Hitches, Hideouts, & Homicides

by Tonya Kappes

  “What if he shot they kid?” Betts just couldn’t stop talking.

  “Shot? There were shots?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Hank staring at me.

  “Jay was just scaring the kid.” I sucked in a deep breath, hoping that Betts would just leave it at that. Maybe telling Hank that Jay was shooting as a scare tactic was a little loose. He sure was aiming for the guy.

  “There was a scuffle. Did you see Jay’s face? He was dripping with blood, and we cleaned it up.” Betts just didn’t get the hint. “Not his head. The dripping on the floor.”

  “We are fine.” I handed the stick to Dottie. The light brown marshmallows were her favorite. “No harm, no foul.”

  “You still should’ve had them fill out a police report in case something did go wrong or does go wrong again.” Hank was by the book, and that was where we were a bit different, almost causing me not to date him. “I’ll make sure I tell them tomorrow night.”

  “Hank, really.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want you sticking your nose into something they didn’t want to tell you. Running off and tattling to my boyfriend,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath.

  “That’s what you’re worried about?” Hank laughed.

  “Don’t laugh. I’ve worked hard to get this community to trust and embrace me. I don’t need you going and messing that up.” I stood up. “I’ve got to let Fifi out, and I’m going to bed. I’ve got to open the office in the morning.”

  It was unusual for me to be the last one of the Laundry Club gals to leave a campfire early, but I was upset with how Hank completely dismissed my hard work with people who should’ve never trusted me at all after what Paul had done to them.

  I had no idea Paul was the mastermind of a Ponzi scheme and had taken people for millions of dollars and their retirements until our lawyer had let me know Paul had put a campground in my name, something the Feds didn’t seize. I had grand plans of selling the place because the brochure made it look like a high-end retreat. With that, I’d also gotten a run-down RV, in my name as well.

  Unfortunately, my sweet little sports car’s keys had been seized and exchanged for a flamingo keyring with a RV key. As always, I had tried to see the bright side, but a cloud had been following me all the way from New York City to Kentucky, where I had found the campground in shambles.

  That hadn’t detoured my plans to fix the place up and sell it, only… the town had hated me and had wanted nothing to do with my business. Paul had conned them too. His little scheme had spanned several states.

  All that was behind me. I had convinced everyone I was like them. I, too, had been conned right under my nose. After I’d fixed the campground up, made all the can-ham campers into rentable family getaways along with the cute modern-day bungalow, I’d really put Normal on the map as a number one Daniel Boone National Park destination.

  I’d made friends, and even my long-lost adoptive family had found me after I’d been in many national park magazines about me bringing life back to Normal. It has been wonderful having real friends who I can trust and who can trust me which made me upset when Hank wanted to say something tomorrow night to Jay about what happened.

  My little yellow RV parked in one of the camping spots on the right side of the campground faced the middle where a pond, complete with tiki bar and a small pier to fish from and get into the paddle boats, bubbled with a large water feature in the pond’s center, which helped keep algae and other bacteria down so guests could swim and relax.

  The colored twinkly lights around my camper were festive and happy. There was a little awning in front of it, covering a picnic table and outdoor rug that just added to the comforts of home.

  There was a step up to the door, and when I opened it, Fifi was standing there, waiting for me. Her little white tail wagged quickly as she twirled around in circles, getting her excitement out. Fifi was a French poodle that I’d gotten on accident after I accidently let her get pregnant when watching her for another friend I’d met in Normal.

  The problem: Fifi was a show dog from a royalty bloodline. Rosco was a white pug that had been running around the campground while his owner’s band had played a gig for my monthly Happy Trails Campground social.

  A pug and a poodle do not mix. To make matters worse, he was a pug from the local SPCA without any papers to see if he was purebred. Fifi had been damaged. That was when my friend dumped her on me to take care of. On my friend’s behalf, her livelihood was based on these show dogs, and Fifi was no longer able to contribute to her income.

  “Let’s go potty.” My voice rose an octave every time I talked to her like she was a little baby.

  She darted between my legs, jumping out the RV. While she did her business, I headed to the back where the bathroom was to perform my nightly ritual. It was hard for me not to look around with pride at all the work I’d put into rehabbing the RV. In fact, I was quite proud of myself, thanks to YouTube DIY videos.

  The walls were old wood pallets that I’d turned into what appeared to look like popular shiplap. I’d used every bit of space possible. I’d taken down all the walls and made it an open concept plan with the kitchen and family room in one big room. I’d gotten a cute café table with two chairs from the Tough Nickel, a local thrift store, as well as a small leather couch. It was perfect for one, me. The floors were redone with a prefabricated grey wood. The kitchen cabinets and all the storage cabinets were painted white. I’d transformed the little camper into a country farmhouse, a style I couldn’t believe I’d embraced since it was far from the style I had in the city.

  The bathroom was redone with a tile shower and upgraded toilet. I’d bought a new mattress, and with some wooden pallets painted pink, nailed together a headboard. I’d gotten a dresser with four drawers from the Tough Nickel that went perfectly with my distressed look. I’d strung white twinkle lights everywhere I could. They added a bit of romance, along with the fuzzy rugs and milk glass vases full of fresh flowers or wildflowers that grew right outside the campground tree line that led hikers to the most spectacular trails and views of the Daniel Boone National Park.

  “You are so good,” I said to Fifi when she found me in the bathroom. “I can just let you out and you come right back.”

  She danced and wiggled around.

  “I know what you want,” I told her and finished drying my face. “A treat.”

  She darted out of the small bathroom and back toward the kitchen counter, looking up, then standing on her back legs with her front ones in the air. How could I not give something so cute a treat or two?

  I made sure the RV was locked tight before I peeled back the small curtain over the kitchen sink window to see if the Laundry Club gals had left. But really to see if Hank had gone to his camper that he’d recently signed as a long-term lease. There were no longer flames, only the glow of the hot coals.

  The flash of a reflector caught my attention from across the campground. It moved at a rapid pace in and around the campers. It was too big to be fireflies, and the campground around the campsites was so dark.

  When the reflector moved into the shadow of one of the few pole lights that lit up the lake, I noticed it was a person. I watched to see what he… or she was going to do or were doing. If he was a guest, he knew he could come to my door, Dottie’s door, or even Henry’s door if he needed something or had an emergency.

  “Hey! Do you need something?” I opened my door when I noticed the person was close enough to hear me.

  The shadow stopped. The silence loomed between us like a heavy mist.

  “I’m the owner. Are you staying here?” I asked and stepped out onto the outdoor carpet under the awning. “Do you need something?”

  “Mae?” Hank called from a few campsites down. “Who are you talking to?”

  The person took off in a dead sprint toward the woods. Fifi darted after the him.

  The next thing I knew, Hank was running past me.

  “Stop! Police!” He had his gun drawn, heading of
f into the woods after the person. “Fifi, stop!”

  FOUR

  “That’s it.” Hank stood at the door of the RV, bent over, sucking in air. He had Fifi under his arm.

  “What?” I asked and took Fifi from him after he walked into the RV. I put her on the floor. She took a few drinks from her water bowl.

  He sat down on the couch. Fifi jumped up on him, her front paws on his chest and her nose sniffing around his face.

  “She must think she’s some sort of police dog,” I joked. By the look on Hank’s face, he wasn’t amused at my attempt at stand-up comedy.

  “You aren’t staying here alone.” His hand looked so large on Fifi’s small back.

  “I’m not alone. I have Fifi.” I opened the mini refrigerator to get him a bottle of water. He actually looked like he could use a real stiff drink, but I didn’t want to offer that knowing he’d accept, and I’d have to stay up another hour or so listening to how it wasn’t safe for me to stay in my own home. “What makes you think I’m not safe anyways? Just because some kid took off because you scared him to death by yelling and waving a gun at him?”

  “When an officer of the law tells you to stop, you should stop. It wasn’t like I was going to hurt him, but he was suspicious catting around here and all.” Hank picked Fifi up and put her on the floor. Apparently, he’d had enough of her. He took the bottle of water from me. “It’s a no- trespassing campground.”

  “Maybe he was hiking and passing through.” I left out the fact that I totally recognized the compass on the backpack from the hiker who’d hid out in Jay’s stables.

  It wasn’t unusual for college-age kids to come to the national park and live like nomads for a few days, and this guy didn’t seem any different. Most of the time, I’d see them gathered at the amphitheater located in the green space in downtown Normal. They’d be eating and trying to figure out their next hike. They were harmless.

  “Seriously, it’s all fine. If it happens again, then we might have an issue, but it’s all good.” I tried to keep my voice calm. Not that I was worried about the hiker, but it was strange that he’d made it all the way across town from the north to my campground.

  “Lock your doors.” He stood up and twisted the handle of the door. “I’m going to stop by Deter’s tomorrow on the way home from work and get you a chain lock as well as a dead bolt.”

  “If that makes you feel better.” They were just words to come out of my mouth to make him feel better. I’d leave the protesting for tomorrow when I was fresh and my mind wasn’t so tired.

  Happy Trails had a lot of new campers that showed up today and for the weekend. The hoedown Coke Ogden was hosting had been published in all the national parks magazines as well as social media. The National Park Association had been doing really well at promoting campground events from all over the United States so if hikers or campers were traveling near one of the areas, they could decide to plan a stay.

  Over the last six months, I’ve seen an increase in young couples and even young families who have taken to the road as a lifestyle. It only increased the tourism, and campsite and resort owners have to take the good with the bad.

  Having wandering hikers, like the person tonight, was part of the bad. They didn’t want to pay to stay in my campers or bungalows, and they didn’t want to pay to eat. They figured they’d stay undercover in things like Jay’s stable or even somewhere around my lake. That way they’d have shelter and a quick bath before dawn or anyone could see them.

  It’d had to be the same person. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  “Trust me, he was hightailing it fast out of here. You scared him to death.” I laughed. “He won’t be back.” That seemed to satisfy Hank somewhat, or so I thought.

  He reached the door, where I thought he had turned around to kiss me goodnight. “How do you know it was a he?” he asked, an inquisitive look on his face, and stepped back into the RV, shutting the door behind him.

  Boy, was I wrong. “I guess if I tell you that the person I saw running away this morning from Jay was the same person, you might get really mad.” I slid my gaze to meet his icy stare.

  “I know you don’t want me to go see Jay, but I’ve known him all my life, and he can’t be going around taking the law into his own hands,” he said with easy defiance. “What if he’d killed that person? Then he’d be in jail for murder. Plus, next time it happens, he needs to know to call me or the department for some reinforcement.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” I opened the door to let him know it was time to go. “Jay’s last day at the stables was today. Coke is turning the stables into a wedding venue.”

  “Really?” Hank’s head turned like a little puppy, perking in curiosity. “Even more reason to go see him.” He stepped out of the RV and stood underneath the awning. “It still doesn’t make me feel better that this person showed up here miles from the train station. Not to mention, the complete opposite side of town.”

  “People hitchhike all the time. You pick them up all the time.” I reminded him how this community never saw hitchhikers other than just an innocent person going from point A to point B. New Yorkers never picked up people with their thumbs out.

  “Well, it’s late. We can talk about it tomorrow when I bring your locks back to install.” He smiled, making my heart melt and my mind mushy. I forgot everything I was mad at him about. “Then we can head over to the hoedown.”

  It sounded like a perfect plan, but something in my gut told me it wasn’t.

  FIVE

  All the work Abby Fawn and Violet Rhinehammer had done to spread the word to all the camping magazines and social media had really paid off. Abby was a whiz at using hashtags in social media while Violet was the local town newscaster celebrity. She’d done her fair share of reporting for the TV news as well as writing all kinds of articles for national park magazines and camping magazines.

  From the time I woke up until the time I shut down the office computer, there was one camper after the other renting any availability we had. We had camping lots for all different sizes of RVs as well as our can-ham rentals and the bungalows. Every last one had been rented, which was unusual. All of them had asked about the hoedown and the upcoming party I hosted at Happy Trails once a month.

  “I think we’re gonna have to fix up more kits!” Dottie hollered from the chair in front of her camper. Fifi and I had closed up for the day and were headed back to our camper so I could get ready for Hank to take me to the hoedown. “I gave out the last one to the couple from Detroit!”

  We offered our guests different types of packages to purchase. They were delivered to the guests in baskets with local items. If they needed a laundry basket, it was filled with special detergent from the Laundry Club as well as different things needed for laundry like a coin purse to put their change for the machines, dryer sheets, and clothes pins in case they wanted to hang dry their clothes.

  Fifi ran in front of me, but I decided to walk over and talk to Dottie. Her curls were long gone, and her red hair lay in soft curls around her head like a halo. The smoke from her puffing on her cigarette was like a cloud though Dottie was no angel.

  “I’ll have to get with some of the local shops again and see if there’s anything new we want to add.” I sat in the seat next to her. “Plus I need to get the donated items for the campground party coming up.”

  Dottie’s camper was the first camper on the right after the office. It was a perfect place to sit and people watch. There was a great view of the pond with all the cam-hams around it. On the far side of the pond were the few bungalows.

  The RV sites, where people hooked up their own, were behind the bungalows in their own little neck of the woods, secluded and surrounded by trees. They also had their own firepits and all the hookups. There wasn’t a single thing Happy Trails didn’t offer, unlike some campgrounds.

  “How did the hair products go over?” I asked about a specific basket with some of the products from Cute-icles salon.


  It was one of the baskets Dottie had told me that no camper or hiker in their right mind would like. Too much froufrou stuff. I had begged to differ. When I first rolled over the county line in the RV from New York City, I was definitely a pampered and a kept woman though I never saw myself that way.

  It wasn’t until I’d gotten my beautiful nails grimy and greasy and caked with dirt, being elbow deep in getting Happy Trails back up and running, that I’d realized I was in desperate need of a manicure and a little self-care.

  I never figured myself to be a hiker, camper, or even outdoorsy until I moved here. I’d called myself a glamper, holed up at the Ritz Carlton and ordering room service while watching girly movies all day.

  When the campground had started to thrive, we didn’t get just hikers and campers. We had guests celebrating their honeymoons and what bride didn’t love to be pampered on her special week?

  “I hate to admit it, but we need those too.” Dottie’s brow cocked. I smiled. “Stop being smug.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Innocently I shrugged and looked down the campground at Fifi. “No!” I screamed to grab her attention before she jumped right into the lake.

  “You’ve ruined that pedigree.” Dottie laughed and snapped open a vinyl cigarette case, tapping out a cigarette. She stuck it in the corner of her mouth, letting it dangle.

  “Tell me about it.” Fifi was having so much fun, there was no sense in trying to get her out. She was already dirty, and I was going to be at the hoedown all night. It was best she get her energy out now. “I meant to ask you earlier if you’d seen anyone hanging around here today.”

  “Hanging around?” She flicked the lighter and sucked in a deep breath, lighting the cigarette.