Assailants, Asphalt & Alibis: A Camper & Criminals Cozy Mystery Series Book 8

by Tonya Kappes

  One of the walls was a living wall. She’d had some fancy architect come in and design it especially for the shop using only the plants, flowers, and greenery local to the Daniel Boone National Forest. It was pretty neat.

  “I just love it in here.” I continued to look around while she got my special coffee ready to sample. “Is it busy like this all the time?”

  I moved to the far end of the counter so her employees could wait on the already-long line of customers so early in the morning.

  “They all like to get a head start on most of the trails before it gets too hot or crowded.” She pushed all sorts of buttons on a fancy machine, and then she stirred and crushed up some beans. I watched in awe as she created something that was in her head without reading from a piece of paper.

  She looked extremely busy at the moment, so I took the opportunity to walk around and check out some of the local items posted on her corkboard. Most of the business had a corkboard on the wall, showing the different things going on in the amphitheater or just around Normal. The John Swift flyer stood out the most. It was from Ritchie’s campsite. He was offering a discount if you stayed at his place, something I either had no idea about or had taken advantage of automatically, since he’d immediately asked for the cash after we parked. Then I wondered if I could get my money back since we didn’t stay, but it wasn’t that much, so I just put that out of my mind and moved on to the next bulletin on the corkboard.

  It was from the National Forestry and Rangers in the Daniel Boone National Forest. It had a picture of a five-leaf plant that looked like poison ivy, and in bold red ink it read ALERT.

  That got my attention.

  No one wants to get poison ivy on any sort of trail. Henry was great about getting it all chopped down at the beginning of the trails that led in and out of Happy Trails because I didn’t want any of my campground guests having to deal with that.

  I read, “In an effort to increase wild ginseng populations on national forest lands, a ban prohibiting ginseng harvest in the Daniel Boone National Forest has been extended through the harvest season, from Sept. 1 to Dec. 1.”

  Ginseng? I took another look at the leafy plant they’d displayed underneath the big red alert.

  I continued to read: “It’s illegal to harvest any ginseng,” Forest Supervisor Ken Bailey said. “Only Kentucky licensed dealers can legally export ginseng out of Kentucky, and it must be accompanied by appropriate documents. A harvester may apply to become a dealer to certify one's own roots. Diggers, this includes mailing your ginseng to an out-of-state dealer, leaving the state post-harvest, or meeting with an out-of-state dealer by vehicle. Kentucky ginseng cannot legally leave the borders of Kentucky without an export certificate issued by our agency.”

  I reread the quote. I’d never even known ginseng was a thing in the forest.

  “The forest stopped issuing ginseng collecting permits in an attempt to boost the plant’s population in the forest due to years of noticeable ginseng decline across the forest. Remember you have to have a legal permit to even harvest ginseng.” The article continued with a statement from Ken Bailey. “This year those permit holders are on suspension, and there will be no harvesting this season. If you do and are caught, you will be prosecuted. There is a hefty fine and a minimum prison sentence starting at six years.”

  “Mae, your coffee is ready,” I heard Gert say.

  After I scanned down the rest of the article, I went to get the fancy coffee where she’d designed a Christmas tree, of all things, in the foam.

  “Seriously?” I questioned her with half a smile. “The last thing I want to think about is Christmas. It’s my least busy time, and I generally have to take a job with Betts Hager in her cleaning service to make ends meet. Though I’m really working hard at trying to save any extra money at the campground so we don’t have many lean months.”

  “The campground is rocking. You’re doing amazing things still.” She was referring to the key I’d gotten from Mayor MacKenzie a few months back after I’d helped improve the region’s economy by upgrading the campground and adding all the new features that really made camping a lot more glamorous than it had been in years.

  “Thanks. It’s just that everyone wants to hibernate in the winter and not take hiking trips.” I picked up the ceramic mug, lifted it to my lips, and took a little sip. I closed my eyes and let the warm, cozy peppermint-infused liquid slide down my throat. “It sure does taste like Christmas.” I licked my lips and took another sip. “Any chances I can get this in a to-go cup? I have to meet some of the gals at the Laundry Club this morning.”

  “I’ll make all of them a cup.” Gert winked and headed back to her fancy equipment, where she started that whole process all over again.

  I took the mug over to a little table out of the way of the other customers, sat in the café table near the corkboard, and snapped a photo of the alert from the forestry department.

  I texted Dottie: Have you heard of this crazy ginseng thing?

  Dottie texted back: Big business if you are one of the lucky ones to get a permit.

  I texted back: Do you have a permit? Or know of anyone who has one?

  Dottie texted back: Nope. But I know plenty of people who do it illegally. Why? You need some?

  I texted: No! I don’t even know what ginseng does.

  Dottie texted a laughing emoji due to my ignorance. But with a quick internet search on my phone, it was easy enough to find out that Kentucky was a huge ginseng importer to Japan. Ginseng was claimed to help boost energy, lower blood sugar and cholesterol levels, reduce stress, promote relaxation, treat diabetes, and manage sexual dysfunction in men, which seemed like it was good for everyone.

  I just might need to check into being a harvester myself. That might bring in enough money for future winters, now that Gert had that in my head.

  “Here you go.” Gert walked over with the cardboard coffee holder filled with the to-go cups. “If you need more, let me know. I’ll have them right over.”

  “Thanks, Gert.” I stood up and sucked down the last little bit from my mug. “You’re so kind. The ladies are going to love this. Thank you.”

  “You seem awful interested in the ginseng poster.” She took the pin out of the paper and held it out. “I’ve got plenty more back there to replace it. They give me stacks so people don’t rip one down.”

  “I had no idea this was a thing.” I was still in a bit of a shock.

  “Crazy. People think all us locals born and bred here grow marijuana and all sorts of illegal things on the forest since it’d be so hard to track, but it’s the ginseng that’s so widely and worldly in demand that no one really outside of the forest knows about.” She laughed.

  “Maybe I can become a harvester to help supplement the income in the winter I was telling you about.” I shrugged and put the paper in my bag, making sure to steady the coffee carrier.

  “Not this year or you’ll get thrown in the pokey,” she joked on my way out the door.

  SIXTEEN

  “Coffee!” I hollered over at Abby, Queenie, and Betts Hager as I backed in the door, rear first, in hopes they’d run over and help me with the door or take the coffees from me.

  No chance. The three of them sat on the couch in the family room area of the Laundry Club, glued to the television. But Agnes Swift had just walked out of the bathroom and hurried over to help.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised to see her.

  “I stopped by to check on you before I headed back to work.” She was so sweet and kind.

  We walked over to the group.

  “I’m fine.” I was going to tell her more, but the others were annoyed.

  “Shhh! Hank is doing a press conference.” Queenie and the other two didn’t even look my way.

  “Why is Hank doing the press conference?” I asked and shuffled over, careful not to spill the coffee.

  Like vultures, they each grabbed a cup and sat back down. Abby picked up the remote and tur
ned the volume up, her rude way of telling me to be quiet.

  “If anyone was hiking during these hours around the Furnace, please contact the Normal Police Station. Even if you didn’t see Mason Cavanaugh or Dirk Ivy. Any and all information is collected, and the slightest thing might be able to help bring us closure about what happened to these two hikers.” Hank was looking directly into the camera. “Thank you.”

  “Oh my stars,” Betts Hager gasped, making her bangs fly to the side of her forehead. She pushed back a strand of her wavy brown hair and curled her leg up under her other leg, nestling the coffee in both hands. “I tell all the kids at the church to be careful during any hikes because all experienced hikers can have accidents.”

  Betts was very active in our local church, Normal Baptist Church. In fact, in a former life, which we didn’t talk about much, she was the preacher’s wife. Though her ex was no longer the preacher or even in Normal, Betts kept an active role there and really enjoyed working with the youth. She did work with the prisoners in one of Kentucky’s state prisons. After a twist of events, she changed her ministry focus to the youth program. She’d been really good at it too.

  “What is going on?” I was so confused.

  “They confirmed Mason died from his fall, and Dirk died of a heart attack. Hank said he’d interviewed other hikers, meaning us, along with local Ritchie Stinnett. Ritchie said he saw Sue Ann and Dirk talking at his campsite during the time it was confirmed Mason had died. He said he overheard Dirk tell Sue Ann something about Mason trying to find the treasure at the Furnace when she told him Mason cleared her team to go there. Dirk and Sue Ann took off on the trail to find him,” Agnes said.

  “That’s why Sue Ann was there. And I found Dirk at the mouth of the cave. He said Mason was in there, but I told him he wasn’t.” I was glad the initial reports came back that the deaths were from natural causes because Normal didn’t need any more murders.

  I opened my bag and took out a paper, putting it on the coffee table.

  “Here is the map Sue Ann supposedly took from Mason. It was her own map that he didn’t want to give her. She broke up with him. So now that we know Hank has apparently cleared her as a suspect, then we can too.”

  Abby leaned over and took the paper from the table. “What is this?” she asked and turned it around.

  “Sorry. Wrong paper.” I dug back in my bag and took out the map.

  Agnes picked it up and looked at it. “I’ll take it with me and make us copies at work.” Agnes made a good suggestion, since I guessed we were all treasure hunters together. “Speaking of work. I’ve got to hit it.” She folded up the paper and said her goodbyes.

  “What was that other paper?” Abby asked once we settled back into our little group and enjoyed our coffee.

  “I might just become a ginseng harvester. I saw that on Gert’s corkboard. I had no idea it was a big deal around here.” I gave Abby the flyer I’d taken from the Trails Coffee Shop corkboard.

  “It’s a huge deal. You wouldn’t believe how strict they are on the whole thing. If you can get a license to harvest, I’d love to be an employee and work for you.” Betts made it clear by her statement how difficult it must be to get that license.

  I’ve never been deterred by hard work.

  “Anyways, do you have the notebook?” I asked Abby about the notebook I generally kept in my camper, which was still stuck at the campsite, where we always wrote down different ideas and clues about the other murders and crimes that we’d decided to investigate.

  On our own, of course.

  “Yep.” She reached down and pulled it from her purse. “You can put it back in your campervan.”

  I took it from her and put it in my bag along with the map Sue Ann had given me.

  “Maybe when Sue Ann and her crew leave, we can use her map to look for the treasure.” I wiggled my brows, still very interested in finding the treasure.

  “Do you think Mary Elizabeth will be up for it?” Queenie laughed. “She sure did not understand how we didn’t have electric.”

  Abby and Queenie spoke over each other, telling Betts how uncomfortable Mary Elizabeth had been when she realized it was primitive camping.

  “Mary Elizabeth.” My phone rang. “Speak of the devil.” I showed the three of them the screen of my phone with Mary Elizabeth’s name scrolling across. “I hope you got some good sleep last night,” I answered the phone.

  “Listen to me. The police said I can come get my pearls.” She talked about how she wanted them back and attached around her neck as soon as she could.

  She yammered on about how she felt naked without them while a text from Hank came through saying my campervan had been released, and he’d take me to the campsite to pick it up.

  “I’m heading to the station to get a ride to the campsite now that Hank has cleared the deaths as due to natural causes and released the campsite.” Inwardly, I groaned, wondering if they had used fingerprint powder all over my home and how much time I would have to spend cleaning it up.

  “You don’t mind?” Her southern voice dripped through the phone. “I’d be ever so grateful. We are so busy here, and I don’t want to leave Dawn alone again.”

  “No problem, as long as you have me over for supper.” My hint wasn’t so subtle, but I knew if I had to clean my campervan, the last thing I wanted to do was to cook supper.

  “Supper it is. And you can invite your cute boyfriend too.” Mary Elizabeth giggled and hung up the phone.

  “Since we don’t have any murders to investigate, I guess I’ll be heading over to the station and have Hank drive me to get my campervan.” I gathered all my things and made sure everything was in my bag.

  “I guess I can go to the library and cut my vacation off short.” Abby grabbed her phone. “Hashtag hikers beware of dangers even if you are experienced. Hashtag even experts die.” She continued to ramble on as she typed on her social media about the press conference Hank had given and the findings.

  “I’m going to head on over to the Normal Baptist Church undercroft to teach.” Queenie adjusted her leg warmers before she stood up. “I had a student teaching today, but since I won’t be wearing my sleuthing headband, I might’s well get my sweat on.”

  “What about you?” I asked Betts.

  “I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on and get some activities ready for youth group tonight.” She sighed. “I am relieved everything is all good and no murderers on the loose.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed and headed back to the door. “Me too!”

  SEVENTEEN

  The police station was a little bit outside downtown in the business district. The white courthouse was the tallest building and right in the middle. The police station was attached to the courthouse. The line of police cars was parked on the side like always.

  I headed through the door, and instead of the quiet I normally heard when I visited, there was a lot of chattering and moving around in the entrance, where there was another door that actually led into the police station. Agnes was sitting on her perch behind the sliding glass window with her head down.

  “Can I help you?”

  The nameplate on the other side of the glass had Agnes engraved across the brass plate, and I ran my finger across it.

  “I said, can I help you?” She finally looked up at me. “Mae, get on in here.” She waved me to the door, where I heard it buzz to unlock. “I haven’t had time to make copies of the map for our group.”

  “No problem. It’s busy in here this morning,” I said to her and looked around.

  “They’ve been working on a big case and pulling all sorts of hikers and campers in here to question.” She smacked her hands together and got off her stool, giving me a hug. “I hear you get your home back.”

  “I do. Where is Hank?” I asked.

  “Oh dear.” There was a worried look on her face. “He did mention something about you coming here when I first walked in, but I forgot what he told me to tell you. I was so busy getting so
me warrants ready to send over to the judge, then the mayor called all up in arms wanting to talk to Jerry, that I plumb didn’t listen to a word that boy told me to tell you.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll just go look for him.” It wasn’t something I was used to with Hank. He’d tell me one thing, then get dragged elsewhere by work.

  “He ain’t here. He had to go out on the investigation he’s been working on.” She frowned. “Can I help you?”

  “He was going to take me to get my van.” Not that I expected Agnes to do anything, but I did want my house back.

  She looked up at the clock and back at me.

  “Listen, it’s only eleven, but I was taking lunch anyways because Precious is at the Smelly Dog, getting a cut. I was going to go get her and take her home because I just hate having her stay there all day long. It just frightens her so much.” Agnes referred to one of Fifi’s puppies, which she’d had with Roscoe the bulldog. “You know I can’t turn down those free haircuts.”

  Ethel Biddle, owner of the Smelly Dog Groomer, and Roscoe had felt so bad about Roscoe taking away Fifi’s pristine accreditation that she offered Fifi and Roscoe’s offspring free grooming for life. Hank had given one of the puppies to Agnes, and Precious was much loved.

  “If you don’t mind me running her home, I can drive you out to the campsite. I’m not sure what you’d do with your car here, but at least you’d have your home back.” She made a great point and one I didn’t want to refuse.

  “Perfect. When can you leave?” I asked. There was no sense in dilly-dallying around all day when I could be at the campground with Dottie so we could get the rentals ready for the next group of guests.

  “I can go now and be back by one.” She reached up to the window and clicked the lock, grabbed her little pocketbook, and gestured for us to go out the back door.