Motorhomes, Maps, & Murder

by Tonya Kappes

  “They are suing me.” I walked over and took the papers I’d stuck in my notebook after my little encounter with Hank and handed them to her.

  “Well, my stars.” She drew a hand up to her pearls around her neck. Her fingernails fiddled with the little balls. “I can’t believe it,” she gasped. “I thought telling them about you working your way up after what Paul West did to you and getting this town back on its economic feet would charm them and they would forgive you for not having cameras. I even showed them the National Park Magazine where you were featured.” Tears sat on the edge of her highly mascara eyelids.

  “Look what you did,” Dawn snarled. “Poor Mae.” Dawn stood up. “I told her that she made a mistake as soon as she showed them the magazine.”

  “Now she’s in a pickle and she needs to call that Cox lady.” Queenie shook her head in disgust.

  “Ava Cox?” Betts’s eyes grew. “Are you desperate?”

  “In other news,” the news anchor cut away from the hospital conference, “We are going straight out to Happy Trails Campground where Violet Rhinehammer is going to update us on some breaking news. Violet?”

  “Yeah, Brenda.” The camera turned to a chipper young woman with blonde hair neatly parted to the side and layered in loose curls, perfect white teeth, and a big smile standing in front of the campground’s office.

  Violet was knocking on the office door. Dottie swung it open, hair still up in her pink curlers and with an unlit cigarette tucked in the corner of her mouth.

  “What is this?” Dottie looked into the camera.

  “I’m Violet Rhinehammer with Channel 2 and we wanted to talk to you about the lawsuit that’s been filed against this campground and ask you a few questions about your security.” Violet stuck the microphone in Dottie’s face and turned to the camera, giving it her million dollar smile.

  “Git that thing out of my face.” Dottie pushed the microphone back and lifted her shirt up. The camera scanned down, and Dottie exposed a gun snugged in the elastic waistband of her pants. “This here is my security.”

  The sound was muffled before the camera spun around and showed Violet Rhinehammer running back to the Channel 2 van.

  I melted down into the chair knowing exactly what a deflated balloon felt like. Awful.

  “This can’t be happening.” I put my hands over my face. “Again.”

  “It’s not.” Abby sat down in the chair next to me. “We will fight this. Just like last time. I’ll do a lot of social media. Hank will help you keep the media away.”

  “It’s not the same as last time. Last time the media only wanted to know about Paul. He showed up dead, but Hank was involved then, making it so much easier for the media not to get in.” The sinking feeling turned in my stomach.

  “They can’t just come on your property.” Betts walked over and grabbed the remote control, clicking the TV off. “It’s private property. You still own it.”

  “If I were you, I’d drive their motorhome to the end of your entrance and leave it there.” Dawn didn’t throw any punches. She had been an action gal since the day I met her. “They can’t sue you because of mental distress. They were fine at the bed and breakfast. They had a really good time during our movie night.”

  “You can be a character witness for Mae.” Abby’s face lit up. “We know you. We can all be character witnesses. I was with you when you ran into that motorhome not knowing if Greaser’s accomplice was in there or not.”

  “You guys are so great.” I was able to get a little more air into my lungs. They had made me feel better. “I think I still need to call Ava Cox, though.”

  “You definitely need her to look at the case and see if they have a legal leg to stand on.” Betts made a great suggestion.

  “I’ll give her a call on my way over to take Flora Jean the cinnamon rolls.” I really wasn’t in the mood to go to the hospital and feed my curiosity about Julip, but it was one of the things that was stuck on replay in my head.

  If I didn’t at least scratch the idea, it would sit there and fester. It was one of the traits that I swear I picked up from Mary Elizabeth. I wouldn’t call it nosy. I’d call it curious, even though Hank didn’t see it that way.

  “Before you go, can I talk to you in my office?” Betts asked me.

  The other ladies were busy writing down on the piece of paper what food they were going to take to the families, including Flora, so it made me feel a little better to pretend that was the reason I was going to the hospital to see her. That is, if I could get through the security. If I knew Hank, he had that place lined with officers. Especially if Greaser had an accomplice and he hadn’t finished the job and still wanted Flora Jean dead.

  “Sure.” I followed her into her office.

  “Can you close the door?” she asked and sat down at her desk.

  “Are you okay?” I asked once the door handle clicked shut.

  “I’m fine.” She pinched a smile that told me she really wasn’t fine. If she really wanted to tell me, she would. “Lester told me how you talked to him and he came over here. I wanted to thank you.”

  “No problem. He’s really great.”

  She let out a long sigh and then took a big breath.

  “We haven’t had the best relationship over the past few months and after Greaser escaped, it opened our eyes to what we really have. We have a community that loves us. A wonderful church family and this amazing town.” The words leaving her mouth washed over me like icy cold water, shocking me.

  “I had no idea.” I blinked with bafflement. “I guess I never figured a preacher would have marriage problems.”

  “Everyone has problems, regardless of occupation.” Betts tried to frame it in a good way, but still. “He’d been sleeping at the church for a couple of weeks. Then this whole thing with the taxes threw us in a tizzy. Did you get a chance to look at the books?”

  “I did. And I did find something very odd, although I’m not sure if it accounts for a big loss. Do you know how much money you’re missing because he didn’t tell me that?” I didn’t even have a dollar amount to look for. I’d only scanned down the list of tithes so far and that’s when I noticed Carol Wise hadn’t made a contribution in a few weeks.

  “It’s about ten thousand dollars,” her voice cracked.

  My jaw dropped.

  “I know. It’s a lot. Carol is older and she started working for him and that’s when all this started to happen.” Betts looked like she was in pain just saying the words.

  “I noticed she gave on a regular basis and that she’d stopped giving. I looked back into the tithes and sorted the checks from the cash. She always gave cash. Is that right?” I asked.

  “Yes. Lester told me she’d stopped tithing and I asked her about it when I saw her at the Tough Nickel. She told me it wasn’t my business why she stopped,” Betts said.

  “How long ago was this?” I asked. “I haven’t finished looking through all the paperwork. I was going to go over there this morning after I drop off the cinnamon rolls.”

  “She came to work for us about six months ago and stopped weekly tithing about two months ago.”

  “Does she still come to church?” I wondered. Not that it would make a difference.

  “She hasn’t been to Sunday service in about two weeks. She also didn’t make it to the last prison ministry.”

  “She was part of the ministry?” I asked. “I mean, what if she took the money to help Greaser?”

  “Huh?” Betts’s head jerked back, and she looked at me funny.

  “Nothing.” I didn’t need to go there. Betts had too much on her plate already to find out that I was looking into the investigation. Greaser had already done enough to her and Lester. “Is there anything I can do for you and Lester?”

  “No. I’m so thankful you talked to him because when he came in here yesterday, he seemed like the old Lester I know and fell in love with.” There was a genuine look of relief on her face.

  “I know!” I snapped my
fingers. “Why don’t you two take a vacation? I’m sure there’s some sort of substitute preacher that can fill in for Lester and I can run the Laundry Club.”

  “That’s a really good idea.” Betts’s faltering smile turned into a great big smile. “The Preacher Association does have people who travel to other churches for that very purpose and we sure could use some alone time.”

  “Perfect. I expect you to talk to Lester and have something planned by the end of the week.” I was so happy to make her feel better or just give her some hope even if Lester didn’t follow through.

  When I first came to Normal, Betts had given me a couple of jobs with her cleaning business when I needed to make some extra money to help fix up Happy Trails. I owed her so much and giving my time to hang around the Laundry Club was nothing. Plus, Dottie loved running the campground alone. If we still had a campground to run, that is.

  Carol Wise had been on my go see radar, but now she was on my must see list.

  Mary Elizabeth reminded me to be at the picnic for lunch and I assured her I’d be there before I left the Laundry Club. I was tempted to eat the cinnamon rolls on my drive to the hospital.

  It was about forty minutes away from Normal. It was located outside of the Daniel Boone National Park in a bigger town, and the drive over gave me time to think about what I was going to say to Flora Jean.

  The phone rang and it was Hank.

  “Hey there.” I answered with a big smile on my face.

  “They took me off the case,” he said with a flat tone.

  “What?” I asked with a hint of nervous laughter. “What case?”

  “Greaser’s. They said it was over when Flora Jean told them Greaser told her he stayed back to make good on his promise.” He sounded deflated.

  “What else did she say?” I was so shocked.

  “I don’t know. They questioned her without me there, and I told them I wanted to talk to her. They let me go in and when she got upset with my questioning, they told me to leave. That’s when I got the call from the chief saying I was off the case. The case is closed.” He sounded madder than upset.

  “Who killed Greaser? Did she say?” I slowed down a little, wondering if I should just turn around and go give Carol the cinnamon rolls.

  “She said that she killed Greaser but that can’t be right. She claimed she used the butt end of Burt’s gun, but in the video, she wasn’t near Burt. I don’t think she had enough time to get Burt’s gun and hit Greaser after he stabbed her.”

  “What did the video show?” I asked.

  “The video cut off just as he was lunging towards her so we don’t know what happened. I’m not saying she’s lying, but she got very upset when I continued to ask her some very hard questions.” He paused. “I think she’s covering something up, Mae. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m not sure I can let this go.”

  “They took you off the case. Closed the case. You have to let it go.” I continued to drive towards the hospital.

  “No. I can dig without them knowing.” This wasn’t the By the Book Hank I knew, and I loved it!

  “Great! I can help you because I think Julip is hiding something.”

  “No. You’re not helping me. And that’s that.” He didn’t leave any room for me to protest, but I would help him anyway. He would see that he needed me.

  I was for sure taking these cinnamon rolls to Flora Jean and figuring out what she was hiding.

  Seventeen

  The hospital was buzzing with news media vans, and the FBI was holding a new conference. When I saw the Channel 2 news van, I wondered if Violet Rhinehammer was there. I didn’t bother looking for her. While the press was occupied with the news update, I was going to slip right on in.

  “Can I help you?” The older woman had a nice smile on her face. Her eyes twinkled. She wore pink hospital scrubs that had Volunteer embroidered on the left side. She sat on a stool behind a desk that was chest high.

  “I’m here from . . .” I gulped and prepared myself to lie. “Normal Baptist Church and we have a very important parishioner here. We made these delicious cinnamon rolls for her.”

  “It is so wonderful that you women of the Lord do this.” Her checks balled as her smile grew. “What’s her name?”

  “Flora Jean.” I searched my mind for her last name and realized I had no idea what it was.

  “Oh, yes.” The older lady shook her head. “I heard about that. That is what this whole mess out there is about. I’ve been instructed not to let anyone know her condition or her room number because people take advantage and will go in there to ask her all sorts of things. You can’t trust those media people.”

  “No, ma’am, you sure can’t.” I gave a sympathetic look. “Flora Jean is such a big part of our parish.”

  “I thought you said it was a Baptist church?” she asked me, her head turned like a puppy dog when you said the word treat. “You said parish. Isn’t that Catholic?”

  When she leaned a little more to the side as though she were trying to hear me, I noticed the small hearing device in her ear.

  “I said she’s been a good partner in our church family,” I spoke a little louder, covering up my mistake. “She spends her days going to that prison and spreading the good word.”

  I started to lay it on so thick that I really thought I was going to get struck down by lightning.

  “Her daughter was just visiting. I’m sure she’s tired,” the woman seemed to be talking herself into not giving me Flora Jean’s room number.

  “What if I gave you a cinnamon roll?” I winked at her and opened the box. “Since you’re not going to let me give them to Flora.”

  She leaned over the little desk and eyeballed the sugary treats. She licked her lips.

  “I think I will have one.” She grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled something down. “I didn’t tell you anything.” She slid the piece of paper across the counter of the desk and grinned. “If they ask if I told you anything, I can confidently say no.”

  “You’re the best.” I let her pick out the cinnamon roll she wanted, and it was a good gooey one.

  “Bless you for the work that your church does.” She had to give me one last comment that gave a jab to my heart.

  Flora Jean was on the fourth floor and when I got into the elevator, I looked up and offered a silent prayer for forgiveness.

  “I mean, really, it’s for the greater good,” I said and then clamped my mouth shut when the elevator doors opened up into the lobby of the fourth floor.

  I looked at the numbers on the wall to determine whether I had to go right or left. It looked as if it didn’t matter because Flora Jean’s room number was smack dab in the middle. So I decided to go left.

  I made sure to keep my head down and not make eye contact with anyone. I didn’t want to be forced to lie if I didn’t have to. I followed the numbers on the doors until I made it to her room.

  The door to Flora Jean’s room was cracked open. When I peeked inside, she appeared to be asleep and alone. No daughter, so I went on in and shuffled my feet a little to make some noise. The last thing I wanted her to do was to see a stranger and start yelling or something.

  She looked over at me. Her eyes had dark circles under them. There was some bruising.

  “Who are you?” she asked in a groggy voice.

  “I’m May-bell-ine from church.” I decided not to say Mae West just in case she knew my name from the past year or even from the most recent news report. “I’m here to bring you some cinnamon rolls from the girls at church. You know them. They’ve got a list going to feed everyone and their family that’s been affected by these awful events. And I’m the one who found you at the battlefield.”

  “I owe you a lot.” She groaned when she tried to use her fists to push herself up on the bed. “I can never repay you for saving my life.”

  “I’m not asking you to repay me.” Hmm, I wondered if it would be awful of me to cash in on that and ask her to tell me everything about Greaser.
“I just want you to know that me and my friends are thankful you’re alive. Can I help you?” I asked when I noticed she was still struggling to push herself up in the bed.

  “Thank you.” She let me put my hands under her armpits and give her a good yank up. “Did Preacher Lester send you?” she asked with a curious look on her face.

  “His wife, Betts, and I are good friends. She asked me to stop by.” I pulled the covers up, fluffing them around her.

  “She did?” She questioned as if she were surprised. “I just thought. . .” She tugged her lips closed and turned her head to look out the window. “Thank you for the food. So many people have brought things.”

  I walked over and noticed all the flowers, cards, and food that’d already been dropped off.

  “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here?” I asked, figuring she wasn’t going to tell me anything.

  “I’m tired.” Her voice was weak.

  “My friend Abby told me to tell you that she can’t wait for you to come back to the library.” I thought I’d throw that out. Anything to get her to talk.

  “I love the library.” She smiled. There were dark circles under her eyes. The machines beeped in the background.

  “Did you take your daughter there when she was younger?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. Her love for books blossomed after the divorce.” She laughed as though she were having a pleasant memory.

  “Has she come to see you?” I asked.

  “She was just here. She’s insistent that I stay with her until. . .” she stopped talking.

  “Listen, I’m going to be honest with you. I am friends with Betts. I don’t go to your church, but we are making food for all the families affected by this.” I held up my finger. “That’s not a lie.”

  She released a big sigh as if she was bothered by me.

  “Please, just hear me out. I’m not a detective or anything, but I’m dating Hank Sharp, the detective on the Greaser case, and he’s been put on leave for wanting to continue to investigate even though Greaser is dead.” I curled my hand around the rail next to her bed and sat down in the chair. “You don’t have to say anything. For the safety of our community, we are just making sure that Greaser doesn’t have an accomplice who could go after more jury members out of revenge.”