All Roads Lead To Murder

by Lynn Bohart

  He stared at her in disbelief and then looked around at each of us in turn. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m about to write you all up for…”

  “What?” Rudy asked sharply.

  He shot her a quick glance. “For disturbance of the peace.”

  “We haven’t disturbed anyone,” Blair replied.

  “You’ve disturbed me.”

  Another gust of wind arose by the campfire. This time it picked up the discarded crackers from Blair’s plate and swirled them into a cyclone. The small cyclone advanced on us again.

  Blair, Rudy, Doe and I stepped aside to let it pass this time. The tiny tornado continued until it stopped in front of Officer Ranch, whose eyes bulged in surprise. He didn’t move until the small cyclone exploded, showering him with a burst of dust and cracker crumbs.

  He coughed and spit out dirt. “What the hell is going on here?”

  The rest of us shared a look, and then I shrugged in submission. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  Officer Romero dropped his head and chuckled quietly. On the other hand, Officer Ranch glared at me, running a finger under his lip to clean it out.

  “You know I could find a reason to lock you up,” he said spitting out the crumbs. He reached for his handcuffs and took a step forward.

  His partner placed a hand on his shoulder. “No reason for that, Chuck. Let’s go check in with the front office and see about that other RV. There’s nothing else we can do here.”

  Officer Ranch paused, locked eyes with me for one more second and then relented.

  “We will write this up. And if we hear any more out of you ladies, there will be consequences. I’ll put the report on the police blotter so any law enforcement department within three states will see what nutcases you are.”

  “C’mon, Chuck. They’re harmless. Let’s go.”

  Officer Romero turned and left the campsite, while Officer Ranch continued to stare at me. He held it for one more second and finally followed his partner. As he entered the road, he twisted his head back one last time. And then, something tripped him. He skipped a couple of steps before landing face down on the pavement.

  I gasped and clamped a hand over my mouth. I heard similar exclamations from my friends.

  Officer Romero turned in surprise. “You okay, Chuck? Did the ghost get ya?” He snorted a laugh and then offered his hand to his partner.

  “Shut up.” Officer Ranch rebuffed his help and got back up on his own. He turned to us with an angry stare.

  I lifted my hands in defense. “Hey, it wasn’t us. We’re all the way over here.”

  Rudy and Blair had hands up to mask their laughter.

  “Police blotter,” he spat. “Don’t forget. I have all of your names.” He turned and stomped away.

  “Good going, Julia,” Blair quipped. “Now we have a record.”

  “Can he do that?” I asked when the officers were out of sight.

  “Yes,” Rudy said with her mirth fading. “A police blotter is a written public record of all police calls on any given day. He can record every detail.”

  “Great. Now I’ll be the laughing stock of the Coeur d’Alene police and every police department this side of the Mississippi.” I turned to the motorhome in a huff. “I think I’ll take a shower.”

  “Julia,” Doe said, trailing after me. “We believe you saw something.”

  “Okay,” I said over my shoulder. “Still going to take a shower.” I climbed the steps and slammed the door behind me, leaving everyone else outside.

  I knew I was acting like a teenager, but I couldn’t help it. I was frustrated. I was embarrassed. And I was confused.

  But I wasn’t crazy.

  I had seen a man lying on the ground. Maybe he wasn’t dead. But where was he? And why had the Jayco RV left so suddenly?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When I emerged from the small, steamy bathroom twenty minutes later dressed for bed, everyone was settled in the main living area. Someone had made popcorn, and the smell wafted in the air making my mouth water.

  “Hungry?” Rudy asked.

  She and Blair were sitting at the dining table, while Doe sat in one of the swivel chairs with Tinker Bell in her lap.

  “Come and sit down.” Blair patted the seat next to her.

  I grabbed a bowl from one of the cupboards and slipped into the seat next to Blair.

  “Sorry about before,” Rudy said. “I was mostly laughing at that cop. He was a piece of work.”

  Doe chuckled. “I have to admit that I enjoyed watching him take a header,” she said, stroking Tinker Bell’s head. “He was just a little too full of himself.”

  I pursed my lips. “It’s okay. I’d probably laugh, too, if I wasn’t so sure I tripped over a guy lying on the ground. I just don’t know what happened to him.”

  “Maybe he walked into that branch, like the cop said,” Blair suggested. “He fell just before you got there, but was just too drunk to get up and then managed to stagger away after you left.”

  “Then why did they all leave so suddenly?” I asked, referring to the Jayco RV.

  “I don’t know,” Rudy admitted. “That was weird.”

  I scooped out some popcorn, and Rudy pulled out a board game from the cupboard above our heads. “Let’s forget about it. How about some Scrabble?”

  I laughed. “Are you kidding? How can we play Scrabble with you? You have the vocabulary of Ernest Hemingway, Emily Bronte, and F. Scott Fitzgerald all rolled into one. We don’t stand a chance.”

  She gave me a self-satisfied smile. “Actually, since Hemingway wasn’t really known for his vocabulary, I’d prefer Henry David Thoreau or T.S. Eliot. And I was never a Bronte fan.”

  “Then I’ll take Emily Bronte,” Doe said, raising her hand. She put Tinker Bell on the floor and came to sit next to Rudy. “And maybe Charles Dickens.”

  I smiled. “I guess I’ll take Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  “Don’t forget L. Frank Baum,” Rudy added.

  Everyone knew the Wizard of Oz was my all-time favorite movie. My apartment was filled with collectibles and movie posters from the world of the yellow brick road.

  “Not really,” I countered. “I love the movie, but to be honest, I’ve never actually read the books, even though I own a full set of them.”

  “No kidding?” Rudy said. “That surprises me. How about you, Blair?”

  Blair had opened the bag of Scrabble letters. “Dostoevsky.”

  The three of us stopped and stared at her. Our silence made her look up.

  “What?” she asked, her pretty blue eyes glancing back and forth between us.

  “You never cease to amaze me,” Rudy said, shaking her head. She began to help with the game. “But don’t forget…with Blair’s memory, she’ll probably beat us all, anyway.”

  During our first murder investigation, we had learned that Blair had a nearly photographic memory; she merely glanced at the pages of an important book and then recreated a complicated chart days later. Her ability to remember dates, recipes, and the names of nail polish colors suddenly made perfect sense.

  “Are you feeling better, Julia?” Doe asked quietly. “You and I have both just gone through a terrible ordeal.” She reached over and placed her hand over mine.

  “And you haven’t been sleeping well,” Blair said.

  “I’m fine. Maybe I just have murder on my mind too much these days. Now I’m seeing dead bodies everywhere.”

  “I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” Rudy said. “Doe’s right. You both need a rest. That’s partly why we thought this trip would be a good idea. A change of scenery.”

  “With lots of fresh air,” Doe added, taking a cleansing breath.

  “And some laughter,” Blair said.

  I chuckled. “Then let’s get this game started so I can laugh myself silly when I misspell the first important word.”

  We played for about an hour. Blair did, in fact, win. Doe put the game back in the o
verhead compartment, and Blair turned on the TV to catch the late news. The station had just cut into the report from a young female D.C. reporter from earlier in the day. She was standing in front of a big brick building with a microphone stuck in Senator Owens’ face.

  “Ooh, turn it up,” I said to Blair.

  She flicked the remote control to increase the volume.

  Senator Owens was short, perhaps only five foot six, with thinning, gray-black hair brushed back at the forehead. Thick-rimmed glasses accentuated his dark eyes, making them look like pools of oil. He wore a navy blue suit with a red tie and kept pushing his glasses up his broad nose as he spoke.

  “Yes, I’ve been in touch with Amy’s mother,” his voice boomed out. “We’re both cooperating as much as we can with the police.”

  “Has there been a ransom notice?” the reporter asked.

  Owens hesitated, glanced at someone off camera and then said, “Ransom? No. But I’d do almost anything to get her back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m due at a rally.”

  He turned away and disappeared into a big SUV. As the vehicle pulled away, the reporter turned to the camera.

  “That’s it, Bill. Back to you.”

  The regular news broadcast resumed, and Blair reduced the volume. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What does, ‘we’re both cooperating with the police as much as we can’ mean?”

  “Good question,” Doe said, putting Tinker Bell back in her lap.

  “Did you notice how he hesitated before answering the question about the ransom?” I asked. “I wonder if they have heard from the kidnappers, but just don’t want to say anything.”

  “I have a hard time believing anything that slime ball says, and I doubt he would do whatever was necessary to get his daughter back,” Rudy said. “In fact, he emphasized that he’d do almost anything to get her back. A real father would have stood there as long as it took and do whatever he could to appeal to the kidnappers. Let’s face it. He just cut the interview short so he could make it to a rally. He’s an egotistical son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Well, I for one would just as soon leave all that stuff behind,” Doe said. “We’re on vacation. That means no murders and no mysteries.”

  “And no egotistical sons-of-bitches,” Blair added with a smile.

  The cupboard above the table suddenly popped open and the Scrabble box fell out again, spilling a handful of letters onto the table in a seemingly random order. I glanced down and inhaled a breath .

  “Look,” I said, pointing to the letters.

  Seven of the letters clearly spelled out one word.

  D.E.N.T.I.S.T.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We assumed it was Chloe who had spelled the word, but we had no idea why. Perhaps she didn’t like dentists. We laughed it off and went to bed.

  The next morning I awoke to the sound of someone in the bathroom. I rolled over and opened my eyes. Rudy was just drawing her legs out from her sleeping bag on the pull-out sofa bed.

  “Morning,” she mumbled.

  “Good morning,” I replied, stretching my arms above my head.

  The bathroom door opened and Blair appeared with toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. She and Doe had shared the bedroom, which was equipped with two single beds.

  “How’d you guys sleep?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “Pretty good,” Rudy replied.

  “Me, too. Is Doe awake?”

  “Yes,” a voice said.

  Tinker Bell bounded into the main part of the RV and jumped onto my bed to greet me. She stuck her cold nose under my hand, asking for a pet. Doe stood in the bedroom doorway, already dressed.

  “You guys want to use the bedroom to get dressed?” she asked. “I’m going to take Tinker Bell out.”

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” I replied.

  We spent the next twenty-five minutes dressing, brushing teeth, rolling up sleeping bags, and putting the table back up. Since we were anxious to get going, breakfast consisted of April’s cinnamon rolls and some fruit.

  After we’d finished breakfast and cleaned up the few dishes, we unhooked the water and electricity, put away all the chairs and climbed aboard for the second leg of our trip.

  Blair was driving, and I decided to ride up front with her. As I settled into the big swivel co-pilot’s chair, I glanced out the window at the empty campsite across the road, wondering again about the incident the night before.

  “I still wonder why those guys left in such a hurry last night. It just seems so strange.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Blair said, climbing out of her chair. She exited the RV and ran across the street to the cooler sitting underneath the picnic table.

  “What’s she doing?” Rudy asked coming up behind me to peer out the big front window.

  “I don’t know.”

  A minute later, Blair was back. “That cooler is empty except for a bunch of used needles in the bottom of it. Those people are druggies.”

  Doe grimaced. “Well, then, I’m glad they left when they did. We should stop and tell the store though, so they can dispose of the needles. Too many kids in this park.”

  “Good idea,” Blair said, climbing back behind the wheel.

  “Hey,” Doe interrupted us. “We never decided what to do about Tinker Bell.” She held the little dog in her arms.

  “We could stop in town and try to find a shelter,” Rudy said.

  “Don’t most shelters put them to sleep within a few days?” I asked.

  Doe’s dark eyes opened in horror. “No way. I’m not letting some shelter euthanize this little dog.”

  Tinker Bell seemed to sense Doe’s stress level and reached up and licked her chin.

  “We could stop at some of the homes we saw along the road to see if they recognize her,” Rudy suggested.

  “No,” Blair said, putting the big rig in gear. “That will take too much time. You said the gal at the store said she’d been running around here for at least a week and no one had come looking for her. I say we keep her.”

  “I agree with Blair,” I said. “At least with us, she’ll be safe.”

  “What about when we get to Chicago?” Rudy asked skeptically.

  I glanced around at Doe.

  “Then I take her home,” she said.

  We all shared congratulatory looks.

  “Bully for you,” Rudy said.

  “Welcome aboard, Tinker Bell!” Blair announced as she started the engine and pulled out of the campsite.

  We reported the needles to the manager at the store and then began the next leg of our trip, following I-90 across the northern part of Idaho into the great state of Montana. As I suspected, Doe had brought some work with her and pulled out a report and her reading glasses.

  “What are you reading?” I heard Rudy ask her as Doe opened the folder.

  “It’s a report on solid waste disposal,” she replied.

  “Sounds enthralling,” she said. “I’ll wait for the sequel.”

  I snuck a glance at Rudy. She gave me an eye roll, and opened the book she was reading. It was Doris Kearns Goodwin’s biography on Abraham Lincoln, Team of Rivals, and I knew she was reading it for the second time. I smiled to myself. One more example of our diversity.

  It was lunchtime when we pulled into Missoula. We slowed down to pass through town, and Rudy took the opportunity to call Elliott, her ex-husband. They chatted quietly for a few minutes. We heard her giggle once, which prompted a look between Blair and me in the front seats. When she hung up, she got up and poked her head in between us.

  “Elliott says Joe Masterson is beside himself. They haven’t seen Dylan in more than two days. Apparently, he was pretty upset about the break up with Amy. He was scheduled to go to a community college in Boston, close to the college Amy was going to so they could still be together.”

  “Do they think he’s hurt himself?” I asked in alarm.

  “I don’t know. Elliott says the kid has a history of threatening to leave home. They think he migh
t have done it this time.”

  “I would think that once it became public Amy was missing, he would come back.”

  She blew out a breath. “No doubt it makes him look guilty. Elliott said he’d keep me posted.”

  ÷

  We spent the night outside of Bozeman, Montana, in a big KOA campground. This one had thirty or forty tent sites and an equal number of RV slots. It had a swimming pool, a store, and a playground in the middle of a huge lawn at the center of the park. Our campsite bordered the big lawn.

  The park was filled to capacity and there was activity everywhere. It was Doe’s night to cook. She planned to whip up a fresh green leaf salad with mandarin oranges and walnuts to go with barbequed salmon. Doe took the time to dress the table again so we could eat outside in style and enjoy the sights and sounds of the campground around us. She also took the campsite’s grill into the RV first to scrub it in the sink.

  “Well, frankly, I can’t complain about that,” Rudy said, watching her through the small window above the sink. “I’ve never been thrilled about using the grills in public parks.”

  “Me neither,” I said. “Bravo for Doe.”

  ÷

  We shared a great meal, with some fine wine and were just finishing when my cell phone rang. It was David.

  “Hey, Babe,” he said.

  I chuckled and got up from the picnic table to go over to one of the camp chairs for privacy.

  “Hello, yourself. How are you? How’s the case?”

  “Not much to go on, I’m afraid. Dylan Masterson is still missing.”

  “I know. Rudy’s ex knows his dad. Do you really think he had anything to do with Amy’s kidnapping?”

  He sighed. “Not sure. But he was pretty distraught after he and Amy broke up. That was the night before she disappeared. He called a friend and said he was coming over, but never showed. And his parents said he never went home.”

  “He could just be on a bender,” I suggested.

  “Sure, but for two days?”

  “How is Senator Owens taking all of this?”