Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3)

by Karen Musser Nortman

  “We got the call about 9:55,” Sorenson said.

  “And you think they were definitely killed by someone else?” Frannie said.

  “There had to have been someone else involved,” Sorenson said.

  “Could they have left by the river?” Rob asked.

  “It’s possible but seems unlikely. At least if it was a premeditated murder. The murderer would have had to come by canoe, and it would be pretty hard to time their arrival. Maybe a spontaneous thing; the fact that they were killed by different methods points to that…like a robbery gone bad. We didn’t find a purse or wallet on either of them.” She shifted in her chair.

  “What about that backpack? Anything in there?” Frannie asked.

  Sorenson shook her head. “No ID. Now tell me how you met these women.”

  They took turns filling the sheriff in on their observations of the twins on the path and the incident in the pie shop. Frannie described her first conversation with Valerie on the road and later in the camper.

  “Then last night,” Larry said, “we visited with them for a while and they said they had taken some photos of animals and wildflowers over by the river, but also of that derelict trailer that sits next to the campground property. They thought it was ‘interesting,’ but I have to wonder if it isn’t a meth lab or something.”

  Mary Sorenson nodded. “We’ve suspected that place for a month or more but haven’t been able to catch them at anything. Did you see either of the women this morning?”

  “I did,” Frannie said. “One of them left in their truck about 8:30. She had a camera bag with her.”

  “Only one?” Mary Sorenson thought a moment. “She must have come back to get her sister?”

  Frannie shook her head. “I don’t see how she could have. We would have met her—there’s only one way out of the campground, and from here to the nature center without going miles out of your way. Given the time frame, we think the other twin must have hiked the trail to the power plant.”

  Mary Sorenson frowned. “Why do you suppose they would have gone separately if they were going the same place? You didn’t talk to either of them this morning?”

  “No. We wondered the same thing. Maybe one of them wanted to hike and the other didn’t.”

  “Could be something that simple, I suppose.”

  “Did you find a camera bag?” Frannie asked.

  The sheriff shook her head. “Not in the power plant or in their truck.” She stood. “Mary Louise said their camper is across from you?”

  Donna pointed out the unique vehicle. “Over there next to ours.”

  The sheriff pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. “These were in the backpack. I’m hoping one of them opens the trailer.”

  Larry pointed to one on the ring. “Probably that one.”

  Sorenson thanked them and headed across the road.

  “I wanted to see inside that thing,” Donna said. “I hoped the twins would give us a tour today.”

  Rob frowned. “Not going to happen, honey.”

  “Well, I know that now. I just meant…”

  “I know…just pulling your chain.”

  The sheriff gained entrance and a few minutes later, appeared back in the road.

  “Ms. Shoemaker?”

  “Yes?” Frannie got up and walked toward her.

  “There are a couple of purses in the trailer. Would you take a look and see if you recognize them?”

  “Sure.” Frannie followed her back to the camper. “But I don’t think we ever saw either of them with a purse.” She gloated a little knowing Donna was sitting back there stewing because Frannie was going to get inside.

  The interior of the little trailer was very streamlined and modern—kind of minimalist. Plain white cabinets in the tiny kitchen area were bracketed with natural wood. The ends were filled with bunk beds in the back and a built-in dinette in the front, all brightly lit by a large skylight. No clutter marred the interior, except for two matching tapestry bags sitting on the table.

  “Is that where you found them?” Frannie asked the sheriff.

  “No, one was in the storage under the dinette bench and the other in a bin of clothes under the bunk bed. I take it you haven’t seen them before?”

  Frannie shook her head. “When we saw them on the trail, they had matching fanny packs on. Then later when we talked to them, they weren’t carrying anything.”

  “Hmmm. Fanny packs. I didn’t find billfolds or any ID in the purses. Maybe they’re in the fanny packs.” She started opening cabinets and drawers. From an overhead cabinet near the door, she pulled two black fanny packs. Unzipping them, she pulled a billfold out of each, nodded, and replaced them.

  “This is what we were looking for. I’ll take them and the purses with me. Thanks for your help.”

  Frannie took the hint and headed out the door, followed by the sheriff. Sorenson relocked the door and, as they walk back to the campsite, questioned Frannie about her hometown and camping experiences. Frannie left out the parts about the previous murders and abduction.

  As she approached her car, Mary Sorenson asked, “Do you know this Richard’s last name?”

  “No,—Valerie never said.”

  “But he’s in a small blue pickup camper over near the office?”

  “Yes,” Frannie said. “It’ll be on your left shortly before you get to the office.”

  “Mary Louise will be able to give me that info then. Thanks for all your help.” The sheriff shook Frannie’s hand, got back in her cruiser, and left.

  When Frannie returned to her group, they were deep in the throes of a discussion planning their afternoon.

  “I saw she found their purses,” Donna said. “What’s the trailer like?”

  “Yeah, the purses and their fanny packs. The camper is really cool—kind of Scandinavian looking. Clean lines, light colors.”

  “I found the company on the internet,” Mickey said. “They are neat.”

  “We’re talking about what to do this afternoon,” Larry said. “Ben and Nancy want to go back to the nature center and try the high ropes course.”

  “Um—that would be a ‘no’ for me.” Frannie plopped in her chair.

  “Me either,” Donna said. “I think Rob’s going to take me back into Burdensville to check out more shops. Want to come?” Rob did not look overly excited about the prospect.

  “I don’t know…What are you guys doing, Jane Ann?”

  “We’re thinking about a canoe float,” Jane Ann offered. “There’s a two hour one at 1:00—they run a shuttle from here.”

  “That’s a nice float. Larry and I did it several years ago when we were here by ourselves.”

  “Interested in doing it again?” Larry asked her.

  “Sure,” Frannie said. No way she was going to do the high ropes course and a lazy afternoon drifting down the river beat following Donna, an Olympic shopping contender, from store to store hands down.

  Rob looked at his wife. “Sure you don’t want to do the float? Save the shopping for a later day?”

  Donna pouted. “Quite a few of them aren’t open on Mondays. And tomorrow we were going to take the bikes out to Wheat Valley and do that part of the trail.”

  “No problem.” Rob was used to catering. “We’ll do the float another time.”

  That settled, Mickey and Larry biked up to the office to reserve canoes for the 1:00 float, while the others got lunch fixings out. When Mickey and Larry returned, they reported that the sheriff’s car was still at Richard’s campsite.

  Chapter Seven

  Early Saturday Afternoon

  After lunch, Frannie changed into shorts and a loose shirt, and gathered sunscreen, a visor, and some granola bars. Larry stocked a small cooler with water bottles and a couple of beers. When they arrived at the office, several other couples and two families were already gathered around two disreputable-looking stretch vans. One pulled a trailer stacked with eight canoes.

  Mary Louise and a gangly college-aged
boy came out of the office.

  “Good afternoon, folks!” she boomed. “This is my nephew, Justin. We’ll be taking you up to a little put-in north of here and on the other side of the river. Has everyone canoed before?” They all nodded and she continued.

  “The float will take about two hours, depending on how often you stop. When you get back down here, you’ll see warning signs along the river that you are approaching the take-out, and a big yellow sign right by the take-out. It’s an easy landing—just pull your canoes up so others can get in and we’ll take care of ‘em.”

  While she spoke, Frannie scanned the rest of the group and realized with a shock that one of the other couples was Richard with a tall, dark-haired woman. He must know about Valerie; Larry had said that the sheriff’s car was at Richard’s camper when he and Mickey went up to make the reservations. Obviously, he wasn’t devastated by her death. Maybe the woman was a relative or just a casual acquaintance but it still seemed odd. He didn’t seem to recognize Frannie.

  Mary Louise invited the group to board the vans. The Shoemakers and Ferraros climbed into the first one along with a younger couple and two boys, who looked to be about seven and ten. Richard and his companion got into the second van.

  Mary Louise pulled herself up into the driver’s seat and looked over at Mickey in the front passenger seat with a grin.

  “You’re a brave man.”

  Mickey was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, and then said, “You have a driver’s license, right?”

  Mary Louise let loose a guffaw. “Of course! Ever since Wednesday. That’s why I’m having Justin pull the trailer.”

  Mickey grinned back, assuming—hoping—she was joking. Jane Ann leaned forward and said to Mary Louise, “Good one! He deserves that.”

  Soon they were on the road headed toward Burdensville, but crossed the river on an old bridge before they reached the town. Mary Louise seemed to have a couple of frustrated race car driver genes in her. Frannie could tell from Mickey’s posture that he wasn’t completely relaxed and smiled at his discomfort.

  The caravan followed a gravel road north away from the river, climbing up into hills that framed the beautiful valley. The van rocked on the rough road, and the road noise made normal conversation difficult, although the two boys in back kept up a steady chatter about who was going to do what to whom once they were in the canoes. Mary Louise slowed the van and made a sharp turn down a dirt track. Frannie hoped that Justin, pulling the trailer, drove with a little more caution

  Where they had occasionally passed farms and fields on the gravel, now overgrown, wild trees and shrubs encroached on the dirt road, threatening to return it to wilderness at any moment. After a winding descent back toward the river, Mary Louise stopped, put the van in park, and disembarked to open a large farm gate. She left it ajar and returned to the driver’s seat, edging the vehicle forward along an even narrower track. Finally they reached an area that had been cleared out for a spacious turnaround.

  Mary Louise braked the van, trumpeting “We’re here! All out!”

  They scrambled out, retrieving their coolers and other paraphernalia. Some of the younger members of the group helped Justin and Mary Louise lift the battered aluminum canoes off the rack and line them up near a path leading down toward a small creek.

  Mary Louise explained the put-in. “This creek leads into the Burden about two hundred yards downstream. You might have to portage a little before you get to the river, but I think the water is high enough that if you get out, you should be able to float the canoes through. Just don’t let go of that rope tied to the bow.” Her laughter pealed merrily as she pointed to said rope on the nearest canoe. Justin stood by nodding his head, underlining her instructions.

  They launched the families first, kids paddling crazily and switching sides with their paddles, scooping copious amounts of water into the canoes in the process.

  Larry motioned to the other couples to go ahead. “At our ages, it won’t be a fast launch,” he said. Frannie noticed that Richard’s manner toward his companion as he helped her into the canoe was probably not appropriate if she was a sister or friend. Richard gently put the paddle in her hands, speaking quiet, reassuring words. The woman appeared cautious and somewhat reluctant as she got in. Apparently, Valerie was not the only love of his life.

  The last two canoes were dropped in for the Ferraros and the Shoemakers. Cement blocks had been embedded in the steep hillside to serve as steps. Jane Ann gingerly stepped into the bow of the first canoe while Justin and Mickey steadied it. Mickey got in the stern and picked up his paddle, pushing away from the bank.

  Justin pulled the last canoe up to the little landing while Frannie and Larry threw their soft-sided cooler and visors in. Larry turned to ask Justin about the portage as Frannie placed her right foot in the center of the bow and leaned forward to grab the gunwales with each hand. Too late, she realized that the canoe did not sink in the water with her weight but instead sat on something solid. She pulled back as it tilted sideways toward the water. Her left foot slipped off the edge of a cement block, the canoe skidded out into the creek, and, arms flailing, she landed in the water up to her neck. The corner of one of the cement blocks gouged the right side of her back just above her waist.

  She half sat, half lay in the shallow water as Justin and Larry both reached for her, firing questions the whole time.

  “How did you do that?” her husband asked in disbelief.

  “Are you okay?” Justin’s voice was filled with concern, and behind him she could hear Mary Louise: “Oh, my!” For once there were no guffaws or peals of laughter.

  With their help, she stood, sharp pain shooting through her side. At first, she couldn’t seem to get her breath and ignored their questions. After a few moments she straightened up—well, mostly— and shook her head in response to whatever questions they were bombarding her with. She lifted the back of her shirt for Larry and Mary Louise to examine.

  “No bleeding,” Larry said. “You didn’t break the skin. You’re going to have a hell of a bruise, though, and be really sore.”

  Justin began apologizing. At his age, he probably thought he had just done in one of his grandmother’s generation. “I’m really sorry—the keel must have been balanced on a rock underwater. I’m sorry….” He glanced helplessly at Mary Louise.

  Frannie shook her head again. “I’m okay…my fault, too big a hurry…”

  “We’ll take you back to the campground and to the ER if you want,” Mary Louise had regained her composure,

  “No, really, I still want to go.” She looked down the creek; Jane Ann and Mickey had already disappeared around a bend. There would be no way to tell them what had happened if they didn’t go. “I’ll be fine.” She gave them all a weak smile and looked back at the canoe. Their little cooler, the lifejackets, and the visors floated in a couple inches of water.

  “I’ll dump it out,” Justin said. Poor kid. He was ready to do anything to make amends.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she insisted. “I’ve canoed for years, Justin. I know better than to step into a boat without checking first.” He had pulled out the floating paraphernalia and lifted the side of the canoe to dump the water. He righted the canoe, relatively water free, and she carefully got into the bow seat while gritting her teeth at the stabs of pain. This time she made sure the craft was floating and that someone was steadying it. She asked Larry to prop the folded life jacket between her seat and the strut, giving her a sort of a back rest.

  As they pushed off, Larry said, “Mickey and Jane Ann will think we fell in. Oh, wait, one of us did.” He paused and then said, “That was mean, wasn’t it? I’m sorry—sure you’re going to be okay?”

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I deserve it. I should know better and, yes, I’ll be okay. I’m just a little worried about that portage he mentioned.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” They glided along with minimum paddling through a green t
unnel of overhanging trees. Frannie found that if she held herself quite erect and avoided twisting in either direction, it minimized the pain.

  They rounded the bend in the creek and ahead lay a jut of sand and scraggly grasses covering most of the creek bed. The water coursed around to the right through a very rocky, narrow shoot. The stream moved fast, but was not deep enough to create a little riffle that they could easily ride through. So they would need to walk it through, using the rope. Jane Ann and Mickey stood at the downstream side of the spit, only about fifty feet away. Jane Ann held their canoe in place with the bow rope while they watched for Frannie and Larry to catch up.

  Mickey hurried back to help pull their canoe up enough that they could get out. He held out a hand to Frannie.

  “C’mon, old lady!” He was two months younger than Frannie and never passed up a chance to point it out.

  This time she didn’t argue with him. “Older than usual.” She took his hand and let out a groan as he heaved her up out of the low seat.

  “Frannie decided the usual boarding procedure was too dull and did a cartwheel to get into the canoe.” Larry said, one foot out in the water to hold the canoe steady.

  “Frannie, what happened?” Jane Ann called from her end of the spit.

  “I’ll leave the canoe to you guys. I can’t do all of the work,” Frannie told Larry and Mickey, and trudged through the scrubby grass toward Jane Ann. While Larry guided the canoe along the bank, Frannie filled Jane Ann in on her tumble. Jane Ann, a retired nurse, examined her bruise.

  “Nasty scrape,” she said. “Maybe you broke a rib.”

  Frannie looked at her in alarm. “I hope not! What do they do for that?”

  “Nothing they can do. Painkillers. Can you take a deep breath?”

  Frannie made the effort and the look of anguish on her face alarmed Jane Ann.

  “I think when we get back, Larry should take you to the emergency room. Why did you even come on the float?”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” Frannie said. “Besides, there was no way to let you guys know what happened to us.” She gave her sister-in-law a tentative smile.