Murder at Camp (Pineville Gazette Mystery Book 5)

by Wendy Meadows

  “What do you mean?” Stephanie asked, hurrying over to Mary and squatting down.

  Mary point at the silent face. “Look how bad her face is beginning to swell.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Stephanie exclaimed and bolted to her feet. “I...no...a heart attack...no...”

  Mary threw her eyes away from the silent face and found a swollen hand. “Jennifer’s hands are beginning to swell, too...and look at her calves.” Mary switched her eyes back to the silent face. “Lips are turning a strange color, too.”

  “Oh my...it was...murder,” Betty gasped and grabbed Stephanie’s hand. “Stephanie, we have to leave this place. Please.”

  “But...that would mean...Dylan...or Tom...”

  “Or both,” Mary finished for Stephanie in a worried voice. She quickly stood up and studied the trail. “Okay, girls, listen to me. We need to play dumb, is that clear? We need to act as if we truly believe Jennifer died of a heart attack and figure out a way to get to town without Dylan or Tom becoming suspicious.” Mary kept her eyes on the trail.

  “But Tom is supposed to drive into town and get the sheriff and Dr. Jamison,” Stephanie told Mary.

  “I don’t think so,” Mary whispered in a scared voice and quickly nodded at the trail. Tom and Dylan appeared in the distance. Dylan was carrying a blanket and Tom, to Mary’s horror, was carrying a pistol. Both men seemed upset and in a hurry.

  “Oh my,” Betty gasped.

  Stephanie spotted Tom with the pistol in his hand and terror struck her heart. But instead of running she called out: “Tom, what are you doing? You should be going to get the sheriff and Dr. Jamison!”

  Dylan and Tom hurried up to Stephanie. “Someone cut the tires on all the vehicles,” Dylan told Stephanie in a quick, shaky voice.

  “What!” Stephanie exclaimed.

  “It’s true,” Tom insisted. “Someone has cut the tires to each vehicle.” Tom threw his eyes down at his wife. “Dylan, cover Jennifer, please,” he asked.

  After Dylan quickly covered Jennifer’s body, Tom turned his back to his wife and searched the woods. “Who would do such a thing?” he asked in a panic-stricken voice. “Who would dare cut the tires to my car? Why, I’m one of the most powerful men in this part of the state.”

  Mary quickly studied Dylan’s face. The man’s eyes were possessed with authentic fear—a fear that told Mary that somewhere out in the deep woods a real killer was lurking, unseen and unheard. “If we stay together, perhaps we can walk out of here,” she suggested.

  Stephanie looked around. “It has to be Andy Shelton...he threatened us...all of us. You heard him threaten us, Tom.”

  “Of course I did,” Tom snapped. “I was standing in the same courtroom as you were when Andy Shelton threatened revenge.” Tom shook his head in disgust. “Andy Shelton is a weak man who would never dare carry out a threat. He’s a hungry gold digger who could not afford to pay his property taxes and nothing more. I refuse to credit that scoundrel with more than he’s worth.”

  Dylan backed away from Jennifer’s body. “I don’t know, Tom,” he objected. “A man like Andy Shelton could be capable of doing anything...even murder.” Dylan nodded down at the brown blanket he had covered Jennifer with.

  “My wife was not murdered,” Tom snapped. “Dylan, you have eyes. You saw her collapse right before your eyes.”

  “Then explain the cut tires,” Dylan snapped back.

  “I...can’t,” Tom admitted and then stood very, very still. “Perhaps...you’re right. Perhaps Andy Shelton is hiding somewhere in these deep woods...waiting to carry out his promised revenge,” Tom said in a low, terrified voice.

  “One thing is for certain,” Dylan said, “if Andy Shelton is the shadow in the bush...he knows this land far better than any one of us. We’re...sitting ducks.” And with those words, poor Betty fainted again.

  Chapter Three

  Tom and Dylan carried Jennifer’s body to the “H-8” sleeping cabin and followed Stephanie, Mary, and Betty down to the lake. Mary spotted the picnic blanket, four glasses, and a white and red thermos full of lemonade. The blanket, glasses, and thermos all appeared untouched.

  “I think Stephanie’s idea is good,” she said, casually bending down and picking up the thermos. Jennifer had been poisoned and Mary was beginning to wonder if the killer had not hidden the poison in the lemonade. Tom watched Mary pick up the thermos with nervous eyes and glanced at Dylan. Dylan didn’t say a word. “Uh, did any one of you drink any lemonade?” she asked. “I saw your wife take a sip, Tom, but I didn’t see any of you drink any of the lemonade.”

  “I don’t care for lemonade,” Tom informed Mary in a hard voice.

  “Neither do I,” Dylan added. “Stephanie is crazy about lemonade.”

  “I was too excited to drink any,” Stephanie explained. “I was blabbing my mouth too much to get any lemonade into my belly.” Stephanie locked eyes with Mary. Mary’s eyes told her to play dumb. “I guess I’ll have some lemonade later. Right now we need to check the canoe.”

  “Right,” Dylan agreed and searched the shore of the lake. “There. Come on, Tom,” he said and pointed at a green canoe resting upside down on the shore. He hurried down to the canoe, stepping on rocks and twigs, with Tom on his tail.

  Stephanie hurried over to Mary. “Do you think the lemonade is poisoned?” she whispered in a worried voice.

  “I’m afraid so,” Mary whispered back and looked at Betty. “Don’t faint, please,” she begged.

  Betty drew in a deep breath. “I’m okay,” she promised, keeping her eyes on the beautiful, gentle lake. “I want to leave this place, Mary. It’s very scary.”

  “No, it’s not,” Stephanie pleaded with Betty and grabbed her hands. “Look at the land...absorb its beauty. This land isn’t scary, Betty...it’s beautiful. Why, hundreds of years ago an American Indian tribe lived right where you’re standing. Children played here...women raised their families...men hunted.” Stephanie looked deep into Betty’s eyes. “Why, John Dillinger presented more danger to the world than my camp ever will.”

  Mary watched Dylan and Tom reach the green canoe. “A person put poison in this lemonade...assuming I’m right. At the moment I can’t think of any other way Jennifer was poisoned,” she said. “I have a horrible feeling, Stephanie, those two knew about the poison.”

  “But why?” Stephanie whispered in a low voice.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Mary whispered back, “but what I do know is that they’re both very scared.” Mary watched Dylan run his hands across the bottom of the canoe and then look at Tom with angry eyes. “Maybe Andy Shelton did cut the tires to each of our cars...those two sure are worried stiff. I’m starting to think they had murder on their minds along with an unseen intruder.”

  Stephanie watched Dylan hit the bottom of the canoe with his fist. “I’ve never seen Dylan so upset before,” she confessed.

  Mary took her cousin’s hand. “Could it be that Dylan and Tom arrived at your camp to commit murder, not knowing a third player was loose in the woods?” she asked.

  “But why would Dylan and Tom want to kill Jennifer?” Stephanie asked and changed her eyes over to Tom. Tom was standing beside the canoe looking down at what appeared to be something of grave concern.

  “Not Jennifer...you,” Mary told her in a deeply concerned voice.

  “Me?” Stephanie asked in a shocked voice. “But...Jennifer drank the lemonade...not me.”

  “I know,” Mary said in a troubled voice. “Why would Jennifer drink the lemonade if the lemonade was poisoned?”

  “Jennifer probably didn’t know the lemonade was poisoned,” Betty suggested.

  “Probably,” Mary agreed and then coughed. “Here they come. Play dumb.”

  Stephanie wiped her hands against her dress and then held them out to Dylan. “What’s the matter?”

  “It looks like someone took a big rock and smashed up the bottom of the canoe,” Dylan explained without taking Stephanie’s hands. Instead he turned his
back to her and waited for Tom to catch up. “Stephanie, are there any more canoes?”

  Stephanie stared at Dylan’s back, felt her heart break, and slowly lowered her hands. “No...I’m afraid there aren’t,” she said in a low voice. “That was my personal canoe I brought up here.”

  “You carried that canoe all the way from the parking area to the lake alone?” Betty asked in a shocked voice.

  “My daddy helped me carry the canoe when he came for a visit,” Stephanie explained. “I brought him to my camp to show him the beauty and to win over his heart.”

  “Well, the canoe is certainly not seaworthy,” Tom complained, still holding his pistol. He looked around with urgent, angry eyes and then focused on Dylan. “Suggestions?”

  “We have no other choice but to walk,” Dylan told Tom.

  “And allow the person behind these crimes to harm us?” Tom shook his head. “Dylan, I am a man who understands logic. Logic dictates that right now we are at the mercy of a man who understands this foul land better than we do. Logic also dictates that if we dare attempt to travel out of this swamp on foot, we’ll surely end up six feet under the earth.”

  “Then what do you suggest, Tom?” Dylan snapped. “All the vehicles are now disabled, and the canoe is destroyed. All we have to depend on are our legs.”

  Tom saw Mary and Betty staring at him. “Stop staring at me,” Dylan complained. “Can’t you both understand that I am a man under a great deal of emotional stress right now?”

  Betty quickly lowered her eyes. “Oh...sorry.”

  Mary refused to lower hers. “Mr. Mintson,” she said, “you seem more upset over at the possibility of being hurt than the death of your wife. Why?”

  “How dare you?” Tom growled at Mary. “My wife is dead and you dare stand there and accuse of me being some...cold-hearted animal?”

  “Calm down,” Dylan ordered Tom and held up a hand at Mary. “I understand you are Stephanie’s cousin, but you’re crossing a very ugly line. My uncle is very upset right now and doesn’t need you to add...childish antics to his trauma.”

  “Not childish, Mr. Roltdale,” Mary pointed out. She looked into Dylan’s eyes with courage and intelligence and firmly held her ground. “I’m bothered that Mr. Mintson is more upset at the possibility of being harmed than over the death of his wife. If that’s a crime then so be it.”

  Betty tensed up. Upsetting a man holding a pistol didn’t seem very smart in her eyes, yet she knew Mary never acted without thinking first. “My wife and I weren’t...close,” Tom snapped at Mary with furious eyes. “Jennifer and I had an arranged marriage.”

  “Arranged?” Stephanie asked in a shocked voice.

  “Yes, arranged,” Tom nearly yelled at Stephanie. “The love in our marriage died many years ago. We decided to stay married because of...certain financial obligations. So don’t stand there and expect me to shed tears over a woman who, behind closed doors, despised the ground I walked on.”

  Dylan gave Tom a stern eye. “Enough, Tom,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re not obligated to answer a stranger.”

  Tom threw his eyes at the lake. “I’m fully aware of that, Dylan,” he snapped in a voice that showed he was clearly coming apart at the seams. Tom Mintson, although brave in the secure courtroom, was melting down like a candle roasting in a hot sun. “We have to find a way out of this dreadful place.” Tom turned to Stephanie. “You’re the wilderness expert. Tell us how to leave this place safely,” he demanded.

  “The canoe was the only safe passage,” Stephanie told Tom. “Without the canoe, I’m afraid the only other way back to town is by foot.”

  “Impossible!” Tom yelled. “I refuse to be trapped like a common household mouse!”

  Dylan grabbed Tom’s shoulder. “Calm down,” he ordered with angry eyes. “Get a grip on yourself.”

  Mary stepped back away from Tom and Dylan. “While you two argue amongst yourselves, Betty and I are going to explore the camp. Maybe we can find something that will be of some use.” Mary looked at Stephanie. “Stephanie, will you come with us?”

  “Sure,” Stephanie said. “Dylan, you and Tom stay close to the canoe. If we find something of use, we’ll bring it back down to the lake.”

  “You’re not going to find anything of use,” Dylan told Stephanie in a disgusted voice. “Your camp is a swamp.”

  “Don’t you dare say that!” Stephanie snapped. “Dylan Roltdale, you know more than anyone what this camp means to me.”

  “Come on,” Mary told Stephanie and quickly grabbed her hand. “We need to search the camp while the sun is still high in the sky.”

  “Be back in one hour,” Dylan warned.

  “One...hour...sure,” Betty promised and hurried away with Mary and Stephanie. “What now?” she whispered.

  “Now we go back to the parking area,” Mary whispered, forcing her head to remain forward, instead of looking back at Dylan’s and Tom’s angry faces.

  “What for?” Stephanie asked.

  “Yeah, what for, Mary?” Betty begged. “Are we going to try to leave this place on foot?”

  “I wish we could,” Mary explained, reaching the fallen tree. She threw her eyes at Stephanie. “Tom and Dylan are in cahoots, Stephanie. We can’t let them get away with murder. If they manage to escape your camp, they’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Stephanie asked as she carefully helped Mary climb over the fallen tree.

  “They don’t seem too interested in harming us...yet,” Mary explained in a low voice. “Tom and Dylan both seem more interested in preserving their own lives.” Mary looked around. “We have to find the man who cut the tires.”

  “Andy Shelton? Are you crazy, Mary?” Stephanie exclaimed. “Andy Shelton is the man we’re trying to escape from.”

  Mary reached out her hand and helped Betty begin navigating the fallen tree. Betty let out a miserable whimper. “Mother would be upset if she saw her one and only daughter climbing over a tree like a little boy with no manners.”

  Stephanie glanced back toward the lake. She spotted Dylan and Tom walking back down to the canoe, arguing with each other. “They’re not very subtle about their feelings, are they? Why, a nine-year-old could clearly see that those two are guilty of some crime.” Stephanie felt her heart break again. “I honestly...wanted to believe...” She stopped talking and lowered her head.

  “I know,” Mary whispered and took Stephanie’s hand. “I’m very sorry.”

  “I’m sorry that love will never find me,” Stephanie replied and wiped away a single tear. “All I’ve ever wanted was for a good man to...love me as his wife. I knew I was settling for Dylan...desperate for love. I should have known something was wrong when Dylan agreed to let me spend so many months up here without him...”

  “Come on,” Mary urged Stephanie across the tree. Stephanie nodded and worked her way over the tree like a professional climber. “We need to hurry.”

  Stephanie hesitated. “Mary, Andy Shelton threatened to destroy me,” she explained in a worried voice. “He’s already cut the tires to every car—”

  “But he hasn’t killed anyone yet,” Mary pointed out. “Cutting tires on a car isn’t murder.” Mary nodded toward Dylan and Tom and held up the thermos she was holding. “Putting poison in this lemonade is. If we can explain to Andy Shelton—if that’s who cut the tires—that Dylan and Tom are killers, maybe he will help us.”

  “But—” Stephanie began to object.

  “Stephanie, how many times have you been up here alone?” Mary asked.

  “Dozens of times,” Stephanie said. “And most of the time...not all the time...Andy Shelton ran me off.”

  “Exactly,” Mary pointed out. “Andy Shelton ran you off, but he didn’t kill you.”

  “Yes, but...but...” Stephanie stopped talking and stared into her cousin’s eyes. “Why, Mary Holland, when did you get so smart?” she asked and felt a hopeful smile touch her lips. “Come on, girls,
we need to hurry.”

  Mary grabbed Betty’s hands and hurried after Stephanie. “Watch your footing.”

  Betty kept her eyes on the ground. “Oh, if I return home with a hurt ankle Mother will surely be upset. It’s going to be awful enough returning home and finding Mr. Steen stalking poor Mother all over town.”

  “Mr. Steen?” Stephanie asked.

  “Long story,” Mary said, looking back toward the run-down camp cabins. For a few seconds, inside of her heart, she saw how beautiful the camp had once been and how beautiful it could become. She felt warm sunshine on her neck, heard the sound of children laughing and playing, smelled hot dogs cooking and saw cabins that were loved instead of deserted. Inside of her heart Mary saw a camp full of life, adventure, beauty, and laughter—a place where a child could truly explore his or her heart without the world setting limits. “Stephanie, I so admire your desire to create a camp for poor children.”

  Stephanie searched the run-down cabins and sighed. “I’ve seen so many children trapped under a dark sky, Mary. Some children are trapped right here in our own country, living in poverty. Some children are trapped in other countries...but the depression, the hunger, the sadness...it’s all the same. I want to destroy that dark cloud...even if it’s only during the summer months.”

  Betty admired Stephanie for her kind and brave heart. Even though she felt terrified, she could understand why a woman like Stephanie would risk the dangers of the wild to create a place of hope for children who were strangers to laughter. Suddenly, she realized, the camp no longer seemed dark and creepy—just...in need of love and care. “But first we have to escape the clutches of two killers...maybe three,” she whispered in a worried voice. “I sure hope Mary is right...I sure hope that this Mr. Shelton isn’t a killer.”

  Mary glanced at Betty, read her best friend’s eyes, and bit down on her lip. “I sure hope I’m right, too,” she told Betty with her eyes and hurried to keep pace with Stephanie. Stephanie understood the land. Mary and Betty were still strangers. But, Mary thought, by the time the sun set she was sure the land was going to become more familiar to her eyes and heart.