by Tonya Kappes
BEACHES, BUNGALOWS
AND BURGLARIES
A CAMPER AND CRIMINALS COZY MYSTERY
BOOK ONE
BY
TONYA KAPPES
BEACHES, BUNGALOWS AND BURGLARIES
“I’m very aware that you had nothing to do with his Ponzi scheme, but I’m not so sure you didn’t have anything to do with his escape.” He pulled his sunglasses off his face so smooth, that he looked like one of those cute TV cops.
“Escape?” I gulped.
“We figured he’d come here to see you since he never really wanted to sign the divorce papers and from what your lawyer told us, this piece of property was done under the table which weren’t in his dealings, so it didn’t get taken away. That’s why we think he’s here.” Detective Hank stared while the other guy started to walk around. “Have you seen him?”
Suddenly, I got nervous. Was he trying to read my body language like I’d seen done on movies. I began to pick at the stray limbs and other unrecognizable things that clung to my plastered head of hair.
“Trust me.” I put my hand on my hip after I realized I looked nervous. “I’d done killed the jerk if he’d showed up here.”
“Hank.” Detective Burke jutted his chin in the air gesturing Detective Hank over. “You stay there Ms. West,” he instructed me.
“Listen, this is my camp ground and if there’s something to see, I’m gonna see it.” I stomped on my way over before he could stop me.
“Is that a foot?” Henry asked over my shoulder.
“Foot?” I laughed. “No.” I took a closer look and it sure looked like something that could be a foot, but nah. “It’s part of that dock.” I nodded.
“I’m thinking it’s a foot that’s attached to a leg.” Henry curled his nose and then his brows rose as the leg floated to the top of the lake and was attached to a body. “Definitely a foot.”
“Ahhh!” I screamed and jumped when the head of the body popped up like one of those red button things on a pressure cooker that let you know when it was finished cooking. “Paul,” I gasped bringing my hand up to my mouth.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
RECIPES AND CLEANING HACKS
About the Author
Also by Tonya Kappes
Copyright
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I truly want to thank Eddy for recognizing that writing is part of my core and spending hours lost with my fictional characters are food for my soul.
I’d like to thank cover artist Mariah Sinclair for the adorable covers for A Camper and Criminals Cozy Mystery Series. When I saw them, I knew I had to have them and it was perfect for my next cozy series.
I’d also like to thank Sheryl Boothe for editing all the words and making the way I talk and write, translate to the page.
I always have to thank my readers. I swear, y’all are the best in the world. I’m excited to bring you into the camping world of crime. I crack myself up. Seriously, it’s been a lot of fun writing these new characters and I hope you’re going to love them too!
XOXO~
T.
One
“A campground?” I gulped back a good hissy fit, because no one could ever underestimate the power of a good hissy fit, something I’ve tried really hard not to do in years. “As in tiny little metal houses and port-a-potties?”
“Well, I think they have a toilet in them” said Stanley Shelton, my lawyer.
He eased back in his big fancy, wingback leather chair with his elbows resting on the wooden arms and his fingers drumming against each other. The grey pinstriped suit was of the finest materials and the nice crystal cufflinks were the touch it needed that screamed successful lawyer.
“I think the toilet is small, but you’re small.” He rubbed his hand over his bald head and then proceeded to draw his hand over his mustache and beard.
I tried as hard as I could to keep it together, but my composure was under attack.
“What about my house in the Hamptons? I’ll just go there.” I let out a sigh of relief. It was a perfect plan. “I’m desperately going to miss the New York City apartment, but I need a break.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to change the fact that my now ex-husband was in jail for a Ponzie scheme. He kept me busy by sending me to the spa, salon, and shopping for most of our two-year marriage. Not to mention, I’d cashed out my 401K to help him start a side business where he said we’d be partners. Little did I realize it was partners in a crime.
“And the house is gone.” Stanley’s jaw set. “I’m going to need the keys to your car and trade you for these.” He dangled a very small key from a flamingo key chain in the air.
“What’s that? A moped key?” I joked.
“It’s to your house and your new car.” He glanced out the window of his fancy office that was filled with plaques and certificates that boasted of his high education.
“You can’t even look at me? Because I clearly remember when we were donating to your son-in-law’s election fund and visiting our friends in the community who ended up being big donors, that you had no issue looking at me. And now that my bank account has taken a hit, you won’t even look at me?” I questioned with a slight bitter taste in my mouth.
“It didn’t take a hit. There’s no bank account. The FBI seized it all.” Stanley made no effort to make me feel the slightest bit better about my situation.
“Where is my new house? The upper-east side? Not that that’s a bad place to live, but not like where we live now.”
“Ummm,” He licked his lips. “Out there.” He pointed to the window.
I sat up a little straighter in my chair and leaned on the arm of the leather chair.
“There’s nothing out there but an RV; a small one at that.” I laughed and eased back into the chair. “Wait, you mean that. . .” my voice trailed off when I noticed he didn’t find amusement in my teasing about the camper.
“I’m afraid that there’s no money to give you. The only thing free and clear is the camper and the campground.” He stood up and walked around the desk. He eased down on the edge. “I’m sorry Mae. You don’t deserve this.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
I mean, I was having a real bad day before I got here, but this just made it almost unbearable. I rested my elbow on the arm of the chair and covered my mouth with my hand. I twisted my head to the side so Stanley couldn’t see my tearing up. There was a glimpse of my silhouette in the door of the mini-refrigerator.
My hazel eyes were sunken with half-moon dark circles under them. I’d not taken time to straighten my long brown curly hair and the humidity in the air wasn’t making it any better.
“Mae?” Stanley said my name. I blinked a few times. I didn’t recognize the image staring back at me.
“Sorry,” I apologized and forced a demure smile.
I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I had nothing. No family. No marriage. No place to live. No car. Nothing. “I mean, Paul is a jerk and I’d like to kill him, but he left me with nothing?” I hugged my designer bag to my chest.
That scum, I couldn’t believe that I was so dumb that I put everything in his name.
“He owed a lot o
f people money and some still don’t have their retirement back. You’re lucky I could salvage this in the settlements since he did have it in your name alone.” He sounded as if I needed to thank Paul. Stanley picked the flamingo key chain up and once again stuck it in my face. “The campground is in Normal, Kentucky.”
“Kentucky?” My jaw dropped. “You mean I have to go there?”
My mind rolled back to the last time I was in Kentucky. It was 2:04 a.m. I knew the exact time because it was the time I was born and also my eighteenth birthday. It was the day I grew up and knew that no one was going to give me a free ride. Somehow, Paul made me feel safe and secure, until now.
“You have to go there and be the manager if you want to have some sort of income or we can look at selling the place.” He didn’t move those darn keys.
“I didn’t even know about this campground.” I shook my head refusing to take the keys. “I’ve certainly never been a manager of a campground.”
“When Paul was in college, he somehow ended up at this campground and winning some silly bet. After the two of you were married, he had me put the deed in your name and your name alone. The FBI couldn’t seize it.” Stanley thumbed through some papers on his desk.
“Lucky me,” I groaned.
“You have a camper to live in and a way to acquire some income.” He pushed himself up off the desk and put a hand on my shoulder. “I suggest you take a trip. Make it an adventure. Check the place out and save up a couple of months before you decide if you want to sell it or not.” He held out a brochure that had Happy Trails written in big letters across the top.
There was a beautiful, bright and vibrant photo on the front that looked more like a vacation spot than a campground.
“Adventure?” I cocked a brow and looked back out the window at the camper. “Yellow?” I questioned the color on my home on wheels. “I don’t even like yellow.”
“It’s a pop up. The top lifts to make more space. There’s a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and you can drive it. It’s perfect,” he said with an upbeat tone. “Be sure you read the manual in the glove box on how to work all the equipment. It can be tricky.”
“Are you really trying to sell me on this camping idea? I lived in a ten-thousand square foot home with a house cleaner. I drive a Maserati. Drove.” I gripped the keys of my little car in my hand. I looked down and opened my palm. “Did drive a Maserati.” I gulped back the tears and practically ripped the flamingo keychain out of his hand.
“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to get to court.” He took his hand off my shoulder and put it in his pant pocket, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. “Here. This is for gas and food. I can feel the bones in your shoulder. Eat.”
“No.” I shook my head and stood up, a bit wobbly. “I’m fine. I don’t need a hand out.”
He didn’t take no for an answer. He stuck the money in my palm and curled my fingers around it.
“Let me know when you get to Kentucky.” He smiled and patted my hand before he dropped it. His eyes softened. “Mae, I’m sorry. Out of all my client’s wives, you’ve always been so kind and nice. I know this whole process has made you bitter and hard-hearted. But I know you’re strong and will figure this all out.”
“Thanks, Stanley.” I sucked in a deep breath. “You’ve been great. I know I sound like some spoiled brat, but I think I’m still in shock having been in this nightmare for only three months.”
“I sent some of your things to the campground. There’s even a storage facility on the grounds. The current manager knows you’re coming. I put a file in the camper with her name on it and some information about the campsite.” He patted my back. “I suggest you not even look at it until you get there so you can focus on your new adventure the next couple of days.”
“Couple of days? That’s how long it’ll take to drive to Kentucky?” I questioned, clearly not remembering how long it took the Greyhound to drive here years ago.
“In a camper, yes.” He walked over to the door and opened it. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“You’ve done enough, keeping me out of jail,” I started to tear up, my voice cracked, “I can’t thank you enough.”
I walked out the door knowing that I’d never see Stanley again. The past few months, I’d seen him practically every day. When the FBI had shown up at our house that morning of the raid, I’d never forget. Stanley came right to the jail and bailed me out. We left Paul in there. He deserved it. It took a lot for Stanley to prove that I’d not signed any of the paperwork and Paul had forged my name, but Stanley did it. I’m forever grateful.
The long walk down the hall of his office was a blur. I was numb. I remember pushing open the door of his office building and stepping out into the bright sunshine. I pulled my sunglasses down on my nose and pushed them up. My eyes slid over to the cute little black convertible that was my birthday gift last year when I turned thirty. Little did I realize it was bought with other people’s money Paul had schemed them out of from our fake partnership.
I slid my eyes over to the bright yellow camper and then down at the flamingo keychain.
“I guess it could be much worse,” I grumbled and took my first steps towards my new reality as I tried to keep an upbeat attitude.
TWO
The day I drove out of my lawyer’s parking lot and into the small southern town of Normal, I should’ve known then that nothing was going to be . . .normal. Never ever again was anything going to be normal.
Before Paul, I was what you’d call a pretty normal person with a regular job as a flight attendant. I worked every shift at the airport I could and had a roof over my head. When I met Paul five years ago, I was twenty-five. That’s when I began to live his life with all of his lavish things. I’d gotten used to it pretty quickly and the finer things just became part of my identity. Everyone thought I was a gold digger since Paul was a sixty-one-year-old bachelor that’d never been married. I wasn’t. I truly fell in love with the Paul that I knew.
I should’ve known something was wrong the night before the FBI showed up at our house. Paul had said something funny like if something were to happen to him, he had me a special present in the sock drawer. I didn’t know what that had meant. The FBI raided the house and there was literally nothing in the sock drawer. But there was something in the secret sock drawer compartment that the FBI didn’t find. It was one hundred-thousand dollars in cash with a note from Paul that said the money was from my 401K that we’d cashed in. Little did I realize that he’d cashed it in to help fund his little crime.
You can bet that I didn’t turn that money in, though I probably should’ve. I convinced myself it was my 401K that he took from me.
When it quickly dawned on me that my world was no longer in existence, I knew I had to make that money last. And this RV. . .what was I going to do with that?
First off, I had no idea how to drive it. I didn’t realize the toilet was just a hole that had to be cleaned out, which I can’t believe there’s not been an invention improving upon this. Regardless, I made it to Normal, Kentucky in a couple of days like Stanley had predicted. I did what Stanley suggested and focused on getting to Kentucky while the other things worked its way out in my head.
In fact, after taking a look at the brochure of the campground, I got a little excited. It was actually a little paradise with a big fishing lake where there appeared to be a beach to lie out. I could stand to use a little color and with summer fast approaching, this was exactly what I needed.
Now, there was no denying that I was definitely going to sell it, but like Stanley said, while he found a buyer, I could just go check it out and see what I thought. From the photos, it was an upscale campsite. The latest craze for people in their twenties was to live with less and explore more which could be a good thing for business. The brochure also showed a little Tiki bar near a lake and a lot of people mingling around with smiles on their faces. It was a perfect place for me to go relax for a couple o
f months. Like Stanley said, it was easy income with everyone paying me a lot fee each month. It appeared to be run like a well-oiled machine. The financial reports showed that there wasn’t much money in the account and only two employees, but it looked like I could cut back on a few things because the place looked perfect.
I’m sure Dottie Swaggert, the property manager, was going to be very helpful in getting my feet wet. So many things rolled around in my head and firing Dottie was one of them, but why would I do that when I was going to sell it anyways. It didn’t appear that her salary was that much. I’d decided that any big decisions that needed to be made would be after I’d been there and taken in a few rays by the sparkling lake.
“This is way out here,” I talked to myself after I’d driven out of town and into the country, hugging a few of the curvy roads that tickled my stomach. “The entrance should be here somewhere.”
I leaned over the big steering wheel and looked out of the windshield.
“Happy Trails Campground,” I read the faded words on a piece of propped up wood that looked as if it’d once arched over the entrance like the one in the brochure.
Pushing back the notions that this was a sign of what the campground looked like in person, I forged ahead, figuring they were in the process of having a brand-new sign installed. If not, it’d be the first thing on my list. The folder Stanley had given me was in the middle console between me and the passenger seat. I grabbed it. I wrote down a list of to-do’s and a repaint or buying a new sign was the first thing that would go on that list.
“And pavement,” I murmured to myself as I wrote down a second to-do after the ticking sound of the gravel spitting up underneath the tires of the camper caught my attention. “No one likes gravel.”
It was just a minor detail I wasn’t going to let spoil my much-needed vacation in my fancy campground. At least Paul had done something right by me.