All Roads Lead To Murder

by Lynn Bohart

  “Humpf,” Blair snorted. “Since she’s a favorite of yours, I thought she must have written Little Women.”

  Doe and I burst out in laughter. Rudy was only an inch taller than me, without an ounce of fat on her.

  “You have to admit, that was a good one,” I said to Rudy.

  “Maybe,” she said with a reluctant smile. “Hey, look over there.” She pointed across the road to where a small dog wandered around the Jayco RV campsite. “That guy didn’t look like the type to own a dog.”

  “Maybe it’s not his,” Doe said.

  The dog sniffed underneath the picnic table, picking up scraps left over from other campers.

  “Looks like it might be a stray,” I said.

  The door to the RV opened and the stocky man came out with a beer can clasped in his meaty hand. He spied the dog under the table and scowled.

  “Get outta’ here,” he said with a jerk of his chin.

  The dog looked up and came out to sit at the bottom step of the RV.

  “Scram!” he yelled.

  When the dog didn’t respond, he threw the full beer can at it, clipping the dog in the shoulder. The poor thing yelped and ran away. The man spun on his heel and returned inside the motorhome.

  “Nice guy,” Blair said. “He yells at his wife and kicks a dog. Definitely not my type.”

  “He didn’t kick the dog,” Rudy countered.

  Blair gave her an exasperated look. “I know that. I was just making a point.”

  “Point made,” Rudy said.

  “I wonder where the dog went,” I said, straining to see around the motorhome.

  “There it is,” Doe said, pointing to the road.

  The dog was trotting in our direction. A moment later, we had a guest.

  It looked like a cross between a poodle and some kind of terrier with dirty white fur, a soft curl to its tail, and a fluffy face. I got up and skirted the table in its direction, hunkering down so as not to spook the little thing. Instead of running away, the dog dropped its head and came forward, wagging its tail.

  “Hello little boy…uh, girl,” I said, glancing around to her hind legs.

  The little dog sat down and raised a paw.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Doe said. “Someone has trained this dog.”

  “I bet she’s hungry,” I said. The dog whimpered and scooted forward, clearly begging. “Doe, can you put a couple of meatballs into a bowl?” She did as I asked and handed the bowl to me. “Here you go.”

  I put the bowl down. As the little dog bowed her head to eat, I noticed a turquoise collar embedded in her fur.

  “She has a collar on.”

  I knelt down and patted her head while she ate. She flinched at my touch, but kept eating.

  “She’s really hungry,” Rudy said. “She must be a stray. She obviously hasn’t had a bath in a hundred years.”

  I kept petting her until she finished and then scooped her up into my arms. I returned to the bench and reached under her chin to find a tag.

  “Her name is Tinker Bell. But there’s no phone number.” I flipped the tag over. The back was blank. “Jeez, what idiot puts the name of the dog on the tag, but no contact information?”

  “Why don’t we walk around after dinner and ask people?” Rudy said. “Maybe we can find her owner.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Did anyone bring a leash?”

  “No,” Blair said. “Handcuffs, but not a leash.”

  We all stopped and stared at her, mouths open.

  This time, she burst out laughing.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rudy found a length of clothesline to use as a leash. We left Blair and Doe to do the dishes and walked down to the store with Tinker Bell, passing campers out barbequing, building fires, playing games, or doing dishes.

  “God, I love the smell of campfires,” I said, pulling in a deep breath. “It just enhances the taste of everything and makes me so nostalgic.”

  “Yeah, somehow just being here relaxes me,” she said. “Life is slower. No hassles. Nothing to do. Just relax.”

  It took only a few minutes to get to the store, which was the size of a mini-mart. Firewood was stacked against the wall outside, along with a place to fill propane tanks. I picked up the dog before we went in.

  Inside, there were shelves stocked with everything from food to small pots and pans. It even had an entire section for gloves, flip-flops, t-shirts and socks.

  A young woman with spikey black hair sat on a tall stool behind the counter, helping a couple of teenage boys.

  “I need some decaf coffee.”

  “I’ll wait here,” Rudy said.

  I found the aisle with coffee and tea and grabbed a small jar of decaf. When I came back, Rudy was still standing near the door, smiling.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  The two boys passed us on their way out, laughing and gesturing at the girl behind the counter.

  “God, what an idiot,” the taller one said as the screen door closed behind them.

  I glanced at the girl. She was focused on her phone now, her fingers flying.

  “What happened?”

  “They asked her if she had any Sudoku. She said they only had Top Ramen.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said with a grimace.

  We stepped up to the counter. I put the jar of coffee down, which triggered a response. Without a word, the girl rang it up, put the jar in a small paper bag and handed it back to me. I gave her cash, which she threw into the register and then went back to her phone.

  “Um…excuse me,” I said. She looked up with a bored expression, her dark eyes blank. “Have you ever seen this dog before?” I asked, holding up the little pup. Tinker Bell wagged her tail.

  “Sure. It’s been wandering around here for the past week or so.” She turned back to the phone in her hand.

  “No one has inquired about her?” Rudy asked. “Or come looking for her?”

  The young woman didn’t even look up this time. “No. But people come in to complain about her. She keeps stealing hot dogs off the barbeques.”

  I gave Rudy an exasperated look. “So you have no idea who she might belong to?”

  “I already told you, no,” she said without taking her eyes off the small screen in her hands.

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, turning away.

  Rudy reached out and placed her hand on the girl’s wrist. The girl looked up with alarm.

  “I hope you haven’t been staring at that thing all afternoon,” Rudy said with the perfect look of parental concern gracing her face.

  “Why?” the girl asked.

  Rudy glanced at me. “I guess she hasn’t read that study.”

  “What study?” the girl asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “There was a Pew research poll that confirmed that staring at a cell phone for too long can damage the corneas in your eyes. Something about the plutonium in the microprocessor. Several kids have nearly gone blind.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. She quickly put the phone on the counter. “I only picked it up a few minutes ago.”

  Rudy leaned in and peered into her eyes. “I don’t know. I see some redness. If I were you, I wouldn’t look at it again for the rest of the night. Short periods of time seem to be okay.”

  Rudy turned away from the counter hiding a smile, and we left the store.

  “The Pew research poll?” I said with incredulity. “You’re a wicked old woman, you know that? They don’t put plutonium in cell phones.”

  “You know that. And I know that,” Rudy said with a smirk.

  “Like I said, a wicked old woman.” I glanced down at the dog in my arms. “So what do we do now?”

  “Let’s ask around,” Rudy said.

  We walked the entire circuit of the campground, knocking on RV doors and stepping into each campsite, with the exception of the RV directly across from us since it was obvious they didn’t want the dog even it if was theirs. No one recognized her other than to say they’d
seen her running around. We returned to the Hulk discouraged.

  “No luck?” Doe asked when we returned.

  She was sitting in one of the lawn chairs reading from her Kindle.

  “No,” I replied.

  I untied the rope from the dog’s collar, expecting her to run away. Instead, she took a running jump and landed in Doe’s lap. Doe’s hands jerked to the side as if she’d been electrocuted.

  “What? Uh…Julia, come and get her,” she said in a strangled voice.

  I had never known Doe to have a pet. After all, they shed and made messes. Right then the pitch of her voice was her alarm bell going off. The little dog was leaving dirty paw prints all over her crisp white pants.

  “Come here, Tinker Bell,” I commanded, slapping my leg.

  The dog ignored me, continuing to wag her tail and climb up Doe’s chest, reaching out to lick her face.

  “I think she likes you,” Rudy said with a grin. “By the way, where’s Blair?”

  “Inside,” Doe replied, her voice straining as she leaned away from the dog. “She wanted to take a shower and check her blood sugar.”

  Blair had type 2 diabetes, which she controlled through diet and exercise. And yet, she still had to check her blood sugar levels every couple of days.

  “What should we do with the dog?” Rudy asked, grinning at Doe.

  “I hate to just leave her on her own,” I replied, watching the pup terrorize Doe.

  “Perhaps one of you could help me,” Doe said, shooting us an irritated look and flicking dirt off her arm.

  I walked over and lifted the dog out of her lap and placed her on the ground. Doe quickly stood and attempted to wipe off her pants, while Tinker Bell sat at her feet, whimpering.

  “She likes you,” I said. “Maybe you’re soul mates.”

  “Very funny,” she said. Doe pointed a finger at the dog. “No jumping in my lap.” The dog barked and wagged her tail. “Silly dog,” Doe said with the flicker of a smile.

  I glanced over at Rudy and we shared an amused look.

  “Why don’t I give her a bath?” I suggested. “We can keep her tonight and decide what to do about her tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Rudy said.

  While Rudy watched the dog, I walked back up to the store and bought some flea shampoo, dog food and a pink leash. When I returned, I pulled a plastic tub from under the sink in the motorhome and grabbed a towel. Then I took the dog to a faucet at the edge of our campsite.

  I spent the next ten minutes giving the little dog a bath. She seemed to enjoy the attention, pushing against me as I massaged her back. When I finished, I used the towel to rub her dry while she wiggled beneath me. When I let her go, she ran in circles, rolling around on the patch of grass that lined our campsite. Her antics made the three of us laugh.

  I returned to the motorhome and found some scissors and then put her on the picnic bench to cut mats from the backs of her legs and trim the fur around her face. A few minutes later, her sweet eyes emerged from tufts of white fur.

  “She looks adorable,” Blair said, stepping down from the motorhome. Blair had wrapped her hair in a towel and thrown on pajamas and a robe. She carried a bottled Daiquiri in one hand and a plate in the other. “Anyone want cheese and crackers?”

  Rudy was at the fire pit, stuffing rolled paper in between logs to start the fire as the sun began to dip below the horizon.

  “I’d take one of those Daiquiris,” Rudy said.

  “Me, too,” I said.

  Blair put her drink and the plate down and went back inside, while Doe went to get the bug zapper from the compartment at the side of the RV.

  As Rudy got the fire crackling, we pulled up chairs around the fire pit. Tinker Bell sat at Doe’s feet begging for attention. Doe tried to ignore her, but finally relented and invited her back into her lap.

  When I chuckled, Doe shot back, “What? My pants are dirty already.”

  “I think you ought to keep her,” Rudy said. “You need something in your life besides work.”

  “I don’t need a dog,” Doe said, gently patting Tinker Bell’s back. “Anyway, I can’t take care of her. I’m gone too much.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, lots of people who work have dogs,” I admonished her.

  “Easy for you to say,” she countered. “You get to have your dogs at work.”

  Blair emerged again with three bottled drinks. “I vote you keep her. She looks good on you.”

  “Funny,” Doe said, blowing some dog hair from her upper lip.

  “Hey, by the way, I was listening to the news. They still haven’t found Senator Owens’ daughter,” Blair said, coming to the table.

  Blair passed out the drinks and then plopped into the only empty chair. “I guess she was about to leave for college.”

  “And they’re sure she didn’t just run off?” Doe asked.

  “Someone saw her shoved into a van,” I said.

  “Well, I’d want to run off if Owens was my dad,” Doe said.

  Rudy chuckled. “Me, too. But she wasn’t living with him anyway, was she?”

  “No,” Blair said, pulling the towel off her hair. “Her father, the senator, lives in Spokane when he’s not in D.C.”

  “How old is she?” I asked.

  Blair began to comb out her damp hair. “Seventeen.”

  “What else did the report say?” Rudy asked, poking the fire and sending up a spray of embers.

  “That her car was found in the parking lot and her belongings were on the pavement outside of the car, along with a half empty carton of Marlboro cigarettes.”

  “Well, that should help,” I said. “They can get fingerprints off the carton. But David also said a witness who saw her lifted into the van thought she was drunk or sick.”

  “I wonder if this will derail Owens’ bid for majority leader,” Rudy said.

  “Maybe that’s why his daughter was taken,” Doe speculated.

  “That would be pretty extreme,” Blair said. “Abduct his daughter just to make him give up his ambitions.”

  “David said Owens has a lot of money,” I added.

  A girl’s voice cried out from somewhere in the park, just as a young couple and their two children passed by on roller skates. A group of teenagers also chased each other around in front of the campsite next to us.

  “Oh, to be young again,” Doe said, watching the kids torment each other.

  Across the way, the door to the Jayco motorhome opened and a slender man with a ponytail emerged carrying a little blue cooler. He slammed the door and stumbled as he came down the steps and fell onto the picnic bench. He pulled a can of beer out of the cooler and then dropped the cooler onto the ground. He popped the top of the beer can and took a long swig. Then he lit a cigarette. A moment later, a petite woman with red hair came out and sat next to him, sharing his smoke.

  “Interesting group to be traveling together,” I murmured, watching them. “I mean are they friends…neighbors…related?”

  “Why do you care?” Rudy asked.

  “I don’t. Just curious.”

  “You’re too cynical, Julia,” Doe said.

  “Well, they don’t look like a normal family taking a vacation,” I said in my defense.

  “What does a normal family look like?” Blair asked, swiping a cracker off the plate.

  I shrugged. “Good point.”

  We continued to chat until the sun dipped below the trees and sounds around the campground softened. As a cool breeze rose up, I announced I was going inside to get a sweater. While I was inside, I grabbed the bag of marshmallows.

  “Anyone up for roasted marshmallows?” I asked, coming back out.

  “Not me,” Blair said.

  “I know. Sorry, Blair.”

  “That’s okay. I lost my sweet tooth a long time ago.”

  As Rudy dropped another log on the fire, she said, “I’m in.”

  I broke out the marshmallow sticks and shoved one of the sugary treats onto t
he end of one. I dragged my chair over to the fire and sat down, leaning my elbows on my knees to position the stick over a hot coal.

  “I’m going to get a jacket,” Rudy said. She stood up and disappeared inside.

  “And I’m going to take Tinker Bell for a potty run,” Doe said, getting up.

  She snapped on the new leash and took the dog to a grassy area behind the Hulk. Meanwhile, I rotated the marshmallow over the crackling fire, allowing the outer layer to brown.

  “Have you talked to David today?” Blair asked me.

  Even in pajamas, Blair looked regal sitting in the lawn chair with her blond hair falling loosely around her shoulders, her long legs crossed and dangling pink, fluffy slippers.

  “Yes. Earlier this afternoon,” I said, twirling the marshmallow so it didn’t burn.

  “I suppose he misses you.”

  I smiled shyly, remembering David’s new nickname for me–Babe. “Yes. He does. But I know that besides the abduction, they also have a couple of burglaries they’re working on. So even though I’m gone, I don’t think he’ll have much time to think about me.”

  Blair allowed her right hand to drape over the side of the chair as she held her Daiquiri. “You know, I’m hoping this trip will help you to relax a bit. Are you still having nightmares?”

  “Occasionally,” I replied with a sigh. “I keep seeing that basement in my mind whenever I close my eyes at night.”

  It was the basement where Doe and I had been held captive and where the serial killer had tortured his victims. He’d threatened to do the same thing to me.

  “Well, here’s to campfires and Daiquiris,” Blair said with a lift of her bottled drink.

  “Hear, hear,” I said, taking a swig from mine. “Ooh,” I said, spilling some on my blouse. I put the drink on the picnic table bench. “Darn it. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do laundry before we got to Chicago.” I tried wiping the liquid off with my free hand.

  “Better get that,” Blair said, nodding toward my blackening marshmallow.

  “Oh dear!”

  I snapped my arm back. The flaming, gooey marshmallow flew off the stick and sailed over my head just as I heard the RV screen door open behind me.