“If only we could get her to—”
The lights went off in the RV and its front door slammed. I pressed a finger to my lips, more to silence myself than to warn Bee. A figure appeared near the side of the RV and headed for the road. It looked as if Charlene was going to the restaurant? Perhaps going to meet Van? The office and events hall across from the RV were dark too.
“Now’s our chance,” Bee breathed.
The only light came from the moon, the clouds scudding across the sky blocking it out and revealing it again. Charlene and Van’s cherry red RV sat silent, and we kept to the back of it where the only witnesses to our dastardly sneaking would be the trees themselves.
Bee and I systematically tried fiddling with the windows. We hopped up and down, trying to get a good look inside when they failed to open.
“Now what?” I asked, huffing out breaths. Good heavens, I needed to go on a diet or start exercising. A few jumps and I was ready to lay down and pass out in the grass.
“Now… Get on my shoulders,” Bee said.
“What? Have you lost your marbles? I’m not getting on your shoulders! I’ll crush you.”
“You’re either vastly underestimating my strength or overestimating how many cupcakes you ate today,” Bee said. “Stop complaining and get on my shoulders.” She crouched so I could sit on her like she was the dad and I was the carefree kid at the carnival. All that was missing was the cotton candy and the terrifying clowns.
“Bee. I am not going to mount you like you’re a racehorse.”
“Then let me climb on your shoulders.”
“I would,” I said, “but—”
A soft whine interrupted me.
“Sheesh, you don’t need to cry about it,” I said. “It’s not like we’ll be able to make it in and out of the RV before they get back from wherever they are.”
“That wasn’t me, Ruby.”
“Oh.”
Another whine came, and it was easier to pinpoint this time.
“Under the RV,” Bee said, fishing her phone out of her pocket. She switched on the flashlight and bent, directing the beam into the darkness.
Buddy the Labrador lay underneath the vehicle, his snout on his paws, and his expressive eyebrows moving as he looked first at Bee and then at me. He thumped his tail twice.
“Why’s he down here?” I asked. “I thought Charlene said they were keeping him indoors.”
Bee ground her teeth so hard they squeaked. “Liar,” she hissed. “She hasn’t been looking after him properly. Neither of them have.”
“We have to do something.”
“Hold this.” Bee handed me her phone.
I directed the beam of light off to the side so it wouldn’t shine in Buddy’s eyes.
“Come here, boy,” Bee said. “Come to Auntie Bee.”
“Auntie?”
“What else should I call myself? I’m not the ‘Momma’ type.”
“Granny?”
“Ruby Holmes, that’s not funny.” But Bee didn’t seem that fazed. She patted on her thighs, kneeling in the green grass and surely staining her jeans. “Come on, boy. It’s OK. Come here.”
Buddy shuffled forward on all fours until he reached the lip of RV’s side. He slipped out from underneath it and took one bounding step into Bee’s outstretched arms. He covered her cheeks in doggy kisses as she patted his head.
“All right, that’s OK,” she said. “We’re going to look after you, now.”
“We are?” I asked.
“Yes, we are,” Bee replied. “At least, until we leave. We can do that, can’t we?”
Bee was only asking because it was my food truck and I was technically her boss. Not that it felt like it anymore—sometimes, I forgot we weren’t equal partners in the business. We might as well have been by this point.
“Yes, we can look after him. He can be our tent guard dog until—”
Footsteps crunched in the grass, and a towering figure marched around the side of the RV. It took a shifting of the phone in my hand to show me it was Van, back from wherever he’d been. Meeting for The Hairy Chest and Gold Chain Society?
“You,” he thundered. “I knew you were no good. I knew it! I told that detective to keep and eye on you and I was right. You’re—”
“And hello to you too, Mr. Reed,” Bee said, her voice deathly cold.
“Don’t greet me, you old bat. You’re trespassing on private property. Don’t try to pretend you’re not here looking for trouble.”
“Have some respect,” I snapped.
“You shut up.” There was no Charlene to grab hold of Van’s greasy forearm and guide him away this time. He bore down on us. “I’m going to report you both to the police for this.”
“We came for Buddy,” I said. “We heard him whining under the RV so we came to get him out.”
“And we’re taking him back to our tent,” Bee put in. “There’s nothing you can do to stop us and if you call the cops, we’ll report you for neglecting this animal’s needs. That’s illegal, you know.”
Van’s red face grew only redder. He blustered, spewing out curse words.
“We’re leaving,” I said.
“You can take the darn dog,” Van replied. “I never wanted that idiot’s pet near my RV anyway. But you… you two… if I catch you doing anything suspicious in my campground, I’ll kick you out so fast your heads will spin. Got it?”
I didn’t reply. Bee showed him her back, calling to Buddy to follow.
10
We walked in fuming silence all the way back to our lot, where one of the lampposts along the trail illuminated our tent and the food truck with its cheerful pastel green and pink stripes.
“He’s evil,” Bee said, lowering herself into one of our lawn chairs. “I’m convinced.”
“Evil enough to murder?”
“If he knew Charlene was having an affair, maybe.” Bee pinched her nose and made a humming noise under her breath. “But I’m letting my anger get in the way of a clear head. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Buddy barked a couple times and sat down next to Bee, nuzzling her hand until she put it on his head. He blinked and let out a satisfied doggy groan, but, occasionally, his deep brown gaze would flicker to Ronald’s camper.
“Poor dog,” I said. “I bet he misses him.” I didn’t want to utter Ronald’s name in case Buddy’s ears perked up, only to fall again.
“Of course, he does.” Bee stroked Buddy’s fur, idly. “Dogs are incredibly loyal. I’m glad that we can offer him somewhere safe to live until…”
“Until we leave? What will happen then?”
“The deceased’s solicitor should contact family to come care for the dog.” But Bee didn’t sound too happy about that.
I didn’t blame her. What if the family members were dog haters? Or they didn’t want Buddy? Or they treated him like Charlene and Van had? We couldn’t allow that and we surely wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if we wanted to contest their ‘ownership’ of the dog.
But we couldn’t take him with us, could we? He wouldn’t have a permanent place to stay. He would have to ride long hours in the food truck with us and there wasn’t much space in the front for him to lie down. We couldn’t put him near the food as that was a health code violation, and when we arrived back in Muffin, there was no guarantee that Mrs. Rickleston at the Runaway Inn would even allow a dog to stay on the premises.
Every town we went to, we’d have to look for a guesthouse that accepted pets staying with their owners. And then there were the vet costs and the fact that we’d have to buy food as well, and maybe a fluffy coat for him to wear in winter, because that would look cute, and—
All my mental protests added up, but one look at the yellow Lab sent them spiraling out of my head. How could an animal be so adorable?
A door clicked further down the street—a man had emerged from the walnut colored camper in the lot next to Ronald’s. He stretched his arms and legs t
hen headed for his firepit and started lifting wood from a freshly cut stack next to it.
It was dinner time in the campground, and the scent of woodfires and cooking meat drifted on the air.
Buddy’s tummy groaned.
“He’s hungry,” I said. “Shoot, we need to find something to feed him.”
“Right,” Bee agreed. “And a bowl to give him water.”
“I have an old Tupperware in the food truck we can use for that. It will have to be good enough for now.” I tapped my cheek. “And we can cook some meat and give him a bit of it for dinner tonight. We’ll just have to head into to town tomorrow and get kibble.”
“Town is about an hour from here,” Bee sighed. “But I guess it will give us a chance to get you a new phone.”
I’d almost forgotten I’d smashed my phone on the night we’d discovered Ronald’s body. I wasn’t the type who clung to their phone obsessively, though Bee had tried convincing me that I needed to start a social media profile or page for the food truck. All businesses were online nowadays.
“’Scuse me.” The man who’d been stacking wood in his pit waved to us. “Hope you don’t mind, but I overheard you talkin’ and I think I can help you with your dog food problem.”
“Oh?” Bee pushed herself out of the lawn chair.
“Yeah.” The man came over, dusting off his palms. He presented one of them. “Name’s Mike. I’ve been staying here for over a month now. Happened to make pretty good friends with most of my neighbors including ol’ Ronald.” Mike had a missing front tooth in the bottom row. Tufts of gray hair covered his crown, and he wore a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a pair of blue jeans that were a little too loose. He rubbed his hands together a second time and blew into them. “Cold night, ain’t it?”
“Unseasonably cold,” I agreed. “You mentioned you knew Ronald?”
Buddy whined and lowered himself onto his paws again, but there was no escaping saying the man’s name now.
“You’re right, I did. Good man. Kind. I ran out of essentials a little while back and my lumbago was acting up. He made a packie run for me. Good guy. Real good guy,” Mike continued. “Funny thing is, he asked me for a favor the other day and I was more than happy to oblige.” Mike spoke as if he was imparting great secrets or wisdom, leaning close. “See, he told me that he wasn’t feeling safe in the campground. He was sure that something was going to happen to him, so he gave me a key for his RV in case I heard a noise in the night or him crying out for help.”
My eyes widened.
“He thought someone was after him?” Bee asked. “You’re sure he said that?”
“Sure as I am of a Hoodsie Cup on Ice Cream Day.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded certain enough. “So, you can let us into his RV? To get dog food for Buddy?”
“I sure can.” Mike gave us a grin. “Give me a second to go get the key.” He hurried off to his camper.
“Wow,” I whispered. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“Ronald was afraid.” Bee rubbed the end of her nose. “Hmm. Afraid of what? Or who? And why was he afraid? If he knew someone was after him, then surely it can’t just have been a robbery gone wrong in the woods.”
“What was he even doing in the woods at that time?” I put in. “Something doesn’t add up here.”
“I agree.”
Mike returned before we could dissect the new information further. He let us into Ronald’s RV, and Buddy barreled up the stairs, barking. But, of course, Ronald wasn’t there, and Buddy’s yips turned to whines.
Bee walked patted his head again. “It’s all right, Buddy.”
Mike had already flicked on the internal lights. All the RV’s blinds had been pulled down to shield the inside from view. He placed the key on the kitchen counter—white and wood-topped. “You can keep this,” he said. “I don’t want no part of what happened to Ronald. He was a good man, but it ain’t worth dying over or getting in trouble for.”
“Mike, did you tell the police about the key?”
“Nope. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.” He departed, shutting the door behind him.
Goodness, how were we supposed to keep this to ourselves? If the detectives found out that we were hiding information from them…
“All right,” Bee said. “Let’s find Buddy’s kibble.”
“I’ll check the kitchen cupboards.”
“I’ll check the bedroom.” Bee pointed to the open door that led to a bed bunk tucked against the side of the camper. The bed was neatly made, white sheets and pillows draped across it. “There might be some of Buddy’s things in there. Dog bed and toys and so on.”
I set to work on the cupboards, searching high and low for dog food. I found a bag under the sink. “Got it,” I called. “You know, Bee, we’re going to have to tell Detective Handsome about the key and about Mike. It’s a clue.”
Bee’s head appeared around the side of the door. “You said ‘Handsome.’”
“I did not.”
“You did too.”
“Anyway,” I replied, praying my cheeks wouldn’t turn hot. “We have to tell the police.”
“Of course, we do,” Bee said. “And we’ll have to tell them about this too.” She came out of the bedroom holding a piece of paper.
I took it from her, pinning the dog food bag between my hip and the counter, and read the words scrawled across the page.
Ronald,
I know that you probably don’t want to hear from me after what happened with Van, but you have to understand he meant well.
Look, I don’t want you to back off now. We’re so close to making this happen. Just let me get in contact with him and I’ll organize the day. I know this is worrying you, but I’m sure that he means well, and that when you go see him, it will be everything you want it to be.
I promise you, I’ll be with you every step of the way.
Maybe you think I should never have interfered, and I do understand that, but it’s the right thing to do. The minute you meet him, you’ll understand.
I’m going to try set up a safe place in the woods, OK? I’ll contact you with the details when I have them.
Regards,
Charlene
“Well, that doesn’t read like a love letter,” I said, handing it back to Bee and catching the dog food bag before it fell. “At all. She didn’t say love. There was no profession of anything. And what does she mean about a meeting in the woods?”
“I don’t know,” Bee said. “But we’re going to find out. We’ll talk to her about this. Confront her with the letter. She can’t possibly lie to us when the evidence is right there in her face.” She flicked her fingers against the letter.
“Right. Tomorrow morning. First thing.”
“Agreed.” Bee folded the letter and tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans then entered the master bedroom to collect Buddy’s things—a dog bed, a bone-shaped chew toy, and a fluffy teddy bear.
I grabbed the key, and we trooped out. Buddy and Bee crossed the road to our camp site, and I stayed to lock up the camper, shivering a little. It wasn’t from the cold.
Something very strange was going on at the Tomahawk Trail Campgrounds. But what?
11
No macarons this time.
I marched down the road with Bee at my side, Buddy with us on the end of a lead, the fresh morning dew glistening in the grass. It was just past 7 am, but neither of us could sleep a wink more—we’d woken up without bleary eyes for once, and had a cup of coffee each, a quick freshen up, and then set off.
It was time to confront Charlene.
And if she didn’t tell us what we wanted, we’d simply hand everything over to Detective Hanson and tell him what had happened. We could hardly be blamed for wanting to look after Buddy and finding a way into Ronald’s camper.
They would take it from there. Possibly with us looking over their shoulders.
Regardless of which way it happened, I was despe
rate to know what the letter had meant. And why Charlene had asked Ronald to meet her and a mystery person in the woods. Had that invitation come before the campfire event? Was it on that invitation that Ronald had gone into the woods?
If so, we might have a connection between Charlene and the crime scene. Except… the letter wasn’t dated.
Bee, Buddy and I reached the cherry red RV and found it with its door closed and the curtains drawn.
“Probably still asleep,” I said, checking my filigree watch.
“I don’t blame them. It’s earlier than should be legal to wake up.” Bee liked to sleep in—though she’d set that habit aside so she could do prep work on the truck most days.
I walked up the front steps and rapped my knuckles on the door.
Birds tweeted in the trees, and another camper’s door opened down the road. A young boy ran out and grabbed his bike from next to a car. He hopped on it and shot off up the road, the wind in his hair and a grin on his face.
I’d had a bike like his as a kid and, boy, had I made good use of it. Gotten myself lost in all the back streams and little hidey holes when my parents weren’t looking—which had been most of the time.
I knocked on the RV’s door again.
“Whatya want?” The grumbled shout came from inside.
I knocked instead of answering—Van probably wouldn’t open up if he knew it was us.
Finally, the door swung inward and he appeared in his usual stained vest, and a pair of checked boxer shorts that were almost threadbare and definitely indecent. His jowls wobbled with ill-contained rage. “It’s the middle of the night!” he growled.
“Sir, it’s 7 am,” I replied.
“Same thing.”
“We’re here to speak to Charlene,” Bee said, stiffly. Buddy sat next to her, scratching under his collar. “About Buddy. She was meant to look after him and she didn’t. Is she home?”
Van sniffed. “Nope.”
“Then she’s in the office?” I asked.
“How should I know?”
“We were under the impression that you were her husband,” I replied, trying not to put too much sarcasm into my words. This guy rubbed me up the wrong way. Maybe it was just men who acted like pigs who got a rise out of me. And cruelty to animals. And murder. “You don’t know where she is?”
Bite-Sized Bakery Cozy Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 21