Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 01 - Trouble at Happy Trails

by Minnie Crockwell

  She straightened and vanished around the back of the trailer. I barely had time to register her shoulder-length blonde hair, slender build, and casual black walking shorts and red T-shirt. She appeared to be my age.

  “That has to be Jim’s wife,” I said. I hesitated to open the door. Had I wanted to hide something and was so desperate as to drop it down the sewer pipe, I might look out the window to see that it stayed there.

  “Should I call the police?”

  Do not be too hasty, Minerva. We do not know what she has disposed of. Is that pipe what I think it is?

  “Yes, it’s the sewer. We all have them. You’ve seen me hook up the sewer hose, haven’t you?”

  I am afraid I have tried to avoid that unsavory aspect of your coach.

  I smiled.

  “So, you can imagine if someone throws something down there, it stays there for a while.”

  Perhaps it was something she did not want her husband to see.

  “No doubt, but what?”

  I cannot hazard a guess.

  I sat down on the couch and stared at the door. What should I do? If I called the police, what would they do? The only people who would be upset that “the wife” threw something down the sewer pipe (and it hadn’t exploded yet) might be her husband, the park owner, and the wastewater treatment plant. It was probably not something the police would be interested in—if they had determined that Carl killed himself.

  Perhaps to satisfy your curiosity, you should visit your neighbors and meet “the wife.”

  I jumped up!

  “Good idea, Ben! I’ll do it.”

  I descended the stairs and wondered what pretext I could use to bother my neighbors. My feet kept moving though, so I had to think of something soon. I reached the front of Jim’s RV and knocked on the door, almost hoping no one would answer. How much did my curiosity need to be satisfied anyway? I had become quite the busybody.

  Jim opened the door, and I forced a smile to my face. It was his wife I wanted to see. Now, I had to come up with something.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Oh, I was wondering if you’d met the owner? I have to go talk to him, and I wasn’t sure what the office hours were.” It didn’t make a bit of sense, but it was the best I could do at the moment.

  Jim’s lifted a thick gray eyebrow. “Owner? So Sally’s not staying on?”

  “Oh, no. I think she’s moving to Oregon with her brother.”

  Jim did not invite me in but left me standing at the bottom of the stairs. I had found this wasn’t an uncommon practice among RVers. Some folks invited you in, some did not. I belonged to the “did not” crowd myself.

  Jim frowned. “I didn’t know she was up and quitting. Astoria, right?”

  I quirked my own, hopefully not gray eyebrow. “Yes, Astoria. How did you know?”

  “Sally and I have had some conversations,” he said. He continued to look troubled.

  I tried to look beyond him to see if his wife was in the RV.

  “I haven’t met your wife yet. Is she home?” It seemed pushy, but what could I do? I had to press the issue.

  Jim looked over his shoulder toward the darkened interior.

  “Karen!” he called out. He turned back to me. “She’s in the bedroom.”

  He climbed down the stairs and turned to close the screen door of the RV behind him.

  “She’s taking this whole thing pretty hard.”

  “What is it?” a woman’s voice called out.

  “Come on out and be sociable,” he practically ordered.

  I winced. I didn’t like the sound of his tone, and I hated being the cause of an excuse to bark at his wife.

  The slender, blonde woman came to the door and opened it. She stepped down. Her eyes, pale blue, flickered away from mine.

  “This is our neighbor.” He gestured toward Minnie before moving away to stand in a spot near the end of the RV where he could see the street…and Sally’s rig.

  “How do you do?” I said. “I’m Minnie Crockwell.” I extended my hand. Karen stuck her own dry, cold hand in mine and gave it a lackluster shake.

  “Karen,” she said. “How long are you staying?” she asked in an unfocused fashion.

  It was a common question amongst RVers, probably all travelers. Where are you from? How long are you staying? Where are you going next?

  “Oh, about a week, I think.”

  Her eyes followed Jim.

  “Are you enjoying your stay?” Her voice was disinterested, but I wondered if she realized how bizarre her question was given the events of the previous evening. However, maybe she didn’t realize that I had found Sally, and that I had been the one to call the police.

  “Not really,” I said with a grimace. “I’m the one who called the police.”

  Karen swung her head toward me. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Oh!” she blurted out.

  “Yes, I found Sally wandering in the park.”

  “I—I…” Karen didn’t finish her sentence.

  I gave her an encouraging nod.

  “It was an awful thing,” I said for a prompt.

  “I can’t believe it.” Her eyes flew to Jim’s back. It was unclear if he could hear their conversation. He moved off down the road and out of sight heading in the direction of Sally’s RV.

  “I can’t either. Sally said it was a suicide.”

  A sob caught in Karen’s throat. “No. He wouldn’t kill himself. I knew Carl. He wouldn’t kill himself,” she said on a ragged voice.

  I turned to see that Jim was still out of sight. Hopefully, out of earshot.

  “So, you knew him well?” I’ll admit I wasn’t proud of myself at that moment.

  She pressed her fist against her trembling mouth and nodded.

  “He was going to leave Sally.”

  My eyes popped open. Oh, they did know each other well, didn’t they?

  Goodness, Minerva! What a quagmire this has become! It would seem that this was more than simply an affair.

  “Oh!” I said to fill the silent void while I thought quickly. “I’m so sorry.”

  Yes, that is it. Offer condolences. What other choice do you have?

  Can you think of anything I should be saying or asking, Ben? What am I supposed to ask? Did your husband kill Carl? What did you throw down the sewer?

  “Jim knows about it. He’s pretty angry.” She paused and rushed in. “I mean, he doesn’t know I was going to leave him for Carl, but he knows I…we…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Oh, geez,” I murmured. Of course, I knew that, but still, I sympathized with her. The more I saw of this Jim character, the less I liked him. In fact, Ben was the only man I liked at the moment.

  Thank you, Minerva! I am honored.

  Don’t get a big head, Ben. It’s slim pickins’ around here.

  Nevertheless, I am flattered by your good opinion of me.

  “Do you think he said anything to Carl?” I asked. “Why would Carl kill himself?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. She moved closer to me. “And like I said, I don’t think he killed himself.”

  “Are you suggesting he was murdered? Wouldn’t the police have figured that out?”

  “Why would they? It’s just a matter of putting the gun in his hand and firing, right? Maybe if he was knocked on the head first? It seems like the gunshot would have ruined evidence of a blow to the head.” Her blue eyes flashed, and her tears stopped cold.

  Slightly repulsed, I wanted to back up but stood my ground. She had it all figured out, didn’t she?

  “Who do you think would do such a thing?” Her answer seemed obvious. She was going to say her husband.

  “His wife or my husband,” she said in a bitter note.

  “Sally?” I squeaked. “Your husband?”

  “Yes! I hope you’re not good friends with her because that’s what I think.”

  My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head.

&nbs
p; “Are you going to tell the police?” She wouldn’t incriminate her husband, would she?

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  I thought I might as well come clean.

  “I have to admit that I saw you dump something into the sewer drain this morning. I wondered about that.”

  Karen drew in a sharp breath, and she turned to look at the sewer drain.

  “It was a packet of notes Carl had sent me over the past month. He would tuck them under the mat by the front door. I didn’t want anyone to find them and try to incriminate me. You know, Jim or someone.”

  “For a moment, I thought it was a gun or something.”

  Karen swung her head toward me. “A gun! Why would you think it was a gun of all things?”

  I shrugged, feeling foolish. “Oh, I don’t know. Something wrapped in plastic. The events of the night. I was being silly.”

  “I’ll say. They found the gun with Carl, didn’t they? If not, they wouldn’t be talking about suicide.” Karen’s voice seemed so coldly matter of fact, where earlier she had been distraught.

  She nodded and looked at her watch. “Well, I’d better get lunch started. Jim gets upset if lunch isn’t on time. See you later.”

  I watched her walk away, and I walked toward the rear of my RV to look down the road. Jim sat on the picnic bench by Sally’s RV, his head in his hands—almost the picture of grief. Or guilt, I suppose. Some strong emotion, at any rate. What on earth was going on?

  “Ben, what’s happening. What do you think?” I whispered as I returned to the RV.

  I am at a loss, Minerva. Somehow, traversing the uncharted territories of the United States in 1804 seems much less complicated than does this day.

  Chapter Five

  I climbed into the relative calm of my RV, paid bills on the computer, answered a few emails and pulled out a map to study the Spokane area. My entire visit here couldn’t possibly consist of who was killing whom in my local RV park, could it?

  I mapped out a few places I thought I wanted to visit over the next few days. Spokane itself looked like an interesting city, well worth a visit. Plus, it had several specialty stores that I wanted to shop in for those favorite foods that weren’t carried on traditional grocery store shelves. Riverfront Park and the Spokane River with its falls seemed very enticing.

  “Is there anything in particular that you want to see, Ben?”

  Why, thank you for asking, Minerva. It seems only yesterday that the expedition traversed the mountains and we found ourselves entering what you now call Washington at the confluence of the Snake and Columbia Rivers. Do you contemplate a visit to that area in the near future? I would be most curious to see what the trail looks like now.

  “Let’s see where that is.” I rummaged around on my computer, searching for a site on the Lewis and Clark Trail.

  “Hah! Here it is,” I said. “You all entered Washington via Lewiston, Idaho. There’s a Discovery Center down there near Lewiston. You know how I like those! You can pick up all kinds of things there.”

  Ben chuckled.

  I see references to the Nez Perce on your picture. A fine people, very large families, kind to weary travelers.

  “We can do that, Ben. We’ll go in the car. Leave the RV here. No sense dragging this monster around. It’s just a day trip.”

  Excellent! I would suggest a picnic, but I am not currently eating. Perhaps for yourself?

  I laughed outright.

  “Well, since you say you can taste everything I eat, I guess you’ll be picnicking anyway. Sure! A picnic. It sounds wonderful. Tomorrow?”

  I have no plans, my dear. Tomorrow would be lovely.

  I smiled and rose to sort through laundry. While murder and/or suicide were afoot, I still have to have clean clothes. I grabbed my towels and stuffed them in my laundry basket along with the detergent and fabric softener. This was as good a time as any to meet the owner as the laundry room was located in the same building along with the showers and bathrooms.

  I hauled my little basket over to the office building and veered to the right to enter the laundry room.

  I do wish I could ease some of your burdens, Minerva. This makes me most unhappy. It is not proper for me to stand by whilst you hoist heavy things.

  “There’s not much you can do about that, Ben. And it’s not heavy anyway.” I smiled as I set the basket down on the small laundry table. There were two washers and two dryers, and luckily, no one else was using them. “I appreciate the concern though. I know you would help me if you could.”

  Yes, Ben said with a sigh.

  I threw my clothes into one washer and the towels into another and stuffed coins into the machine slots. Some soap and bubbles later, I was ready to head to the office for more recon.

  I do not think this owner has anything to offer regarding Mr. Richardson’s death, Minerva.

  “Maybe not, but I think I’ll stop by for a chat any ole how.”

  I rounded the building and opened the office door. At the desk behind the counter sat a tall, tanned, salt and pepper-haired man. He rose as I entered, towering over me even across the counter at something well over 6 feet. A light blue striped polo shirt matched the color of his eyes. I could see that he wore white shorts.

  He looked beyond me through the windows outside, no doubt to see if I had pulled up in an RV.

  “Can I help you?”

  I stuck out my hand.

  “I’m Minnie Crockwell, space 18.”

  “Oh, you’re Minnie. Sally told me about you.” He took my hand in his .

  Oh, gosh, what had Sally said? The way he said “you’re” made my palms sweat.

  “Really?” Say more, Mister.

  “Nick Granger” he said. He gave my hand a shake and released it.

  “You only got here yesterday, right?” he asked. His voice held a pleasant timber, though not as deep as Ben’s baritone.

  I am flattered that you think of me in these seemingly random moments, Minerva.

  It’s hard to get you out of my head, Ben. And I mean that literally.

  Ben chuckled, and I smiled broadly.

  Nick responded to my smile with a white-toothed one of his own, made more bright in contrast to his tanned skin.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How long are you staying?” he asked. “I haven’t had time to check the computer yet.”

  “A week.”

  He nodded pleasantly. “Are you visiting family or…”

  The usual round of questions commenced. What he avoided was the subject of Carl’s death.

  “No, just traveling around. I’ve been full-time RVing for a few months now.”

  He nodded. “I did it for a couple of years, but found it kind of lonely, so I settled down for a bit. Bought this RV park. Now, I golf.”

  Which explained the tan.

  “So, do you live here at the park?”

  “No, although I might have to put a rig here. I like to keep a campground host on the premises, but it’s been hard finding a host to come back year after year.”

  “You’re only open from April to October, right? So, you could go work here in the summer and go south to golf all winter long.”

  “I might just do that!” he grinned attractively. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “Oh, I was just stopping by to introduce myself,” I said airily. “I’m doing laundry next door.”

  He nodded. I waited for him to say something about the event, but for some reason, he didn’t. Discretion really wasn’t one of my strongest qualities, so I forged on.

  “I saw Sally earlier. She was picking up a few things.”

  He nodded again and looked beyond me to the park. I turned to follow his eyes, but nothing moved in the park. Was he giving me the polite brush off? I turned back.

  “Well, I’d better get back to my laundry. It was nice meeting you,” I said.

  “You too,” he said. “Enjoy your stay.”

  I turned and rolled my eyes. Okay, so he was di
screet…or worried about the reputation of his park. But “enjoy your stay” was a bit much, in my opinion. Clearly, he knew I hadn’t really enjoyed the first night of my stay.

  I finished my laundry and returned to my RV. After putting my clothes away, I made myself a sandwich and plopped down onto the couch to eat it. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and exhaustion had caught up with me. My eyelids drooped, and I dozed.

  I woke up to see the time on the microwave read 6 p.m. I sat upright. I’d never get back to sleep tonight!

  “Why did you let me sleep so long, Ben?” I rose and stretched.

  You needed your rest, Minerva. I did not like to awaken you.

  I looked around the RV wondering what to do next. Supper, I supposed. My laptop computer caught my eye, and I went over and turned it on to see who was doing what on social media. And maybe to see if John had emailed me back. Wait! I hadn’t emailed him back. I couldn’t believe it. I dashed off a quick response to his email. He seemed to prefer short and sweet, so short it was.

  One and Only Ex,

  Whoops! Forgot to get back to you. So much going on around here, and I’ve barely been at this RV park for 24 hours! It seems the dearly departed and deceased Carl had been sleeping around. Hearts are broken everywhere, and murderous glints are in everyone’s eyes. I’m not even sure the dear widow isn’t involved. Things wrapped in plastic have been thrown into sewer pipes, and accusations of guilt run rampant.

  The police have failed to contact me with a report of their investigation and findings. Imagine that!

  I remain your

  Ex-Wife

  I reread the email, grinned and sent it off. Ben’s old-fashioned vernacular was rubbing off on me. I didn’t know if John would respond or not the following day, sometimes he just didn’t, and that would be the end of our correspondence until I sent him something new in a few months.

  Is that a portrait of me, Minerva?

  I jumped. I should have been used to Ben’s presence but sometimes I just forgot he was there.

  “You didn’t read my email, did you, Ben?”

  No.

  His monosyllabic answer surprised me. He was usually so free with his words, using more than most to say the same thing.

  “Oh! Okay. Where?” I looked at my computer screen. I had forgotten I had copied and saved the portrait of Peregrine Ebenezer Alvord onto my computer screen