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

by Karen Musser Nortman

  “I didn’t either,” Frannie said, puzzled.

  “I feel sorry for Mel. First, suspicion of having a meth lab and now this.”

  They had only chatted a few minutes longer when the sheriff’s car followed by a couple of other patrol cars slowly passed the office windows.

  Frannie looked at Mary Louise. “I’m really curious about what they’ll find, but I think maybe I’d best wait here until this is over. My husband would be shocked but proud.”

  Mary Louise clapped her hands, like a child getting ice cream. “Good for you!” She nodded toward a small table in the corner. “I was just playing a little solitaire before you came. How about a game of Doubles?”

  “Sure,” Frannie said. “Sounds great.”

  About twenty minutes later when the sheriff’s car pulled up again, Mary Louise gathered all of the cards in a pile, knowing that Frannie no longer had any interest in playing. Frannie stood as Sheriff Sorenson walked in the door. The other patrol cars had continued on out of the campground.

  The sheriff carried a plastic bag containing a large green shape.

  “That’s it!” Frannie said.

  The sheriff held up the bag by both corners so that Frannie could get a better look. “You’re sure?”

  Pressed, Frannie backed off a little. “Well, that was definitely the color.”

  “One of the twins carried something like this that morning when you saw her leave?”

  “Yes. Did Kyle admit that they had taken it?”

  Mary Sorenson hesitated. “Not exactly. He said if we wanted to know what was going on, we should check Dale’s trailer.”

  “Was it inside?” Mary Louise asked.

  “No, underneath the trailer behind some old batteries and tires. No Dale though, he apparently took off. What are you getting at?”

  Frannie saw immediately what Mary Louise was thinking. “Anyone could have put it there.”

  “You think Kyle tried to frame Dale?” the sheriff asked.

  “Or someone else did.”

  “Was that the only suspicious thing you found?” Mary Louise prompted.

  “No, we also found more terrorist literature under an old mattress inside.”

  “What if the camera bag was planted, and Kyle was referring to the stuff you found inside—maybe he just didn’t want to go down alone,” Frannie said.

  The sheriff looked at her and smiled. “I don’t want this to be complicated.”

  “Did you find any fingerprints or anything in the twins’ camper from the intruders?” Frannie asked.

  “Yes, we did. Same ones we found in the seasonal trailer. Where the meth lab was.” The sheriff up the bag again. “I think this is going to give us some answers as soon as we check out the memory card, so I need to get back and take care of that. Thanks again.”

  Frannie and Mary Louise watched her go.

  “What are you thinking?” Mary Louise said.

  “Seems like it all depends on what’s on that camera—assuming they didn’t just use that bag for their lunch or extra underwear.” She gave a wry smile. “I don’t know anything about the people with the meth lab, of course. But if they ransacked the trailer, it seems unlikely that they killed the twins. They may have been looking for incriminating photos and film in the trailer but if one them had done the murdering, they would have had the camera bag.”

  “Like you said—depends on what is on the camera.” Mary Louise wiped down the counter and replaced the ledger.

  Frannie thought a minute. “I guess it’s possible there was nothing on the camera, so they broke into the trailer to make sure there wasn’t anything there. Or if there was incriminating stuff on the camera, that there weren’t more copies.”

  “It does seem like they had the most to lose,” Mary Louise said.

  “Do you have a busy weekend coming up?” Frannie was tired of trying to wrap her head around all of these suspects.

  “Oh, yes, if the weather holds, we’ll be busy until fall.”

  Frannie said her goodbyes and led Cuba back to their campsite. Still no sign of anyone at Richard’s site.

  The sheriff’s findings brought up lots more questions than they answered. Had anyone seen the meth lab people anywhere near the power plant the morning of the murders? Or for that matter any of the other suspects? Then she remembered Deborah had seen Richard, but he had admitted to the sheriff that he had been there and explained his presence, true or not. She was convinced that the murderer had escaped through the old tunnel, but any of the suspects could have known about that.. The timing just wouldn’t allow for anything else.

  It occurred to her now that if whoever stole the camera bag had any tech savvy, he or she would have erased the memory card in the camera by now; so she was eager to hear what the sheriff would find.

  At the sound of bikes on the gravel, she looked up to see the rest of her group returning. Donna showed off a pair of hand-knit socks and Mickey shared a funny story about three wild turkeys who ran ahead of the cyclists for about a quarter mile rather than dodge into the brush.

  “You can see how turkeys got a reputation for not being too bright,” Mickey finished.

  Frannie filled the others in on the events of her morning. Larry stood, hands on hips staring in the distance toward the location of the old trailer.

  “If the twins had photos of Dale and his friends going through the training courses at the Center, how could that possibly be a threat to them?”

  “What do you mean?” Frannie sensed a new perspective.

  “Unless they are carrying weapons in the photos, which you would think the twins would have reported, what could they have been doing that would be any different from anyone else using the course?”

  “You’re right. Well, Mary Louise suggested that the camera bag could have been planted since it wasn’t even inside the trailer. It just seems less and less likely that Dale and Kyle were involved in the murders.”

  Donna had been listening intently. “Don’t you just follow the money?”

  “What?” Frannie looked at Donna and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Donna shrugged. “I thought detectives always followed the money.”

  “I’m not a detective, and I don’t pretend to be.”

  “Oh, I know. I didn’t mean that. I just thought they usually look for the money in a case.”

  It was Frannie’s turn to shrug. “I can’t think of any connection of money to this case, though.”

  She mulled over Donna’s comments as she fixed some sandwiches for lunch. She and Larry washed up their dishes, and she sat back down at the dinette with her notebook. Looking at the circles, she tried to think of any financial reasons the twins might have been killed. Obviously one of the main motives for operating a meth lab is financial, but the other suspects didn’t seem to have money issues that she could see.

  The circle with Claire’s name caught her eye. She had drawn a line connecting it to Richard’s circle. What had Mary Sorenson said about Claire? That she was an heiress, but she and Richard had no plans to marry. She then remembered that the twins had inherited enough money to live comfortably without working full time. But Jonie? How did she fit in? Jonie’s and Mary Louise’s words came back to her—a rich uncle who was leaving everything to Jonie. She put dollar signs in the twins’, Jonie’s, and Claire’s circles. Maybe Donna had something.

  She opened her laptop and did another search on Richard. Scrolling down the list of references, she found the article referring to an investigation into his firm’s financial practices earlier in the year. Apparently, it was dropped, because she couldn’t find any other mention of the matter.

  “Feel like hiking up to the power plant? You said you wanted to go back there,” Larry said.

  Frannie looked at him skeptically. “What are you up to?”

  Larry shrugged. “Thought maybe we should see where that tunnel is.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tuesday Afternoon

  Th
ey arrived at the power plant without incident or meeting anyone. Frannie followed Larry down the staircase, one hand on the wall and one on Larry’s shoulder.

  “Well, the water had to come through the tunnel to the blades of the turbine, and then out the front of the building back into the river,” Larry said.

  Frannie tried to picture the front of the building as they had passed it on their canoe float.

  “Larry! I remember seeing what I thought was a door in the front but it’s nowhere near water level. I thought how odd to have a door that high off the water. I bet it’s the old outlet.”

  “Is it on the side? Or in the middle?”

  She thought about it. “Definitely on the side.” She pointed at the room near where the twins had been found. “I think it’s below that window.”

  Larry took her hand and guided her around the piles of scrap into the smaller room and the window opening. He leaned out the window and looked down.

  “Yup. It’s down there.” He turned around and looked at the back wall.

  In the corner a rusted shaft thrust up through the floor. Behind the shaft yawned a gaping hole in the wall.

  “We never saw that because we didn’t come in here,” Larry said. He went behind the shaft and peered into the hole. “There’s a ladder down to the tunnel floor, maybe about four feet. I’m going to check it out but you stay here.”

  “But—.”

  “No buts. Worst thing you could do for your side.” He pulled a small flashlight out of a cargo pocket in his shorts. “I’m just going to see how open it is.”

  “I don’t really want to stay here either.”

  “I’ll stay where I can hear you.”

  “Okay,” she said in a small voice. This stupid injury. She had no patience with being an invalid or being treated like one. She supposed Larry would be in for a rough time, the older she got.

  “I could sing,” she added.

  He grinned. “That might scare some bats out of the tunnel.”

  “Bats! I forgot about that. I’ll stay here.”

  “I thought you would.” He swung a leg over to the second rung of the ladder. Soon he stood on the floor of the tunnel shining his light down.

  “A little water still runs through here,” he said. “I’m going to check out the part under the power plant and that opening to the river first. I’ll just be a minute.”

  She began reciting some of A. A. Milne’s poems that she had read many times to Sam and Sally when they were young, starting with the one about King John’s breakfast. She had just gotten to the part where the cow agrees to give milk for the butter for the bread when Larry appeared again at the bottom of the ladder.

  “I don’t see how anyone could have gotten away that way. It’s quite a drop down to the river. I’m going the other way just ten or twenty feet.”

  He disappeared but she could see the reflection of his light on the walls of the tunnel. She lost her place in the poem, so she started in on “Disobedience” which began with the rhythmic ‘James James Morrison Morrison Weatherbee George Dupree’ and had only finished the first verse when the light reflections suddenly bounced erratically and she heard scuffling and grunting.

  “Larry?” she called out in a panic.

  “Call 911!” he yelled back.

  “No!” another voice insisted. “I didn’t do it!” It sounded like Dale Dubrak but she hadn’t heard him talk enough to be sure.

  “Hold on, Frannie,” Larry said. And then in a lower tone, “If you didn’t do it, you know something.”

  “I can’t say!” The voice almost squeaked in fear. The light steadied and the shuffling moved back toward the ladder. When they came into view, Larry had Dale’s arm twisted behind his back.

  “Get up the ladder, and remember, I have your gun now.”

  Frannie pulled back as Dale’s head appeared in the opening. He clambered out of the hole ahead of Larry and raised his hands as soon as he got to his feet.

  “They’re trying to pin those murders on me!” he whined.

  “Who is?” Larry asked.

  “The sheriff. She’s always out to get me and my dad.”

  “So how did you get the camera bag, if you didn’t do it?”

  “The what?”

  “The sheriff found the camera bag belonging to the murdered women hidden under your dad’s trailer.”

  Dubrak shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that. I saw the sheriff’s car coming and got out of there. This is a good place to hide.”

  “Dale,” Frannie said gently, playing good cop, “Were you in the tunnel when the women were killed? Did you hear or see something?”

  “No!”

  “Was it your friend, Kyle?” she pushed.

  “No!” he said, more forcefully. “Kyle wouldn’t do that!”

  “He attacked me,” she pointed out.

  “That was—that was just—” he hung his head and shook it, then looked back up at her. “We just wanted to scare you off. You asked too many questions about what we were doing. He wasn’t going to do anything more than that.”

  Larry got out his phone. “I’m calling the sheriff.”

  “Please, no,” Dale said, his voice muffled. “He threatened me.”

  “Who? Kyle did?” Larry said.

  “No, not Kyle.” His voice got back the sarcastic edge. “You pigs always pick on anybody who looks different.”

  Pigs? Frannie hadn’t heard that term since the sixties.

  “Well, who threatened you? C’mon, Dale, you need to help yourself here,” Frannie coaxed.

  “This isn’t a game,” Larry added. “The sheriff will check what’s on the camera and if there’s pictures that could get you in trouble, you’ve got a motive to get rid of those women. You’ll go away for the rest of your worthless life.”

  “What did the bag look like?” Dale said.

  “Maybe you should tell us—” Larry started to say, but Frannie interrupted.

  “Dark green with tan straps.”

  Larry shot her a warning look.

  Dale clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, looking down at the floor.

  “Dale,” Larry said, holding his phone poised to call.

  When Dale looked back up, his left eye twitched and fear clenched his face. “He knows people. He said they’ll get me if anything happens to him.”

  “Who said that?”

  Again Dale shook his head and lifted his chin. “I know my rights.”

  Larry smirked as he dialed the sheriff. “But apparently that doesn’t give you much respect for the government that protects them.”

  As he pocketed the phone, he held the gun steady on Dale.

  “No reception here. We’ll head up to the parking lot, and then you’ll have a chance to expound on your rights to the authorities.”

  Dale had regained some of his confidence. He turned and spat to the side and said, “Pigs.” again.

  Frannie could see that it took all of her husband’s self-control to refrain from backhanding the arrogant young man. Instead, he ordered Dale ahead of him up the stairs and Frannie followed. She worried that Dale might try something on the way to the Center but it seemed his toughness didn’t extend to challenging a gun.

  In the lot, Larry dialed the sheriff. He spoke into the phone, relaying the information to the dispatcher about Dale’s apprehension.

  As they waited, a few flies buzzing in the stillness were the only thing convincing Frannie that time was passing. The parking lot was mostly empty, being mid-afternoon on a weekday.

  Dale shifted position a couple of times and finally said, “They can’t do anything to me. I’m innocent.”

  “Shut up,” Larry said.

  Sorenson’s car pulled in to the lot, and she got out along with one of her deputies, a big man with the start of a pot belly but the look of being able to hold his own. He snapped the handcuffs on Dale while the sheriff arrested him for suspicion of murder and Mirandized him. Larry handed her Dale’s gun
while giving her a rundown of his capture.

  “We’ll see if he has anything more to say as soon as the techs are done with that camera bag.”

  Dale scoffed and the deputy firmly marched him to the car. The sheriff said she would let them know what developed and Larry and Frannie headed back down the path to the campground. Frannie breathed deeply as she realized how tense she had been. She still questioned Dale’s involvement but his behavior was so erratic that she was relieved to be rid of him.

  When they reached their site, Mickey, Jane Ann and Nancy were playing dominoes, Donna had headed to her camper for a nap, and Rob and Ben had gone fishing. Frannie and Larry related their latest encounter to a small, but rapt audience and then joined in the game.

  After being skunked by Nancy three times in a row, they stacked the pieces in the tin box while discussing supper. They had decided earlier in the day on a taco bar and Mickey already had the meat cooking. Nancy said now that she would put together a bowl of fresh fruit. Larry and Frannie were providing the lettuce and other fixings, Donna was taking care of the tortillas.

  Larry and Mickey were in the midsts of an argument about which of them made the hottest salsa when Larry’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, puzzled, and said, “Hello?”

  As he listened, he got up from the picnic table and moved away from the group. When he returned, he said, “Well!”

  “What?” Frannie asked. She knew it was news and he was going to try and drag it out.

  “That was the sheriff. They’ve released Dale.”

  “I’m not too surprised but on what basis?” Frannie said.

  “They got the report on the camera bag. Dale’s prints aren’t on it, and there are no photos of him in either of the cameras in the bag. There are a couple of shots of the trailer but nothing incriminating. Since they found it outside, anyone could have put it there.”

  Jane Ann said, “How about that meth lab in the log cabin trailer?”

  Larry nodded. “There are some shots of that trailer and people coming out that will be good evidence in that case.”

  “So they could also be the murderers,” Mickey said.

  Larry shrugged. “She didn’t mention whether they found anyone else’s prints on it.”