Campfires reminded me of my childhood, sitting around the fire listening to music, telling ghost stories, finding my favorite sweatshirt under my bed in late November, and it still smelling like that last campfire of the fall. Yup, there was nothing better than a campfire.
Betty waved me over. She was sitting in a director’s chair, nestled next to Asher, with Raider at her side, slobber dripping from his jowls. Poor guy was the largest dog of the group. He looked so sad, as if none of the other humans wanted him to play with their pooches. Then again, he was a Saint Bernard; sometimes their resting face was just sad. I raised my cell phone to capture Betty with Asher, but missed the shot. Asher lowered his head to talk to the man next to him. Betty looked up and quickly posed with Raider. I took a couple of pictures of them.
Missy and I joined Betty. The heat of the fire immediately warmed my face. I pulled the chair back for more distance from the flames. I didn’t want to overheat Missy. I picked her up, then set her down in my lap. Missy tried to get comfortable. She wasn’t real quick about finding the perfect spot on my legs. She was killing me.
“Did you uncover any new clues?” Betty asked.
“Not really. How’d Raider like his dinner?” Missy settled in and licked my hand.
“He loved it.” She patted his head. “I had a little taste. To make sure it was as good as what Red fed us.” She smacked her lips together. “Cookie, it was delicious. Missy was begging for some, so I gave her one, too. She woofed it down in no time. Don’t you feed her?”
“Every day,” I drawled.
Raider must have realized we weren’t going anywhere. After a heavy sigh, he lay next to Betty’s chair, resting his chin on his big fluffy paws.
“Asher scored me six meals, and I have two more for Raider’s midnight snack. He’s a growing boy, you know.” She leaned closer, and spoke quietly. “I got to tell you. Marsha Thompson told Veronica that Asher’s a widower.”
“That’s fascinating,” I whispered back. “Why do we care that Asher’s wife is dead?”
“Cookie, he’s available.” She wiggled her raspberry lipstick eyebrows.
I shook my head. “No. Not this week, he’s not. You are not to be alone with him. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“But he likes me. He gives me a groovy vibe.” She shimmied in her chair, bumping into Asher. He stopped talking to the gentleman on his other side and asked Betty if she needed anything.
I’d tell him what she needed. She needed to eject from Never-Never Land and return to earth.
Betty asked for a hot chocolate. He asked if I wanted him to bring me back anything. I declined, but thanked him for offering. Asher excused himself and promised to return quickly.
I grabbed Betty’s sleeve and tugged her to me. “I don’t care what kind of vibe he’s giving you. No hanky panky in the RV. Got it?”
She pulled away. “Just because you’re not getting any, I don’t see why I can’t. You really need to loosen up, Cookie.”
I sighed. “If I were any more loose, my arms would fall off. What happened with MacAvoy? How’d he get Sunday to give him an interview?”
She slapped her knee. “That woman is a real piece of work. She’d give your mama a run for her money. On the short walk to the kitchen, she had that handsome reporter tripping all over himself begging for an interview. She agreed to five minutes.”
“Were you around for his live update?”
“Nah. I saw Asher with all those doggie bags and raced to take them off his hands. How’d you see it?”
I looked into the fire as I stroked Missy’s back. “I didn’t. Grey called to check on us.”
Betty waved Chase, the butler, over. He loaded a toasted coconut marshmallow on her roasting stick. “Did you tell him we can take care of ourselves?”
“I assured him we were fine.”
She stuck her marshmallow directly into the flame. “Did you tell him the police think you’re a prime suspect?”
“I’m not a prime suspect.”
She pulled her scorched marshmallow out of the fire. “Fine, fine. You’re just a suspect. Either way, the police think you’re capable of murder.”
I scowled. “Can you say that a little louder? I’m not sure everyone heard you.”
She carefully picked off the burnt crust, revealing a warm gooey mess. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Cookie. But you gotta wake up and smell the coffee. You’re in some trouble.”
I was speechless. If I was in trouble, it was only because Betty was pushing me square into it with her loose lips.
Veronica strolled over to join us, carrying a folded sports chair. She moved Asher’s empty one aside, making room for her and Harry. “Glad you finally made it,” she said to me. “Betty wouldn’t admit it, but she was worried about you.”
More like she was worried I’d find a clue to Addison’s killer without her.
“Did you find your phone?” Betty asked her around a mouthful of sweetness.
Veronica plopped down on her chair. “Sure did. Right where Pepper said I’d find it.”
Rewind. I was missing the beginning of this conversation. “You lost your phone?” I asked.
“I was worried about Pepper; she seemed so scared. After dinner, I went to check on her. I must have set it on the table and forgot all about it when I left the tent. Did you know she’s writing a cookbook?”
What was with the sudden rash of chefs writing cookbooks?
“I had no idea. Is this for people or dogs?” If what Hudson had said was true, I wondered what type of cookbook she could be writing. How to make take-out look like a homemade meal? I might actually buy that.
“I’m pretty sure they’re pet recipes. I didn’t look too closely, I was there to get my phone, not snoop through her private papers. But what was in plain view looked like reviews of recipes on her table. Betty, did you find your granny’s brooch yet?”
I squinted at Betty. “Your granny’s brooch?”
She licked sticky, melted sugar off her fingers. “You know, Cookie. The awful pin she left me.”
“Oh, I know exactly the one you’re talking about.” Her cover story was the brooch belonged to her? Give her an inch . . .
“Veronica was helping me look for it. She suggested I talk to Ranger Elliott.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Heck, if anyone had turned it in, that was the guy they’d give it to. Or Hudson. Hmmm. I should talk to him, too.
Betty shook her head. “I don’t like him. He’s got small eyes.”
I sighed. “Enough about the small eyes.”
“Betty,” Veronica interjected, “he takes his job seriously.”
“He’s hiding something,” Betty insisted.
“No, he’s not,” I said. “He’s . . . single-minded.”
Veronica’s cheeks brightened in the glow of the roaring fire. “Actually, before you two arrived, there was a little scuffle. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it yet.”
“See. I told ya. He’s sketchy,” Betty argued.
I shushed Betty and encouraged Veronica to continue.
“Well, he showed up at the campground all worked up, demanding to know who’d parked in the daytime parking lot. When he found out it was Addison, he got really mad. Apparently, he’d already told her the day before she couldn’t park there. He told her to move her car or he’d have it towed.”
That didn’t sound odd to me. Especially after what Hudson had explained about his routine checkup around the park. “Isn’t that his job?”
She nodded. “Addison blew up and they got into a yelling match. Ranger Elliott had her car towed right then and there. He called it in over his radio.”
I wish I could have seen that for pure entertainment value. “That still doesn’t sound like he did
anything wrong.”
“Oh, I’m sure that was all aboveboard. He told her where she could pick up her car and how much it would cost her to get it out of storage. She said if he didn’t drop the whole situation, she’d report him to his superiors, and he knew why. He handed her his cell phone and told her to go ahead. He even told her what number to call. He said she wouldn’t threaten him the way she had everyone else. He wasn’t afraid of her, and told her to back down or she’d pay.”
Holy crapola. Pay how? With her life? Over a car parked in the wrong lot? Or over whatever she’d threatened to spill? Addison had been a very busy girl. Whatever could she have been holding over Ranger Elliott, AKA Dudley Do-Right?
I was wrong, and Betty was right. Those were words I never thought I’d utter. But it sounded like Ranger Elliott was hiding something.
Hell’s bells. If only Malone was here, I’d encourage Veronica to tell him her story and he could check it out. I wondered if I should tell her to talk to Lark or Finn. I’m sure at some point they’d be back like a bad computer virus.
Chapter Sixteen
AFTER BATTING AROUND lame ideas of what Addison could have been holding over Ranger Elliott with Betty and Veronica, I was ready to call it a night. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted. At some point, Missy had jumped off my lap and was now asleep under my chair. Asher had returned with Betty’s drink and a beer for himself.
I was about to turn in, when Betty squeaked as if she’d been stepped on. Raider lifted his head and let out a deep bark.
“Are you okay?” I asked Betty.
“What are they doing here?” she muttered.
I looked in the direction she was starring. My stomach dropped. “Well, they’re the cops, investigating a murder, so they’re probably not here for the roasted marshmallows and chocolate bars.”
She frowned. “They’re a real drag.”
My thoughts exactly. I grabbed Missy’s leash and stood, hoping they weren’t here to talk to me in front of an audience.
Detective Finn and her sidekick Detective Lark headed toward us. A quick glance around the campfire confirmed my fear. Everyone had stopped talking and was now focused on me. MacAvoy’s cameraman immediately started filming. Wonderful. Forget background footage; I was providing the prime time broadcast for Mr. TV. He was probably praying I’d be arrested right there in front of everyone so he could interrupt the eleven o’clock news with a breaking eyewitness update.
“Ms. Langston.” If it was possible, Detective Lark looked even more rumpled than the last time I’d seen him.
“Detectives.” With a loud snort, Missy laid next to my feet. It was as if she knew what was about to happen. “I was just calling it a night. But you’re still in time for roasted marshmallows.”
“We’ll pass,” Lark said. “We had a few follow-up questions.”
I firmly believed they had planned this. To take me away in front of everyone for further questioning, planting doubt in my fellow campers’ minds, so if they had any information, they’d tell the police. Lark might look like a bumbling cop, but he was wily.
I pointed to the camera behind me. “You’re on TV.”
Finn marched over to MacAvoy and his cameraman. “Turn it off, or I’ll take it away.”
MacAvoy stepped in front of the camera. “Hudson Jones, the program director, gave us permission to film during the campfire.”
Finn stepped closer to him and pushed her face into his. Her blond ponytail was pulled back so tightly her face looked more fierce than it had this afternoon. “Since I have the gun and handcuffs, I trump a silly program director.”
MacAvoy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He reluctantly waved off the cameraman.
I felt a small sense of pleasure as he shut down the equipment.
Satisfied, Finn rejoined Lark.
She studied me as her partner asked, “When was the last time you saw Miss Rae?”
Betty stood and planted her hands on her hips. “We’re a having a party here. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“You’re not helping.” I gave her a hug, and told her to stay and enjoy herself. “Can we do this on the way back to camp?” I asked Finn. I wasn’t going to help them publicly convict me of a crime I didn’t commit in front of MacAvoy and the others.
“Lead the way.” Lark motioned with his hand for me to start walking.
“I’m coming, too.” Betty grabbed Raider’s leash. She said her good-byes, then followed us.
I pulled out my flashlight and shined it on the pathway. “What do you want to know?”
“When was the last time you saw Ms. Rae?” Lark asked, operating his own flashlight.
I glanced at him. “You’ve already asked me that. My answer isn’t going to change.”
Lark pulled out his notebook and flipped through the pages. “Yeah, well, my notes are a little messy. Why don’t you tell us one more time?”
He was lying. He wanted to catch me in an inconsistency. But why? What new information did they have that pointed them in my direction?
I focused on the path. “I talked to her in the kitchen. She was arguing with Redmond about the dinner menu.”
“Wait,” Finn barked.
Everyone froze. My pulse sped up. Finn flipped through her notepad. “You didn’t mention they were arguing.”
“Are you sure? I thought I did.” Okay, maybe I didn’t. Now I was confused as to what I’d said or hadn’t said. There was too much information for me to keep track of.
I wished my best friend Darby was here for moral support. Or Grey. I could use his sound advice about now. Heck, at this point I’d take Detective Malone.
Finn closed her notebook. “What about the phone call from the victim?” she asked, unable to hide the irritation from her voice.
“What phone call?”
“According to her cell, her last call was to you.”
I shook my head, confused. “I didn’t get a call from her.”
“You won’t mind letting us check your cell phone then.”
So they had recover Addison’s cell phone. Poor Hudson. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be the next target of a police investigation. I reached for my back pocket, and my fingers brushed against my cell. If all they wanted was to look at my call history in order to clear my name, I had no problem.
I caught a gleam of victory in Finn’s eye. What was I doing? I had enough experience to know that this was most likely a ploy to get my phone and access to everything on it. Who knew if I’d even get it back?
I shoved my hand in my back pocket. “Do you have a warrant?”
The detectives exchanged a frustrated look.
“We can get one.” Lark pushed his man lips together. He didn’t look threatening, he looked tired. Well, so was I.
“Let me know when you do. I’ll be happy to turn it over.”
Finn nailed me with a hard look. “We’ll be back. And next time, we’ll make sure to take you for a drive to the station.”
Great. I’d just been threatened with jail. Some things just didn’t change. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out I was their main person of interest. I had to redirect their investigation.
“I heard an interesting story tonight. The park ranger and Addison had a heated argument yesterday. By the end of it, he threatened to make her pay. Maybe you should concentrate on him for a while.”
Finn raised an eyebrow, shooting me a glassy stare. “I think you should worry about yourself and let us handle the investigation.” After that last pronouncement, the two detectives walked away into the darkness.
Betty and I watched Lark and Finn stalk off. Once they were out of earshot, she grabbed the flashlight from me and pointed it at my face.
“Are you going to call Grey? I bet he can get you a reall
y good lawyer.”
I yanked the flashlight away from her. “Chill out, sassy pants. I can’t think straight when you’re shining that in my eyes.”
I hated that Betty was probably right. Somehow, I’d managed to make myself a target. I needed to find a way to get that bull’s-eye off me and onto the real killer.
If only I knew who that was.
BACK AT OUR RV, I made up the pullout bed in the dining area while Betty showered. Missy jumped up on the bed and made herself at home. I slipped into a pair of sleeping shorts and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt before brushing my teeth and washing my face at the kitchen sink.
All the way back to camp, Betty had kept asking me about the secret between Addison and me. It didn’t matter how many times I said Addison had lied, Betty didn’t believe me. I knew the minute she finished with her shower, she’d start pestering me all over again.
Ready to turn in for the night, I flipped off the lights. I eased between the cool sheets, careful not to disturb Missy who was already sawing logs with gusto. Aah. It felt so good to stretch and clear my mind of all the craziness of the last twelve hours. I rolled over and lightly stroked Missy’s back. In a perfect world, I’d fall asleep before Betty finished her bedtime routine.
With my eyes closed, I concentrated on breathing. Instead of counting sheep, or even Missy’s snores, I ended up counting suspects. So much for clearing my mind. Red, Hudson, Pepper, and possibly Ranger Elliott had made my mental list. I didn’t see the park ranger killing Addison over a car parked in the wrong lot, but I kept him on my list. It sounded like he had a secret and Addison knew about it. I wondered how I could find out what that might be.
Since it didn’t seem like I’d be falling asleep anytime soon, I moved on to my mama’s letters. If they weren’t in the envelopes, where could they be? Scattered in Addison’s belongings, maybe? I scoffed. There was no way Sunday Hill would grant me permission to look through Addison’s things. And even if by some miracle she did, I couldn’t imagine under what circumstance she’d just hand those letters over to me.
There was a small part of me that wanted to just leave the whole mess alone. At this point, what did it matter? Addison was dead. The letters weren’t in their envelopes, so how would anyone know they belonged to my mama? They were simply addressed to Barbara. Not many people would recognize who Barbara was. Maybe I needed to just walk away from that whole situation. It would make my life a lot easier.
Raiders of the Lost Bark Page 12
