“Anyway, they sure sounded suspicious. I hated to sell Sally out, but if she killed Carl, the police need to know.”
“I can’t tell who killed Carl,” I said. “If he was killed, it sounds like it could have been anyone.”
“Except me,” he said. He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. “Not me.”
“Or me,” I said with a smile.
And not I, Ben added. The handsome Mr. Granger appears to be attracted to you, Minerva.
Ben!
“Has Sally come by yet?” I asked. “She said something about tossing his ashes in the park, or in the trailer. She sounded so cold about it.” I resisted an urge to shudder.
“She did, didn’t she? She’s been through a lot with my uncle though. I’m not sure I blame her.”
“No,” I murmured. “Did you know he had a 100 thousand dollar life insurance policy? That might not be much to some, but I would think it would be to them.”
Nick nodded.
“Actually, I did know. I was hoping you wouldn’t. Did Sally tell you?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t mention that to the police though,” Nick said. “Did you?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s their business to find out stuff like that if they want to.”
“She hasn’t come by since I got up this morning. I’d be anxious to see what she’s going to do with his ashes,” Nick said.
“Frankly, I’m surprised the police released his body if they think there’s a hint of a crime.”
“I asked Officer Martinez about that. She said the body had already been released to the funeral home when they thought it was a suicide. She didn’t say anything else.”
“Maybe they have everything they need…except the person who did it.” I cracked a lopsided smile. I avoided the word “killer.” It sounded awful, and far beyond my experience.
“So, what are your plans for today?”
“Well, I was going to go down to Lewiston to the Lewis and Clark Discovery Center, but I might just wait to see if Sally shows up and what happens.”
Nick nodded. “You have an interest in history?”
“I do, but I’m actually going down because a friend of mine is interested in the Lewis and Clark trail. I’ll take pictures for him.”
“Oh, he’s not going with you?”
“No,” I said briefly.
“Is this friend a boyfriend?” Nick quirked an attractive dark eyebrow.
“Oh, no. Just a friend.”
Ben sighed but said nothing. I felt as if I had betrayed him somehow.
“Well, I wish I could go with you when you do go, but I have to stick around here most days until I can find someone to run the place. This is cutting into my golf game.”
“Yes,” I said with a broad smile. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted him to go down to Lewiston with me, and I imagined Ben didn’t want him around at all.
That is correct. You know me so well, Minerva.
The trip is supposed to be our thing, Ben. I’ll make sure we go alone.
I hoped Ben smiled.
I am smiling.
Good!
Just then, I saw Bob’s beige sedan pulled into the RV park. Bob was driving, and Sally sat in the passenger seat. Bob drove slowly down the lane, stopping not as expected at her RV, but at mine.
“Oh, shoot! That’s my rig. Sally must be stopping by. I’d better run. I’ll keep you posted!”
I trotted out of the office and down to my RV where Sally was tapping on the door. Dressed in a bright orange flowered tunic and black capri pants, she turned to me. Bob waited inside the car.
“Good morning!” She sounded calmer this morning.
“Good morning, Sally! How are you?”
“I’m better, thank you. I stopped by the park with Carl’s ashes. I was going to spread them around somewhere.”
A shiver went up my spine. Me? I would have preferred a nice flowered meadow near a stream or a mountain forest or a lovely inlet on the Pacific Northwest coast.
I nodded but could think of nothing to say.
“Can you think of anyplace I can spread them? I thought about leaving them in the RV, but I can’t force myself to go in there.”
I hoped she wasn’t asking me to going inside the RV because I wasn’t going to.
“Maybe under that oak tree there?” I pointed to the oak tree at the entrance. “Are you sure you want to spread them here? Was Carl particularly attached to Happy Trails RV Park?”
“Actually, he was. He was as happy here as anywhere. His nephew gave him the job here.”
I looked around the nondescript park. There was no stream, no lake, nothing particularly to recommend it except as an inexpensive place to stay. I had been going for the budget RV park, and avoiding the high cost parks which featured waterfront vistas.
“Truthfully, Sally, that oak tree by the entrance is the only attractive thing I see around here…other than those super duper expensive RVs down there.” I nodded toward two quarter to half-million dollar motorhomes in the park.
“It doesn’t really matter to me where I spread his ashes. He’s dead.” Her voice was flat. “Come with me, will you?”
This was a new one for me. I had never spread anyone’s ashes before.
“Okay,” I said docilely.
We returned to the car where she withdrew a sturdy black plastic box from the back seat. I had expected an ornate urn, but perhaps I shouldn’t have. Bob said nothing but sat grimly behind the wheel. He did not volunteer to help.
Sally and I marched over to the oak tree, and she withdrew a fairly large clear plastic bag from the box. My eyes widened. So many ashes! We couldn’t just dump them right under the tree. It would look like someone had emptied a container of charcoal ash at the foot of the tree.
Nick hurried over.
“What are you doing?”
Sally looked up. I had never seen the two of them together. They seemed to be on friendly terms.
“I was going to scatter your uncle’s ashes here,” she said.
“All that?” I saw Nick’s Adam’s apple bob as he surveyed the size of the bag.
“Well, I don’t know where else to put him. The park isn’t very big, and I don’t want some dog walking through his ashes.”
This is particularly repugnant, Ben grumbled.
I agree wholeheartedly.
“How about I take half of the ashes and take them somewhere else?” Nick asked.
“Sure, that would be great,” Sally said. “I’ll just put some here, and you can have the rest.”
She poured out half of the bag, still a large amount of ash, and gave the bag and box to Nick who eyed them doubtfully.
She wiped her hands on her tunic and turned to me.
“Well, that’s that! Bob and I are leaving in the morning. He’ll have someone move the trailer from here. I’m going to junk it.”
She reached to hug me. “Thank you, Minnie, for everything and for being such a good friend to me.”
I swallowed hard.
She hugged Nick. “Take care, Nick. I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch like this.”
“I understand, Sally. Please keep in touch.” He held the box in one hand and hugged her with the other arm.
“I will.”
She turned and walked back to Bob’s car, and I accompanied her.
“Safe travels, Sally,” I said as she climbed into the car. Again, Bob said nothing. He looked generally impatient to be away from the park.
“And happy trails?” she said with a smile. Her eyes flickered toward Jim’s RV. Then Bob pulled away, and Sally waved. They drove down the one-way lane to round the bend and headed for the park exit.
Nick came over, still holding the box.
“And there goes one possible suspect,” he said. “Maybe two.”
“So you still think she could have killed Carl?” I said in a low voice, aware of our proximity to Jim’s motorhome. “And her brother? I’ll admit…I’ve wondered about hi
m.”
“I’ve never met him. He seems unpleasant.” Nick shrugged. “It’s anyone’s guess. I wouldn’t have thought Sally could kill anyone before, but I don’t know what to think now.”
“Well, I think it was Colonel Mustard in the parlor.”
“And it could have been,” Nick said with a smile.
I turned to see Bob’s car approach the exit.
Three police cruisers pulled up, blocking Bob’s car.
“Oh, look!” I gasped.
Officers Martinez and Wilson hopped out of one vehicle, and four other officers stepped out from the other two cruisers.
A reckoning at last, Minerva! Who committed the crime?
What’s happening, Ben?
I am not certain. I hear no speech from the authorities.
“Uh oh,” Nick said. We turned to watch.
Officers Martinez, Wilson and two of the other police ran past Bob’s car while the two remaining officers trained their guns on the vehicle. Weapons drawn, the four officers approached Jim’s RV.
I didn’t dare creep around the back of Jim’s motorhome at that moment to see what was going on. I fully expected to hear bullets flying at any moment. Nick remained by my side.
I heard a commotion and some shouting from the other side of the RV.
“Come on. Let’s go see what’s happening!” I said as I trotted across the street to view the activity at the front of Jim’s rig.
Officer Wilson was bringing a handcuffed Jim down the steps. Officer Martinez followed with Karen, although she was not handcuffed. Karen was screaming and crying—I couldn’t tell whether it was at Jim or the police or life in general.
The other officers were bringing Sally and Bob over toward Jim’s rig. I hoped that in the free-for-all, no one would notice if I moved near to hear what was going on. Nick followed, still holding onto Carl’s ashes.
“I didn’t kill him,” Jim bellowed. For a slender older man, he managed to put up a good struggle in the cuffs.
“Calm down, Mr. Brothers. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Officer Martinez said.
Karen continued to sob.
Sally, tears streaming down her face, was asked to sit at the picnic table, and Bob’s arm was in the tight grip of one of the other officers.
I studied the group and looked up at Nick. He shrugged and threw Sally a sympathetic glance.
Karen saw me and stopped crying. Her expression hardened, growing colder than anything I had seen before. Cold enough to kill?
They all appeared to have motive, though murder seemed extreme. If anyone had a good reason to kill the abusive Carl, it would have been Sally, but she could just as easily have left him. Except for the issue of the life insurance. She would have had to give that up.
Jim’s passion for Sally did not seem strong enough to kill for, but people had murdered for less. I didn’t think he knew about the life insurance or he would not have offered to buy her a trailer.
Bob confused me. He had arrived early and not told anyone. He’d had time to kill Carl. Could he have killed Carl to protect his sister? Or maybe for a cut in the life insurance money as well?
And Karen. She did have the passion for Carl that would elicit murder…and the anger. And she had told me how it could be done. No one else had offered up a possible scenario for murder.
Everyone was forcibly kept away from everyone else by an officer, and I approached Officer Martinez, who was questioning Jim. From the handcuffs, it appeared they thought Jim was the primary suspect. I thought they were wrong.
“Miss Crockwell, could you please go back to your trailer?” Officer Martinez said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I would except I don’t think Jim Brothers killed Carl.”
She turned to me with her dark eyes.
“What?” Karen shouted. “I know for a fact he did. Him and Sally! Stay out of this, Minnie! Go home!”
“I did not!” Sally cried out. “You little…”
“Please, Mrs. Brothers, Mrs. Richardson, be quiet!” Martinez turned toward me again. “What makes you think Mr. Brothers didn’t kill Mr. Richardson?”
“Primarily because Karen told me how it could have been done. And frankly, she seems to have the temperament to have done it. Plus, she was hiding the notes. Did you find those, by the way?”
Officer Martinez hissed with a frown and a shake of her head. “No, we forgot to get those. I’m not sure they’d be readable anyway by now.”
“They were wrapped in plastic.” I almost smirked. I wasn’t venturing into the sewer to dig them up. That job belonged to the police
“You say Mrs. Brothers told you how she would have done it?”
“Shut up, Minnie! Shut up!” Karen screeched like a banshee, and everyone turned to look at her.
“What did she say?”
I was shaking by now, hoping someone was planning on restraining Karen. My PTSD was kicking in, and adrenaline robbed me of breath. My knees wobbled, but there wasn’t anything to hold onto. I wasn’t approaching the picnic bench.
Steady on, girl. Steady on. Breathe, Minerva. Breathe.
I heard Ben’s voice and took a deep breath.
“Jim and Sally did it,” Karen shrieked. “I was just guessing.”
“Mrs. Brothers, please be quiet!” Officer Martinez barked.
“She said that it was just a matter of knocking him out, putting the gun in his hand and firing. That a gunshot would have ruined evidence of a blow to the head.”
All the police officers turned to look at Karen who jumped up. Officer Wilson dashed to her side and grabbed her arm as she attempted to run. He spun her around and clamped both her hands behind her back.
“You can’t prove it!” she shouted. “You can’t prove it. His head was gone. All over the walls! There’s no evidence. Find a few lousy notes in the sewer. They don’t prove anything.” Officer Wilson clamped cuffs on Karen’s wrists.
I turned to Officer Martinez who shook her head with narrowed eyebrows.
“The autopsy did show blunt trauma to the head, but the coroner couldn’t figure out what caused it, not with the mess from the gunshot.”
Did you know all along, Minerva? That Mrs. Brothers had committed the murder? How did I not read that in your thoughts?
Because I didn’t know, Ben, not until she looked at me with that hard look in her eyes. Everyone has talked a good mean, cold story about Carl, but no one has looked quite as deadly as Karen did just now. It was worth a chance throwing the accusation out there to see who caught it.
Clever girl!
Karen continued to rant while Officer Wilson dragged her back to the police cruisers. Jim, appearing somewhat stunned, was led away in handcuffs as well, but I suspected he would return soon.
Sally, her head down on the picnic table, sobbed her heart out. Bob, wide-eyed, patted her back.
Nick turned to me with raised eyebrows.
“How on earth did you figure that out?”
“I have no idea. I’m not sure I really figured it out. I think I was just winging it, but Karen caught the bait!”
Officer Martinez patted my back with a grin and moved away with the other officers toward the cruisers.
Nick approached Sally to help her up.
“Come on, Sally. Let’s go get a cup of coffee or something in the office. You’ve had a shock.”
He and Bob half carried her toward the office. Nick continued to hold onto the cause of all the commotion—the dearly departed Carl.
As adrenaline receded from my body, I wobbled back toward my RV. Exhaustion set in again, and I sank down to sit on the stairs.
Are you well, my dear?
I nodded. “I’m fine, Ben. Just waiting for the adrenaline to do its thing and go away.”
We used to call it fear in my time.
“We still do,” I said. I looked up and smiled at Ben, wherever he was.
“We figured it out,” I said.
You solved the mystery, not I.
&n
bsp; “We both did, though Karen solved it for all of us. She could probably gotten away with it if she hadn’t lost her marbles and started shrieking in that hideous way.
You should rest now, Minerva.
I looked at my watch. It was just 11 o’clock. All that activity in just two hours. I rose and took a deep breath.
“Nope! We’re going down to Lewiston. Plenty of time to take my favorite ghost to see his old stomping grounds.”
Ben laughed.
Lead on, my favorite living person. May we encounter many happy trails.
About the Author
Minnie Crockwell lives, travels and writes full time in a Class A recreational vehicle. Although she owns a house in Washington State, she enjoys living in other towns and states which the RV allows her to do. She enjoys hearing from readers. You can contact her at [email protected]
Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 01 - Trouble at Happy Trails Page 8