“Yes, that is you.” I studied the portrait—the long dark sideburns that traveled almost to his chin, the thickness of his black hair, the aquamarine of his eyes, the dimple in his chin.
Handsome, handsome man. I sighed inwardly. Such a shame.
Yes, I think so, too. He chuckled. That it is a shame I passed so early in life, not that I consider myself particularly handsome.
He made a sound as if he was clearing his throat.
So, you know what I look like then. How long have you known?
“I found this page a couple of months ago, just after we first ‘met.’”
And it remains visible to you?
“I keep it on my screen and look at it once in a while to remind me of what you look like. It’s pretty weird talking to air sometimes.”
I can imagine.
Of course, it was probably weirder still being a ghost. My heart went out to him.
“You were…are a handsome man, Ben.”
Ben coughed, the kind of cough that people make when they’re embarrassed. I smiled. I loved ruffling his feathers.
Thank you, Minerva. You are a lovely woman yourself.
Now, I was blushing.
“Oh, pshaw!” I jumped up from the computer table. “Let’s go see what’s going on outside. I can’t believe we have a suicide one day and then nothing happens the next day. It feels like kind of a letdown. My adrenaline wants more, more, more action!”
More death, Minerva? You frighten me.
“No, I don’t want anyone to die. Gosh, no! I just want something to happen.”
I opened my door and stepped outside. Twilight was still an hour or so away. I rounded the back of my RV to look at Sally’s trailer. It was still there. I couldn’t see the yellow tape anymore since Bob had pulled it down.
“I wish they’d get that thing out of here though,” I said.
Yes, it feels quite ghoulish, does it not?
“And this, coming from a ghost?”
Ghosts have feelings, too, Ben said with a laugh. I heard a similar statement on that machine you call a television.
I laughed over my shoulder…or wherever Ben was.
“Funny!”
I turned back to see a police cruiser entering the park.
“Heads up, Ben! Something’s happening!”
I thought about ducking back into my trailer and peeking out of the windows, but I suspected I wouldn’t be able to see anything, so I stuck to the landing and waited for them to pass me. I had no doubt they were headed to Sally’s trailer.
To my surprise…and discomfort, they stopped in front of me.
“Minnie Crockwell?”
The officer who addressed me was the passenger, a dark-haired Hispanic female. I thought I saw Officer Wilson driving the car, but couldn’t see his face from where I stood. I was hardly about to lean down and look into the cruiser.
“Yes?” I said in a nauseatingly timid voice. Give me a figure of authority, and I caved! I imagined myself spread eagle on the grass moaning repeatedly, “I didn’t do it!”
“Could we speak with you for a moment?”
“Yes,” I said with a quivering chin.
They both stepped out of the car. Officer Martinez, black hair wrapped in a shiny bun with a spectacular figure in a tight uniform, addressed me.
“Could we speak inside?”
Ben! Am I being arrested? Am I suspect or something?
I do not know, Minerva. I am here with you. Have courage.
“Sure,” I said with a confidence I wasn’t feeling. I led the way to the RV. They insisted I precede them inside. I climbed in and turned around to wait for them.
Upon entering, both officers scanned the interior of my RV, although Officer Wilson had seen it the night before.
“Let’s take a seat,” Officer Martinez said. “We’d like to ask you a few more questions about the events of last night, and anything you might have seen subsequent to that.”
A single cell in my brain wondered if having a Chief of Police as an ex-husband could help get me out of an arrest. I imagined not.
I sat down on one side of my dinette set. Officer Martinez took the other bench, and Officer Wilson elected to sit in the driver’s seat which was pivoted toward the living area.
My hands were cold, and my forehead felt wet from sweat. I rubbed at it and passed a hand across my upper lip.
Officer Martinez pulled out a pad of paper and began to speak.
“Now, you didn’t know the deceased or his wife until yesterday, is that correct?”
I nodded. “That’s right. I bumped into Carl on the way out of the office when I first pulled in. He seemed angry. And I met Sally when she checked me in.”
“Do you know what Mr. Richardson was angry about? What was he saying? And who was he talking to?”
“He said ‘We’ll see about that’ and ‘excuse me’ when he bumped into me. He was talking to Sally.”
“And what was Mrs. Richardson saying or doing?”
“She was crying. She said something about ‘you know how it is with husbands.’”
“What did she mean by that?”
I shrugged. “I think it was just a generic statement about fighting with one’s husband.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Not really, not then. We just talked about the usual ‘where was I from.’ Stuff like that. She did say she didn’t know what to do with the RV if Carl left her, but she didn’t say why he would.” I hesitated to offer more information at this point, though I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want to incriminate anyone unfairly.
“You said ‘not then.’ Did Mrs. Richardson talk to you more later on?”
I nodded. “She did, when I found her wandering outside, covered in blood. She told me that Carl had been having an affair, and had a history of affairs. She said they’d had a fight and that she’d gone to the office to work. When she returned, he was dead.”
Officer Martinez shot Officer Wilson a look. His face revealed nothing.
“And that is the last that you spoke to her?”
I shook my head again. “No, I saw her this morning when she and her brother came to get some things from the RV.”
“Her brother?”
“Yes, Bob. He came up from Astoria, Oregon, yesterday. Apparently, he was already in town, but Sally didn’t know it.”
Officer Martinez shot Officer Wilson another look. I could imagine what they were thinking, but they were the police, not I. It was their job to figure out what happened.
“Well, I’m certainly glad Officer Wilson suggested we pay you another visit today. Is there anything else you can tell us about Mr. and Mrs. Richardson or the brother, Bob? What is his last name?”
I closed my eyes for a moment to concentrate.
“Stewart, I think.” I took a deep breath. “Well, there’s a lot going on in this park, or so I discovered over the last 24 hours. Most of it centers around Carl. I really don’t want to get anyone in trouble though.”
“Ma’am, this is a police investigation,” Martinez said. “Someone is dead. We need to figure out how or why. If you have any information that is pertinent to the case, you really do need to share it with us.”
Cowed, I sold everyone out…except for Ben.
I told them all that I had heard regarding Carl, Sally, Bob, Karen and Jim. I even offered up that Karen had thrown what she said was a packet of notes into the sewer pipe. And her suspicions that Carl had not killed himself. Then I wondered how quickly I could move my rig and hightail it to another RV park in case someone came gunning for me.
“Is there any chance you could avoid telling folks you got all this information from me? I’m paid up for the week here. I don’t mind moving to another park if someone gets mad, but I’d need some time to find one.” With those sentences, I revealed that I was a coward, cheap, a weenie (the same as coward), and a snitch (though I had no loyalty to the strangers at the park). To say that I wasn’t proud of myself hardl
y described my emotions.
You are too hard on yourself, Minerva. Much too hard.
Maybe not hard enough, Ben!
Officer Martinez sat back and eyed me with her dark eyes. She didn’t smile. I wished she would have.
“And you didn’t think to call us with this information?”
“Well, no. I assumed that you all would do your own police work and find all this out. Just like you’re doing now.”
She half smiled. “I see.”
“Besides, I don’t know if a crime has been committed. You really wouldn’t expect me to call you if someone dropped an inanimate object short of a bomb into a sewer pipe, would you?”
Her smile broadened. She seemed to have a well-developed sense of humor. “No, but I would expect you to tell the park owner.”
I shrugged again. “Maybe.” I returned her smile. At least, I wasn’t a suspect. Hopefully.
And I had asked for something exciting to happen. Here it was. A visit from the police!
“If there’s anything else you think of, give me a call.” She rose and handed me her card. “Now, which sewer hose was it? And you say Mrs. Brothers said it was a package of notes? That’s all?”
“That’s what she said.” I opened the door and let them out. I pointed to the sewer connection. They stopped to look at it, looked at each other and then returned to their patrol car. It seemed as if they were leaving without stopping to talk to Karen or Jim. I breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at least, I wouldn’t have some irate, grieving woman pounding on my door tonight.
Goodness! Ben said.
“I know!”
Those inquiries seemed extensive for an act of suicide, did you not think so?
“I wonder if they came up with something they just didn’t tell me about? I mean if any guy was likely to get murdered, it was Carl.”
Indeed!
A knock sounded on the door, and I jumped. I looked out. It was Karen. Oh, no! Had she figured out I had snitched on her already?
Chapter Six
I opened the door.
“Hi! Can I come in?” Karen asked.
I looked over my shoulder toward the interior of the RV, maybe for a possible escape. She wasn’t going to murder me, was she? Wasn’t this just how Carl must have gone?
I couldn’t hold back.
“You’re not carrying a gun or a knife, are you?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“What? No!” She looked over her shoulder. “I just don’t want Jim to see me here. I told him I was going for a walk.”
I didn’t see her packing a weapon, so I backed up the stairs and let her in.
“So, what did the police want? I saw them here!” Her blue eyes were bright. Her nose was red as if she had been crying again, but she revealed no sign of grief at the moment. In fact, she seemed excited.
“Well, they wanted to know what I knew about Sally and Carl.”
“You didn’t tell them about me, did you?” She took a seat on the couch, but I chose to lean against the kitchen sink, ready to run if need be. I bit my lip and thought fast. Not fast enough though. Nothing came to mind but the truth. Generally, I hated lying, and I was truly awful at it.
I nodded. “I did. I’m sorry.” I could have offered excuses like “they made me do it,” but that wasn’t the truth. I waited for her reaction.
“Minnie!” Karen gasped. She jumped up and ran to look out of the front door window as if the police waited for her. The cruiser was gone though. She turned back to me. “Why? Why would you do that?”
Why indeed! I’d forgotten why.
“I just thought I should tell them everything I knew, Karen. I am sorry. I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to hold back and what to tell them, or why I would hold anything back.”
“You must be a lousy friend!”
Ah! An unworthy insult. Do not listen to her, Minerva. She is afraid.
I let her vent. I was actually pretty good at keeping secrets for friends, but probably not from the authorities.
“Well, what did they say?” she asked.
“Nothing, really. They stopped to look at the sewer drain, but I don’t think they were going to look down it for your notes.”
“You told them about the notes! Minnie! What is the matter with you?”
I shrugged with a sheepish smile.
“It seemed pertinent, Karen. Now, you know why I asked if you had a weapon on you.”
Karen, looking out the window again, turned back. “Yes, I can see why.”
A shiver passed up my spine. Her bright blue eyes had taken on a cold hue again. While I had only been partially kidding, she looked very serious about her response.
Perhaps she should leave now, Minerva.
I’m thinking maybe she should, Ben. Some days, I wish you were a real guy so I could hide behind you.
Silence. I realized what I had said.
No, I know you’re real, Ben. I’m sorry.
And I am sorry that I cannot protect you, Minerva.
I shrugged back my shoulders. “I really am sorry, Karen. Maybe nothing will come of it. I have some things to do now, so…”
“Well, since you sang like a bird, did you at least tell them my suspicions?”
She showed no sign of leaving, other than her hand on the door where it had been.
“You mean that Carl didn’t kill himself?”
“Good! I suppose I should be expecting a visit from them anytime now.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
She opened the door and stepped out. “I just hope you didn’t convince them that I did it!”
“I didn’t, Karen,” I said. “Good night.” I pulled the door shut.
Well done! She took on quite an ominous air, did she not?
“And then some,” I said as my weak knees forced me to drop to the couch. Confrontation, while sometimes a necessary part of life, always made me uncomfortable, especially now.
“I’m sorry I said what I did, Ben. I know you want to protect me. I know you’re real.”
But I failed you two months ago, did I not? When the ruffians attacked you on the street in that small town? Though they sought only your money, you struggled. I raged when one of them struck your face repeatedly, but it was an impotent rage. I could do nothing to protect you. I do not forget that. Nor do you, it seems.
I didn’t know whether I sympathized more for Ben or myself. I was jumpy now. I had developed a small case of posttraumatic stress disorder that now made me more jumpy than the average bear when startled. Or so a therapist I had seen for the subsequent anxiety and nightmares had said. But Ben seemed to take the assault harder than I had. He had raged, he had mourned, he had cursed himself and blamed himself. He had watched me get smacked around, and he could do nothing about it.
“It’s not your fault, Ben. You and I both know that.”
That knowledge does not help me protect you.
“I’m a big girl, Ben. I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I’m tougher than both you and I think.”
I am no knight. He chuckled. But I am a gentleman, and it is only natural that I should wish to protect you—a woman alone, my traveling companion, the lady to whom my spirit is inexplicably bound for the foreseeable future.
I grinned. “Awww, Ben. I feel for you. An 18th century man stuck with a 21st century woman. It can’t be easy.”
My bond to you is not without its pleasures and comforts, Minerva. His voice was silky, caressing.
I blushed. “Okay, enough flirting for now, Ben.”
Flirting indeed! I beg your pardon.
I heard his wonderful laugh and smiled. I wouldn’t admit it to him, but I enjoyed his flirting. Ben was incredibly handsome and very charming. Although admitting that to myself was as good as telling him since he could more often than not read my thoughts.
On occasion, Ben slipped in.
“Stop!” I said. I put my hands to the side of my head as if I could stop him from reading my mind.
<
br /> A knock sounded on the door.
“Who now?” I said aloud.
It is the park owner. The “handsome,” and I quote you, Mr. Nick Granger.
“Really? I wonder what he wants.”
I opened the door and looked out. Yes, indeedy, the handsome Nick Granger stood there. He held a bottle of water in his hand and looked as if he had been jogging. A sleeveless T-shirt revealed well-muscled arms and his running shorts showed tanned, toned legs.
“Oh, you didn’t mention you were a jogger, too,” I teased. “How you’ll find time to manage the park in between jogging and golf, I can’t imagine.” I grinned.
He smiled broadly. “Well, that’s just what I wanted to see you about. I really don’t want to do this all summer. Heck, I’d rather get in an RV and get back onto the road than sit here and babysit campers all day.”
I stepped down and shut the door behind me.
“Ouch!”
“Well, it’s not like I would say that to just anyone.” He grinned without remorse. “You seem to have a sense of humor.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“So, I was wondering if you would be interested in taking on the job of hosting this place.”
My eyes bulged.
“What? Me?” I shook my head vehemently. “Oh, no! I don’t think I could.”
“Why not? You have an RV. You seem intelligent. What else would you need? You look a little young to be retired, so I thought you might still need to work.”
I reared back. “Well, I don’t need to work, thanks. I’m all set in that direction. But I don’t want to settle down either. I just got on the road a few months ago. I want to travel.”
He took a swig of water from his bottle.
“Well, you could travel in the winter. Head south and golf.”
I laughed as he repeated my suggestion to him. Over his shoulder, I saw window blinds move slightly in Jim and Karen’s RV. We were being watched, and probably overheard. I lowered my voice.
“Thanks anyway, Nick, but campground hosting is not for me. I know nothing about maintenance.”
He nodded.
“Well, that is a drawback, I’ll admit. It’s good to have a couple who can do both paperwork and maintenance.”
Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 01 - Trouble at Happy Trails Page 6