“But if the meth dealers had the bag, why leave the incriminating evidence in it?” Frannie said.
“No one said you have to be a mental giant to make meth,” Nancy said.
“There’s one other thing,” Larry said.
“For heaven’s sake,” Frannie elbowed him in the ribs. “What?”
He held his side in mock pain. “The camera bag was apparently used to knock Virginia into the machinery. They found her blood on it.”
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday Late Afternoon and Evening
They all sat quiet for a minute. “No wonder it disappeared,” Frannie said. “It wasn’t the photos at all.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “Can’t say for sure.” They rehashed what they knew but nothing seemed to fit. They planned to go back to Farrell’s after supper to see Jonie’s ‘final’ performance, so the tacos needed to be started.
Farrell’s Tavern seemed especially busy for a week night. In spite of the dim light, two couples played cards in one corner, and a couple of rough looking men argued the merits of the local stock car drivers at the bar. Two women shared fries and burgers with three kids. One of the kids tried to stick a french fry in his sister’s ear while the mothers exchanged important gossip, oblivious of the kids. The scent of beer and fried food suffused the air.
Mary Louise and Jim had joined the group and they found a large table near the back wall. Jonie was into her first set when they came in and she gave them a little wave from the stage. After all, this wasn’t Carnegie Hall. Ben and Mickey went to the bar for pitchers of beer and soda, while Jane Ann scooped up free baskets of popcorn from an antique-looking popper in the corner.
As Frannie’s eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed Dale and his dad at a table off to the side. Dale stared into a glass of ice water while Mel, chin in hand, gazed up at Jonie with a look that reminded Frannie of the old Mickey Rooney movies.
Mickey, serious for once, said, “You know, I think she’s got a pretty good voice, if she wasn’t trying so hard to do her impression of country.”
Mary Louise agreed, and Jim said, “She had a wonderful voice in high school and people always thought she would go places. If you had heard her then, it’s almost painful to listen to her now.” He pulled out his pipe. “Matter of fact, I think I’ll go out for a smoke.” And he hefted his bulk out of the little chrome chair.
Jonie introduced her next song. “Sum of ya know Ah’m planning ta leave Minnesota next week and take my career to Nashvul. Ah’ll miss y’all and Ah want to dedicate this next song to a special friend, Mel Dubrak. Heah’s my version of ‘Ah’ll be Seeing Y’all.’” As the recorded background music picked up, Mel sat up straight looking surprised and confused. Frannie felt sorry for him.
Jonie launched into the song, and Frannie realized that the title Jonie had mangled with her fake drawl was the World War II era song, “I’ll be Seeing You.” All semblance of the drawl gone, Jonie transformed into a Forties torch singer. Her voice, husky and low at the beginning, soared in spots with a quality that Frannie had not heard in her previous numbers. She really could sing. Conversations and laughter in the crowd subsided, all eyes on the stage, except for Mel who fidgeted and looked down. When Jonie finished, he glanced at her, dropped his eyes again quickly, and said something to his son.
The silence of the crowd continued for a moment until recorded country music came over the speakers and the whole room exploded in applause. Jonie smiled broadly, gave a little bow, wiped a real tear from her cheek and stepped down from the low stage. She bent over a nearby table, smiling and nodding, accepting good wishes and continued from table to table around the front of the establishment.
Frannie got up to get more popcorn and when she turned around, noticed a familiar figure standing near the front door. Richard Ellis-Reynolds. Dale Dubrak apparently noticed him at the same time, and the fear Frannie and Larry had glimpsed that afternoon returned tenfold to his face. So. Richard was the man who had threatened Dale, the man who ‘knows people.’
Dale leaned over to his father and frantically whispered to him, indicating Richard with a jerky bob of his head.
By this time, Jonie had reached Richard and stretched up to give him a kiss on his cheek, her eyes shining. He smiled but his eyes seemed almost menacing. Mel jumped out of his chair and headed across the room to them. Frannie set the popcorn down and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She looked back at her own table on the other side of the room, hoping to catch Larry’s eye but he had his back to the scene, deep in conversation with Mickey.
She dialed 911 and said in a low voice to the dispatcher, “Tell the sheriff this is Frannie Shoemaker and there’s trouble brewing out at Farrell’s.” She punched the phone off and watched the scene unfolding at the door, unsure of what to do.
Mel was much smaller than Richard but had managed to get up into Richard’s face. Frannie couldn’t hear Mel’s words but the tone was threatening. Richard had grabbed Jonie around the waist and had pulled her to his side, his eyes hooded and his expression disdainful as he let Mel rant for a minute. Jonie’s expression went from delight to terror as Mel talked and Richard said something low and slow.
Mel raised his hands, palms out, and backed away. It was then that Frannie saw the small knife in Richard’s other hand, pointed at Jonie’s stomach. She looked back at Larry—too far away—and could not think of any way to intervene that would not endanger Jonie. She knew now the sheriff couldn’t arrive in time.
The door crashed open. Richard was knocked slightly off balance. Big Jim Larson filled the doorway and wrapped Richard from behind in a literal bear hug, forcing him to drop the knife. Frannie scrambled for it, dropping her phone and knocking popcorn onto the rough board floor.
By the time the rest of the crowd realized what was happening, it was all over. Jim forced Richard down in a chair and held him there. The disdain and arrogance vanished from Richard’s face; only disbelief remained. Mel faced him, his arms around a sobbing Jonie, and harangued him.
“You murderer! You murdered those women and my Jonie was going to be next!”
Richard shook his head. “No, I didn’t—”
“Liar!” Mel screamed. “You threatened my boy not to tell! You are nothing but…” he searched for a word vile enough but spat out “scum!” in frustration.
Frannie went over to Mel. “Mel, the sheriff will be here soon. It’s all over. You and Jonie need to sit down. She needs you right now.”
Mel looked at her and his face softened. He nodded and led Jonie back to his table. Larry and the others had reached the front and gathered around Jim, patting him on the back, Mary Louise giving him a hug. The sound of sirens cut the night while the stunned crowd replayed events and speculated in hushed tones.
Sheriff Sorenson put handcuffs on Richard and turned to Frannie.
“I would like you and your husband to follow me to our headquarters and give us a deposition about what happened here tonight.” She peered around the dim bar and spotted Mel and Jonie. “Mel,” she called, “I need you, Jonie, and Dale to come down and give statements too.”
Mel frowned. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” the sheriff grinned. “Why? Are you that busy?”
Mel smiled back. “Not really.” They followed the sheriff out the door.
After separately writing down their recollections of the nights events, Frannie and Larry were taken to an observation room. The deputy explained that the sheriff wanted them to watch Richard’s interrogation.
“She thinks you might notice something because you’ve been watching him.”
Larry stood while Frannie took a hard chair in front of the two-way mirror. In the next room, the sheriff sat across a simple wooden table from Richard.
“So, Richard, tell me what happened that morning. How did you happen to murder two women in cold blood?”
“I didn’t murder them…both.” He looked down at his hands and then up at her, the old arrogance back.
> She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Tell me what you did do.”
He sighed deeply and looked away.
“I was supposed to meet Val at 9:30. On my way in, I heard Valerie screaming at her sister.”
“How did you—?”
“Know it was Valerie? She was yelling about her sister impersonating her and breaking up with me. Valerie told me Friday night that’s what happened four years ago. I never even knew she had a twin until that afternoon.”
“And then?”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I heard a horrible crunch and came around the corner to see…Val on the floor, her head in the machinery, blood all over. Her sister was standing there with that camera bag.”
Frannie looked at her husband. “He looks like he’s reporting the death of his goldfish.”
“How did you know which one was which?” the sheriff asked.
He leaned forward on the table and folded his hands and cocked his head. “The one on the floor was wearing the necklace I gave her.”
“Then what?”
“I got out of there—the sister turned around and she was wild! I think she was crazy.”
“I don’t think so,” the sheriff said quietly. She tapped a paper laying on the table in front of her.
Richard straightened up. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you left. We have another witness,” she said.
“He’s lying.”
“Who is lying, Richard?”
“That worthless kid. I left by the tunnel. I knew about it from my grandfather. That kid was hanging out down there—probably doing drugs or something. I told him to keep his mouth shut. I knew how it looked. But I didn’t kill Valerie.”
Mary Sorenson leaned back in her chair and stared at him, tapping a pencil on the table. “Actually, you did. The woman on the floor was Virginia. The one you strangled before going in the tunnel was Valerie.”
Finally a crack in Richard’s cool demeanor. “What? I didn’t…”
“Before you went in the tunnel, you grabbed Valerie’s scarf and strangled her with it. The kid heard her beg you—try to tell you who she really was. But you thought she was Virginia, that she had removed a meal ticket from your grasp again.”
Realization dawned. Richard looked at her speechless.
“Why did you take the camera bag?”
Richard shrugged, shook his head, looked away.
“Richard?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled finally. “I didn’t think—I didn’t mean to—,” he composed himself again. “I want to call my lawyer.”
The sheriff nodded to a deputy in the corner of the room to take Richard away. She sat for a moment and then left the room to join the Shoemakers, speaking to another deputy on the way in.
“What do you think?” she asked them.
“I think you have him,” Larry said.
Frannie nodded. “It makes sense. It explains the two different MOs.”
Larry raised his eyebrows at that and smiled. “She watches a lot of CSI and Law and Order.”
Frannie smirked at that. “Sounds like he grabbed the camera bag without thinking and then had to get rid of it so decided to try and frame Dale.”
The sheriff agreed. “It will be up to the court but I’m inclined to believe him. He’s a sleaze, but I don’t think he premeditated murder. Dale’s statement makes it all pretty clear.” The sheriff filled them in on a few other details and then said, “Well, thanks for your help. The deputy will take you back to the campground now—Mel and his crew just left.”
Chapter Twenty One
Late Tuesday Night
Frannie and Larry pulled into the campsite. Ben and Mickey had built a roaring fire and chairs had been found for the Larsons, Dale, Mel, and Jonie. Mel had repeated his part in the adventure several times, each version more dramatic, while Jonie clung to his arm and gazed at him with adoring eyes.
Mary Louise said, “Well, Jim had a lot to do—”
“Hush, dear,” Jim patted her hand. “Mel is the real hero here.”
His wife smiled and said, “You’re right.”
Dale sat nodding while Larry summarized Richard’s story.
“So you were there…in the tunnel,” Frannie said to him.
He shrugged. “I guess.”
His father sat forward in his chair. “Son, he could have killed you too!”
“I don’t think so,” Dale said. “He saw me when he climbed down in the tunnel and he was pretty shook up. He just said I’d better keep my mouth shut or his Chicago mob friends would come after me.”
“He was in a hurry to get out of there. He went through the tunnel and back up the hill by the bird watching area to the parking lot where he’d left his truck,” Larry said.
“And had plenty of time to get back to the campground before we did,” Frannie added.
“Sorenson says there’s no evidence he has any connection to Chicago gangsters,” Larry assured Dale.
Nancy said, “So he did love Valerie?” glancing at Jonie as she spoke. But the singer seemed oblivious to anyone but Mel.
“No,” said Frannie. “I think he is just a fortune-hunting scumbag. Claire, the woman who came with him, is rich but isn’t interested in marriage. Valerie and Virginia inherited quite a bit of money from their parents. Jonie told him she is the only heir to her uncle’s estate. I think he may be in money trouble back in Chicago so he’s just looking for a rich wife. His anger got out of control because he thought Virginia had removed Val from the list of candidates.”
Now she had Jonie’s attention. “That no-good creep!”
Larry said, “The sheriff told me that the gun was registered to Virginia and only her fingerprints were on it.”
“What gun?” Jane Ann asked. The others looked surprised too.
Larry explained about the small gun in the backpack.
Frannie added, “It’s possible that Virginia went to the rendezvous planning to kill Richard.”
“Oh, my,” said Nancy.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Mickey said.
“But,” Donna frowned, “what about the people in the meth lab? They didn’t have anything to do with this?”
“Not the murders,” Larry said. “They have been picked up in Illinois.”
“So they knew or suspected that the twins had photos of them and broke into the trailer in case there was something incriminating them,” Ben said.
Larry nodded. “Change of subject. What’s our departure plan tomorrow?”
“We have to get going early. Rob has a dentist appointment in the afternoon,” Donna said.
“And I have clients to see in the evening,” Ben said. “We did some packing up when we got back from Farrell’s so we’re pretty much ready to go.”
Frannie looked around the campsite and realized that a lot of the camping implements had disappeared.
“I don’t think it would take us long to get ready,” Larry said and turned to Frannie. “Did you want to hang around for a while tomorrow or get going early?”
She smiled. “An early start is fine with me. I think I’m ready for the couch and a few boring days.”
“After the laundry’s done,” Jane Ann reminded her.
Dale turned to Frannie. “I’m very sorry about the attack on you. We just don’t like some of the stuff the government does, and y’know, some of the Muslim ideas are good.”
“I understand,” Frannie said, “but there are other ways to go about change.”
“Speaking of change,” Jonie said, “Mel has convinced me that country is not my style. I got a pretty good response from the crowd tonight on that last song, so I may try for some gigs around here doing more Thirties and Forties stuff.”
“Jonie, that’s great,” Frannie jumped in. “That was beautiful tonight. Much more your style.”
Mel grinned. “That’s what I told her. I’m gonna be her manager. Well, we’ll say good night—nice meetin’ all of you.
I think we’re ready to turn in,” he said and he helped Jonie to her feet in her wobbly heels.
They said goodbye, and as Mel, Jonie, and Dale started down the road. Mickey crooned, “We’ll be seeing you…In all the old familiar places…” They could hear Jonie’s giggles long after the trio disappeared in the darkness.
Happy Camper Tips
Several readers have commented that, while they like the ‘Happy Camper Tips,’ it is somewhat distracting to have them at the end of each chapter. So, in this book, I have put them all in one place. Less distraction and it should be easier to find one that you want to refer to later.
Happy Camper Tip #1
There’s great appeal in the image of the Happy Wanderer when camping: taking off on a whim and stopping wherever it suits you. But for most of us, camping is primarily on the weekends when campgrounds are crowded, and hauling a gas guzzler many miles with no reserved site doesn’t leave many options. Cruising around an area looking for sites is cost prohibitive.
Fortunately, most state and national park campgrounds, as well as private establishments now have online reservations systems. Iowa state parks even have photos of every site. The website, Reserve America, has lots of state, federal and private sites, www.reserveamerica.com. Federal campsites can also be reserved at www.Recreation.gov.
Different entities have varying reservation windows, from three months to a year so be sure you know what the requirements are. Many sites have information as to the size, shade, and degree of slope that a camper can expect.
A word of caution: most campground maps appear to have been drawn on the back of a napkin from memory. Two sites that look close together or right across the road from each other on the map may in reality be a mile apart. Or on top of each other.
Happy Camper Tip #2
For most of us, firewood is an absolute necessity for camping. In recent years, the emerald ash bore has posed a major threat to our forests, especially in the Midwest. Consequently, many states have posed bans on out-of-state firewood. Some campgrounds don’t allow any firewood brought in. Observe this ban. Many parks sell firewood, and there are often private sources in areas around parks.
Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3) Page 17
