. “She watches a lot of
CSI
and
Law and Order.
”

Frannie smirked at that. “Sounds like he grabbed the camera bag without thinking and then had to get rid of it so decided to try and frame Dale.”

The sheriff agreed. “It will be up to the court but I’m inclined to believe him. He’s a sleaze, but I don’t think he premeditated murder. Dale’s statement makes it all pretty clear.” The sheriff filled them in on a few other details and then said, “Well, thanks for your help. The deputy will take you back to the campground now—Mel and his crew just left.”