Bats and Bones (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries) (13 page)

She got up,
straightened her clothes and splashed a little water on her face. Deciding she
had consumed plenty of coffee, she grabbed a can of pop out of the
refrigerator. Sort of a health move. Outside River yelled “Chicken Feet!” and
Donna and Mickey groaned. When she got outside, River was bouncing on the
picnic bench pumping his fists in the air. Mickey and Donna each had about a
dozen dominos in front of them while River was down to two. He looked at
Frannie, a wide grin splitting his face. “I’m winning.”

“Yes, but
look at the competition.”

“What do
you mean?”

“Nothing…just
joking. You’re doing great.”

“I know,”
he said and made his next play.

“He changes
the rules in the middle of the game,” grumbled Mickey.

“Well, suck
it up,” Frannie said. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“That’s
different.”

Larry was
stretched out on his lounger, looking at a golf magazine. “You didn’t sleep
very long.”

“I know,
but I feel a lot better.”

“No more
hysterics?” he said. “With everything else going on, we don’t need the guys in
white coats picking you up. Who would fix my supper?”

Stephanie
came around the end of the camper, looking a little pale.

“Trey was
just here.”

“I heard
him, Stephanie. I was inside.”

“The jerk.
He was out of it but I don’t think he’ll be back.”

“Mom! I’m
winning!” River called from the table.

Stephanie
nodded at her son with a weak, but encouraging smile.

“Stephanie,
is it possible that Trey was involved in a drug deal here in the park?” Frannie
asked.

She folded
her arms and shrugged. “Anything’s possible. I’m sure he was high when he was
here and he’ll get the stuff anywhere or way he can.”

Larry
looked at Frannie and sat up in his lounger. “I think I’d better talk to
Sanchez again.”

Frannie
agreed. “Maybe they could have someone patrol by Stephanie’s site more often.”

“Or just
move Stephanie and River somewhere safe. This is not a good situation. I’ll be
back.”

“I really
don’t think we’re in danger, because Trey’s scared—he plans to get out of
here,” Stephanie told Frannie after he left.

“There’s no
sense in taking chances, Stephanie.”

“I
suppose.”

They wandered
over by the frantic Chicken Feet game in time to see River skunk Donna and
Mickey.

“Okay,
River. Time to leave these nice people in peace,” Stephanie told her son.

“It’s no
problem,” Jane Ann said, propped up again in her lounge chair. “We’re always glad
for Mickey to have someone his age to play with.”

Mickey
looked crushed. “How can you say that?” But he ruffled River’s hair and said to
Stephanie “How about Rob and I take him over to the playground for a while?”

Stephanie
only hesitated a moment. “I’m sure he’d love it. He thinks I restrict him too
much.”

Frannie
said, “That’s because you have more sense than those two.”

Mickey
started picking up the dominos. “I don’t know how I tolerate this abuse.
Where’d Larry go?”

Frannie
told them about Trey’s visits and Stephanie’s suspicions of his condition.

“Wow.
That’s kind of scary,” Donna said.

“That’s why
Larry went to talk to Sanchez again.”

“So maybe
this whole thing revolves around Randy and Stephanie’s husband and a drug
deal?” Rob asked.

“Who
knows?” Frannie shrugged. “Dave Schlumm isn’t out of the picture yet either.”

“It could
be Maeve’s infidelity…” Jane Ann started but Frannie shushed her. “Don’t go
there. Larry will send me back for another nap.” They all laughed and Rob and
Mickey took off for the playground with River bouncing around like a rubber
ball and asking, “Will you go down the slide again, Rob? Can we build a sand
castle? Will those other kids be there?”

Stephanie
shook her head. “Those guys are gluttons for punishment.”

“Like I
said, they don’t have much sense,” Frannie said.

Jane Ann
suggested a game of Bananagrams and the women took over the table space
recently vacated by the dominoes. Stephanie proved to be a whiz at word
formation and skunked the other three twice. They were turning over the tiles
for a third game when an unfamiliar car moved slowly through the campground
driven by a young man they also had never seen.

“Wonder who
that is,” Donna said.

“Maybe Dave
Schlumm’s son? He’s supposed to be arriving today,” Frannie said.

They played
another game with Jane Ann winning and decided to quit and move back around the
fire.

Larry
returned and reported on his visit with Sanchez and the sheriff. “The sheriff
wants to move you and River to a motel. He doesn’t trust your husband—too
long a record,” he said to Stephanie.

She got up
reluctantly. “I’d better go pack some things and fix some lunch for River.
Thanks again for everything.”

Mickey and
Rob returned soon after and left River with Stephanie at her picnic table. When
they were seated around the fire, Mickey said, “Some fireworks at Schlumm’s
trailer.” He picked up his book.

Jane Ann
looked at him. “Well? What’s the rest of it? Don’t leave us hanging.”

Rob jumped
in. “A young guy, I guess it’s Dave’s son, arrived while we were at the
playground. Right before we left, we heard Dave yelling at his daughter.”

“I got a
strong impression from the look on Jodi’s face earlier that there might be some
sibling rivalry going on,” Frannie said.

“Maybe Dave
favors the son, but it’s the daughter who’s nearby and shoulders most of the
responsibility,” said Mickey.

Everyone
looked at him. “That’s pretty perceptive and deep for you, Mick,” Larry
observed.

Mickey
shrugged. “I’m more perceptive and deep than most people think.”

“At the
risk of sounding like sibling-in-law rivalry, that wouldn’t be hard,” Larry
couldn’t resist.

“Here we go
again.” But Jane Ann didn’t get a chance to finish with another threat. Car
doors slammed from the direction of Schlumms’ trailer and seconds later the car
that had arrived earlier went by at a little faster speed. Dave Schlumm’s son
drove and Dave was in the passenger seat, but no sign of Jodi.

“Well,”
Frannie said to the others, “the only thing normal about this weekend seems to
be meals and I think it’s time for lunch.”

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

Happy
Camper Tip #12

Chicken
Feet is one of those table games with as many variations as there are
contentious camping groups. We play with double-twelve dominoes, but any size
set can be used. In our version, every player draws seven dominoes, placing the
rest face down at the side of the table. The player with the highest double
begins by placing that tile face up in the middle of the table, say a double
twelve. Each player must then match another twelve to the first, three tiles on
a side. If a player doesn't have a twelve, he or she must draw from the
"bone yard." Sometimes, by the time the first six tiles are laid
down, players may have gone from their original seven to fifteen or twenty.
Once the first six are down, play can proceed by matching any tile in the
player's 'hand' to an exposed end on the table. If a player cannot make a
match, it's back to the bone yard.

To make a
chicken foot, a player can lay down a double crosswise. The next three plays
must match the double and are placed at angles to one side of the double to
give the appearance of the bird's foot. No other tiles can be placed until the
three forming the foot are laid down. No match? Draw again. The goal is to be
the first one to get rid of one's tiles.

NOTE: It is
important to yell "Chicken Feet!” when you put down a double, unless it's
quiet hours in the campground. If it's after quiet hours, don't play this game.

Domino
games work best on a plain picnic tablecloth; they tend to get lost on
patterned ones.

Early Sunday Afternoon

After
lunch, the women resumed their seats around the fire, more for the semblance of
normalcy than the heat. The men decided to see if they could get the golf
tournament on TV in Mickey’s RV.

“I really
feel sorry for Stub,” Donna said looking across the road. “He didn’t bargain
for all this and now has lost a friend regardless of that friend’s
culpability.”

Frannie
nodded, somewhat surprised at Donna’s sudden display of sensitivity and noticed
what Donna already had, that Stub was back outside, sitting in a lawn chair,
head down. None of his other friends were outside. She said to Donna “I think
I’ll go over and visit with him. Want to join me?”

“Sure.”

“You just
don’t want me to go because you’re afraid I’ll ask him about Randy’s affair
with Maeve,” Jane Ann said.

“Well,
you’re also laid up, but you’re right. You can’t be trusted.”

As they
approached, Stub looked up and his face brightened slightly. They pulled up
chairs on each side of him and sat down.

“Hey, Stub.
How’re you doing?” Donna asked.

He just
shook his head at first and then looked at each of them. “The more I think
about it, the less I can believe it.”

“How did
you guys come up with this trip, anyway?” Frannie said.

He sat back
in his chair and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Randy said he wanted to
come see these caves—‘course we didn’t know they were closed— and
thought several of us ought to get a motel. I watched a dumb movie one night
about traveling in an RV and thought, ‘Hell, nobody’s that stupid. We could do
better than that. And why not make a big trip of it?’” He gave a wry smile.
“Shows you what I know. It kind of grew from there.”

“It’s
certainly a trip for the books,” Donna agreed.

“If it will
make you feel any better, Stub, all of the mishaps that have happened to you
this weekend with this motorhome have happened to at least one of us,” Frannie
said and then added, “Just usually not all on the same weekend.” That at least
got a smile from him.

“What do
you do when you’re not out on these adventures?” Donna said.

“Believe it
or not, I’m a social studies teacher.”

“No
kidding?” Frannie said. “I was too—retired now. What level?”

“High
school juniors, American History. You?”

“Eighth
grade, but also American History.”

“Wow,
junior high. That takes a lot of guts.”

“I planned
to teach high school but the only jobs available were in junior high. I grew to
love it, but of all the people I taught with, I never knew anyone who started
out wanting to teach that level.”

Stub
laughed. “So right.” He sighed. “I’ve not been out west much and was really
looking forward to taking some photos and picking up materials to use in my
classes.”

“Maybe
that’s something you need to do in a smaller group,” Donna suggested.

A car
pulled up and Joel Marner got out. He walked toward them and offered his hand
to Stub. “Mr. Berger?”

Stub stood
and took the hand. “Yes. And you are—?”

“Joel
Marner. I work for the local mortuary. I’m very sorry for your loss. The
sheriff thought I should come and pick up Randy Burton’s personal things and we
can arrange to get them to his family.”

Stub was
confused. “I thought the county would be handling Randy’s body. We can return
his things to the family.”

“You’re
right, but we will arrange to transport the body back to Chicago after the
autopsy is done.”

“Won’t the
sheriff and Agent Sanchez want to look through Randy’s stuff for clues to his
murder?”

“They can
do that just as easily at the funeral home,” Marner replied, folding his arms
and taking a determined stance. “This was the sheriff’s idea.”

“I don’t
know. I think I’d better talk to Sanchez first.”

Marner’s
face turned a little red but he tried to stay cool.

“How about
this? We go ahead and gather up his stuff and meanwhile someone can call
Sanchez. I won’t take it without his say so.”

“Well, I
guess that would be okay.” Stub turned to Frannie. “I hate to ask another favor
but do you think your husband would contact the agent for me and see what he
says?”

“No
problem,” Frannie said pulling out her cell phone. Marner gave her a quick look
and she could see a little panic in those baby blues. He’s up to something, she
thought.

“Okay…thanks.
I need to get started and get back to the funeral home for a visitation this
afternoon.” He looked at Stub. “Can you show me where his things would be? I
have a box in the car.”

Stub
nodded, waited for Marner to get the box, and led him into the motorhome.
Frannie tried to think of a way to stall Marner but was sure Stub would keep a
close eye on him. So she called Larry’s number and quickly told him what was
going on.

“Okay, I’ll
call Sanchez and then come over.”

He hung up
and called back a minute later.

“He says to
hold that stuff and he’ll be there soon.”

“I’ll tell
him, but I don’t think he’ll go along easily.”

“I’ll be
there in a minute. Don’t do anything foolish!”

“You know
me…” Frannie started to say but her husband interrupted.

“That’s
what I’m saying.” He hung up.

Donna said,
“Is the agent coming?”

“Yes, but I
need to slow that guy down if I can.” They headed for the motorhome. Frannie
knocked on the door and heard a loud “C’mon in!”

The two
women entered. Stub’s four friends were sprawled on the couch and in the
captain’s chairs, watching a NASCAR race. Two of them were also on cell phones;
one appeared to be playing a video game.

“Stub’s back
in the bedroom. Hey, Stub! Visitors!”

Stub poked
his head out the bedroom door. “Did you talk to the agent?”

“Larry did
and he said to not let Randy’s stuff go. They’re coming here.”

Stub
motioned them back. With the two large men already in the room, only Frannie
could squeeze in, so Donna waited in what passed for a hallway.

Marner was
taking clothes out of a drawer and putting them in the box. He appeared to be
furtively checking the pockets as he did so.

“Agent
Sanchez would like you to leave those things here,” Frannie told him.

“Sure,
whatever he says, I was just going by the sheriff’s instructions,” he said, but
continued to add things to the box.

“Maybe we
should all wait outside for Agent Sanchez,” Frannie suggested.

“Well, I
thought it would save me some time if I went ahead, and then if he lets me take
this, I can just get back on the job.” He gave her a stare that said ‘Don’t
mess with me.’ Somehow she doubted that getting back on the job was his biggest
concern.

“Okay,” she
said but made no move to leave herself.

He finished
the clothes and said to Stub, “Did he have anything else in here? Electronics?”

“The police
already have his cell phone. I don’t think he had anything else.”

Marner
frowned slightly at the news about the cell phone. He straightened up. “Well,
you know, if the agent wants to take charge of this stuff, that’s fine. Now
that I’ve packed it, the sheriff can just drop it off at the funeral home if he
still wants us to take care of it. I’d better be getting back.” He looked at his
watch and started out of the room. Frannie realized she needed to move or get
mowed over. She reversed direction and motioned Donna out ahead of her.

When they
all got outside, Marner headed for his car. Larry leaned on the car, arms
crossed.

He said, “Agent
Sanchez would like you to wait here.”

Marner
showed his empty hands. “I’m not taking anything. He knows where to find me. I
have to get back to work.” He walked around to the driver’s side of his car and
Larry moved away from it.

Stub leaned
over to Frannie and said, not quite in a whisper, “I didn’t tell him about
Randy’s duffle or shaving kit.” Frannie noticed Marner gave them a sideways
glance but started his car and proceeded to turn it around behind Ferraro’s
motorhome and head for the campground entrance.

“That was a
quick exit,” Larry said.

“It’s
pretty obvious that he just wanted to search Randy’s stuff,” Frannie said.
“Larry, where was Sanchez? I assumed he was near the entrance but if he was, he
should have been here by now.”

“He went
into town to talk to the sheriff about moving Stephanie.”

In fact, it
was another ten minutes before Agent Sanchez pulled up in his car.

“So where
is this guy from the funeral home?” Sanchez asked.

“He took
off in a hurry once he had finished looking through Randy’s things. I think he
was looking for something that he didn’t find,” Frannie said.

“Did he
take anything that you know of?”

“I’m sure
he didn’t,” Stub said. “I watched him closely. When I realized he was searching
for something, I didn’t tell him about Randy’s duffel bag or shaving kit. Not
that there’s anything in them.”

“Would you
get all of his things for me, please?”

“Sure.”
Stub was soon back with the box of clothes, a large blue duffel bag, and a
shaving kit and set them on the picnic table. Agent Sanchez checked through the
shaving kit and then the duffel bag. At first the duffel appeared to be empty,
but then he discovered a folded slip of paper in an inside pocket. He opened it
while Frannie tried to discreetly peer over his shoulder.

He looked up
and caught her. She backed up a step. “There’s several addresses—Ortho
Tissue Services in Lincoln, Nebraska, Bart Mische in Laramie, Wyoming and
LaDonna Preston in Jackson Hole. Are you going all of those places?” he asked
Stub, pointedly ignoring Frannie.

“We were,”
Stub answered. “We changed plans after all this and are headed back to Chicago.
Those must be people that Randy was going to look up on the way.”

“Ortho
Tissue Services?”

“I don’t
know!” Stub was exasperated. “Maybe he knows someone who works there.”

“Maybe,”
Sanchez said.

Frannie
said to Sanchez, “Can you tell if that’s the same handwriting as the note we
got last night?”

Sanchez
shook his head. “No, but we’ll check that.”

“Marner
said the sheriff told him to pick up Randy’s things.”

“That’s
what your husband said on the phone, so I asked Ingrham. He doesn’t know
anything about it.”

“Agent
Sanchez, another thing, Dave Schlumm’s daughter didn’t see any flowers from
Randy. Didn’t you say Joel Marner was the one who told you that?” Frannie asked.

He
grimaced. “You’re right; it was. I’ll double-check with the director. First I
need to talk to your neighbor.” He crossed the road to Stephanie’s pop-up. At
the same time, the sheriff’s car pulled up by Stephanie’s campsite.

Sheriff
Ingrham told Stephanie he would take her and her son to a nearby motel. It was
decided to leave her pickup and pop-up where they were so that they would not
lead Trey to Stephanie’s whereabouts. River’s dismay at leaving his new friends
and potential domino victories abated somewhat at getting to ride in the
sheriff’s car. He waved vigorously as they pulled out.

They
returned to their campsite. Mickey and Rob were back outside.

“Thought
you guys were going to watch golf?” Donna said.

“Too much
interference from the trees,” Rob said. “Even Mickey’s super-duper satellite
won’t pick it up.”

“So you’re
stuck with us again?” Frannie said.

“What can
we say?”

Donna
suggested they walk down to see the bikers’ tents. Jane Ann opted to continue
resting her knee and Larry said he would stay for her protection, cleverly
disguising that purpose by reading his golf magazine.

When they
arrived at Richard and Elaine’s campsite, they were given a necessarily short
tour of the small tents. The other biker pair, Rog and his wife, a friendly
woman with the improbable name of Peach, offered them iced tea. They sat in the
fresh breeze of the lovely afternoon and pretended no one had died that
weekend. Elaine told amusing mishaps from her days as a beginning farmer and
Rob gave another detailed explanation of his lighting system.

They
thanked the bikers for their hospitality and continued their walk to the end of
the campground.

“This walk
is becoming way too familiar,” Rob said. “Only two days as a prisoner and
already I’m verging on stir-crazy.”

“Let’s walk
down to the youth campsite for a change of scenery,” Donna suggested. They had
just reached the path branching off the road.

“Just don’t
tell River that we went without him,” Mickey said. The path wound down a
hillside back into the woods about 150 feet and opened on a small level
clearing. The clearing was shaded by a canopy of maples, ash and a few majestic
shagbark hickory, and fringed by viburnum and western snowberry. Peeking from
the understory, ferns and wild ginger carpeted the wooded ground. Flattened
yellowed grassy spots around several fire rings betrayed recent tent sites.
Frannie walked the perimeter, spotting several woodpeckers and a blue bunting
in the woods. She returned to the picnic table where Donna sat.