“Oh, for heavens sakes! What if you had drowned? Would Larry have just thrown your body in the canoe so he could catch up and tell us what happened?”
Now Frannie gave her a full grin. “Probably.”
Larry had gotten their canoe next to the Ferraros and held it parallel to the bank so that Frannie could get back in. After several Keystone Cops turns and a couple of gentle collisions, the two canoes were headed downstream. Frannie slowly leaned back on the makeshift backrest and tried to take a deep breath. Now the pain seemed worse. Fortunately, the current was such that she only needed to use her paddle occasionally to steer. And the pleasantly warm temperature made her wet clothes act as a cheap air conditioner.
The Ferraros pulled alongside and Jane Ann handed her an apple bar, one of their traditional canoeing treats, from a small plastic container.
“That should help,” she said, and Frannie nodded happily, her mouth full.
Other than the pain, the float was very relaxing. The creek soon joined the Burden River and the waterway widened out, smooth as glass in some areas and gentle riffles in others. It headed generally southeast and would eventually join the Mississippi. They spotted a variety of birds along the banks, including a solitary white egret, and saw an occasional beaver, as well as a young fawn, drinking along the edge. She was so young, she didn’t know to be frightened, and watched them as if perplexed by these odd human pastimes.
Frannie asked Larry for a water bottle out of the cooler, which he passed on the flat of his paddle across to Jane Ann, who handed it to Frannie so she wouldn’t have to turn around. She moved as little as possible, hoping the beautiful surroundings would take her mind off what felt like a vice on her side. But, before long, the constriction prompted her to plead for a respite at the next sandbar.
“About time!” Mickey spouted. “No way I could ask for a break before you did.”
Larry gently helped her out of the canoe. “It’s hurting worse, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “A little.”
“A lot, I think. We’ll go to the ER when we get back—no argument.”
Jane Ann spread a disreputable old beach towel on the sand, the faded images of Donald Duck and family barely discernible. “Would it help to lay down?”
Frannie sighed. She hated giving in or being pampered but a short rest did sound good. “I think so.”
“Maybe if you can get down on your hands and knees first…? I don’t think we can lower you without hurting you worse,” Jane Ann said. Frannie did as she was told and soon stared up at the amazingly blue sky above, the warm sand forming to and supporting her back an added bonus.
Larry opened a tub of party mix and passed it around. Frannie declined, thinking she didn’t need to add choking to her ailments.
“Now, tell us how this happened,” Mickey said. “Every gory detail.” Larry obliged, too willingly, Frannie thought, complete with actions.
After about ten minutes, Frannie felt her back had relaxed enough that she requested help getting up. Larry assured her that they didn’t want to hurry her, but on the other hand, the sooner they got back, the sooner they could have her injuries looked at. Once back on the river, they continued their steady progress back toward River Bend, waving at cyclists passing on the bike trail and residents in other riverside campgrounds.
Chapter Eight
Saturday Mid-Afternoon
They reached a low jut of land before a high bluff and decided it might be the last possible bathroom stop for a while. Again, Larry eased the canoe in with as few jolts as possible. Jane Ann designated a clump of shrubbery as the Ladies’ Loo. As Frannie waited in the canoe for the others to finish their business, she noticed a canoe downstream on the same side of the river, pulled up into some long grass. At first, there didn’t appear to be anyone around—perhaps also using the facilities.
While she watched, a man and a woman seemed to pop out of the bluff near the canoe and then disappeared again. She realized with a bit of a jolt that it was Richard and his companion. In the trauma and pain of her fall, she had forgotten that he was on the float.
She pointed out the canoe to Larry as he launched. “That Richard guy and his Chick-of-the-Day are somewhere on that hillside but they show up and—pouf!—they’re gone again. Are there caves around here?”
“I don’t know about near the river. There’s some back in the hills south of here.”
Jane Ann was pushing off the bow of their boat. “That guy from the pie shop is on this float trip? Didn’t the sheriff stop to tell him about the twins’ death?”
“Yeah, we saw her car at his camper,” Mickey said.
“I didn’t recognize him. Are you sure it’s the same guy? With another woman?” Jane Ann couldn’t quite grasp this twist.
“It’s definitely him—I saw him with Valerie last night.” Frannie said. “I’m guessing that his feelings for Val weren’t quite as deep as she thought.”
“Maybe it’s his sister or cousin,” Larry said from the back of the canoe.
“If she’s his sister, he treats her a lot more—shall we say, tenderly?—than you treat Jane Ann,” she turned slightly to smirk at her husband, but instead winced as the pain seized her side.
“Doesn’t pay to be a smartass,” he said.
“I know,” she grimaced. “My mother always told me that. We should check out that bluff—see where they went.”
“No,” said Larry.
The river made a big lazy loop, turning north, east and then back south. Nothing was required of Frannie, and it gave her a chance to think about the dead women and Richard. She wondered if the sheriff had actually talked to Richard and if so, what she had found out. Maybe the sheriff hadn’t found him yet; he could have been out on his bike. She didn’t want to think that he was that much of a scumbag to lead two women on at once. She was enough of a romantic to want Val’s hopes had some foundation, even though those hopes had evaporated at the power plant.
The loop ended and the river turned east. As they rounded the bend, the ominous hulk of the power plant—now even more so with its recent history—came into view on the right bank. A small sand bar jutted out at the base.
“Can we stop?” Frannie asked.
“Because you’re hurting or because you’re nosey?” Larry kept paddling at a steady rate.
“Well…”
“We are heading to the ER as soon as we get off this river. If the doctor says you haven’t broken anything and if they also say you are allowed mild activity, we will visit the Power Plant later, okay?” The paddle chopped through the water to emphasize each condition he gave her.
“Geesh. What a grouch,” said Jane Ann, coming up on their left side.
Mickey agreed. “She just wants to do a little investigating.”
“Exactly what I’m worried about,” Larry answered. “With any luck at all, they’ll keep her in the hospital for six days.”
“But we’re only here for five days,” Frannie protested.
Larry grinned. “I’ll wait for you.”
As they passed the gray, crumbling relic, Frannie examined it thoughtfully. What could possibly have led to the deaths of two women in their prime? The night before, they talked enthusiastically about their careers and their travels—as the saying goes, not a care in the world. Now they were both gone. It didn’t seem like they could be a threat to anyone.
They reached the western edge of the campground, and back in the trees she spotted the derelict camper the men had seen the night before. A young man, about eighteen or nineteen, carried wood from a stack behind the camper to a fire pit in front. Compared to the man she had seen in the pickup the night before, this guy looked pretty clean cut. Almost too clean cut—kind of a skinhead look. When he glanced up, his look was stoic and certainly not friendly. Maybe the twins had put themselves in danger with their cameras. He watched them pass and then turned back to his task.
They followed another large loop around the campground; hence the name River Ben
d. At the end of the loop they found a wide, gentle takeout, and waiting at the top of the slope, Mary Louise Larson and her golf cart.
“Yoohoo!” she called, beaming with relief. “You made it—I’ve been worried!”
Larry tried to gently coax the canoe up to the slope, but even a slight bump caused sharp jabs in Frannie’s side. Mary Louise’s expression changed from outright joy to concern as she saw Frannie’s face.
“You are hurting! Time to get you looked at!” She sidestepped down the slope to the canoe, steadied the bow, and reached out a hand to Frannie to help her out. It wasn’t a pretty dismount.
“I’ll give you a ride in the cart to your site,” Mary Louise continued, and then looked back at Larry. “You can take her to the ER right away, can’t you?”
Larry grinned. “That’s the plan. Besides, I wouldn’t dare say no to you, Mary Louise.”
“Well, look at her! I should have insisted on bringing her back with us.”
Frannie thought she’d better step in and defend her husband before Mary Louise really took him on. “Thanks for your concern, but it really hasn’t been that bad—most of the time. Don’t blame Larry; he can’t do anything with me when I’ve made up my mind. I will accept the offer of the ride, though.”
Mary Louise tried to gently hustle her up the slope and into the cart. While the others hauled the canoes and paddles to the top of the little hill, Mary Louise chatted about who had already arrived and who hadn’t. Frannie noticed that Richard and his companion were among the yet-to-arrive.
Frannie appreciated not having to walk from the takeout to the campsite, but the golf cart was not exactly a smooth ride. Mary Louise kept up a constant commentary on previous injuries she and her children had suffered, who provided the best medical care in the area, and what the extent of Frannie’s injuries might be. At least Frannie didn’t feel obliged to reply at any length because speaking was becoming more of an effort.
When they arrived at the campsite, Ben and Nancy were back from the high ropes course and helped her to one of the reclining lawn chairs. By the time Mary Louise had given them a detailed account of the accident, Larry, Mickey and Jane Ann were rounding the corner. Larry went in the camper to get his keys and billfold. Using a small folding step-stool, the hand holds inside the truck, and several hands, the others helped Frannie into the passenger side of the truck.
The nearest emergency clinic was small and enjoying a fairly quiet afternoon. “The rush will come this evening, with sunburns and injuries that people don’t think are that bad until they try to go to sleep,” the nurse told the Shoemakers.
After a short wait and a recap of her medical history, Frannie was subjected to x-rays and some poking and prodding that didn’t make the injury feel any better. Another wait, and a young physician’s assistant, Dr. Havek, told her that the x-rays did not show any fractures, “although there could be one so small that it isn’t showing up.” Great.
He recommended an over-the-counter pain reliever and rest.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long do I have to rest? Just today?”
The young man looked at her suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”
“Can I go hiking? Or biking?”
“What kind of hiking? Up and down cliffs?”
“No.” Frannie let out a snort. “I don’t do that when I’m well. Just on the bike path.”
Larry, standing to the side of the examining table, rolled his eyes. Dr. Havek put down his clipboard, leaned against the counter, and folded his arms.
“You can walk slowly, but don’t do anything that could bring another fall. You are going to be very sore for weeks—maybe months.”
“Months?!?”
“Told you so,” Larry muttered.
“This kind of injury doesn’t heal fast, and especially in older people,” Dr. Havek said.
“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Frannie said. “I’m not that old.”
“Just giving you the facts. Do you have any other questions?” So much for bedside manner.
“No.”
“Well, take care, Mrs. Shoemaker. I hope the rest of your trip is less eventful.” He nodded at them both, picked up his clipboard, and left.
“I guess that means we’re done,” Larry said, helping her off the examining table.
They checked out, and with some effort and Larry’s aid, Frannie managed to climb back up into the truck. When they returned to the campground, she reluctantly tolerated a great deal of fussing, but was finally ensconced in her recliner, book and iced tea at hand, a couple of painkillers down her gullet, and an almost flat pillow behind her back for a little support. She realized it was the first time, other than a few minutes stretched out on a sandbar, that she could completely relax since her fall.
Nancy sat down beside her, concern showing in her face.
Frannie grimaced a little. “I thought I was taking the safe route. How were the high ropes?”
“Oh, awesome! Ben and I went through two of them. They’re about thirty-five feet above the ground—” she smiled as Frannie grimaced a lot. “Really, it’s not bad. You have safety lines on the whole time…”
Frannie was shaking her head. “I’m glad you had fun, Nancy, but no way. I don’t even like to get on stepladders.”
Rob and Donna returned and Donna was torn between sympathy and a little pique at having been shoved out of first place in the injury department. But after plying Frannie with what seemed like endless questions, she settled in a chair beside Frannie, sharing recipes that caught her eye in a magazine.
The painkillers, exhaustion, and the lazy afternoon sun took their toll and soon Frannie nodded off, despite Donna’s best efforts.
But not for long. Mary Louise Larson’s booming voice jarred her awake in time to hear Mary Louise say, “Oh, my, were you sleeping? Don’t let me bother you. I just wanted to see how you are doing and what the doctor said. I’ll check with your husband—pay no attention to me and go back to sleep.” Right.
But she did let Larry do the play-by-play from the clinic while she tried to keep a vacant smile on her face, still not quite awake. Finally Mary Louise patted her hand, saying, “I’m so glad nothing’s broken—although sometimes a bruise can be worse. I brought some ice cream bars down because I think ice cream is good for any injury, don’t you?” She kept her laugh at a low rumble in deference to Frannie’s fragile condition.
Frannie agreed and thanked her. Mary Louise hurried back to her golf cart, promising to check on them later. As the cart moved out of the way, Frannie noticed that the sheriff’s car was back at the twins’ trailer and crime scene tape had been strung around the campsite.
Frannie had dozed off again when the sheriff walked over. “Mrs. Shoemaker?”
Frannie sat up, winced and looked around, momentarily confused. The rest of the group had apparently gone in to begin supper preparations.
“Call me Frannie, please.”
“Is something wrong? You look uncomfortable.” Frannie gave her a much briefer and less dramatic rendering than Larry would have.
“Wow. That’s a bummer. Quite a day you’ve had.” She sat down in a vacant lawn chair.
“Not one I’d care to repeat. Have you found out any more about how those women died?”
Sheriff Sorensen shook her head. “Haven’t gotten the ME’s report yet. Remember, he’s got two to do.”
“Can I ask you something?” Frannie said.
“You can ask. I may or may not answer,” Mary Sorensen smiled.
“Did you talk to that guy Richard? Does he know about the deaths?”
“I can’t tell you what he said.”
“But you did talk to him? That’s all I want to know.” Well, not really, but it was a start.
“Yes, I did talk to him,” Sorensen conceded.
“Well, did he—?” Frannie began, but stopped when she saw the sheriff shaking her head. She explained. “He was on the
same float trip this afternoon that we were on. With another woman. He didn’t seem very broken up, so if you had already given him the news, I’m thinking what Valerie told me must have been pretty one-sided.”
“Maybe.”
Frannie sighed, as Cuba nosed up to her side, sensing she needed consoling. “You really aren’t going to tell me anything.”
“No. But you can tell me anything else you’ve thought of.”
Frannie shrugged. “I haven’t thought of anything else. I’m kind of suspicious of those guys in the old trailer. We came by there this afternoon and it’s a creepy looking place. The camera bag didn’t ever turn up?”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Makes me wonder what kind of pictures they took of those guys. Could have been something incriminating.”
“Maybe,” Sorensen said again, getting up. “I do have one other question for you. Have you seen anyone else around that trailer since you got here yesterday?”
Frannie thought a moment. “No. Only the twins last night and this morning.”
“Okay, thanks. Take care of yourself.” And she was back in her car.
Frannie leaned back in her chair. Her little nap seemed to have helped; she was feeling better. She swung her legs off the chair and started to ease herself up. A screen door squeaked, as Jane Ann came out of their motorhome, carrying a tray.
“What did the sheriff want?”
“To know if we’d seen anything we haven’t told her about.”
“I can’t think of anything. Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom.”
“Maybe you should just use the one in the trailer,” Jane Ann said.
“Thanks for your concern. I know you mean well, but I really am just sore and walking doesn’t hurt. The doctor basically said no mountain climbing. Besides the shower house is better equipped for us handicapped folks than the trailer is.” Frannie smiled.
Jane Ann wasn’t giving up. “Do you want me to go along?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” She headed to the road, holding herself carefully so she didn’t wince. Actually, if she didn’t twist or turn, it felt rather good to move a little. As the road turned, she looked back (carefully) and saw Jane Ann still watching her. She gave a little wave, almost tripped because she wasn’t looking where she was going, and refocused on staying upright.
Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3) Page 7
