Cat Got Your Corpse

by Louise Lynn

  Hazel's gut turned to stone. What job was she talking about? They said they were just camping, but Sheriff Cross had been suspicious of them, and Hazel trusted his instincts.

  When she returned to the picnic table, things hadn't gotten any better. Esther’s voice kept raising, and Ruth had pinched her mouth shut and was shaking her head.

  The food Esther had been preparing was covered, otherwise it would've been swarmed by a collection of Stellar jays and insects.

  Hazel grabbed one of Esther’s shoulders and squeezed. “What did mom do this time?"

  "I wanted to learn. And it's not like grandma taught me, she just lets me watch the wrestling shows,” Ruth cried.

  Esther blinked, looking back between her father and her daughter. "Wrestling? Since when do you like wrestling?"

  Ruth shrugged. "Since I saw it on TV one time. My favorite wrestler is El Gato. He wears a pink mask and a yellow and purple leotard and does all sorts of jumps and kicks! Grandma started watching it with me. She says her Spanish is rusty, but she remembers some of it,” Ruth said with a big grin, and proceeded to high kick an invisible foe.

  Esther was left speechless, and Hazel couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. "Mexican wrestling? Oh, she is definitely a member of the Hart family. Let me guess. Mom was watching her Spanish soaps again, wasn’t she?”

  Their dad nodded sheepishly.

  “It’s called Lucha libre,” Ruth said.

  Esther looked at a loss, and her shoulders slumped. "Fine. I—why didn't you just tell me you liked Mexican wrestling or Lucha libre?" she said and sounded exasperated.

  Ruth shrugged again, and knelt down to cuddle Anthony Ray, who allowed it. “Because you’d probably tell me I wasn’t allowed."

  Esther looked ready to say something, but their father put a hand on her arm and shook his head. "Lunch looks good. Is it time to eat? I know I'm starving."

  Esther took the hint, and her lips thinned into a line.

  She finished fixing lunch, which wasn't all that complicated, and by the time they had their plates of sandwiches and salad ready, and their mugs filled with her famous sparkling lemonade, the hunters had finally retreated to their own camp.

  Their father didn't look quite ready to explain, so Hazel decided to give him a little more time as they enjoyed their lunch without any further outbursts. Though a Stellar jay did squawk at them from the end of the picnic table and demand crumbs from time to time.

  Ruth enjoyed that immensely, as did Anthony Ray. Though, the bird didn’t seem particularly frightened of him. And Anthony Ray didn't seem particularly predisposed to catch it either.

  By the end of lunch, they’d come to a sort of truce, where Anthony Ray purred on Hazel's lap and the bird perched near the fire pit enjoying its spoils.

  "Now that that's done, maybe we can go on a bit of a hike?" their dad said and started heading toward his tent. He and Ruth had erected it quickly enough, though Hazel imagined it was still a mess inside.

  "Not so fast," Esther said and crossed her arms. "We deserve an explanation, and you can't put us off any longer, dad,"

  He let out of breath, like a balloon deflating, and nodded. Then he sank into his camp chair. A crisp Sierra breeze blew, and above them the tree branches swayed and cast interesting shadows over everything.

  The creek bubbled, in the distance, and Hazel could see the snowcapped top of Mount Rose, rising above everything.

  If her father was having a hard time telling a story, that meant it was serious. Something he didn't like to talk about. Her gut hardened further.

  But Esther was right. He did owe them an explanation for his behavior.

  "Like I said, the man's name is Cliff Crawford. He’s a dentist by day. Actually, I think he retired a few years ago.”

  "So what did he do? Give you a bad root canal?" Esther asked. For once, she didn't sound accusatory, more like she wanted to know what her father had against the man.

  As far as Hazel was concerned, that was progress.

  Edgar shook his head. "Nothing like that. I met him in Tanzania. Three years ago, I was on a National Geographic shoot in the Serengeti National Park. Not sure if you girls remember that, but it was a long assignment. Six months over there, working with the people who ran the park. Really, I wish you girls could've been there. It was a dream come true," he said and his eyes sparkled with the not so distant memory.

  Hazel noticed her sister's expression close.

  Esther leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "How about you just get to the point instead of reminiscing about how wonderful it was to be away from your family for six months," she said, her tone biting.

  Their father flinched. "You're right, Esther. But I wasn’t happy to be away from anyone. I'd been over there for about four months at the time. There's always trouble with poachers, but this was on a different scale. One of the buck elephants was found killed. Shot. And whoever did it, didn't take the tusks. Usually poachers want the ivory and some other bits to sell on the black market, but this majestic animal was just slaughtered. And, girls, you have to know it's not easy to kill an African elephant. They'll charge you. They can stomp a man to death to protect themselves. Whoever did this used dirty methods. They tranquilized the animal first, and then hunted it as it slowly lost consciousness," he said and shook his head.

  Bile rose in Hazel's throat. She had an idea where this was going. "Okay, you can spare us the gory details. It was this Crawford guy who did it?"

  Their father nodded. "Yeah. When all was said and done, he'd killed six animals in the park. Including a cheetah and her cubs. Cheetahs are endangered, and he just shot them because he could. To rack up the numbers on some big game check sheet," he said and his hands balled into fists again.

  Esther's eyes were wide, and Ruth’s bottom lip trembled. "That mean man killed animals for fun?" she cried and leaned forward to hug Anthony Ray.

  Hazel ran her fingers through her niece's hair and felt her own eyes prick with tears.

  "Yes. Some people are just like that," their father said.

  "So how does he know you?" Esther asked, her tone gentle.

  Edgar got a slight hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Like I said, poaching big game in the National Parks is illegal. And, over there, they actually have people that will hunt you down and send you to prison for a long time. If there's one place you don't want to be, it's probably a Tanzanian prison.”

  Hazel was pretty sure she wouldn't want to be in any kind of prison. Ever. But she would take her dad's word on that.

  "But he obviously didn't get caught," Esther said and chewed on her bottom lip. Hazel could tell her sister was torn between being mad at Cliff Crawford and angry at her father for trying to start a fight with him.

  "No. We didn't catch him. We came close, but he paid off some officials to get out of the country. I ran into him at the airport. We’d met briefly before, so I knew he was a hunter. After I learned what he’d done, I’d talked to my editors at National Geographic and ran a unauthorized profile on him. I didn't use his name, so he couldn't sue me, but he wasn't too happy about it. We got into a bit of a fight, I guess you could call it. No, I didn't throw any punches that time. It was strictly verbal. But, I swore if I ever saw him again, I'd make him pay for his crimes. To this day, I wish that cheetah killed him instead of the other way around,” he finished and stared at his hands. They had more wrinkles on them than Hazel remembered, and she reached across and wrapped her fingers around one of his.

  "You can't blame yourself for what he did. And I'm pretty sure he can't be arrested in the US for hunting in Africa. No matter how illegal it was."

  His shoulders slumped. "I know, but I feel like I failed. I spent my whole life trying to show people the majesty of wildlife, and then I can’t even stop one measly hunter from killing endangered animals. Some of these animals only have a few thousand left in the wild. Some a few hundred, and he wanted to kill them for sport. And I couldn't protect t
hem,” he said softly.

  Esther had an expression that Hazel couldn't read, and Ruth was trying desperately to keep from crying and failing, all at once.

  "Okay, you couldn't save those animals then. That doesn't mean you can't save some in the future. Now that we know what kind of person this Cliff Crawford character is, I’ll tell the ranger and Sheriff Cross. Maybe he'll be able to prevent something from happening here. That sound good?" Hazel said and gave them all a wider grin than she felt like making.

  Her father nodded, and Esther stood up. “Well, now that that's settled, how about we go on that hike you were talking about. Dad, you can point out all the local nature. Wouldn't you like that, Ruth?”

  Ruth nodded. “Can I hold Anthony Ray's leash?"

  Hazel smiled. "Of course. Just remember to wrap it around your arm, and don't let him tug you too fast. You know how he gets when he sees birds. And squirrels. And raccoons."

  Hazel thought about mentioning skunks, but she decided they got the point.

  Chapter 4

  While their father, Esther, and Ruth headed off on the hike, Hazel decided to walk over to the ranger’s cabin and share the news about Cliff Crawford. She may not be able to do anything, but at least the ranger would know there was a big game hunter around, so she might keep a close eye on him and prevent him from hurting any of the local wildlife.

  However, Ranger Albright wasn't at her cabin, so Hazel wrote a quick note and shoved it under the door before heading back to their own campsite.

  Her Olympus camera thumped against her chest as she walked, she noticed the one other camper besides themselves. The hunters had returned to their tent.

  It was a young woman, probably close to Crawford's daughter's age, but she was the complete opposite physically. She was small and willowy with long brown hair that hung past her waist. She wore a loose-fitting skirt and a blouse that didn't look suitable for camping.

  The girl gave Hazel a sunny smile. Then she went back to gnawing on something that looked like a piece of bark, but was probably jerky. "I take it you're not with those nasty hunters, are you? Your aura is a lot cleaner than theirs."

  Hazel blinked. "My aura? Thanks. No, not with them at all."

  Her mother hadn't mentioned auras to Hazel in a while, thank goodness, and now she had a complete stranger doing it. But maybe this girl would like all that sage her mother had left with her. It would be a better way to get rid of it without actually burning it and stinking up their campsite.

  "Good. Oh, and hi, I’m Abby Reynolds. Hey, do you want some mushroom jerky? I have a lot. It's homemade, and it's really good," she said and went back to gnawing on her piece of bark-like jerky.

  Hazel shook her head. “I’m Hazel Hart, and no thanks. I just ate lunch. Actually, I’m trying to catch up with the rest of my group on a hike. But it was nice to meet you.”

  "You know, there's this excellent hike that goes through three different mountain valleys. It takes about nine hours round trip, but it's so worth it. Especially if you leave at dawn. And you look like the type who could handle that," she said with a distantly sunny smile.

  Hazel nodded. Early morning hikes were one of her favorite things to do on camping trips, another reason that Celia thought she was insane. "I'll check it out. Thanks for the tip."

  The girl shook her head. She had a hammock strung up in her campsite. It was the only other thing there besides her tent, a lime green moped, and a blue and white cooler.

  "Oh, and just a warning. That Ranger Albright is a beast. She will get on you for the tiniest infraction, and, I don't think she likes her job very much. Or has much respect for the local wildlife. I keep hearing her complain about the bears and the mountain lions, but it was their forest first," Abby said, and her eyes filled with tears. She looked as if she’d heard Edgar’s story.

  "I'll keep that in mind. What has she done?" Hazel asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  Abby shook her head. "A lot. And none of it good. But she's not as bad as those people in that horrific truck over there. They have the blackest auras I've ever seen. And I know they’re bloodthirsty monsters. I can just tell.” Her voice lowered to something resembling a growl.

  The hair stood up on the back of Hazel's neck, and she took a few steps back. "Yeah, my father knows one of them. I mean, he almost punched the man today. He's a big game hunter, so if you see them doing anything illegal, please tell the ranger right away."

  The girl's eyes, which were a soft honey brown, hardened. "Oh, as if Albright would do anything. But I'll take care of it. Don't worry,” she said, and her expression suddenly brightened again.

  Hazel raised her brow as she walked away.

  It looked like her peaceful vacation was turning into anything but.

  The next morning, Hazel woke to a rumble. She opened her eyes with a start.

  Thunder?

  No, it was too even for that.

  More like an engine revving up and fading into the distance.

  Her tent was dark and the biting cold pre-dawn air nipped at her cheeks. She was glad for her thermal socks and the lump of heat that was Anthony Ray's fuzzy body cuddled next to her in the sleeping bag.

  She sucked in a breath and listened. The engine racket faded, and she couldn't hear anything outside besides the outrageously early morning twitter of birds. If these were anything like the ones near her cabin on the shores of Lake Celeste, they probably all got up at five a.m.—the sadists.

  She tried to get back to sleep, but what her father had told them the day before flashed through her mind, and she couldn’t manage it. With a sigh, she coaxed Anthony Ray from his sleeping place and climbed off the cot.

  He gave her an in indignant meow, and she smiled. "I know, but think of it this way, you get breakfast soon. And we can go for an early morning walk. There might even be some critters running around."

  She hoped none of them were a skunk.

  Hazel changed from her pajamas into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and shoved the knit cap her mother had made over her wild curls. She was camping, so nobody was going to judge her out here in the wilderness, she hoped.

  Next came Anthony Ray’s harness and leash, and she dipped into her bag for a quick bite of breakfast for him. He gobbled it up, and smacked his lips when he was finished, as if to tell her how delicious it had been.

  Hazel desperately needed an oversized mug of coffee, but she'd have to wait until the rest of her camp woke and her father put the percolator on the propane camp stove. For now, she’d make do with a granola bar and a few sips of water.

  The crisp early morning air helped to wake her up.

  The rest of the camp was fast asleep. She heard her father’s snores coming from the canvas tent, and Esther and Ruth were mostly silent.

  The sun hadn't even peeked over the mountains yet, though it's warm light was shining across the horizon in a dim golden glow. With the Nikon slung over her neck, and Anthony Ray's leash in hand, Hazel set off.

  Abby’s campsite was still as the grave, and the lime green moped was missing, so Hazel assumed that was the engine that had awakened her.

  Several trails took off from the campground, though none of them were clearly marked, so Hazel chose one at random and decided if it went on for too long, she’d turn back.

  The birds sang merrily in the trees, and Anthony Ray trotted along side and stopped to sniff the brightly colored wildflowers that grew on the forest floor.

  Hazel's idea of hiking was more of a leisurely walk that involved stopping to take photos every few yards, which was why she got along so well with her father. Power hikers got annoyed with their pace, and the way they liked to stop and admire the scenery and figure out the best angle for a photo.

  It didn't take long for Hazel to realize this wasn’t the trail Abby had told her about that led through three mountain valleys, and she was glad of that because she wasn't up for a nine-hour hike. But this trail did seem to lead past several of the out-of-the-way cam
ping spots, but since no one was camping in them it wasn't a big deal.

  Then she remembered the hunters had headed in this direction.

  Part of her wanted to turn around and go back to her own campsite and start on the coffee, but Anthony Ray tugged the leash forward, ears perked.

  She heard something whining in the distance.

  The dogs?

  Had they come into contact with a skunk? Well, she didn't smell one, and smell usually preceded their appearance, and lingered long after they’d left.

  She walked carefully, not wanting to surprise anyone with a rifle, and hoped they were still sleeping. The last thing she needed was a one-on-one conversation with any of those people. Who knew what they were capable of?

  Or what she was capable of after hearing what that awful Crawford man did.

  Hazel understood her father's anger well enough. And, she wasn't sure if she would’ve acted any differently. Though, throwing a punch was outside of her wheelhouse.

  The whining dogs grew louder as she approached, and Anthony Ray tugged the leash taut, insistent upon heading in that direction.

  Then one of the dogs yelped, and she gave up and trotted forward.

  After what Crawford's daughter had said, she wanted to make sure the hounds weren’t injured in some way.

  The trail came to their camp from the back, and it looked like everyone was sleeping when she crept upon it. The dogs were whining because their leashes had been tied to trees, and no one had left food or water for them. Not to mention the temperature that night had dipped down into the forties, so the poor things were shivering uncontrollably.

  Hazel frowned. "Hello? I'm a fellow camper, and your dogs are cold."

  No one answered.

  That wasn't good.

  Maybe they’d gone off for an early-morning kill session, she thought, and crept into their camp.

  Three oversized tents were set up, and they looked palatial compared to her own. Their chairs were the expensive recliner kind, and their cooking set up was similarly high tech.