Bats and Bones (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries) (11 page)

“I know,
but they think Randy is a murderer. I’ve known him for years, Larry. He didn’t
do this.”

“Could he
have been injured in the storm and wandered off?” Mickey asked.

“I don’t
know. I don’t know what to think.” Stub plopped down on the bench of their
picnic table and quickly jumped back up again when the damp left from the storm
seeped through the seat of his pants. Frannie snuck a look at Larry. He had
that ‘Now we’ll never get to bed’ look on his face.

But he
said, “Stub, I think you’re going to have to talk to the agent. Here he comes.”

“Mr.
Berger,” Sanchez said. He was a lot less dapper looking at 2:30 in the morning
than he had been the day before.

“Yes, sir,”
Stub answered.

“Where’s
your friend Randy?”

“I don’t
know, sir. I’m afraid something has happened to him.”

“I think
it’s more likely that he saw a chance to get out of here.”

Stub shook
his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think Randy has had anything to do with
what’s been going on around here this weekend.”

“You’re his
friend.”

“Of course,
and I know he would never hurt anyone else.”

“My point
is, you’re hardly objective. We have put out an APB for him. We’ll also search
around here in case something
did
happen to him on the way to the shower house, but I doubt it. There wasn’t that
much damage.”

Stub’s
shoulders slumped and he looked thoroughly beaten. “I’ll help search,” he said.

“Suit
yourself,” Sanchez replied. “We’ll just go along the road tonight; a more thorough
search will have to wait for daylight.”

“We can
help too,” Mickey said indicating his friends with a nod of his head.

The agent
nodded. “Bring flashlights.”

Frannie
grabbed Jane Ann’s arm and said, “We’ll catch up with you. First I’m going to
play nurse on Jane Ann’s face.”

Jane Ann
protested but Frannie hauled her into her camper in pursuit of the first aid
kit. Jane Ann took the tube of ointment out of Frannie’s hand and headed for
the bathroom mirror.

“I will
take care of it myself!” she said.

“I wasn’t
even going to use iodine,” Frannie called after her. Soon she was back, and,
with flashlights, they followed the rest of the group.

They had
split up and were walking along both sides of the road, shining their lights
along the road and behind trees, calling Randy’s name. Frannie couldn’t help
but think of the scene in the musical
Brigadoon
where the villager men give chase and sing “Harry Beaton! Harry Beaton!” before
Mr. Beaton could escape and doom the village to sleep forever.

Could Randy
Burton bring the same fate? She allowed herself a little smile, thinking
sleeping forever sounded pretty good right now. They continued on past the
shower house to the end of the campground on the chance that Randy could have
become disoriented in the storm. They circled each campsite, checking behind
tents and campers. Flashlight beams bounced and lanterns glowed at two sites
where the rangers helped struggling campers right and secure their tents. Agent
Sanchez stopped to ask them about the missing man and received only shaking
heads in response.

When they
reached the end of the campground, Sanchez stopped and said, “We can’t do any
more until morning. Would he have a cell phone with him?”

“I don’t
know,” Stub said. “We left the motorhome in such a hurry. But he usually
carried it.”

“Have you
got his number?”

“In my
phone,” Stub pulled it out of his pocket.

“Call it,”
the agent directed.

Stub
punched several buttons and held the phone to his ear. Nothing for a minute and
then said “Hello? Randy? Oh…no… thanks. No, nothing yet.”

He snapped
the phone shut. “That was Darryl. Randy’s phone was laying on the counter in
the motorhome.”

“So much
for that,” Sanchez said. “Before I go, Mr. Berger, I would like that cell
phone.” Stub nodded miserably. “Let’s all get some sleep. We can’t do anything
more tonight. We’ll start a search at daybreak. Any of you want to volunteer to
help, I’d appreciate it.”

They all
murmured something that could be taken for any answer one wished to hear and
headed back to their respective units.

When they
got back in their trailer, Frannie said, “I agree with Agent Sanchez. Seems
most likely that Randy took the opportunity to escape.”

“Well, like
we said earlier, Randy could be involved in something totally unrelated to
Maeve’s murder, but could get him in a lot of trouble anyway. I’m still liking
Dave Schlumm for the murder. Did you see him and his daughter in the shower
house?”

“As we were
leaving, I did. They had been in the women’s side.” She laid her glasses and
watch on the nightstand. As she did, she noticed a piece of paper that looked
like it has been torn from a yellow legal pad.

She held it
up to show Larry. “Leave it alone,” she read.

“What?”

Her eyes
were wide and her heart pounded a little faster. She held out the slip of
paper.

“This note.
It was on my nightstand. It says ‘Leave it alone.’ I don’t know where it came
from. It wasn’t there when we went to bed the first time tonight.”

Larry
bolted up in bed to peer at the paper in her hand. “Someone put it there when
we were helping search for Randy? They came all the way in and left it by the
bed?”

Frannie
nodded. “Or while we were in the shower house. We didn’t lock the camper either
time.”

“But
everyone else was in the shower house too.”

“Except
Randy.”

He took the
note from her. It was printed in block letters with a pencil.

“It seems
more like a warning than a threat,” she said. “You know what I mean?”

“No, I
don’t
know what you mean.” He considered
it a threat and an invasion of their home-away-from-home and he didn’t like her
trying to make light of it.

“Well,
there’s no punctuation, no emphasis, no underlining, no ‘or else!!!’”

He shook
his head. “You’re crazy. This is not a movie or a game. The fact that there is
a note and left where it was is enough to make it a threat.”

She crawled
into bed and lay thinking about what he said. Someone
was
in here without their permission or knowledge, another
violation of their peaceful place. What was going on? What were they supposed
to leave alone? Maeve’s murder? She thought about their suspicions—especially
of Dave and Randy. But they were only suspicions and punctuated by huge gaps in
the puzzle.

In spite of
her exhaustion, she could not sleep. It was quiet and cooler—perfect
sleeping weather. But she lay and stared at the reflection on the ceiling from
the night light out in the living area. Every so often, she picked up her watch
and looked at it. 3:10. 3:45. The last time she looked at it, it read 4:05
before she slipped into oblivion.

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

Happy
Camper Tip #10

Glow Sticks:
This wonderful invention is perfect for camping. Glow sticks can be formed into
bracelets, necklaces, and dog collars to keep track of kids and pets in dark
campgrounds. Kids can play tag with them and tape them to the spokes of their
bikes. The only drawback is that my grandchildren believe they will last longer
in the freezer, so it is not unusual for our freezer to rain glow sticks upon
opening.

Early Sunday Morning

In spite of
her late night, Frannie woke about 6:00 and lay looking at the soft morning
light coming through the window blinds on her side of the bed. Suddenly she
remembered the early morning search Agent Sanchez had planned. She sat up.
Larry was already gone. She got up and, welcoming the early morning chill,
pulled on old gray sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt and brushed her teeth.
Outside, Cuba lay already tethered and raised her head to check out Frannie
with only mild interest. She dropped her head back on the ground, worn out from
too much excitement and activity the night before. There was no human activity
that Frannie could see, and certainly none that Cuba was interested in.

The morning
air was crisp and twenty degrees cooler than the morning before. At first it
seemed like typical early morning quiet, but as Frannie listened, she could
make out the distant sounds of people going through the woods. She headed
straight out from the campsite into the woods in the direction Randy had gone
the afternoon before.

Stepping
over branches and watching out for poison ivy and stinging nettle, she
fervently wished that a steamy mug of coffee would appear on one of the stumps
along the way. She hadn’t even thought to bring water. However there was plenty
on the ground. About every third step, her foot sunk into mud or a small pool
of rainwater. At first she headed downhill into a gully, and as she got close
to the bottom, she caught a glimpse of a couple of people going up the other
side. They were moving slowly back and forth using walking sticks to check the
underbrush. She could hear occasional calls of “Randy! Randy Burton!”
Brigadoon
again.

Bug spray.
She had forgotten that also and spent a lot of energy swatting the pests. She
could see now that one of the searchers directly ahead of her was Mickey.

“Mickey!
Wait up!”

He turned
and waved. She huffed and stumbled up the hill until she caught up with him.

“Good
morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He gave her one of his famous—or
infamous—grins.

“Couldn’t
get to sleep last night, as tired as I was. Why is it always like that?” She
batted the mosquitos swarming around her head.

“Bug
juice?” he asked producing a bottle from a cargo pocket.

“You are a
lifesaver!” She took the bottle from him and splashed some on her face, neck
and arms, smelling like a chemical lab.

“I guess
that’s what we’re all trying to do.” He became serious, unusual for him.

“Is
everyone searching this direction or did they split up?”

“Our group
is all out here with Smith and Phillips. Stub and his friends went the other
way from the campground with Sanchez and the sheriff. Larry should be over to
our right somewhere.”

“Well, I’ll
move over that way.” She went about forty feet from Mickey and they continued
their search. As they moved forward, she occasionally caught a glimpse of Larry
through the trees, farther to her right. Nearing the top of the hill, they had
to climb over or skirt more and more fallen limbs and trees.

“Is this
damage all from last night?” she called over to Mickey.

“Looks
pretty fresh.”

At the top
of the hill they came out in a small clearing. Donna and Rob were already there
along with Ranger Phillips off to Mickey and Frannie’s left, picking burrs off
the bottoms of their sweat pants. Larry, Jane Ann, and Deputy Smith emerged
from the trees to the right. Everyone’s shoes were caked with mud and their
arms, if uncovered, peppered with scratches and bites.

“Hey, Lazy
Bones!” Larry said when he saw his wife.

“I know.
Embarrassing.” She was almost always the first one up.

Larry
addressed the group. “I take it no one has seen anything?” They all shook their
heads. “Frannie, did you bring your phone?”

She shook
her head. No coffee, no water, no bug repellent, no phone. As a searcher, she
was a failure.

“Stay near
Mickey then.”

Deputy
Smith said, “I think we’ll just continue on the other side of the clearing.
I’ll check in with the sheriff first and see if they’ve had any luck.” She
pulled out her radio. After a very short conversation, she keyed off the radio
and said to the others, “Nothing. Let’s keep going.”

Frannie
trudged along behind Mickey and when they got to the trees, they split up
again. She took special care to look under piles of brush and fallen trees,
whether they appeared recent or not. She was checking one of those when she
came around a fairly tall witch hazel and saw a familiar bit of yellow. A black
strap was caught on a branch and underneath hung a portable GPS. Like she and
Larry had. Like Randy had the day before. She didn’t touch it but called for
Mickey and Larry instead.

While she
waited, she looked carefully around the area. Ahead and slightly right, there
seemed to be more broken branches than usual. Mickey was closer and got there
first.

“Whoa!” he
said. “Isn’t that what Randy was carrying yesterday when you saw him?”

She nodded.
Although what it meant hanging on the tree, she had no idea. Larry crashed
through the brush and came to a halt as she pointed. Frannie thought their
surprise was because none of them, including her, had really expected to find
anything—that Randy was long gone. Larry pulled out his phone and called
Sanchez.

“What did
he say?” Frannie asked when Larry got off the phone after describing the find
and where they were.

“He’s
coming and bringing the rest with him. We’ll search more intensively from
here.”

Jane Ann
caught up with him and she too was speechless at the sight of small GPS device.
Deputy Smith followed her.

“Have you
already notified the others?” Larry nodded.

“Larry, it
might be helpful to check the waypoints,” Frannie said. “I’m sure that GPS has
something to do with all this. Randy had it yesterday when he was out here on
his mysterious errand and now it shows up again. Maybe one of the waypoints
would tell us where he went. Or else why would he even have had it with him?”

“We can’t
touch it until Sanchez gets here. We’ll have him check.” Larry called Rob and
told his group also to wait up until the agent arrived.

The five of
them waiting presented a stationary target for the bugs. Mickey got out his bug
spray and passed it around. Rob and his group walked over from their left.

Rob eyed
the suspended electronic device. “Does that work like one in a car?”

“Basically,”
Larry said. “Ours is pretty simple. You can mark where you are and find your
way back to that spot or enter coordinates from another source to find
something.”

“You
can
download current maps so that you
can use it for navigation like the ones you’re talking about. We don’t do that
because we just use it for geocaching,” Frannie added.

When
Sanchez and the other searchers arrived, Larry pointed out the location of the
device. Sanchez held everyone else back and moved closer. He pulled a pen from
his shirt pocket and used it to unhook the strap from the branch. Holding it
aloft, he cocked his head at Larry.

“You know
how to see what he has programmed in this?”

“Sure, we
have one just like it.”

“What about
a password?”

“They
usually don’t use one.”

Sanchez
pulled a pair of disposable gloves from a pants pocket. “Here put these on.”

Larry
slipped the gloves on easily and turned the GPS on. While waiting for it to
locate the satellites, he noticed that it was the high sensitivity model, which
meant it would do better in the trees. He paged to the Waypoints screen and
pushed ‘enter.’ Frannie peered over his shoulder as they examined the
alphabetical and numerical choices. He looked at her.

“Start with
‘1’, I guess?” she said and shrugged.

He did and
when he got the description, shook his head. “That one’s 220 miles east of
here.” He tried number 2 with no better results.

“Maybe it’s
under ‘B’ for Bat Cave,” Frannie said.

The A-D
category produced no nearby results.

“Wait!”
Frannie knocked herself in the head with the heel of her hand. “Go back to the
Waypoints list. Isn’t there a ‘closest’ or something choice at the bottom?”

He did as
instructed and smiled at her. “‘Nearest.’ Good thinking. Let’s hope he only
used this once while he’s been here.” He selected ‘nearest’ and a screen popped
up listing several waypoints by proximity.

“Number 13
is only 430 feet,” he straightened up and took a couple of steps and pointed in
the general direction they had been going. “That way.”

Agent
Sanchez almost smiled. “All right. Let’s fan out again, but not too far, and
head that direction. Larry will lead. Step carefully, although I imagine the
storm probably washed out any evidence.”

Stub said,
“Wait a minute. If he lost the GPS, how was he going to head in that
direction?”

Frannie
responded before Sanchez could. “We think he used the GPS to hide something
earlier…”

Sanchez
finished for her. “It’s the only clue we have. Maybe he headed back there.” No
one mentioned that he might have just run away.

They
started moving forward again, Larry slightly ahead. The brush seemed thicker
here and broken in many places. Frannie tripped on a root but caught herself on
a tree trunk before she went down completely. The going got even slower. They
hadn’t gone a hundred feet before they heard Rob yell, “Over here!” A note of
panic quavered in his voice.

Larry came
up behind Frannie and took her hand as they worked their way toward Rob. He
stood looking at the ground with Donna hanging on his arm. Ranger Phillips
stood aside talking into his radio. Frannie could see others weaving through
the trees back to Rob. None of the searchers had had time to get very far away.

Rob stared
down at the body of Randy Burton crumpled facedown partially under a thicket of
serviceberry. Deputy Smith was right behind Larry and Frannie, and again
instructing everyone else to stay clear of the area, she crouched down next to
the body, checking for signs of life. She shook her head and stood up. Agent Sanchez
arrived with Stub right behind him. Frannie watched Stub’s face as he saw and
comprehended the loss of his friend. She moved around beside him.

“Stub.
Maybe you should sit down over here on this log.” She took his arm gently and
motioned toward a fallen tree about ten feet away. He allowed himself to be
led, but said weakly “Is he—?”

“I think
so,” Frannie said in a soft voice. “Agent Sanchez will tell us what we can do.”
She sat down on the log herself and pulled him down beside her. He covered his
face with his hands, elbows supported on his knees. He started to shake and she
realized he was crying.

“How did
this happen?” He choked. “It was just a bunch of guys, trying to have a good
time, a little vacation. But it was doomed from the beginning. It’s my fault…I
set the whole thing up.”

“Stub,
listen to me.” She tried to peer into his face and patted his knee. “It’s not
your fault. We don’t know who did this or why, but it wasn’t your doing.”

Agent
Sanchez called for everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for your help this
morning. I would like you all to return to your campsites and wait there.
Ranger Phillips will go with you. The crime scene crew and the medical examiner
are on their way and the ranger can guide them out here.” He turned back to the
body without waiting to make sure they followed his instructions. They headed
back to the campground in twos and threes, Stub between Larry and Frannie. His
friends walked ahead and didn’t seem very concerned with Stub’s distress.

When they
reached the campsite, Frannie said to Stub, “I’m going to put some coffee on.
Didn’t have time earlier. Would you like some?”

“I’d better
get back to my group…” Stub looked across the road where his four remaining
buddies were deep in conversation and ignoring him. “Sure, that sounds good. I
really appreciate all the help you and Larry have given me. Those guys really
didn’t know Randy.”

“This has
got to be so hard, I can’t even imagine. Take a seat, Stub. I have the pot all
ready to go. It will just take a few minutes.” She climbed the steps into the
camper, grabbed the old percolator off the counter where she had prepared it
the night before, and brought it out and plugged it in. Larry sat across the
picnic table from Stub. Stub looked thoroughly beaten. What a change, Frannie
thought, from the brash, over-confident man who had arrived Friday night.

“We
generally just go on weekend trips,” Larry was saying. “We like the state parks
in eastern Iowa and western Illinois but there are a lot of nice county parks
and several great Corps of Engineers facilities around here, too.”

Stub nodded
and sighed. “I’m sure it’s great when you know what you’re doing.” He didn’t
sound convinced. “You were a cop. Do you think Randy was hit by something in
the storm last night—something natural, I mean—or is this another
murder? Wouldn’t two murders in the same park in two days be an awful
coincidence?”