by Louise Lynn
Her father shook his head furiously. “Balderdash, poppycock, and absolute bull! And no offense, ranger, but I think I've been a naturalist a fair few years longer than you have. This was not a cougar attack. It was made to look like one," he said and crossed his arms.
"Made to look like one? Oh, please! You're telling me someone was trying to frame a mountain lion for killing my father? How much crazier can you get?" Summer Crawford said and stamped one of her booted feet.
"What's so crazy about it?" Hazel asked, trying to keep her voice calm. That girl had a way of working on her last nerve.
"Well, it is a little far-fetched," Ranger Albright said.
Why was this woman taking Summer Crawford’s side? Well, Hazel assumed it was because Ranger Albright didn't like Hazel calling the sheriff.
"It sounds like the perfect cover to me," Sheriff Cross said and smiled his wolfish smile. Hazel hadn't seen that one in a while, but it was good that Sheriff Cross had it aimed at someone besides her, for once.
"Cover? Now that's a reach," Ranger Albright said. "And, your jurisdiction or not, I'm getting the National Forest Service involved. They'll be here soon to check this whole thing out, and come up with an official ruling. So, Sheriff, your services are no longer needed."
Sheriff Cross’s smile sharpened, and Hazel hoped he had some sort of plan.
If the ranger said they weren't allowed to investigate, this murder would go unsolved. Not to mention what would become of the mountain lion they blamed for the death.
“It's funny you say that, because I just put an order in to the judge who rules over Celeste County. I think he'll be back to me by the end of the week to let us know whose jurisdiction it actually is up here."
Ranger Albright's gaze sharpened. "Oh, pulling strings with the higher-ups. Let me guess, he's an old friend? This entire county's full of corruption," she said under her breath, though it was perfectly loud enough for everyone present to hear.
Hazel opened her mouth, but Colton spoke before she could. "The old city Council, and sheriff were as corrupt as they came. But I'm the new sheriff, and while Judge Wellingham isn't an old friend, we’ve worked together several times in these last few months. So I wouldn't go discarding my help so quickly, Ranger," he said and inclined his head. “Plus, I have a secret weapon.”
Ranger Albright rolled her eyes. “Oh, a city boy like you? What’s that?”
Hazel snorted. Sheriff Cross was a city boy, but she never held that against him.
The sheriff’s eyes sparked, but he didn’t answer her question. “I said it was a secret weapon. If I told you what it was, it would no longer be secret, would it?”
Ranger Albright scoffed, but Summer Crawford smiled. Her teeth showed, and Hazel swore it was more predator-like than Sheriff Cross’s own smile.
Soon enough, a medical van arrived to take away Cliff Crawford's body.
Summer stared after the black bag, and Hazel swore the young woman's bottom lip trembled. Was she actually feeling sad about the death now? Well, she was human—even if she didn't act it.
Summer Crawford then approached Sheriff Cross. She jutted her shoulders back and her chest out, and her brown eyes seemed to catch fire in the noonday sun. "If it wasn't a mountain lion who did this, then I know who the culprit is. The only person who would want to pull a stunt like this. And, he threatened to kill my dad yesterday. It's that man, Edgar Hart," she said and pointed at Hazel's father.
Chapter 9
"What?" Hazel cried, and was too stunned to move. She simply blinked and stared.
James Duke rushed to Summer’s side and put a hand on her arm. "Calm down. You can't really think he–"
"Get away from me, you coward! This would never have happened if we hadn’t left camp. You could have manned up and stayed here overnight, especially after all the money you paid to come on this trip. It’s pathetic," she said and her eyes stared daggers at Hazel's father.
Edgar Hart shook his head. "No. Of course I didn't do this. I don't even have a weapon capable of such a thing. But, I did threaten the man, Colton. If you'd like to know my side of the story, you know where I'm staying. But, I'm not going to stand here and listen to baseless accusations about my character," he said and turned.
Hazel threw a helpless look at Sheriff Cross, and he nodded quickly, her cue to follow her dad.
Colton was probably doing that so she wouldn’t make a scene. And she couldn't blame him, because she felt like slapping Summer Crawford in the face. And Hazel Hart had never slapped anybody in her life.
So, she left him to deal with it. Hazel trusted him. Though, she wasn't sure how polite he’d be about the whole thing.
She also hoped he didn't think her father actually did it. There was nothing like him accusing one of her parents of murder to throw a wrench into the middle of their relationship.
Her stomach grumbled by the time they got back to their campsite, and she realized it was after noon. Hopefully, Esther hadn’t made lunch without them.
“Auntie Hazy! Auntie Hazy, guess who came?" Ruth cried and ran to meet them.
Hazel glanced at her mother's blue hatchback, parked near Hazel’s red truck. "Grandma? I thought she wanted to stay and run her shop this week,” she said to her father.
Ruth shrugged, as if the question were addressed to her, and Edgar did the same. They let Ruth tug them both toward the campsite.
Hazel's mother, Maureen Hart, wasn't the only person who'd made the trip up the mountain. Sheriff Cross’s niece, Violet, sat there as well. "Hi. I came along for the picnic. I swear I'm not crashing your family camping trip."
Hazel smiled and shook her head. "You're not crashing anything. And great, unless mom's the one who brought the picnic," she said and looked at Esther.
Maureen Hart tutted. "I only brought raw ingredients, and the sandwich spread. Tuna salad. Even I can't mess that up, right, dear?" she said to her husband.
Edgar Hart’s only answer was a smile.
Hazel had a feeling he was being diplomatic, and that her mother had, at some point, messed up tuna salad. He was just too magnanimous to say so.
"I can attest that she did not ruin the tuna salad. But I also told her not to put in radishes or cucumbers this time," Esther said.
"You girls want celery in it but not any other crunchy veggies? I don't know what to do with you. I still say jicama would be perfectly fine in it."
Hazel couldn't quite remember what jicama tasted like, so she didn't have any comment on that.
It looked like Esther had been hard at work preparing lunch, and Hazel gratefully sat down to enjoy it. It was much easier than enjoying breakfast since there wasn't a bunch of ketchup or strawberry jam on display anywhere to remind her of that morning’s incident. The food on the table this time was neither red nor in a liquid state.
"To what do we owe the honor of your company?" Edgar asked and kissed his wife on the cheek.
She smiled at him playfully. "Slow day, and Tess had something important that she said Hazel needed to hear. Then Violet popped in to buy some incense, and I asked if she'd like to tag along. Thought we could make a day trip out of it."
"What about that library thing?" Hazel asked Violet.
The girl scrunched her nose and shrugged. “I already read all the books, so it felt like I was a little bit ahead of everyone. Plus, I did kinda want to see what this place was like. It’s… pretty," she said with a smile.
Hazel silently agreed. "Even better when you go into the subalpine meadows. Lake Celeste isn't the only amazing lake around here either. But it's one of the easiest to get to, nowadays."
Her father nodded sagely as he poured a pile of potato chips on his plate. "It wasn't always the case. Did you know it used to take about eight hours to get up to Lake Celeste at the turn-of-the-century? That's why the houses built around that time were all mansions. The rich were the only ones who could afford to get there, and they only stayed for the summers when the weather was nice. Then the houses were a
ll shut up for the winter.”
"What about the lodge?" Violet said.
Every resident, new and old, in Cedar Valley knew about Cedar Lodge. It stood on the hill over the town like a beacon.
"Oh, it was built around the same time. But it was also originally for those wealthy enough to stay there. It's not until recently that it became available for a middle-class clientele. And even still, it's one of the most expensive resorts on the lake to this day.”
Hazel nodded. She'd seen the price of the hotel rooms there, and she wasn't sure she'd want to dish out money for one unless someone else was picking up the bill.
Hazel noticed that the hounds were gone, which she was slightly saddened by. Even if their owner was a piece of work, the dogs were both innocent.
Anthony Ray was there to join in the festivities, especially when offered his own bit of cat friendly tuna salad. He gobbled it up in no time flat. Then he got to harass and be harassed by the Stellar jays who hung around squawking and waiting for scraps as well.
They almost made it entirely through lunch before someone brought up the nasty business of the morning. To no one's surprise, it was Ruth.
“Grandma! Grandma, guess what? Grandpa got in a fight with a guy yesterday. He tried to punch him, but I told him to go for the knees because that's a weak point," she said with a wide toothless grin.
Maureen Hart looked caught between the desire to laugh, and the desire to scold someone—most likely her husband. "A fight? What’s this about? Is that why all those deputy cars are here? What did you do, Edgar?"
For the first time that day, Hazel's father looked sheepish. He shook his head. "It was nothing, really. And you didn't know? The sheriff's here too.”
Hazel nodded slowly. “Yeah, the deputies have nothing to do with him. Colton’s wrapping up a crime scene right now. A fellow camper was killed.”
Maureen Hart’s eyes widened behind her glasses. Her hair was a few shades paler than Hazel's own coppery locks, but it was just as wild and curly. Her usual uniform of several gauzy layers had been replaced with one gauzy layer for a top and another for a skirt. Though, Hazel was sure there was a sarong in there somewhere. And possibly a tank top. "Oh, well, Tess’s insistence makes a lot more sense now."
Hazel rolled her eyes. Tess was her mother’s shop assistant or partial owner. Hazel was never quite sure how the ownership of her mother's New Age shop, Esoterica, was handled.
Tess herself usually spoke in riddles or bad poetry, and she had, perhaps on one or two occasions, said something insightful. Though the number of times she spouted nonsense was probably far greater than number of times she was helpful.
With a heavy sigh, Hazel decided to ask for the inevitable. "Okay, what did she say?"
Her mother's eyes sparked. "I wrote it down, just in case I got it wrong. You know, I really don't know how she comes up with these. I assume the spirits are telling her things.”
Hazel shook her head. Her mother believed in spirits, Tarot cards, and all sorts of New Age mumbo-jumbo that Hazel herself never bought into. She was more interested in facts, empirical evidence, and things she could see with her own eyes.
Her mother pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. It was done in her loopy cursive scrawl that Hazel could never quite copy. “'Though you may be but a hen, step into the lion’s den. Though the lions give a fright, you will find their jaws don't bite." That's it!”
Hazel blinked, and her father straightened in his seat. "She said ‘lion's den?’”
Maureen Hart pushed up her glasses. "Yes. It's all right there. You want me to read it again? I know it can take a few times for the rhyme to make sense."
Hazel thought it was more that the rhymes hardly ever made sense unless you forced them to, but she didn't say that. A shiver shot up her spine. “No, I think I can remember it just fine. That's the thing, the camper who was killed. It was made to look like a mountain lion did it," she said.
Esther shook her head. “It wasn’t actually a mountain lion? Are you sure?”
"I looked at the scene myself, Essie, and I can guarantee it was not the work of a mountain lion,” their father said.
Esther looked unconvinced.
"Who was killed?" Violet asked.
“Oh, a big game hunter named Cliff Crawford," Edgar said and shook his head.
Maureen sucked in a breath. "Oh, that's the fellow you got into an argument with at the Tanzanian airport a few years back? Oh dear. I can see why you wouldn't be shedding tears over that man," she said and made a complicated sign with her hands that looked like she was trying to take flight.
Violet’s nose scrunched again. “Wait, is that the guy who killed the cheetahs in the Serengeti? And he killed some elephants after he'd drugged them so they couldn't escape or stomp him to death or anything?"
Hazel nodded. "How did you know?"
"I'd like to stomp him to death," Ruth cried and stomped her feet, which in turn kicked up a dust cloud.
"I know you would, dear," Maureen said and kissed her granddaughter's forehead.
"It was all over the Internet a few years ago. You don't remember?" Violet said and pulled out her phone. Then she scowled at it. "Right. No signal.”
Hazel shook her head, but Esther's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, now that you mention it, I do remember a bit about that. I didn’t pay attention because I didn't like the photos they showed. Did you take them?" she said and looked at their father.
Edgar Hart shook his head. "No. I did take some of his handiwork after the fact. Someone else took his trophy photos.”
This was one of the first cases that Hazel couldn't muster up very much sympathy for the victim. Usually, no matter how awful, a death was impactful. This time, all she could think about were the innocent lives of the creatures he'd taken, and how his death stopped that.
"The sheriff doesn't think you had anything to do with it, does he, Edgar?” Maureen Hart asked suddenly.
Violet blinked. "Why would he think that?"
Esther’s expression sobered, and Hazel took a hurried bite of the rest of her sandwich. Anthony Ray jumped on her lap and wanted to lick a smear of tuna from her finger, so she let him.
"I don't think the sheriff does, but the victim’s daughter may have mentioned it," Hazel said and threw her father a look.
He didn't appear sheepish at this one. "It's nothing. Just hearsay because of the little argument we got into yesterday."
Esther crossed her arms. "The little argument where you tried to punch him, and then threatened to kill him?"
Maureen shook her head. "Oh, those are just words. It doesn't mean he did it. I know my Edgar, and he's not a murderer. If Colton is here, why isn’t he joining us for lunch?"
“Well, I imagine he has a lot of work to do cordoning off the crime scene and arguing with the local ranger about it,” Hazel said and explained how difficult Ranger Albright had been.
Maureen nodded while Violet stared.
"What are you going to do? I mean, he wants you to help investigate, right?" Violet said.
Though they hadn’t discussed it, Hazel assumed that’s what Sheriff Cross wanted. And even if he didn't want it, she still felt compelled to do so. Especially when people were slinging accusations at her father and an innocent big cat. "Probably. I haven't discussed it with him yet. But maybe we should make him a plate for when he drops by. I'm sure he'd love a glass of your lemonade, Esther," Hazel said with a smile at her sister.
Esther rolled her eyes. "Of course he would. Funny my boyfriend didn't pop up on the second day of our weeklong camping trip."
"He didn't just pop up to see me. There's a body involved." Hazel said, though she didn't feel like it bared repeating.
She made Colton a sandwich and poured a side of chips, with a liberal helping of fresh cut veggies—at Esther's insistence—and a thermos of sparkling lemonade.
As she finished putting everything together, Colton approached as if summoned by the food. “Viole
t? When did you get here?"
Violet explained, and Sheriff Cross patted her shoulder. "I don't want to impose on your picnic, but if you're willing to spare me some food, I'm starving,” he said and grinned at the plate Hazel held out for him.
"I didn't think anyone could be hungry after looking at a crime scene," Violet said and shuddered.
Sheriff Cross took an oversized bite of the sandwich. “You get used to it.”
Hazel wiped away the tuna salad that graced the side of his lips before Anthony Ray had a chance to try. Because he would, much to Colton's chagrin.
"Got any new info?" Hazel asked.
Sheriff Cross shook his head and glanced at Hazel's father, who was fiddling with one of his cameras nonchalantly. "No, but I would like to talk to your father. I have to get a timeline from him.”
Hazel's gut hardened to stone. They'd been over this when he accused her mother of murder, but that was before they were dating. And this—yeah—she couldn't really blame him for this. "Okay, but I know he didn't do it."
“I believe you, but I have to talk to everyone here.”
Then he approached her father.
"Trouble in paradise?" Violet said and munched on her chips.
Hazel shook her head. "He has to talk to my father. Especially after the fight my dad had with the victim yesterday.”
Anthony Ray trotted up, and Violet bent down to stroke him. "And you're really sure there's not a man eating mountain lion wandering around these parts?"
Hazel glanced up at the towering cedars and their swaying green boughs. "Well, there's a mountain lion all right. But it's probably not man eating, so no need to worry. Though, you should probably talk to my dad about what to do if you come face to face with one. He has some good survival tips."
Violet chewed her bottom lip. "Survival tips. Great. Just what I've always wanted to learn."
Hazel laughed at Violet’s sarcasm.
Chapter 10
"Cliff Crawford is dead? Thank the goddess! So who offed that big jerk?" Abby Reynolds exclaimed as she floated into their campsite that afternoon.
