by B. T. Lord
“Dear God,” Rick whispered behind her.
The sheriff got up from her chair and approached Cora.
“Please sit down,” she said. “Can we get you some coffee?”
“What you can get me is an arrest warrant for that damned pervert. This morning, I went into the living room to do my daily air bath and there he was, peering through my slider again.”
“Air bath?” Cammie asked, not knowing if she really wanted to hear the answer.
She didn’t.
“Yeah. I sit naked every day in front of an open door or window and let the air cleanse my pores. Ben Franklin himself used to do it and look how old he got to be. If it’s good enough for one of our Founding Fathers, it’s good enough for me.” From somewhere behind her, Cammie heard the sounds of retching. Thankfully Cora, who was partially deaf, didn’t. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know I’m a hot catch. And I know I’m worth a drive out to my trailer. But my air baths are important to me and I don’t like having them interrupted, especially by him. That’s the third time this month I’ve caught him peeping through my glass door.”
“Rick and I will get on it right away.”
Cora pointed a bony finger at her. “You better, or I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
“Cora, you know that’s not a good idea.”
“Like hell it isn’t. I’m trying the conventional method by coming down here and filing a formal complaint. After all, my taxes help pay your salary. But if you can’t do anything about this, I’ll have to resort to unconventional methods which include me putting a spell on him that will make his ankles swell up to the size of a watermelon. Then we’ll see how well he gets around trying to peek into decent women’s windows!”
Cammie accompanied Cora to the front door of HQ. When she returned to her office, she saw Rick slumped in her chair, his face slightly green.
“Are you alright?”
He shook his head. “Just the thought of that woman naked…” He clapped his hand over his mouth in an effort not to vomit.
“Looks like Steeper the Peeper is at it again.”
“I thought we convinced him to cut it out the last time we caught him peering into Cora’s back door.” He shook his head to himself. “We’ve obviously got a bigger problem here than just a peeping Tom.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s definitely lost a couple of screws. Hell, he’s lost his entire supply of mental screws. I mean, if you’re going to peek into a woman’s window, there are plenty of hot women in town he could pick. But he only looks through the window or sliders of women over seventy-five. And he seems to have a thing for Cora. I mean, driving twenty minutes out of your way to see her standing there, 89 years’ worth of nakedness…” He shuddered. “God, I think I’m going to be sick again.”
“Pull yourself together and stop being so sexist. An 89 year old woman’s body is just as beautiful as a 20 year old’s.” He stared at her in disbelief. “Okay, maybe not so taut. Or wrinkle free.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Oh never mind. Let’s go pay a visit to Steeper the Peeper and make it clear this time we’re not fooling around.”
Reginald Steepman lived in a small house at the end of a cluster of homes that were situated on the other side of Main Street. For as far back as Cammie could remember, he’d never been called Reginald, or Reggie or Steepman. It had always been Steeper the Peeper. And for good reason. On warm summer evenings or early mornings, he had a habit of peering into elderly women’s windows. It was never done stealthily, nor did he show any remorse when he was caught. Which he always was. Instead, he would smile and wave at them. As though what he was doing was perfectly natural, like saying good-morning when you went to pick up your mail at the Emporium. In all the years he’d been peeping, he’d never harmed or touched anyone. After waving hello, he always turned and left, his jollies sufficiently satisfied for the day.
However harmless he may have been, Cammie could understand why Cora was upset, being naked in her living room notwithstanding. She too would feel creeped out if she looked out her window and saw a small, pockmarked man with elephant ears and a sappy grin on his face waving back at her.
She and Rick had tried many times to convince him to stop his odd hobby. And each time he swore he would, insisting he wasn’t doing it to scare anyone. He was just ‘checking to make sure these ladies who lived alone were okay.’
This time though, Cammie’s patience was at an end.
The two drove the short distance to Steeper the Peeper’s small ranch which was at the end of a dirt road, beyond which lay a patch of woods. His car was under the slightly moldy carport and it looked as though he’d just finished washing it.
“Looks like he’s got to keep a clean machine to call on the ladies with,” Rick said as they climbed out of the Explorer.
“Now you’re going to make me vomit.”
They rang the doorbell but getting no answer, they walked around to the back of the yard that faced out to the forest.
“Oh Jeez!” Rick exclaimed as both he and Cammie stopped short. There, in front of the small back porch was a lounge chair. Lying out on the chair was a very naked Steepman.
“Welcome Sheriff! Deputy!” he said, waving at them.
“Cripes, his ears are bigger than his--” Rick started to say.
“For God’s sakes, Steepman, cover yourself up,” Cammie reprimanded.
“Why should I? I’m taking a page out of Cora’s book and having myself an air bath. I gotta say, I’m really liking it.”
“I’m sure you are. But I don’t need to be subjected to your – er – shortcomings.”
“You’re on my property. I’ve got every right to sit out here naked as a jay bird if I want to.”
“That may be true. But you have absolutely no right to peek into women’s windows and sliders. I thought you promised me the last time we went through this that you’d stop doing that.”
The scrawny man shrugged. “It’s not like I didn’t try to stop.”
“Dude, you’re scaring these ladies,” Rick piped up.
“That was never my intention.”
“This is the very last warning we give you,” Cammie replied. “We hear about you peering into one more window, door, cranny, slit, or crack and we arrest you.”
“On what charges?”
“On whatever charge is necessary to make you stop once and for all. Do I make myself clear?”
“That’s police brutality!” he whined. Seeing the look on Cammie’s face, he waved his hand at her. “Okay, okay. No more peeking.”
“I mean it, Steepman. I don’t even want to hear about you stepping onto anyone’s property except your own.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Sheriff.”
The two officers turned away and were walking back to the Explorer when he called out, “You gotta try this air bath. Feeling the breeze on my body just gives me tingles all over. Oooooh, aaaaahhhhh.”
Rick replied by retching again.
By the time they got back to the office, Rick’s color was back to normal, though he was in an uncharacteristically foul mood.
“What’s wrong with you?” Cammie asked when he cursed under his breath after banging his finger against the door.
“I’ve got two images in my mind that won’t go away. One is Cora naked and the other is Steeper the Peeper naked. I’m telling you, if my sex life suffers because I can’t get those pictures out of my head while I’m doing the one step-two step, I’m going to personally go over there and shoot them both.”
Cammie started to laugh, only to stop when she wondered if, next time she and Jace made love, she’d also be tortured by mental images of those two people naked.
Pushing the distressing thought out of her mind, she perched herself on the corner of Emmy’s desk. “How the missing person search going?” she asked.
“Terrible. I’m just not finding anything in the time period you gave me. I even went back a year or two, but nothing matches what we know so f
ar. Which really isn’t a lot to begin with.”
“We’ve got enough woods around us that anybody from anywhere could have come in and dumped the body. You have to admit, they picked the perfect place. Except for Bill choosing it as the site for his new hotel, you’d never have a reason to go out that far from town. There’s also the possibility he was never reported missing in the first place.”
“It’s kinda sad thinking this poor man has been out there for so long and no one knowing or caring he was there,” Emmy spoke up.
“Doc should be finishing up his examination of the bones. Once he’s done, we should have more information you can use in your search. He’s also sending the skull off to a forensic sculptor. Hopefully they’ll come up with a likeness that someone will recognize.” She hopped off the desk and was about to return to her office when she saw the frown on Rick’s face. He was seated at his own desk across from Emmy’s and he looked deep in thought.
“You look like you’ve just discovered there are no more women in Clarke County for you to date,” Cammie joked.
He ignored her remark. Instead, he said, “You know, it just occurred to me where the body was found. I knew there was something about the location, but I didn’t realize what it was until now.”
“It was found near the west foot of Crow Mountain. According to Bill’s plans, he’s going to carve out cross country and hiking trails all throughout the area.”
“I know that. But it’s also a place that’s haunted.”
“Don’t tell me that’s another rumor,” Cammie groaned.
“Actually, this rumor is true. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it growing up.”
“There are tons of legends about these woods,” she responded. “I can’t keep track of them all.”
“Well, according to my Gran, that particular spot is haunted by the spirit of a Native American maiden. There’s a special tree out there that has some kind of power. It’s like a bazillion years old and it’s called the Grandfather Tree. My people have been honoring it for generations. They’re always leaving all sorts of offerings. Anyway, this maiden and her lover used to meet under that tree on the night of a full moon to do the horizontal. Unfortunately, another warrior took a liking to her and got jealous when she spurned him. One night, while she was waiting for her boyfriend, the spurned warrior showed up. When she turned him down again, he murdered her by taking his hatchet and parking it in the middle of her forehead. Ever since, any man who walks there on the night of a full moon will see this beautiful girl standing near the Grandfather Tree. If he allows himself to be taken in by her beauty, or worse, if he touches her or tries to kiss her, she sucks his soul right out of his body, leaving only an empty shell to rot away.” Rick looked at Cammie, the unease visible in his eyes. “What if that’s what happened to that dude? What if he went walking out there one night, came across this lovely lady and had his soul sucked out?”
CHAPTER THREE
That night, Cammie and her boyfriend Jace Northcott decided to stop off at Zee’s to grab a bite to eat before they headed off to Doc’s cabin where they were staying while Cammie’s own cabin was undergoing renovations.
Bruce Zevon, a dead ringer for Santa Claus, was the proud proprietor of Zee’s, the hub of Twin Ponds. It was well known throughout town that if Zee hadn’t heard about an incident occurring, it didn’t happen.
Zee and Cammie shared a close friendship because, despite his talent of knowing everything that went on in Clarke County, he was circumspect when it came to his friends’ private lives. There were aspects to Cammie’s past that deserved to remain hidden and Zee was very good about keeping them buried.
Now that it was summer, the large stone fireplace no longer roared, but the feeling of belonging, of friendliness and companionship still filled the restaurant/bar.
Cammie and Jace were seated in their usual booth at the back of the establishment near the bar where Zee busied himself making drinks and preparing his fabulous meals. They’d just finished eating the Farnsworth Burger, named in honor of Cammie after she’d recently solved a particularly difficult case. It consisted of a pound of angus beef, slathered with mozzarella cheese, sweet red peppers, and basil leaves. Along with a helping of sweet potato fries, Cammie felt as though her uniform would burst. She sat back with a satisfied burp.
“That was excellent,” she sighed.
“Does it taste twice as good because it’s named after you?” Jace teased.
Jace Northcott was the captain of the Night Hawks, as well as the town’s mechanic extraordinaire. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix or put back together, resulting in long lines at the garage where he worked. He and Cammie had come back together after a short breakup, a casualty of the murder investigation into Eli Kelley’s death. Having weathered the storm that almost destroyed their relationship, they were now consciously working on making it stronger.
With his dark brown hair and midnight blue eyes, Jace had a way of making people feel safe around him. He had the rare gift of genuinely listening when people spoke. These two traits, along with his unabashed love for Cammie, made her realize that despite their recent troubles, she was happy to have him in her life. He gave her a sense of peace and calm that, much like her father’s cabin, she hadn’t realized was missing from her life until it was selflessly offered to her.
Cammie laughed at his teasing. “You know, it probably does.”
“How did your day go?”
She shared the events, including stumbling upon a naked Steepman. Jace laughed uproariously at the image she conjured up. “You deserve major psychiatric counseling after that,” he quipped. “Though you know, the idea of an air bath does sound pretty sexy. What do you say we try it out tonight?”
“I’m sure Doc would give up his financial fortune just to see you naked.”
“God, you’re right. Okay, we’ll save it for when we move back to the cabin.”
She then shared Rick’s legend about the meadow.
“Have you ever heard that story before?” she asked.
Jace thought about it for a moment. “In the version I heard, it’s not an Indian maiden who lurks out there. It’s the ghost of a logger who was murdered over some money he owed. His ghost is supposed to roam that part of the woods with an ax in his hand, looking for anyone crazy enough to walk around there alone at night.”
At that moment Zee came up to their table. “Can I interest you in some bread pudding I just made this afternoon?”
Cammie puffed out her cheeks. “I’d love to, but I’m ready to explode as it is.”
“Having the Farnsworth Burger three times in one week will do that to you. Not that I’m complaining about your business. Or your excellent taste in burgers,” he added. He started to turn away when she called him back.
“What do you know about the meadow where the skeleton was found? Rick says it’s haunted by a soul sucking Native American girl while Jace just told me it’s haunted by an ax wielding logger looking for victims.”
“Really? Makes for a good tale to scare the crap out of someone around a campfire, but it’s not true.”
“Oh good,” Cammie replied, relieved they were just stories.
“No ghosts or pseudo-vampires, I’m afraid. Just pukwudgies.”
“Puk – what?” she asked.
“The Abenaki call them bokwjimen. They’re little forest spirits that cause all kinds of problems if you disrespect them. They’ve been known to attack people and lure them to their death.” Zee shook his head to himself. “They’re bad news. It’s best to avoid them at all costs.”
Cammie raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me they exist?”
He shrugged. “They’re in several Native American legends, so there’s probably some truth to them. They’re about 3 feet tall with grey skin that sometimes glows.”
“That sounds like an alien to me,” Jace grinned.
“There’s a lot that goes on in those deep woods. No sense stirring the pot if you don�
��t need to. You sure you don’t want to try some of my bread pudding?”
Cammie shook her head and Zee took off to tend to another table. She looked at Jace in astonishment. “That’s the last thing I would have expected to hear from Zee. He’s probably the most practical man I’ve ever met.”
Her companion shrugged. “He’s right though. All these legends started somewhere.”
“Don’t tell me you believe these little pukwudgies exist?”
“I don’t know because I’ve never seen one. I’ve never seen a meteor either, but I know they exist.”
Cammie opened her wallet and took out a few bills. “This dinner is on me because I’m going to ask you to do something with me tonight.”
“If it involves massage oil and candles, I’m in.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to take a raincheck.” She stood up. “Tonight just happens to be a full moon. Which means you and I are going Native American princess/ax wielding logger and pukwudgie hunting.”
Jace’s eyes widened slightly. “Great,” he mumbled under his breath.
The moon cast long shadows on the roped off field as Cammie and Jace slowly walked along, the light from their flashlights bobbing in front of them.
“Rick said there’s some sort of special tree the Indian Maiden hangs around. I wonder where it is,” she said as she peered into the gloominess.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
“Aren’t you curious to see if these legends are true?”
“No.”
“Coward,” she teased.
“Zee isn’t the only one who’s practical. If there really is an Indian maiden, crazy ass logger or a three foot alien running around out here, I say all power to them. They don’t cross my path, I don’t cross theirs.”
Cammie shone the flashlight around. “Well, I for one am interested in seeing if there really is something out here.”
“Of course there’s something out here.” She turned and looked at him. “They’re called coyotes, bears, bobcats, snakes and all sorts of insects big enough to suck you dry.”
