Canyons, Caravans, & Cadavers

by Tonya Kappes

  “And for future reference,” I pointed to the car pad that went with Bobby Ray’s bungalow, “that’s for the bungalow. You can park on the other side of the camper.”

  “Oh, I know. That dude made me well aware of where he parked his heap of junk and chewed me a new one.” The nice side of him suddenly disappeared.

  “That’s my brother and he works hard. It’s his parking spot. Thanks for listening.” I didn’t need to say much more. As nice as I thought Scott might be, there did seem to be a dark side to him that I didn’t plan to get to know. “I’m going to get my brownie now.”

  “Looking forward to hearing your ideas,” he said before he went back to the students.

  “Who was that?” Mary Elizabeth asked.

  “He’s the economics teacher I’m going to be working with.” I left it at that, deciding that I wouldn’t make any snap judgements about my new renter.

  Mary Elizabeth and I stepped aside as a red convertible Mustang came around the lake going faster than the fifteen miles per hour posted speed limit.

  “Slow down! There’s kids around here!” Mary Elizabeth yelled and lifted her fist in the air. “Who is that?”

  “I have no idea. Must be a local.” I shrugged, happy to see nobody was hurt on the Mustang’s way out of the campground.

  I spent the rest of the evening thanking people for coming who then congratulated me on the key to the city.

  As much as I didn’t want the evening to end, it was still a work night for everyone and I was planning to go to the school tomorrow to plan my six weeks of teaching.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind watching the campground for six weeks straight?” I asked Dottie as we were stacking the folding chairs after the party had died down. The smell of BBQ drifted in the air and past my nose, making my stomach growl.

  The sun had set long ago and the moon was high in the night sky, but there were a few campfires still glowing in the darkness. I eyeballed the one with the BBQ and decided to grab a plate and take some down to Scott since I’d not seen him since I stopped by there to tell him about the parking spot.

  “What on earth do you think I did all those years before you came?” Dottie asked with a snarky tone.

  “I like to think you need me.” I winked. “But you’re right. I’d never be able to run this place without you.”

  Dottie Swaggert was the manager of Happy Trails when I came around to claim the campground that had been put in my name. Illegally. It was the only thing the government didn’t seize when they threw my ex dead – specifically, murdered – husband Paul West in jail for running a Ponzi scheme.

  It wasn’t Dottie’s fault Happy Trails was all run down when I got here. Paul hadn’t paid any attention to the place. But things work out in mysterious ways. I never could have imagined living in a camper, never mind running a campground. It’s truly been a blessing.

  “I do need you.” Dottie was a softie at heart. She didn’t look at me when she said it since she was too busy fooling with the top snap on her cigarette case. “Listen, you tell them kids that they can’t expect things to just be handed to them. They need to work for it.” She pointed her pointer and middle finger at me with the cigarette in between.

  “I’ll leave that up to their parents.” I wasn’t about to go on over and tell kids how they needed to be. I wasn’t a parent and had no idea how to be one. “I’m going to get Scott a plate of food to help break the ice.”

  “Break the ice?” she asked. Her face glowed from the light on her lighter.

  “Bobby Ray had a fit when he came home and found Scott’s car parked in his spot. I had to tell Scott and he was fine, but I felt some tension.” Or maybe it was the tension of that father who confronted Scott, but I kept that thought to myself. “I don’t want anything to be weird between the real teacher and me while I’m teaching them about how I got the campground up and running.”

  “That’s what you’re going to teach them?” She asked as a puff of smoke barreled out of her mouth. “Heck, I can teach them that.”

  “No. I thought I’d teach them how I created a business plan to bring the campground back to life and how I went around to all of Normal’s shop owners to help them too.” It sounded so simple when I said it out loud. “Gosh,” I said, gnawing the edge of my lip. “I hope I’ve got enough to fill six full weeks.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve got enough for a day. You need some plannin’.” Her brows lifted.

  “That’s why I’m going to see Scott.” I gestured toward his travel trailer. Fifi made a couple of yipping noises when she saw me from a distance and ran my way, with her tail up in the air, wagging. “I’ll see you in the morning before I go to the school.”

  “Sounds good.” She snuffed her cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe. “Don’t worry about a thing. Not even Fifi. I’ll be sure she’s all taken care of.”

  “You’re the best, but don’t give her any hot fries.” I wagged a finger at her as I started to walk away and make my way around the lake.

  Dottie loved those hot fries from the vending machine. I’d caught her giving some to Fifi several times and the crazy pooch loved them.

  “I’m serious, if Principal Bass doesn’t do something about Goodman…” I overheard from a woman sitting around the public campfire near the pier on the lake with a group of women. She had on a Normal High School sweatshirt. “My husband is going to have to take matters into his own hands.”

  “Goodman has no idea what Ken is capable of.” Another woman held up a beer can and the group of woman held theirs up and gave a cheers.

  “I hope they don’t treat me like that,” I said to Fifi and walked over to the Dutch oven where guests of Happy Trails were still enjoying the aftermath of the party. “Smells good.” I leaned over the pot and took a nice long whiff.

  “Help yourself.” One of the men handed me a plate. “We really are enjoying ourselves.”

  “I’m so glad. I hope you take the time to head into town after one of your hikes and visit all the shops.” I took a bun from the card table and added some BBQ along with a scoop of coleslaw to top it off.

  “If my wife has any say in the matter, we will,” he joked, followed by a round of the other men agreeing with them. Fifi took her turn running around the group of men and sucking up all the dropped food up like a vacuum. “Let us know if you need anything.” I wanted to make sure every guest knew we were always there for them. It was little touches like this that made the campground feel like a cozy home away from home. “Good night!” I called over my shoulder.

  As my eyes glanced around the lake, I noticed the group of women still sitting around the public campfire with their beers. The back of one of the sweatshirts read PATTERSON’S MOM.

  I rolled my eyes, remembering those parents from high school.

  “Squeaky wheel gets the oil,” my mom used to say when I’d come home crying about something someone got that I didn’t. Things like the lead in the choir or the school play. Granted, it was elementary school, but she was right.

  “Scott? You awake?” I knocked on the door of the little travel camper, feeling pretty confident he was since on the lights inside the camper were on. “It’s Mae West. I brought you something to eat and wanted to discuss the plan for my six weeks in your class,” I said to the closed door.

  Fifi stood next to me, wagging her little tail and looking up at the door too.

  I put my ear up to the door and heard the record player. This was another vintage touch I’d added to the camper. I bought a record player and a wide variety of records so every camper would be able to find something they liked. According to the surveys from campers who had stayed in this camper, the record player was a big hit.

  “Scott?” I knocked a little harder so he would hear me over the music.

  The door opened slightly, and Fifi pushed her way in.

  “Fifi, no!” I scolded her and watched her little fluffy white body run in, pushing the door open more. “Fifi, come back!�
�

  The music was much louder with the door open and the sound clashed with Fifi’s loud and piercing bark.

  I took a step inside.

  “Scott!” I screamed. All the muscles in my body relaxed, the plate fell, and food splattered all over the body of Coach Scott Goodman and the arrow in his back.

  TWO

  “The murder weapon is an Easton Full Length Aluminum Arrow,” Hank told the officer next to him who was writing down what Hank said about Scott Goodman. Hank was bent down over top of the body, wearing blue latex gloves and using a pointer to move things around on Scott’s person.

  “How do you know that?” I probably should’ve been more focused on the dead body in my camper, but I was impressed with Hank’s knowledge. I wedged myself between him and the other officer. Fifi was snuggled in the crook of my arm.

  “I’m reading the arrow.” He looked up glanced over his shoulder at me. “Mae, you should be outside.”

  “Why? I’m fine. I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies now. With you.” I shrugged. “This one isn’t so bad. Not a lot of blood like the last ones.”

  “What do we have here?” Colonel Holz had pushed his way into the tiny camper, making us all stand up with all of our shoulders folding forward, something Mary Elizabeth would have a heart attack over.

  Colonel was a short stocky man in his early seventies. He had short gray hair that required a combover, wire-rimmed glasses, and a little belly. He wore khakis and a light blue button down under his white coroner’s coat that had his name embroidered on the chest pocket.

  “Archery and Rifle Club coach from the high school. He’s been renting from Mae for,” Hank glanced back at me, “how long?”

  “Two weeks.” See, I knew he needed me here. I squeezed my way into the corner of the trailer where the record player had been playing and noticed Scott’s choice of music was the 80s. Fifi wiggled a little. I held her closer to my chest.

  “What’s that?” Colonel looked at the chili all over the floor. By the way his nose curled, he must’ve thought it was something that could’ve come out of Scott’s body.

  “It’s chili. I dropped the bowl when I found Scott.” I blushed. “Muscle control went completely out the window.” My hands flailed around before I gained control of them and stuck them in the front pockets of my jeans.

  “His license says he’s forty-five and lives over on Race Run Trail Road.” Hank and Colonel looked back at me.

  “Fine.” I knew they wanted the dirt. “He’s married. I’m not sure why he’s here. I haven’t gotten that much information from him yet. He gets up around six a.m. He leaves for what I assume is work around seven-thirty-ish and is back by around five p.m. unless they have practice, which is on Monday and Wednesday. Then he’s usually driving back into the campground around 8 p.m.”

  So what if I watched everything everyone did around here. It was my campground and I had to make sure everything was good.

  “Have you talked to his wife yet?” Colonel asked Hank.

  “How’s it going in here?” A woman that I’d seen once before popped her head into the camper. “Hank.” She greeted him with a big smile and did that whole French thing where they kiss both of each other’s cheeks.

  She didn’t bother acknowledging me.

  “Hi, I’m Mae.” I took a step forward to make sure she knew I was there because the last time I’d seen her at a crime scene, I thought she was the coroner and that she had flirted with Hank.

  Since then, I’d found out she was the assistant county coroner and mostly worked at the morgue. Still, she worked directly with Hank on some cases and I knew that look she gave him when she greeted him.

  “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes went from me to Fifi and back to me as she unclipped the flashlight from her utility belt and shined it in the corners of the camper. Her hair was long and black to just below her shoulder. It was parted on the side and had a nice wave to it that looked natural. She wore a fitted black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. I could tell because the collar was standing up and stiff. Her heels were sensible and not too high, but high enough to make her look like she had longer legs than she really did.

  “You called in the murder?” She asked me without even giving me her name. Not a very southern attitude.

  She stepped aside to let the cop finish taking photos of Scott.

  Fifi squirmed when the camper door opened, and an officer walked in. I let her down and she made it out the door just in time before it shut on her.

  “Are you French?” I asked and put my hands back into my pockets when I realized I was doing that nervous flailing with them when I talked.

  I watched the officer use scissors to cut Scott’s shirt up the middle, exposing the wound. I looked away when I saw a little more blood trickle down his side as the cop bent down and touched the skin to get another photo.

  Ahem, Hank cleared his throat. A sure sign to tell me he wasn’t happy with my attitude.

  “I did call in the murder, but I thought you worked with the bodies at the morgue, not at the crime scene.” I was just trying to find out what she really did.

  “I work with the crime lab and estimate time of death based on what the body tells me.” She clicked off the flashlight and bent down to look at the body with Colonel. “Shot with a Genesis Bow. Interesting.” Her brows rose.

  “What does that mean?” Hank had bent down next to them and they were studying the arrow in the poor man’s back.

  “The Genesis Bow is the only bow approved by the NASP.” Colonel stood up and the others followed. “It appears he was facing this way.” He pointed to the front of the trailer. “The killer was pretty close.” He looked back towards the bedroom. The little camper was so tiny that there was a clear view of the bed and it looked like it had been slept in.

  The Colonel started to write on his clipboard. I scooted a little closer to get a better look at what he was writing. Next to the body outline on the paper, he wrote “NASP” by the arrow.

  “The NASP is National Archery in the Schools Program and it’s the only association approved for the schools, Normal High School being one of them. We know because his granddaughter and my niece are both on the middle school archery team,” said the still nameless assistant coroner. She opened her crossbody bag and plucked a pair of gloves from it.

  Without saying a word to anyone, she bent down and pulled the arrow from Scott’s back. It was like she and Hank had some ESP thing going on. He had an evidence bag waiting for her.

  “If we take Scott out of here with the arrow in his back, the little crowd gathered outside will all pass out.” She slipped off her gloves. “Natalie Willowby.” She put her hand out towards me. “I might be asking you about some timelines. I’ll get your information from the police report.” She turned to Hank. “Can I see you for a second?”

  “Sure.” He nodded and put his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I gave him a blank stare. The jealousy coursed through me and I hated it. My phone buzzed, saving me from saying something that wasn’t appropriate. It was Abby Fawn texting me, asking me what was going on.

  “We will finish up here and I’ll stop by your place to ask you a few questions.” It was his standard way of telling me to get out of way so they could finish up.

  “Okay.” I nodded and waited for him to kiss me, but he didn’t. He walked off to meet Holly in the corner. “Gonna go check on my friends.” I waved the phone in the air, like he even cared.

  Holly was a little modest when she said a small crowd - it was more like a large mob. All the guests from the campground had gathered in the side yard between Scott’s rental and Bobby Ray’s bungalow. Bobby had lit his firepit and they were all hanging around talking.

  The local residents that’d come for the ceremony were gathered closest to the lake in a cluster, including the Patterson kid’s parents.

  My heart sank when I saw Ken Patterson down a beer while looking toward the crime scene. He didn’t
seem to have any emotion on his face whatsoever.

  Then there was my group of friends from the Laundry Club.

  “Over here! Mae!” Queenie French jumped, at least a foot in the air, using her arms to pump her up and landing on her feet with a hand clap. It had to be a Jazzercise move for sure. She was an instructor and no matter how she moved around, there was a dance feel to all of it. “Over here!” she screamed again, adjusting the neon green headband around her short blonde hair.

  My head jerked as a light flashed right into my eyes, leaving me blinded for a few seconds.

  “What’s going on in there?” I recognized Violet Rhinehammer’s chipper voice.

  It was exactly how she sounded when she got a great scoop.

  “I heard the coach was offed by an angry parent.” She had all sorts of theories. A camera hung around her neck and she had a notepad and pen waiting to write down what I was saying to her. “What about his wife? Does she know? I did put a call into her. She didn’t seem to know yet, but still.”

  “You what?” I blinked away the light spots the best I could and looked at her.

  She still looked gorgeous with a black light spot taking up half of her face.

  “Are you telling me and my paid newspaper subscribers that Scott Goodman isn’t the victim?” A snide smile curled up on her lips. Her perfectly white teeth glowed in the darkness of the night like Queenie’s neon outfit.

  “I have no comment.” I took a few steps towards my friends.

  “Did you find him?” Violet asked, following me on my heels.

  “Go away,” Dottie shooed Violet. “I’m telling you to get off our property.”

  The office phone hooked on Dottie’s back pocket rang. Both of us stopped and stared at each other.

  “Happy Trails Campground, are you ready to book your fun vacation to the Daniel Boone National Park?” Her chipper voice made my insides cringe since I knew what was about to go down. “You have a reservation for next week?”