The rain had let up, and Larry and Sam stood discussing the events of the weekend. Larry filled Sam in on Joe’s brief disappearance that morning. Sam shook his head, looking apologetic. She was struck by Sam’s resemblance to his father—in profile, stance, and mannerisms. It wasn’t often that she observed them from the periphery. Larry had been very subdued this morning; he hadn’t even argued with Mickey. She and Larry hadn’t had a chance to further discuss the tiff of the night before.
Larry helped Sam load the kid’s bags and bikes in the back of his SUV. Sabet got in the back seat, arranging iPod, earphones, and other paraphernalia, and Joe started to join her but stopped.
“Wait!” he said, and ran back to the trailer. He stood at the corner, stretching his arms along both sides, giving the camper a hug. Then he came running back and looked up at his father. “I’ll miss ‘Terry,’” he explained. The adults all looked at each other, trying to suppress laughter.
Frannie was giving Sam a hug when a frog croaked. She looked around a second and then remembered and pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen.
“It’s a text from Sally.” Frannie and Larry’s daughter Sally lived in St. Louis and was a social worker.
Sam looked at the kids, already buckled in their seats. “You guys been messing with Grannie Fran’s phone?”
Sabet shrugged, trying to restrain a smile. Sam turned back to his mother. “They do that to us all the time,” he explained. “The frog is one of their favorites. How’s Sally doing?”
Frannie read the text. “She heard about the abduction on email. Thinks we’re a magnet for crime.”
“You might want to talk to her about the abuse investigation. Missouri laws are different, I’m sure, but she might be able to help. Is she coming home for Thanksgiving?”
“She hasn’t said yet. But that’s a good idea to talk to her.”
Sam hugged her again. “We’d better head out. Keep us informed about what happens here, okay?”
“Will do,” Larry said. “Drive carefully.”
As Sam slowly pulled out of the site, Frannie noticed Tessa sitting on the picnic table at her site. She gave Sabet a surreptitious wave as the car passed. Frannie and Larry turned back to their friends. Larry got a fresh tub of wood out of the truck and started building a fire.
“We’ll miss them,” Jane Ann said. “You guys aren’t nearly as entertaining as they are.”
“I agree,” Frannie said with a wistful smile. “But I have to say this weekend that it is a relief not to have to worry about them. That little spell with Joe this morning just about did me in.”
Nancy shook her head. “That he chose this weekend to sleepwalk...he’s never done that before when we’ve camped, has he?”
“No, never...I thought he’d outgrown it. Never even crossed my mind when I found him gone.” Frannie sighed. “I think I’ll go put the trailer to rights and make a fresh pot of coffee.”
Inside, after plugging in the percolator, she started to put the extra pillows, blankets and sleeping bags in the storage area under the bed. Larry came in just then and took them from her.
“Listen, I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “Taylor’s disappearance has really been bugging me.”
Frannie replaced the throw pillows on the couch, and wiped off the counters. “I didn’t mean that you were to blame. You just surprised me so.”
“I know. I really lost control.”
She went to him and hugged him. “The kidnapping is the fault of whoever took her.”
“Yeah,” he said but he didn’t sound convinced.
Back outside, the rest of the group had pulled chairs up around the fire. The clouds still hung low, blocking the sun, but the rain seemed to have moved on.
“Do you think we’re still restricted to the campground? Most people plan to leave today,” Nancy said.
“I’m sure we’ll see something of the sheriff or Sanchez sometime this morning,” Larry said. “I can’t imagine that they will try and keep everyone here.”
Shouts coming from the center of the campground racked the quiet air. Larry sat forward, hands on the arms of his lawn chair. “Sounds like over by the host site.” He launched himself from the chair and headed for the road, followed by the others.
The trees and shrubs that secluded each campsite also blocked most views of the rest of the campground. As they neared the host site, they saw no sign of anyone, but now the noise seemed to come from around the corner. Crashes punctuated the shouting. Rounding the hosts’ trailer, they saw the source of the ruckus.
********************
Happy Camper Tip #10
Mickey’s Famous Wheat Germ Pancakes: Mix the following dry ingredients in a plastic bag before camping trip: 4 heaping tablespoons of wheat germ plus enough flour to make two cups, 1/2 cup buttermilk powder, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. When ready to cook, add 2 eggs lightly beaten, 4 tablespoons of oil, and 2 cups of water to the dry ingredients. Cook on lightly oiled griddle over the fire or in electric skillet. Makes about 16.
Chapter Eleven
Late Sunday Morning
The campground host stood at the edge of the road, hands on hips, trying to get the attention of the three road workers. The one called Don and one of the other two wrestled on the ground, kicking over lawn chairs and knocking against tables while the third dodged in and out, apparently trying to break them up.
“What’s this about?” Larry asked the host when the group reached the site. The host turned and scowled.
“Who knows? My wife went to get the ranger.”
Larry stepped into the fray, followed by Ben. “You get the red shirt, I’ll get the blue,” he yelled to be heard over the shouting.
Ben grabbed the arms of the guy in the red shirt, Don, from behind and yanked him back from the other man. Don twisted his head around in surprise to look at Ben. “Can’t we just play nice together?” Ben asked him.
Meanwhile, Larry had collared the other man, literally, by the neck of his shirt. By the time they were both hauled to their feet, the man in the blue shirt was looking a little sheepish while Don glowered at him, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“You want to talk about what started this?” Larry asked.
“Well...,” started the man in blue, but Don said, “Shut up! It’s nobody’s business!”
The third man put his hand on Don’s shoulder. “C’mon, Don, let’s calm down a little.”
Don wrenched his shoulder sideways, out of the man’s hold, and glared at him. “Tell your buddy to calm down and keep his damn lies to himself, Harry!” He stomped over to their picnic table and sat down with his back to them.
Harry turned to the rest of the group and shrugged. “Thanks for your help. I would have gotten them split up but it would have taken a little longer,” he said to Ben and Larry.
Larry introduced himself and his friends just as the ranger and campground hostess arrived.
Ranger Sommers looked at them all. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing serious, Ranger,” Harry said. “Don and Clete got into a little argument and got carried away.”
Sommers looked skeptical. “Argument about what?”
“It was personal!” Don almost shouted, never turning around to look at them.
Sommers walked over to the other side of the picnic table where she could look Don in the eye. “Look,” she said, “with the DCI and the sheriff in the park, now is not the time to vent your personal feelings. I suggest you get your personal feelings under control or you’ll find yourself charged with disorderly conduct.” She turned and walked back to Larry. “Do you know what this was about?”
“No, we just heard the commotion from our campsite.”
“Okay, I think you can return there now.” Her tone was firm.
The group headed down the road, but they had only gotten a few steps when Sommers caught up to them.
“Ranger Sommers, is everyone still restricted to
the campground?” Frannie asked.
“Don’t quote me,” she smiled slightly now, “but I think they’re going to give the go-ahead for people to leave about noon. It’s really up to Sanchez. I thought you were staying a couple more days.”
“We are, but Ben and Nancy have to get back to work tomorrow.”
“Right—that’s the case with many of the campers, I think. However, those guys—,” she indicated the road crew with a backward toss of her head, “—are here for another week.” She grimaced. “This isn’t the first altercation they’ve had.”
They reached their campsite.
“We heard on the news this morning that there’s a serious search on for Taylor Trats' father,” Jane Ann said.
“Yes, right now that seems like the best possible scenario for the girl’s safety, although that might be just wishful thinking. No one saw her father anywhere around here at the time of the abduction.”
The others headed back around the campfire, but Frannie remained in the road with the ranger.
“When’s the last time Mrs. Trats saw him?” Frannie asked.
“She says about two weeks ago, and that he lived in Des Moines the last she knew, but he’s not at the address she gave Sanchez and there was no forwarding address.” Sommers shook her head at the futility of it all. “I’d better check on those guys and get back to the ranger station.”
Frannie watched her go and marveled at her change of attitude. Sanchez must have been pretty convincing that Larry was not a pervert or kidnapper. Sommers shared more information than Frannie ever expected her to—probably more than she was supposed to.
“If they let us out of here at noon,” Mickey was saying, “we should take a drive and have lunch in Orien at that place that was on the diner show on TV.”
“Getting a little cabin fever, Mickey?” Ben asked and then coughed as the breeze picked up and blew the smoke from the fire right at him. He picked up his coffee and his chair and moved to the other side.
“Yeah, it’s crazy because a lot of times we never leave the campground, but as soon as someone tells you that you can’t leave, you’re itching to get out.”
“It isn’t even 24 hours since we got back from the bike ride and the flea market,” Nancy pointed out.
“Exactly. Proves my point,” Mickey said.
Larry placed another log on his carefully constructed teepee. The flames licked at it and another drift of smoke headed toward Mickey. He backed his chair away but still couldn’t avoid it. He moved his chair by Ben.
“And of course you’re worried about food less than an hour after breakfast,” Larry said.
“So?”
“I don’t suppose you’d consider taking Larry and Mickey back with you?” Frannie said to Nancy. Smoke engulfed them both and they moved their chairs to the spots Mickey and Ben had recently vacated.
“Are you kidding? If we wanted that kind of stress, we would have brought the cat along to ride in the back seat with Chloe.”
“Oooh. Excellent simile.”
“Metaphor,” said Mickey, waving his hands to dissipate the gray cloud suddenly attacking him again.
“Maybe not,” Larry started to say, but they were all saved from further pointless discussion by the appearance of the sheriff’s car with Agent Sanchez riding shotgun. The sheriff rolled down his window.
“People will be allowed to leave the campground at noon today,” he said. Ben raised his hand in acknowledgment. Frannie thought what a tableau they must have presented to the sheriff—three bunched together on one side of the fire, two dragging chairs to different spots and one swatting at the air.
“What is with this wind today?” Mickey complained. He pulled out a bandana and wiped his watery eyes. “Why can’t it make up its mind?”
Larry put another log on and his teepee toppled sideways in a shower of sparks and smoke.
“Another point for a log cabin fire,” Mickey said, shifting his chair again.
“You know,” Ben leaned forward and pointed his coffee mug at Mickey and Larry, “I’m with the girls. If you two don’t shape up, I’m going to clean both your clocks!”
Mickey grinned at Larry. “I think he could do it.”
“I know he could,” Larry agreed.
“So, let’s talk about somebody else’s arguments,” Ben said. “What do you think those guys were fighting about?”
Frannie realized she had told only Larry and the sheriff about the conversation she had overheard at the flea market. She repeated it now to the group.
“Something has happened before with that group,” she finished. “But nothing they said told me what it could be.”
“Maybe the sheriff has been able to find out,” Jane Ann said and sputtered as a gust of smoke hit her in the face. She folded up her lawn chair and moved. “I bet people think we are practicing for one of those lawn chair brigades they have in the college homecoming parades.”
“If so, I’m sure they think we need practice,” Nancy said. “I’ve had it with this smoke. I think I’ll take Chloe for a walk and maybe just happen to see if things have settled down with those guys.”
“I should go with you,” Frannie got up. “For protection, you know.”
“Frannie...,” Larry cautioned.
“Just a walk, Larry. Nancy will keep me in line.” She got Cuba’s leash off the awning strut. “C’mon, girl—go for a walk?” Cuba’s ears shot forward and up. She lumbered to her feet and stretched. Frannie attached the leash to her collar and followed her to the road where Nancy waited with Chloe. Cuba could still move pretty briskly at the beginning of a walk.
Jane Ann caught up with them as they started down the road. “You’re not leaving me there with those guys. Let Ben deal with them.”
They laughed and bent their bodies into the wind, pulling their jackets closed. No one was out at the host site, but Harry was tending the fire at the road workers' site while Clete pulled a bundle of wood out of the back of their pickup.
Harry nodded and ambled over to them. He was a big guy, solid, and his whole appearance seemed to radiate squareness. His head was blocky, his nose as wide at the top as at the bottom. Salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and parted on the side. Yet he was not unattractive and seemed friendly.
“Nice looking dogs,” he said. Not really a pickup line—more of a conversation starter to use on people who had to break up a fight between your friends.
“Thanks,” Frannie said, craning her neck a little to look up at him. “They’re pretty good campground dogs. They don’t bark much. How are your friends doing?”
He shrugged. “They’re okay. Don’s such a hot head.” Clete dropped the bundle of wood by the fire. He only came to Harry’s shoulder and unlike Harry, exuded meanness.
“I don’t know why we don’t dump him, Harry. He’s nuthin’ but trouble.”
The ancient little trailer behind them shook as Don came to the door and stuck his head out.
“You keep your mouth shut, Clete! Don’t be gossiping about me. You’re no better than an old lady.” Then he took more notice of the women in the road and his demeanor changed. “No offense, ladies.”
Nancy’s jaw dropped and Jane Ann smirked, mumbling “It wasn’t offensive until he obviously decided we are old ladies.”
“We don’t have to gossip about you, Don! Pretty soon everyone will know,” Clete yelled back over his shoulder, cackling.
“You—!” Don started, but Harry was already back at the trailer. Even looking up at Don, he was formidable.
“Go back inside until you cool down,” he said firmly. “I will turn you over to the cops if I have to deal with any more of this.”
Nancy said in a low voice, “Let’s move on. If Frannie ends up in the middle of this, her private cop will get me.” They nodded good-bye to Clete and urged the dogs on.
When they were out of earshot, Frannie said, “All I asked was how the other guys are doing.”
“That’s all it took. That group is
a tinderbox,” Jane Ann said.
“You know,” said Nancy, “Harry is certainly big enough to have broken up the fight earlier. Yet when we got there, he didn’t seem to be making much effort. Ben and Larry had to do it.”
“You’re right, Nance,” Frannie said. “Suppose he has some other agenda?”
“And Clete’s comment about ‘soon everyone will know.’ What’s that about?” Jane Ann said.
Frannie said, “The sheriff must have done a background check on Don by now. He gives me the creeps—ever since he was chatting with Sabet and Tessa the first night.”
They had to move off the road a couple of times to let campers pass who were leaving the park. They must have been ready to go as soon as the sheriff gave the word. The scene resembled striking a circus—awnings were furled, bins packed up, and colorful outdoor rugs rolled up. Dogs barked and kids chased each other.
As they came around the curve by the shower house, they found Agent Sanchez leaning against his car, talking on his phone.
Frannie said to the others, “I want to ask him what they’ve found out about Don.” They stood across the road from the agent, watching Tammy and her family pack up.
Tammy looked up from folding a tablecloth and smiled. “Are you leaving today, too?”
Frannie shook her head. “Ben and Nancy are—they’re still working. But the rest of us are lazy retired folks and we’re staying a couple more days.”
“That should be fun,” Tammy said, sounding a little doubtful. “I hear they’re looking for Taylor Trat’s father.”
Jane Ann nodded. “We all hope he’s the culprit and it’s just a custody issue.”
“Good morning, ladies,” came a deep voice behind them. Warren Sanchez was slipping his phone in his pocket as he crossed the road toward them.
“Agent Sanchez,” said Frannie, walking to meet him away from Tammy’s campsite. Jane Ann followed her while Nancy untangled Chloe’s leash from the registration post.
The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) Page 11
