by L C Hayden
She nodded.
He headed toward it. She followed him. “Chances are they’re using a trackin’ device on the car. If you were to bolt in a hurry, you’d take the car and ditch the camper.” Bronson ran his hand under the car’s front wheel well. Nothing. He moved to the back, did the same, and stopped.
“You found it.” Her tone implied a statement, not a question.
Bronson nodded.
“Aren’t you going to take it off?”
“And let them know we’re on to them? We’ll leave it there until we need to remove it.” He signaled for her to join him. “Feel here for the small type box thing.”
She reached under the car and felt around. “I feel it.”
“Good. Now you know where it is. It’s magnetic. All you’ll have to do is pull it out.”
“I don’t like having it on my car.”
“Not much we can do about that. Once it’s gone, they’ll know we’re onto them. We don’t want that. Let them think we’re oblivious.”
She frowned but agreed.
Bronson looked at his own campsite and spotted Carol coming out. “Let’s have some dessert, then I’ll search the camper.”
THREE
Bronson entered Linda’s camper and stood perfectly still staring at each item, corner, nook, and shelf. He studied the curtains, the driving compartment, the TV, and the DVD player. His mind told him no good hiding places existed for a camera, but still he checked once again.
Finally convinced that no one watched him, he felt free to move around and check for the audio bug. If he were to plant one, he’d want it centrally located in an area that would pick up a conversation from either end of the camper. That meant it would have to be placed on the dinette, the refrigerator, or the range areas. The dinette offered greater possibilities. He bent down and looked under the table. Nothing. He felt around. His fingers found a bump that shouldn’t have been there. The device had been attached to the underside of the table, next to the wall. The bug had been painted to match the wallpaper and blend with the table, a professional job. No wonder he hadn’t seen it at first.
Bronson spent a few more minutes looking for a backup, but just as he expected, he came up empty-handed. He stepped outside and joined Linda.
She looked up at him. “Well?”
“Under the dinette, there’s a listenin’ bug.” He didn’t tell her that listening devices similar to hers had a range of no more than one or two miles. If they were listening, as he suspected they were, they couldn’t be more than two miles away from her at all times. He pulled up the lawn chair and sat down.
“The bug, it’s still there?”
Bronson nodded.
“I hate that.”
Bronson couldn’t blame her. He hated it too. “I realize that, but there’s not much we can do.”
Linda nodded and frowned. “What now?”
Bronson pointed to her car. “Let’s go for a ride.”
“A ride? Why? Where to?”
“It doesn’t matter. The neighborhood store would be fine. We’re almost out of milk, but the main reason we’re going is to see if we’re followed.”
Linda gasped and placed her hands on her chest. “Do you think they’re watching us now?”
“There’s only one way to tell. Let’s go for a spin.”
Linda stood up, went inside the camper, retrieved her purse, and closed the door behind her. “Ready.”
Bronson nodded and followed her to the Mercedes. “Mind if I drive? This way I’ll be able to use all the mirrors to make any pursuer.” He failed to mention that he’d never driven such a fancy car and wondered what it would feel like.
She handed him the keys and Bronson beamed. As they headed toward the car, he memorized all the vehicles at The Roost Resort. He drove slowly out of the campground. His gaze focused, not on the road, but on any movement behind him. He didn’t see anyone jump into a car. He made a right turn onto the main street and kept the needle of the speedometer steady at thirty-five, not so fast that he wouldn’t be able to spot anyone following them, but not so slow as to arouse their suspicions.
He drove for over a mile, and all the drivers who surrounded him seemed to have their own agenda. Bronson made a right turn. Not a single car behind them turned. He slowed down, giving any pursuer a chance to catch up. No one did.
Bronson made another turn, this time to his left. Still, no one followed. “Where’s the store?”
Linda looked at him.
“I wasn’t kiddin’ about needin’ milk.”
“It’s about four blocks from here, I think. Just keep heading straight.”
They took a couple of wrong turns, found it, and Bronson parked at the back of the lot. He looked around as he walked in, and realized that this store, like all other grocery chains, kept the milk on the back wall so that customers had to walk through the store in order to purchase the milk. Bronson wandered around the front shelves pretending to look for something. No one seemed to pay him any attention. He headed toward the back, got a gallon of low-fat milk, paid for it, and headed back to the car.
No one followed them out. This time, Bronson headed directly back to The Roost Resort. Once there, Linda turned to look at him. “Satisfied?”
Bronson nodded. “Unless they’re exceptionally good, no one’s following us.”
“That’s always good to know.” Linda locked the car and headed for the camper. “What happens next?”
“I want you to go in and make that call I told you about. In about half anhour, I’ll knock on your door. You’ll greet me as though it’s the first time you’ve seen me since the funeral. At this point, we’re assumin’ we’re not being watched.”
“Is that safe?”
“I reckon so.”
She stood up and made a movement toward the motor home, but stopped. “What should I call you?”
“Bronson. Better stick to my real name so as not to cause any slip-ups later.”
Linda nodded. “I insist on paying you for your help.”
“Fine. We can discuss the details later.”
“Whatever you ask for, I’ll double it as long as neither Eric nor Brad get hurt. That’s the only way I’ll accept your help.”
No problem with that. Bronson liked money. He nodded.
Linda mouthed a “thank you,” turned, and went inside, closing the door behind her.
Bronson headed back to his own camper, his mind focused on a slice of cake. Maybe he could talk Carol into also letting him drink a cup of coffee. He felt snack pangs stir within him.
Much to his surprise, he found the camper full of women. Soon as Carol spotted him, she made her way toward him. “There you are. Come in and say hi to my friends. These are the ladies from the Badger Society. Badger Clark was South Dakota’s first poet laureate, and he lived right here in the park. Ladies, you remember my husband, Harry Bronson.”
“Ladies.” Bronson tilted his head as though saluting them.
A murmur of “hi’s” followed.
Carol wrapped her hands around her husband’s arm and leaned toward him. “They’re taking some of his poems and dramatizing them.”
“I remember. That’s the reason we came here.”
Carol nodded. “But they’re a little bit behind schedule, and we’ll have to extend our time here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“How much longer are we going to be stayin’ here?”
“Just two more days, so we’ll be here a total of ten days.”
“How about Little Carol? We told her we’d visit her as soon as this was over.”
“And we will, just two days later. That’s okay, isn’t it?” She looked at him through wide-open eyes, reminding Bronson of the child still in her.
When she did that, Bronson couldn’t resist. He’d lasso the moon and hand it to her if at all possible. “Sure, why not? We’re not in a hurry. I’ll call Little Carol and let her know not to expect us for at least ten more days. We’ll stay here until you’re finishe
d.”
The ladies clapped and cheered.
“Told you I had the best husband in the world.” She leaned and kissed his lips.
More clapping and cheering—and perhaps some off-color remarks—followed that episode. At least Bronson assumed that, based on the giggles that escaped some of the ladies.
He took a step backward. “I’ll leave you to your preparations. I saw a couple of guys out there. I think I’ll go introduce myself.” His lips brushed Carol’s forehead. He winked at her and stepped out.
So much for that slice of cake. On the other hand, he’d be able to enjoy a cup of coffee without Carol constantly reminding him that drinking so much coffee would harm him.
.
FOUR
At The Roost Resort’s office, Bronson headed straight for the coffee urn and poured himself a cup. He added two spoonfuls of sugar and lots of cream. He paid, stepped outside, found a picnic bench that faced the campground, sat down, and enjoyed his drink. As he did, he took careful note of each camper and its tow vehicle. He studied the people around him and wrote in his notebook, Campground made up of mostly elderly people. None look particularly threatening. He returned the notebook to his shirt pocket and called his daughter. They talked for over half an hour and Bronson savored each second. Afterward, he knocked on Linda’s door.
She swung the door open. “Hi. Thank you for coming on such short notice. It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time. Come in, come in.”
Bronson retrieved his notepad and wrote, Don’t talk so loud. Use natural voice. Don’t want to rouse their suspicions.
She nodded.
“It’s good to see you, too. You’re lookin’ well. I’m so sorry about Uncle Dave’s and Aunt Irene’s accident. Then your husband. Poor Mitch. I’m so sorry. Are you doin’ okay?”
“I’m hanging in there, best I can. That’s why I left town. Had to get away.”
“I understand.”
Linda looked toward the dinette. She opened her mouth to say something, but Bronson waved his hands and shook his head. “You said you were havin’ problems with the camper. What can I do for you?”
“It’s the toilet. It’s not flushing properly.”
He looked at her.
She shrugged.
“Let’s go take a look.” Bronson wrote down, Do you have the note with the instructions that you’re supposed to follow?
She shook her head and made the symbol for a phone.
Bronson banged on the toilet. “Nothin’ wrong at this end. Must be your connection outside. Let’s take a look.”
They stepped outside and walked over to the sewer connection. “So what did the instructions tell you?”
“No police. No contacting Eric.”
Bronson leaned on the camper, scanning the area. “Besides that?”
“I’m supposed to drive the camper to Minneapolis. I’ll receive further instructions prior to reaching there.”
“Why Minneapolis?”
Linda shrugged. “I’ve asked myself the same question. All I can think of is that I have an uncle there, my father’s brother, Uncle Phillip.”
“Why would they want you to go see him?”
“I didn’t say I was supposed to go see him. All I said is that I’m supposed to go to Minneapolis and I don’t know why. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Tell me about this Uncle Phillip.”
“He’s the most loving, generous man who’s ever walked this earth. We were just there, Mitch and me, a few weeks before my parents’ accident.”
“Anything unusual happen while you were there? Anybody make any remarks that raised an eyebrow or sent a warnin’ signal?”
“No, nothing like that. We had a very nice visit. We always do.”
From where he stood, Bronson hadn’t spotted anything unusual. He moved so he could scan the area behind him. “Have you seen your uncle since then?”
“Yes, he came to my parents’ funeral. He stayed with us and left two days later. Then he returned for Mitch’s funeral. Only stayed a day, though.”
“He lives alone, does he?”
Linda nodded. “His wife—Aunt Brenda—died about two years ago.”
“He’s still workin’?”
A cool breeze blew and Linda wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah.”
Lucky dog.
“If you can call what he does work.” Linda smiled.
“Meanin’?”
“He creates computer games. He sits in front of a computer all day long and creates all these games.”
By now Bronson had reassured himself that no one watched them. He relaxed. “Interestin’.”
“Yes, he is. He’s fascinating, he’s kind, he’s still a child, he’s . . . he’s exactly what every kid dreams of having when they’re told they have an uncle.”
“Makes me wish I had an uncle like that.” Bronson looked down at the sewer connection. “I think we’ve been here long enough to fix the problem. Once we’re back inside, I want you to thank me for helpin’ you.”
Linda nodded.
“Anythin’ else you can tell me about the instructions?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“In that case, let’s head inside.”
Once inside, Linda said, “Thank you very much for your help. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come over. Do I owe you anything?”
Bronson sat down on the couch. “Depends.”
“On what?” She sat across from him in the single recliner.
“Which way you’re headed.”
Linda’s eyes widened in amazement. Bronson mouthed the word Minneapolis. She said, “I’m heading to Minneapolis.”
“Yeah? I need to go to St. Paul. Maybe we can hook up over there and have dinner.”
Again, she looked at Bronson as though asking, What are you doing?
“So can we?” he repeated.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“It’s not that hard. A simple yes or no. We’re both goin’ to be there. Maybe I can even save on motel bills. I can stay here in your camper. You’ve got plenty of room. We can have our meals together—my treat. Won’t that be fun?”
“I suppose so, maybe.”
“Good. When I get there, I’ll contact you.” He stood up. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll go to the hardware store and get the part I need to finish fixin’ your sewer connection. If that’s not done, it’s going to need fixin’ again. I’ll come in sometime tomorrow to finish the job. Then you’ll be set to go.”
“I’ll wait for you to tell me when it’s safe to leave.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He signaled for her to follow him outside. “Now me and my couch got a date with the TV. See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” she said. Once outside, she added, “What was all that about?”
“Not too sure I want you in Minneapolis by yourself, and I just bought us an extra day. Tomorrow, I plan to visit your son and warn him. Maybe set up some security around him. They’ll need to be paid, though.”
“Money is the only thing I don’t have to worry about.”
They walked toward the side of the camper and Bronson glanced at his own. He could hear laughter all the way out here. Shiiiit. All the women were still there. “Would you mind tellin’ me what Mitch did for a livin’?”
“We each have . . . had—” She paused, closed her eyes, and swallowed hard. “—family money, but he also earned quite a bit. For over thirty years he worked at McGory and Stein Pharmaceutical Research Center and Lab. He invested most of his salary. He knew a lot about bonds, stocks, and those kinds of things.”
“Did he talk about his job?”
“I know that sometime close to retirement, my husband and a couple of other researchers were working on some kind of wonder cream. Supposedly, this was the real thing. Guaranteed to make your skin young again—that sort of thing.”
Bronson retrieved his notebook and jotted down the information. “
What happened to this cream?”
“Nothing that I know of. Mitch retired and the others continued with the research. They’ve been working on that for about three, four years. Will probably work on it for that many more years before the company comes out with their new product. And then it’ll compete with all the other ones already out there.” She folded her arms and leaned against the camper.
“The stock and bonds—they’re still there?”
Linda flashed him a quizzical look. “The money is intact. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just tryin’ to get familiar with the case. If you think of anythin’ you think I should know, please get in touch right away.”
She nodded and headed back inside.
Bronson drew in a deep breath as he worked his way toward his motor home. Laughter still rang in the air. Damn. He braced himself and stepped inside. His gaze automatically focused on the two untouched pies, the tray partially filled with fresh vegetables and a dip, a half-eaten chocolate cake, a basket filled with a variety of cookies, cans of soda, and—bless them—a large coffee urn.
“Where have you been?” Carol asked. “We saved you some snacks.” She pointed to the food. “Eat.”
First thing he did was reach for the coffee. Carol flashed him a disapproving frown.
Bronson ignored it.
FIVE
Bronson leaned back on the dinette bench and sipped his coffee. Seven minutes past seven and Carol had not yet awakened. No wonder. She had stayed up with her friends until past midnight. Bad thing about that was that he had also been forced to stay up.
He picked up the newspaper and read the leading paragraph—for the third time. Still didn’t make any sense. Not the paper’s fault, but his. Soon as Carol got up, he’d have to tell her about Linda. Carol would be furious that he had gotten involved, but it hadn’t been his fault. Not that it mattered. Carol would be disappointed, and that was the part that bothered him.
Behind him, he heard Carol stir. He braced himself. How could he tell her that today he planned to drive to Rapid City and talk to Linda’s son, and provide protection for him and his kid? Bronson could have called the police or simply walked away. But that went against his nature. Would Carol understand that?
