“Too bad you didn’t have an epinephrine injector in there,” Jeremiah said. “Stewart could still be alive.”
Aubrey nudged Madison. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.
Madison stopped bobbing her head to whatever tunes she was hearing, and removed an ear bud. “Huh?”
“Jeremiah said Stewart could have survived if he’d had an epinephrine injector.”
“I was surprised Stewart didn’t have one on him, knowing he’d be in the woods.”
“You knew Stewart was allergic to bees?”
“At the company picnic last month,” Madison said, “Stewart made sure everyone knew what to do if he got stung. You don’t remember?”
“I must have missed that part of the festivities. Probably refereeing a fight between my kids. Doesn’t that seem odd? Surely he or Nel kept an injector around.”
Perhaps it was a dinner of rolls, or the recent killing of an innocent squirrel. Maybe it was the sight of her husband laughing with his team as Veronica flipped her shampoo model hair over her shoulder. Whatever the reason, Aubrey’s thoughts turned to murder.
She tugged the death threat note from her jeans pocket. One side announced Going Batty Days. On the other was the scrawled death threat.
“Remember this?” Aubrey showed the flier to Madison.
“You kept the note?”
“No one wanted to call the police,” Aubrey said, “but I figured they’d want to see it if Bender was murdered.”
“Not so loud.” Madison looked over her shoulder.
“And now someone is dead. What if a murderer was trying to kill Bender and killed Stewart by mistake?”
“Stewart’s the only one with a bee allergy,” Madison said. “At least, the only one who let everyone know about it. Besides, a bee doesn’t seem like a very reliable murder weapon.”
“Quiet,” Aubrey said. “Incoming.”
Sotheara and Berdie approached, each carrying two bowls. Steam rose from a golden crust.
“I brought you peach cobbler,” Sotheara said. “I checked. There’s no meat in it.”
Aubrey had the note in one hand. As Sotheara thrust the bowl at her, Aubrey stood, trying to stuff the death threat into her jeans pocket while reaching for the cobbler. She fumbled it in her excitement to get hot food. Berdie snatched the note from the ground.
“‘Die. Die. Die,’” Berdie read. “Making plans without the rest of the team?”
“You just got your fingerprints all over it,” Madison told Berdie.
“There might have been incriminating fingerprints on the note when Grant first found it,” Aubrey said, “but half a dozen people have handled it now.”
“The note from Bender’s Humvee?” Sotheara looked over Berdie’s shoulder. “I’ll bet that’s the work of Squirrel Boy.”
“Squirrel Boy?” Madison asked.
“Jeremiah,” Sotheara said. “He’s a squirrel murderer.”
“He’ll be stuck with that nickname from now on.” Berdie shook her head, a sad expression deepening her wrinkles. “A reputation is a hard thing to shake.”
“Jeremiah has a gun,” Sotheara whispered. “He might be planning a massacre.”
“The note only threatens your boss.” Aubrey glanced across the campfire at his team. “Bender is still alive.”
Rankin lumbered up to Bender, handing him another whiskey sour. The man had gone through two already. Candace stared across the campfire, seeming to look right at Aubrey, but her eyes were blank. Unfocused. She’d either been sharing Bender’s drinks, or Lavelle’s purse full of pharmaceutical goodies.
“I can’t imagine Jeremiah killing a human,” Madison said.
“Not with a .22,” Berdie agreed. “It isn’t powerful enough to kill a beefy man like Jack Bender.”
“Anyone who’d kill an animal is capable of killing a human,” Sotheara said. “Right, Aubrey?”
“Wait a minute. Don’t drag me into this.” Aubrey’s husband and children were dedicated carnivores. “If killing animals is criteria for murder, everyone in this camp eats meat except for you and me. Besides, Jeremiah’s not the only one with a gun. Rankin fired his at the archery challenge, and Frank is armed, too. And then there’s Bud.”
“Who knows how many people here are packing heat,” Madison said.
“Ready to slaughter innocent wildlife.” Sotheara shuddered.
“Squirrels are just tree rats.” Berdie turned the note over. “Going Batty. What do bats have to do with threatening Bender?”
“There’s a stack of fliers in the infirmary,” Aubrey said. “Whoever wrote the note probably grabbed the first piece of paper available.”
Berdie spooned a bite of peach cobbler into her mouth and chewed slowly. “If we knew who wrote this, we might have answers to several questions.”
The four women formed a huddle. The note was scrawled in pencil, and badly smudged. Soon the writing would fade away entirely, hopefully along with the threat.
Aubrey gasped as a large hand darted into their circle and snatched the note away from Berdie, tearing off one corner.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rankin held the note with both hands, squinting as he read. Berdie stood beside him, her hand resting on the knife scabbard at her waist. Aubrey was beginning to wonder whether the elderly receptionist would ever use the knife. Now would be a good time.
“Bender,” he read, his words painfully slow, “you think you’re gonna Survive, but you’re gonna Die. Die. Die.” Rankin scanned the faces of his teammates. “Which one of you ladies wrote this?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Madison said. “It wasn’t any of us.”
Rankin crumpled the note in his fist. Aubrey wasn’t sure why the note meant so much to her, but she didn’t like that it was now in the possession of Rankin.
“Where are you going?” she yelled. “Give it back!”
Rankin wheeled around the fire and cruised up to Bender, handing him the note. The oversized redhead pointed at Aubrey. Bender tossed the note toward the fire. It rolled dangerously close to the flames.
“How incompetent can you be?” Bender’s voice carried loud and clear. “Don’t waste my time on idle rumors.”
“Bender seems spectacularly uninterested in that note,” Madison said.
“If someone threatened to murder me,” Aubrey said, “I would want the evidence.”
“The note didn’t say anything about murder,” Berdie said. “Telling someone you hope they die isn’t the same as saying you’re going to kill them.”
Sotheara pretended to be concerned about tossing her paper plate and plastic utensils into a trash barrel. Such a waste. The camp could be using dishes that would last a lifetime.
Stealth was not required when no one paid attention to you, but Sotheara was cautious as she followed Aubrey. She covered her covert action by bursting into a refrain from one of the oldies in the sing-along. The death threat might have nothing to do with Operation Clean Sweep. Then again, Sotheara might not be the only ecowarrior at camp, ready to avenge Mother Nature.
Just as Sotheara thought she’d have to race ahead of Aubrey to get the note, the woman stopped at the Wapiti bench.
“Hi Aubrey.”
Grant’s whisker-stubbly face was flushed from the warm fire and the beer in his hand. And maybe from the glow of Veronica in all her Spandex splendor. No one ever ignored Veronica.
“I would ask if you’re having fun,” Aubrey said to her husband, “but that’s obvious.”
Trouble in paradise.
Sotheara meandered toward Bender’s team. His expensive camp chair was a throne in the midst of the folding stools and tree stumps his minions occupied. Sotheara gestured with her hand, a feeble little wave that went unacknowledged.
She faced the fire. The note reflected the red flames of the smol
dering coals. One breeze, one spark, and it would be gone. Sotheara squatted to pick up a paper cup some slob had dropped on the ground, grabbing the crumpled note as she stood.
Success.
She made the loop around the campfire, intending to quietly rejoin her team. When Sotheara perched on the end of the Stockton’s Revenge log, Berdie stood.
“I saw what you did.”
The receptionist’s face was difficult to see in the shadows of the low hanging pine branches. Sotheara’s heart skipped a beat. When it started up again, it was going double-time.
“What I did?” Sotheara asked. “You mean cleaning up?”
“I’ve been watching you. What are you up to?”
Apparently, Sotheara was not invisible to everyone. She bit her lower lip. She refused to reveal Operation Clean Sweep, even to a machete wielding Chuck Norris wannabe.
Berdie extended her hand. “The note. Give it to me.”
Grant grasped Aubrey’s arm and steered her away from the Wapiti Buckaroo Crew.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Seeing her husband so animated gave Aubrey the uncomfortable realization that he’d been going through the motions for a while. As they both had. If it took a little discomfort on her part for him to be reenergized, maybe it was worth it. They strolled away from the campfire circle, noisy with guitar, off key voices, and the hum of conversations. Grant reached for her hand, felt the bandage, and switched sides.
“I thought maybe you were trying to get us kicked out of camp,” he said.
“By failing the challenges? I didn’t have to try. I really am that bad.”
“No, I meant the note. Why did you save it?”
“How did you—”
“I might be dense, Aubrey, but I’m not stupid. You were the only person concerned about the note. Why did you give it to Rankin?”
“I didn’t. He stole it. We were trying to find out who wrote the note. It might be evidence if someone goes through with the threat.”
“People threaten Bender all the time. He’s a hard-nosed businessman. It goes with the territory.”
Aubrey dug her heels into the gravel path and pulled Grant to a stop. “Do you hear yourself? You’re defending a man everyone rightfully hates.”
“Not so loud.” Grant held a finger to his lips.
“You can do better than Bender Clips. And I’m not talking about the money. I believe in you, Grant.” Even if you stopped believing in yourself.
“Just a few more years. Five at the most. We’ll get some things paid off, and then I can look for a different job. But first I have to survive this camp.”
A dark form darted above their heads. Aubrey ducked.
“What was that?”
“A bat,” Grant said. “See how it’s flying? Not like a bird.”
The wings fluttered with jerky movements.
“Appropriate,” Aubrey said, “this being Going Batty Days.”
The couple walked again. When they were shadowed by tall, fragrant pines, Grant startled Aubrey by pulling her close for a kiss. His cheeks were raspy with newly sprouting whiskers. Aubrey’s anxiety about Veronica melted away as she melted into his arms. Grant had never betrayed her. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with self-confidence issues.
“I feel really bad about the tent,” Grant said. “I don’t think anyone on my team would object if you stayed in the cabin with me.”
“That would be cheating,” Aubrey said. “Besides, I can’t abandon Stockton’s Revenge.”
“Are you sure?” Grant kissed her again.
The triangle clanged, calling them back before she could make a decision. This was supposed to be vacation. Why should she spend it in a musty tent when she could bunk with her husband in a cozy cabin?
Jeremiah watched from the Gold Strike log as Rowdy announced the score. The old wrangler Bud erased and scribbled, updating the board. A key chain dangled from Bud’s tooled leather belt. Jeremiah wondered why it was necessary to keep the camp’s meat locked up. Maybe they’d had issues in the past with people stealing chunks of wild game.
“As ya’ll know,” Rowdy said, “Ted’s Buckaroo Crew took first place in the second challenge. Ted, get on up here. You’re kicking tail!”
The team captains each had one key for supposedly winning the first challenge. Now Rowdy handed a fistful of treasure chest keys to Ted for the Wild Cats’ archery win. His teammates cheered as they pulled keys strung on ribbons over their heads as if they were Olympic medals.
Buckaroo Crews
Wild Cats – 9 keys (Archery)
Ted, Kimberly, Yuri, Larry, Belinda, Gwen, Justin, Lani
Bender’s Defenders – 1 key
Doug, Jack, Candace, Warren, Mason, Roberto, Irena, Nigel
Wapiti – 1 key
Frank, Grant, Omari, Arianna, Luis, Sam, Veronica, Damon, Habika, (Althea)
Belle Stars – 1 key
Jessie, Shirley, Yvette, Kenzie, Shawn, Della, Edna, Felicia, Maggie, Pam
Gold Strike – 1 key
Ellen, Tweet, Lavelle, Fawn, Harv, Jeremiah, Ziggy, Kyle, Naila, Alex
Stockton’s Revenge – 1 key
Rankin, Berdie, Madison, Sotheara, Aubrey
When Rowdy finished his repetition of the rules, some people drifted off to their cabins. Others drifted closer to the bar with its crooked Saloon sign.
Jeremiah circled the campfire, picking up bits of debris. People were pigs. He attempted for nonchalance as he gathered soiled paper plates, drink cups, crumpled napkins, and plastic utensils. His hands were full, and sticky. He worked his way toward Bender’s Defenders.
The threatening note was gone. Jeremiah wondered whether the fire had consumed the scrap of incriminating paper. He should have paid closer attention. Jeremiah arrived back where he’d started, at the bench occupied by most of his team. He dumped the trash in a barrel.
“Hey now, Jeremiah.” Lavelle had to be on pain medication. Her eyelids were droopy, and her words slurred. “This isn’t like at work where us little folks got to jump every time some other somebody wants something. The wranglers are supposed to clean up. We just gotta let people do their own jobs.” She grabbed her blue purse and stood, swaying slightly. “All this fun has worn me out. I’m heading to bed. Which cabin is it now?”
Lavelle was a sight. A straw hat sat askew on her tight white curls. She wore a sweatshirt spelling out #1 Grandmother in spangly sequins. She reminded Jeremiah of his own grandma, except Lavelle was black and his mimi was white. He worried the old gal might wander off the path into the forest.
“I’ll walk you to our cabin.”
“That’s gentlemanly of you.” Lavelle wheezed a laugh and accepted his offer of a steadying arm. “A big boy like you will scare away any old bear.” She yawned. “I’ve got to get my beauty rest. We’re starting early in the morning. Those of us still left.” She stared toward Brown Bear cabin. “It still hasn’t sunk in. Stewart’s gone.”
“He wasn’t as well prepared as you,” Jeremiah said. “You’ve got everything you need in your purse. I guess Stewart didn’t have his injector handy.”
Lavelle shook her head. “Stewart always had one of those needle-thingys with him.”
“Then why didn’t he use it?”
Lavelle shrugged. “Must be he couldn’t get his hands on it in time. Or maybe it was out of medicine or something.”
It didn’t make sense. After the company picnic, everyone at Bender Clips knew about Stewart Neamly’s bee allergy. The dude was a fanatic. He’d never lose track of his epinephrine pen. Something about Stewart’s death didn’t sit right.
Jeremiah began to ask Lavelle another question, but the old lady shrieked. She waved her hands above her head, knocking her straw hat to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked.
&
nbsp; “Bats!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aubrey sang along as Tweet played an Eagles song that was popular before he was born, until squealing erupted. Tweet paused his strumming. Campers melted into panic as they realized nocturnal creatures flittered in the night sky. Madison clutched Aubrey’s arm.
“Bats are harmless,” Aubrey said.
Sotheara took a more strident approach, waving her arms and yelling, “They eat insects, not people!”
After calm had been restored, Berdie motioned for the women of Stockton’s Revenge to join her on their bench.
“Last place isn’t going to keep us employed.” Berdie glared at Aubrey.
“What?”
“It occurs to me that your loyalties are divided. It’s your husband’s win that will benefit you, not our team’s.”
“What about Rankin?” Aubrey asked. “Do you think he’ll help us win, and humiliate the boss? Anyway, I’m not worried about Grant’s job. He’ll be fine.”
“You think we’re going to lose anyway, don’t you?” A note of hysteria crept into Madison’s voice. “Our team is no threat to Bender, or Grant, or anyone.”
As Aubrey insisted she was in it to win, she realized she couldn’t sleep in Grant’s cabin. Not without damaging her friendship with Madison. Then there was Berdie’s machete-sized knife.
“We can’t rely on physical prowess,” Berdie said. “Get out there and gather intelligence.”
Aubrey didn’t plan to spy on Grant’s Wapiti crew, which was just as well. They clammed up when she approached. She told Grant her decision to stay in the tent with Stockton’s Revenge. He did not seem as disappointed as she had hoped.
Her team had dispersed. Madison laughed with Ellen and the factory floor workers. Sotheara was deep in conversation with Nigel and Irena from Bender’s Defenders. Rankin sat at Bender’s feet like a dog. Berdie sharpened her machete and glared at Rowdy. It was her idea to gather intelligence. How does she plan to do that? Mindreading?
Survive or Die Page 9
