Bead onTrouble

by Barbara Burnett Smith

  "He was at the front gate. He asked what cabin you were in, but I told him in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed in the cabins unless he had a search warrant or an arrest warrant. Which is why he's now royally pissed at me, too."

  "Great." I looked around quickly and found that there were only five women left in the dining hall and no sign of anyone official. "Do you know where Beth is?"

  "Abigail's Parlour having her meeting." Next to the Saloon.

  "I've got to get out of here," I said.

  "Good idea.

  clear your table. Go."

  I was out and gone in a flash, careful not to let the door hit me in the butt as I went.

  Green Clover has paths running every which way and if you know them, you have several ways to get almost anyplace. I had to find Shannan. Seemed like I'd spent al weekend chasing her, and I'd forgotten to ask Cordy if she had an inkling of where I should look. The best bet was the demonstration, but there was no way I could cross the road in front of the Saloon. I'd have to go down closer to the river and cut across there.

  By the time I could see the dining hall again, from the other side, I was practically out of breath. If I kept up this pace, I'd either lose some weight or have a heart attack.

  I stayed in the trees until I was right behind the Saloon, then I hustled inside its back door. I was behind a woman who was demonstrating some beautiful outdoor hangings of wire and beads. Shannan was in the front row.

  I waved my arm and mouthed, "Shannan." Several people saw me, but not my goddaughter. The woman next to her was squinting at me, trying to figure out what I wanted.

  I pointed to Shannan, and the woman finally nudged her.

  It might as well have been a silent movie, and a pretty silly one, but finally Shannan, greatly dismayed, made her way out the front doors of the Saloon, apologizing all the way. I raced out the back and met her at the side of the building

  "What is the problem?" she asked. "That's the first—"

  "This way, quick." I grabbed her hand and started up the path to the Lazy L at quite a clip.

  “Why?”

  "Because Officer Peterson is looking for both of us, and Cordy says he steamed."

  Shannan turned white. "But why?! What's he going to do?"

  I cut between two trees pulling her as hard as I could.

  "Don't balk. Run. I have no idea what he's up to, but he can't do anything if he can't find you Would you run?!"

  "Fine!"

  I tripped over a rock and almost pulled Shannan down.

  She swore, using a few words her mother would have been annoyed to hear, but personally I didn't give a damn.

  We reached the Lazy L, and I threw the door open as if we were going to be safe at home. I heard a squeal and looked down to see Sinatra scooting along the floor.

  "Oh, no. Poor baby," Shannan scooped him up.

  "Is he okay?"

  "He's fine. Why'd you leave him out of his cage?"

  "I didn't. He gets out by himself. He's magic:" I pulled my purse out of my suitcase and rummaged around looking for my keys. "Listen, you have to get out of here unless you want to meet up with Peterson. Take the Rover and go home. Or to a friend's. Actually, that's a better idea. Go to a friend's house. Call me on my cell to tell us where."

  Shannan is not a slow young woman once she gets on track. She put Sinatra in his cage and was reaching for her purse. "What about my mom?"

  "He's not looking for her; just us. I'll tell her where you went."

  She only took a second to throw some things in her tote.

  "I'll be at Christie's house." Her expression was frantic as she peered out the screen at the paths. "How am I going to get to the Land Rover?"

  I was thinking fast. "We'll have to reconnoiter the parking area. If Peterson is there, well . . . well, we'll work out a plan B." I reached down and checked the latch on Sinatra's cage. I turned to Shannan. "Come on. Run silent and run fast. But run!"

  Twenty-one

  The door banged and we were off. l led the way, around the perimeter of the camp until we came to the small gate.

  I wished Pd asked Nate the combination to

  the lock, but if worse came to worst, the fist-sized rock was still sitting there and we could use that on it.

  "Look down to the gate," I panted, pul ing Shannan toward the bushes. "See anything?"

  "No." She was puffing, too. "You think Peterson is there?"

  "Maybe." I breathed for a second. "Okay. Here's what we do. You stay here—"

  "No. Then he'll just get you. That's not a good idea."

  "Sure it is. I'm older, and I have clout."

  "Not with Peterson."

  "Maybe the jailer voted for me."

  "That's not funny."

  I nudged her. "Okay, we'll go together. But stay toward the fence and try not to make too much noise."

  We dodged in and out of the brush until we were close enough to the gate and the parking area to see that the female deputy was back on duty at the front gate.

  "Now what are we going to do?" Shaman asked.

  "You are going back down to where we stopped. The gate is probably steadier than the fence, so climb over that—I'll pick you up."

  "But how are you—"

  "Shannan don't ask a lot of questions, just go."

  I figured I could do pretty much the same trick as Nate and I had executed yesterday, only with a twist ending.

  I strode out into the middle of the pathway and kept right on going. There was no reason to think that I couldn't just walk out. The only thing was, I was nervous.

  I've done a tad of smuggling in my past, nothing like drugs, but a few things that I felt imperative to either bring in or take out of a country. Things that some official or other thought should not move across borders. There was the Egyptian money that I took out of Cairo. I paid over three dollars American for a small, battered, and dirty piece of paper. You'd think they'd be thrilled to get rid of it, but the law says you can't take Egyptian money out of their county.

  And then there was the time coming out of the Bahamas when I was smuggling genuine fake Rolex watches. Five of them. I had decided that they were the perfect gift for my friends, some of whom had real Rolexes. I had even splurged on two that had genuine fake diamonds. Beth and my daughter, Katie, got those.

  In both situations, and a few others not worth mention-ing, I was nervous walking up to Customs. I had to remind myself to smile and act natural, whatever in the world that is. I was doing exactly the same thing here, sauntering along like I didn't have a care in the world, looking at the sky and the deputy. And the wrought iron gate that was once again closed.

  "Good morning," I said to the deputy, who was in full uniform, including hat, and holding a clip board. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" Even in my state, I couldn't miss that the blue sky was deep and cloudless.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "And, seems we're lucky. I heard that no one here at Green Clover reported any problems last night."

  "Yes, ma'am, so far as I know."

  "I'm just going to run into Wimberley. I'll be right back." I held out my keys.

  "If I could have your name. Officer Peterson wants to okay all departures!'

  I felt a panic start in my stomach, but I ignored it, and concentrated on working my facile tongue. "I wouldn't doubt it. That man is awfully officious, but I didn't say

  .

  that."

  The deputy smiled. "I didn't either."

  "Problem is, I'm in a hurry. I swear I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Twenty at the most. Where is the grouch anyway?"

  "I'm not sure. Let me try to raise him on the radio,"

  "No, no. That's not necessary. I'll be back as fast as I can." I reached inside my pocket. I'm not sure what I thought I'd find that would do any good, but there was nothing there. Not a driver's license, nada.

  "Yes, ma'am, if I could just have your name?'

  "I don't mind at all." I was thinking fast. "I'm Sande.
<
br />   Sandra Borders. I'm a rubber stamper from California. Just got here this morning."

  "Yes, ma'am," she said, writing the name. "And you'll be right back?"

  "Right back." She reached for the gate, and I had to control myself not to knock her over so I could get out faster.

  "Thank you." I sort of loped to the Land Rover. In just seconds it was running and I was backing out, heading not toward town, but the other way along the fence.

  Shaman started to wave the minute she saw me, and I pulled over. She had the passenger door open before I fully stopped.

  "Get in over here," I said, jumping out.

  She threw in her duffel and her purse, then slammed the door. "Where are you going?" she asked, running around the front to the driver's side.

  "Back to camp."

  "How do I get out of here?" She slid in and adjusted the seat.

  "Drive to the next intersection, turn right, then right at the stop sign. One more right and you'll be on Otero Road.

  That's this one, except you'll be about two miles farther along. Then just head to the highway."

  "Will you be okay?"

  "Of course?"

  "Tell my mom where I am. Christie's house. Don't forget."

  "I will tell her, and I won't forget?" I remembered that kids never have money. "There's fifty dollars under the seat. Here." I reached underneath it and pulled out the bill.

  "In case you need food or gas, or anything. Be sure and call."

  "I will." She started to put it in gear but hesitated.

  "Tante Kitzi, maybe I should just go home."

  "No. What in the world would you say to your dad?

  Now is not the time to go home. Is that clear?"

  "Don't yell. Okay."

  "And don't wreck my Rover! Go."

  She pulled away slowly, and I watched her until she turned the corner, then I let out a breath of relief. Now that she was safely on her way, I had to get back to the front gate, and figure a way to explain why I was on foot when I'd left on wheels.

  I lurked about ten minutes in the parking area, assuming the deputy would expect me to be gone at least that long.

  About then I saw a car coming from the other direction. It was moving pretty fast, raising a cloud of white dust in its wake. I ducked behind a red SUV and waited on the off chance it belonged to somebody I didn't want to meet up with. It was an official car, all right I wasn't close enough to see who was in it until it turned toward the door was clearly marked Sheriff' and, no surprise, it had the sheriff in it, but he was alone. The deputy opened the gate, and she and the sheriff spoke a minute before he drove on through and into the camp,

  I waited until I couldn't see the whites of his fenders, then I hustled to the gate, and slipped through fast. The deputy hadn't seen me drive up, but then she hadn't not seen me drive up, either,

  "I'm back," I said with as much good cheer as I could muster. "Thanks again!"

  She scratched out the name on the clipboard as if she hadn't wanted anyone to know I'd left, either, "Yes, ma' am."

  I turned and heard another car coming toward Green Clover. The only safe place was on the other side of May's trailer, and that's where I went. After I was out of sight, I stuck my head around the corner in time to see a DPS car pull into the parking lot. Officer Peterson. Which proved once again that timing is everything in life. While the gate was being opened, I took off, using as many shortcuts as I knew to get back to the Lazy L. I looked over my shoulder the whole way. A piece of me wished I'd gone with Shannan, but that would have been problematic. It would have looked suspicious, and she wouldn't have been as safe. Besides, I couldn't leave Beth behind to fend for herself.

  I peeked in the screen of the cabin, feeling ridiculously tike a voyeur, but the Lazy L was quiet, and for once Sinatra was in his cage. I slipped inside the sleeping porch.

  "What's the matter? Losing your powers?" I asked Sinatra. He let out a meow, and I took him out and put him on my bed. "But no fooling around, deal?" He jumped down and went to his cat box.

  I took out my cell phone and plopped on the bunk, breathing hard. This was some kind of camp, and I had lots to do before I could see it getting any better. First, I had to call Larry Brill in case he'd heard anything new. Then I had to find out how Beth had done with the Tivolini buyer; after that came another chat with Tony. I hadn't gotten to a number of topics with him, such as roses and condoms. I also hadn't asked him about his relationship with May, which seemed remiss, to say the least.

  I was also stalling. I was a lawmaker, not a law breaker, and I just didn't feel good about lying to Peterson and then not telling him the truth. I planned on doing that very thing when I got my other chores taken care of. What was the worst he could do? Put me in jail? Well, yes, he could do that. Maybe I'd call our family lawyer and ask him to meet me at Green Clover.

  In the meantime, I checked my cell phone which showed that I'd missed two calls, one from my daughter and the other from Larry Brill, my friendly TV reporter.

  Things might be turning in the right direction after all. My daughter had left a message saying that the murder at the camp was on the news, and what in the world was going on? She was very afraid that her children would find out, and then how was she going to explain that their grammy was at a camp where there had been a murder? She wanted me to call her.

  Considering that Cliffie and Shelby are five and Gabrielle is only three, I didn't think they should be watching the news in the first place, and knowing Katie, they weren't. Katie doesn't want perfection, she simply wants control.

  In this particular case she wasn't getting it because I wasn't calling her back. It was Larry I was more interested in and whatever information he might have for me on May's murder. The message he left said to call him. I pushed buttons until I finally heard a ringing. An answering machine came on, and my shoulders slumped until a real human voice interjected, "Hold on. We're here." The machine stopped, "This is Larry."

  "This is Kitzi. What's the news?"

  "Hi, to you, too. How's camp?"

  "Not all it used to be. I'm kind of under the gun here, not literally, of course, but I have to talk fast. Have you heard anything?"

  "I have. This isn't official, and you didn't get it from me, but according to my contact in the coroner's office, it appears May Polaski was in a fight before she went over the cliff."

  "How could they tell?"

  "I asked that same question. Something about placement and angle of the bruises. Only they call them contusions. Plus, once someone is dead, they don't bruise anymore, so she was hit before death." That was more than I'd ever wanted to know. He went on, "Oh, and she didn't drown. They think that she must have had a serious head injury and then crawled toward the water?'

  I thought for a second. "Did your contact say anything else?"

  "Just that there were several bruises on the neck, as if she'd been hit by something. According to him, someone who went over a cliff would usually have injuries on their extremities from trying to stop themselves. They might have a few on the neck, but that's protected. They wouldn't have several, like your friend did. Oh, and her face didn't have a scratch. The fatal blow was on the back of the head."

  "Wonder how accurate your contact is?"

  "Well, usually about ninety-five to a hundred percent.

  Around the station our story is, if Roger says it, you can take it to the morgue," he said, and I groaned. "Sorry. Sick humor."

  I stopped to think for a second. "Lar, have you heard anything about May's ex-husband?"

  "Not much. They had a hard time tracking him down because he and his second wife are on a cruise in the Bahamas.

  They were at sea the night May was killed. He was pretty much dismissed as a suspect after that." He paused.

  "That's all I have. What about you? Have you heard anything?"

  I let out a puff of air. "They haven't told us a thing.

  Nothing."

  "So what's going on at Green Clover?"r />
  "Beading and rubber stamping. Last night we had the memorial service for May, as planned. Nothing new there.

  Then at ten o'clock the officials, and I couldn't tell you which ones, shut down the activities and made sure we were all in our cabins. With new locks on the doors that we locked."

  "Really. No sneaking around—girls sneaking to the boys cabins and vice versa?"

  "We don't have boys here. Or girls for that matter."

  "Not as much fun as the camp I went to as a kid."

  "Yeah, and I'll bet you didn't have murders there, either."

  "You're right. We limited our crime to manslaughter."

  "You're in rare form today. I'll let you go. You must have lots more people to share your gallows humor with."

  "Hint taken. I'll call if I find out anything else, but that's not likely."

  "Okay. And I'll do the same. And, Larry. Thank you."

  "My pleasure."

  I snapped my phone shut and thought about what he'd said. Some kind of fight. Angie said she'd heard an argument and it was the first time she'd ever been awareof a dis-

  ,

  agreement at Green Clover. I hadn't asked Tony about that, either. His Fifth Wheel is close to Angie's trailer, so there was a chance he'd heard something, too.

  I had to think. There were so many things in my head, they were beginning to jumble. First was that Peterson knew something about Shannan and me that had him hunt-ing for us. Like that we'd done something other than just look for pliers on Thursday night, but how had he found out? I hadn't said anything to anyone about that, except Beth, and she certainly wouldn't have informed on us.

  Something wasn't right.

  May had come to Green Clover to meet with the Tivolini buyer and to do some demonstrations. After her first one she'd snuck away and met up with Ron, and continued her affair. Yes, that was right, that wasn't the first time they met, not according to Shannan and Beth. So, May had left, and then she'd come back. But when was that? Did anyone see her after she got back?

  And I was missing something. May had an argument with Nate Wright on Thursday afternoon, and he'd still never told me what it was about. That needed to get clear, and the only way to do that was to talk with Nate.