by Tonya Kappes
“In the motorhome.” Barbara snarled. “But it got stolen and if you had cameras that were working, then we could see that serial killer stealing it.”
“Dear.” Frank patted her again. She jerked away.
“Do you know offhand what type of coverage you have?” I asked Frank directly. He looked confused. “Comprehensive? Personal contents coverage? Sound system coverage? Emergency travel?” I listed some out for him as he shrugged. “You know what, your insurance agent will know.”
I quickly wrote down Happy Trails’ email address and fax machine number so he could give those to his insurance agent and slid the paper across my desk.
“Thank you. I’ll let them know.” I hung up the phone. “Ken said not to worry. It’ll all be replaced and he’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Barbara jumped up. “I’m not staying here another minute. Either he comes today or we sue you!”
“That’s not going to help anyone. There is a protocol for these things and we have to proceed step by step” Hank spoke up, trying to get Barbara to settle down. “We have a very nice bed and breakfast just outside of town that I’m sure Mae doesn’t mind paying for. You’ll be very happy there.”
“That sounds good.” Frank nodded and continued to try and pat his wife, who jerked every time his hand even got close until she finally smacked him away. “I know this isn’t what we’d planned. I’m sure it’s not what Mae planned,” he was trying to assure his wife. “Things happen. When you agreed to get a motorhome, we knew this was a possibility.” He continued to talk to her because she’d settled down and seemed to be listening to him through her fake sniffles, “As long as you are safe, I’m happy. We will go to the reenactment party and let Mae get us some things we will need while we stay here. She can get everything to the bed and breakfast while we enjoy the rest of the day.”
That wasn’t what I was thinking at all, but apparently Frank had decided what I was going to do after they left. I took my own advice that I gave Dottie and sat there with a smile on my face, agreeing to whatever Frank had to say to keep Barbara calm.
“Sound good?” he asked as she let him rub her back.
She sniffled, blinking her eyes as her chin lifted up and down several times with puckered lips like a baby about to cry.
“Perfect.” Hank looked over at me with relief on his face. “I’m going to go down to the reenactment party to talk to a few of the campground guests to see if they might’ve seen something out of the ordinary today. Why don’t you follow me down there?”
After I made sure I had Frank’s cell phone to get in touch with him, Hank, along with Frank and Barbara, were on their way.
“Well?” Dottie popped her head back into the office door. “Am I allowed back in my own office?”
“Yes. But I’m afraid we are going to be in a bit of a pickle.” I looked down at the notes I’d taken during my quick phone conversation with Ken. “Since I didn’t get the cameras fixed, this is going to cost me a lot of money and I’m worried the campground is going to be in trouble.”
“What do you mean?” The look in Dottie’s eyes wasn’t one I had seen since I originally moved to Happy Trails and planned to sell the place, leaving her without a job.
“Ken said that the claim on the Bassett’s motorhome would nearly triple the premium for our policy and I don’t have that kind of cash in the campground checking account.” I clicked away on the keyboard of the computer to bring up the bank account. “It looks like I’ll have to close the campground, claim bankruptcy, and sell it.”
I tried to look at Dottie past the tears filling my eyes.
“That settles it.” Dottie grabbed my keys off the desk. She tossed them, sending my flamingo keychain towards me. “We’ve got to find the motorhome before they can make a claim.”
My brain was having a hard time registering what she was saying.
“Get off your hump. We’ve got a serial killer to track down,” she scurried out the door. “After we make an appearance at the reenactment after party.”
It was official. Dottie Swaggert had lost her mind and I liked it.
Ten
Dottie rambled on the entire way over to the reenactment party about all the different places we could look for the motorhome. She was right about one thing: the motorhome wasn’t going to get out of Normal because the police checkpoints were still up. That also meant that Greaser was still in town, which didn’t make me feel any better.
“What’s the plan?” Dottie asked from the passenger seat of my car with a glint of wonder in her eye.
“I’m not sure if I have a plan. You’re the one who came up with the grand idea of tracking down Greaser.” I pulled into a spot near the Laundry Club and parked.
“I came up with the idea, so now you need to come up with the plan. Geesh, Mae, I can’t do everything.” She opened her door and got out, leaving me no room to protest her silly comment. “I’ll think on it while we grab some food.”
It was enough of a plan for her to head on over and talk to people still dressed in their reenactment outfits while she fed her face.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” I greeted Dawn Gentry when I saw her walking up. “Where’s Mary Elizabeth?”
“She’s back at the Milkery getting some of the garden items labeled.” Dawn had a corn dog in one hand and a chocolate-dipped banana on a stick in the other. “You have to try one of these.” She held the banana out. “We sell these at the Milkery now. Organic and so fresh.”
“I think I want one for the chocolate.” I laughed and quickly stopped when I noticed Queenie marching over with a scowl on her face. “Oh, gosh.” I grabbed the chocolaty treat from Dawn and chowed down on it.
“Mae,” Dawn squealed.
“Mae West, where is your outfit?” Queenie huffed and puffed up like a proud rooster. “This is turning out to be a disaster.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked through a mouthful of mushed up banana. “Everyone is enjoying themselves.” I gestured with the empty stick the treat used to be on.
“Not this.” She stomped.
That’s when I noticed Dawn moseying away. Traitor, I thought.
“Some of the actors aren’t here and I can’t give my thank you speech without them. I swear if they are drunk, I’ll. . .I’ll. . .” she stuttered, “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Listen, would you feel better if I drove back out there and got them?” It was a good time to not only drive around to see if I could find the stolen motorhome, but also to help out Queenie by bringing the probably drunk actors back to the after party, making her a little happier.
“You’d do that for me?” she cried out with a look of gratitude on her face.
“Of course I would.” I rubbed my hand up and down her arm for comfort. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Maybe a jiffy was stretching it because I did plan on taking my time to look for the motorhome along the way.
“Thank you, Mae,” she sighed with relief.
“Thank you for what?” Abby walked up just in time to hear the tail end of my conversation with Queenie.
“Just in time for you to take a ride with me to the battlefield.” I tucked my arm in Abby’s elbow and guided her out of the median, across the street, and down the sidewalk towards the Laundry Club where I’d parked my car.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
On our way down the sidewalk, I told her about the motorhome getting stolen and how I had to get Frank and Barbara set up at the Milkery.
“I need a favor.” I started up the car when we got in. “Do you know Julip Knox’s phone number?”
“I do.” Exactly what I wanted to hear from Abby.
“I need to talk to her about possible places someone would hide something in the national park. Something like a motorhome.” I couldn’t help but think Julip might be of some help on where Greaser might be hiding a huge motorhome. “There can’t be too many places to hide such a big vehicle.�
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It only made sense. Even if Greaser wasn’t the one who stole it, somebody did and they had to be hiding it somewhere.
I headed back out of town, toward the battlefield, while Abby was on the phone with Julip.
“I’m not sure, but I can grab some maps I have at home and take a look,” Julip said through the speaker of Abby’s phone.
“Do you know of any hiding places off the top of your head?” I asked, hoping we could just drive by some on the way to the battlefield.
“Well, there’s the Kissing Point, but kids go there to party. Their parents don’t know about it, but I do because I know this place like the back of my hand.” That gave me at least one place to check out.
“The Kissing Point?” I questioned. It sounded like a place I would have liked when I was a teenager.
“I haven’t been there in a long time.” Abby smiled. “Good times. I know exactly where it’s at.”
“Thank you, Julip. Please let me know of any other places,” I said before she and Abby hung up. “We can go there after we pick up the drunk soldiers.” I turned the car into the entrance of the battleground field.
Across the bluegrass field that was the makeshift parking lot, I could see the barrel where the men had gathered earlier in the day, using it as a table for the beer cans.
“I don’t see them.” I drove the car up as close as I could to the battlefield. There were some props still there and if I knew Queenie, I’m sure she had someone scheduled to come pick it all up.
“What’s over there by the trail?” Abby looked up from her phone and pointed.
“Gosh,” I groaned when I saw that it was soldiers in their uniforms. “I bet they are passed out drunk. When they pretended they were dead and dragged off the battlefield, they took advantage of the sleeping time.” I sighed and put the car in park. “Queenie is going to be so mad.”
“What are you doing?” Abby asked when I turned the car off and opened my door.
“I’m going to go get them.” I got out of the car.
“Just let them sleep it off.” Abby got out on her side.
“I told Queenie I would get them and I’m going to follow through.” If there’s one thing I learned since the whole money scandal from my dead ex-husband, it was follow through with your word.
“Fine.” Abby shoved the phone in her pocket and we walked across the battlefield. “Next year, she needs to lay down stricter rules about not drinking until after the reenactment.”
The four people were all lined up in a row. I recognized the Bass boy, Darnell, and Burt Buggy. There was a woman that I didn’t know, but I remembered seeing her carrying one of the Union flags during the battle.
“Abby,” I gulped as my gaze held for a moment on each of their chests. “None of them are breathing.”
“What?” She asked with a slightly nervous laugh.
“I’m serious. No one is breathing.” I bent down next to the woman and put my hand on her neck. “Call the ambulance. I think she has a pulse.”
“Are you kidding me?” Abby was in bit of a shock. “Darnell, you drunk. Get up.” She haphazardly kicked the bottom of his shoe, causing his neck to fall to the side.
“Abby, I need you to call the ambulance,” I told her again and looked the woman over.
“Mae,” Abby’s voice got louder as she drew out the last letter of my name. “He’s been stabbed!”
“What?” I jumped up to my feet and hurried over to Darnell. There was blood all over his neck.
“And Burt!” She screamed so loud it echoed off the trees. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, fumbling it a few times between each hand until she got a steady grip on it.
When I heard her say we needed an ambulance to the person on the other end of the line, I took a couple of deep breaths to get my head in the right place and called Hank.
“They are dead!” I screamed in the phone. So much for a calm head. “Hank!” I began to cry as the words left my mouth. “Darnell, Burt Buggy, and the Bass boy are dead, but the woman. . .” I was hyperventilating from talking too fast. “The woman still has a pulse. Darnell, Burt, and the woman have all been stabbed. The Bass boy, I don’t see anything on him.”
“Mae, where are you?” Hanks asked just as calmly as could be.
“I’m at the battlefield picking up. . .” My voice trailed off and I jerked my head towards the woman when she gurgled. “Oh gosh, hurry. I don’t know how long the woman is going to last.”
I threw the phone back in my pocket and ran back over to her. I ripped the bandana off her head and used it to apply pressure on the stab wound in her neck.
It felt like hours later when I heard the sound of sirens in the distance, but in reality, I knew it was only a few minutes. Abby was kneeling by the top of the woman’s head, encouraging the woman to hold on, telling her help was on the way.
Abby and I didn’t look up when we heard several car doors slamming. We continued to talk to the woman until the paramedics asked us to move. It wasn’t long before Hank and a slew of cop cars peeled into the battlefield.
“Hank.” My heart dropped when I saw his gentle eyes find me. The worried look on his face melted when he saw that I was really okay.
I ran over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, sobbing.
“Shhhh,” his breath was hot against my ear. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured me and I truly believed him.
“Why don’t you and Abby go sit in my car?” He pulled away from me and used his hand to push back my hair.
“No.” I shook my head swallowing hard. “I’ll go sit with Abby and you come get us when you need us.”
I knew from past experience that he would take a quick look around the scene and tell his men what they needed to do before he decided it was time for him to question me and Abby about all the particulars. Why we were here? How did we find them? Positions? Did we move them? All the questions.
Abby and I sat in silence, watching the team of officers. They were like ants going from one victim to the other. At one point, they all seemed to have stopped, like the leaves on a tree before a tornado was about to rip through. Then a tornado did rip through.
“That’s Greaser.” One of the officers said about the Bass boy.
“Greaser?” Abby and I said together in disbelief and looked at each other.
“That’s not Greaser!” I screamed over at Hank.
All the men in uniforms glanced over at me, then looked at Hank. He waved me over.
“What do you mean this isn’t Greaser?” Hank asked me.
“That’s the Bass boy. You know, the boy who is on the archery club at the high school,” I said it as confidently as Queenie had told me. “Ronald’s boy. The principal of the high school,” I rambled on like I really knew what I was talking about.
I could see the confusion written on all of the officers’ faces.
“Excuse us.” Hank grabbed me by the elbow. While pulling me away from the scene, he said to the men, “Go ahead and process.”
That was apparently some sort of code to move the bodies because I saw Colonel Holz, the coroner, push his church cart over to Darnell Grassel.
“Mae, that’s Greaser. The escaped prisoner,” Hank told me just as stern. “Why do you think it’s Ronald Bass’s son?”
“Well,” I paused, leaning a little past Hank’s shoulder to look at the man again. “I swear it’s the same guy that came up to Queenie. Or did Queenie grab him when he was walking by?” I wasn’t sure of how those particulars went, but I did know that Queenie told me. . . My jaw dropped. “Hank,” I gripped his forearm. “Queenie was mad because Lester couldn’t come and do his part, so she’d called Ronald Bass to see if his son could handle doing the bayonet because he was responsible as the captain of the archery club at the school. He said yes and when that guy,” I pointed over at the dead guy, “walked near me and Queenie, I guess she assumed it was the Bass boy and she gave him. . .”
My words stopped when I suddenly rea
lized exactly what had happened here.
“Darnell and Burt,” I gasped. “They were on the jury! Greaser recognized them and he made good on his promise.”
Panic started from my toes and ended in a swirly head of dizziness, bringing me to my knees. Hank wrapped me up in his arms and picked me up. He carried me over to his car and sat me down in the passenger seat.
“Here.” He reached across me and grabbed the bottle of water from the middle console. “You sit right here and drink this.”
I did exactly what he said and watched as the Colonel took each man to a waiting ambulance, assessing them and writing notes on a clipboard before he let the ambulance drive off.
The woman had been gone a while and I couldn’t help but wonder if she too were on the jury or was just an innocent bystander.
“Please, please, please, let her live.” I took the moment I had alone to say a prayer because I knew what was going to happen next.
All the Laundry Club girls would be dying to know what happened, what really happened, on the battlefield today.
Eleven
After I’d sat in Hank’s car for a little while and after Abby had answered all the questions Hank had for us, he let us leave. He said it was going to be a long night since it was now a murder investigation. He’d also mentioned something about someone on the outside helping Greaser escape.
He never once told me if he thought Greaser had been murdered or how he’d died. I decided to believe that maybe the woman realized that he was really stabbing people and she ended up being the hero of the day.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Abby liked my theory.
“Tell me where the Kissing Point is again.” Even though Greaser had been identified, I still believed he had stolen the motorhome, plus there might be some evidence in it for Hank if somebody did in fact help him escape.
But not going bankrupt was my real motivation for finding that motorhome.