I don’t know if I shrieked, screamed, moaned or cursed, but I must have inadvertently tightened my grip on the wheel and pushed against the throttle because the boat spun in a circle. I lost my balance and fell out of the captain’s seat, while the boat careened toward the shoreline. I tried to grab the wheel, but everything happened so fast. We bumped up against the rocks with the motor spinning and clanking behind us ominously as if the propeller was hitting rocks.
Minerva! Stop the engine!
I jumped up, pushed the throttle into neutral, and pulled the keys out of the ignition for good measure.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. Well, of course, he wasn’t, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say at the moment. Now, that the front of the boat rested on the shoreline, I could clearly see the figure of a body laying at the bottom of the cliff, very close to the water line and partially hidden by rocks.
TROUBLE AT SUNNY LAKE
Minnie Crockwell
Trouble at Sunny Lake
Copyright 2014 Minnie Crockwell
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the publisher and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Art by Creative Book Covers
Contact information: [email protected]
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
This story is dedicated to my fellow travelers, and to my family, with a special shout out to my son-in-law, Mike, a reserve deputy sheriff, who helped me with some of the details on this story. I’m sure I’ll hit him up again for more help with future stories!
May we all meet at Sunny Lake!
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Recreational Vehicles and the Terms We Love to Use
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Other Stories by Minnie Crockwell
About the Author
Foreword
Hello, readers. It’s so nice to meet you!
I’m Minnie Crockwell—single woman, traveler and amateur sleuth by accident. Please join me on my adventures as I travel across the United States in my recreational vehicle (RV). If my first adventure was anything to go by, I suspect I’ll be meeting all sorts of folks along the way ranging from the interesting to the weird, to fellow travelers and happy campers, and to liars and murderers.
And say hello to my constant companion, Peregrine Ebenezer Alvord. I call him Ben. Ben travels with me though we haven’t quite figured out why. That he was born in the eighteenth century only adds to his charm.
Trouble at Sunny Lake is Book 2 of the Will Travel for Trouble Series. Look for Trouble at Happy Trails, Book 1 of the series, at all major online book retailers.
I’ll pen my cozy mysteries as I experience them along my travels, and I’ll keep them short and sweet for those of you who don’t have the time to read long stories. While I will do my best to make the stories stand alone, in order to prevent too much redundancy in back story, you might find it easier to read them in order. You’ll learn more about Ben and me as we travel.
I hope you enjoy the ride, fellow travelers and friends. I never know where I’ll be on the road, but you can always reach me at mailto:[email protected].
Recreational Vehicles and the Terms We Love to Use
Camper: Older term for any type of recreational vehicle. Most often refers to a trailer towed by a truck or a camper that is set in the bed of a truck. Can also simply refer to people who enjoy camping whether by tent or recreational vehicle
Class A: A specific style of recreational vehicle that consists of a single unit where the driving “cockpit” is at the front of the vehicle and living quarters to the rear.
Coach: Another term for a Class A vehicle
Cockpit: The front portion of a recreational vehicle housing the instrumentation where the driver sits while driving the vehicle.
Motorhome: Can include any recreational vehicle that includes a motor and is driven versus being towed.
Rig: In the RVing world, term used for recreational vehicle and/or trucks and vehicles used to haul them. Normally used by truck drivers to refer to their trucks.
Recreational Vehicle: RV. Also can include the terms motorhome, coach, camper, rig, trailer. Also called a caravan by my friends across the ponds.
Towed: Also known affectionately as a toad for the play on words. A vehicle that is towed behind a motorhome and is used for local, less expensive transportation.
Trailer: Most often refers to a recreational vehicle that is pulled behind a truck.
*Note: This list is not inclusive of all recreational vehicle terms and definitions but includes all those used in this book. Additional stories will include other terms.
Chapter One
This is stunning, Minerva. Quite stunning! Ben said.
I smiled but kept my eyes on the steep, if thankfully short, descent into the lakeside campground.
Feast your eyes upon the reflections mirrored in the lake! Quite, quite lovely. I shall enjoy our sojourn here. Which will be for how long?
“I don’t know, Ben,” I said as I negotiated the turn at the bottom of the hill. Except for a quick glance and first impression of sparkling azure blue water, pine cabins, a row of recreational vehicles, and lively green grass, I kept my eyes on what I was doing. Hauling a 37 foot RV around plus a tow vehicle that added another 20 feet to my length was not something I took lightly…yet.
“I was thinking at least a week, maybe two.”
Excellent, Ben said. A pleasant holiday in such a peaceful setting is exactly what you need at this moment. That business at the Happy Trails RV Park took its toll on you.
I eyed my reserved back-in spot and sighed. I had hoped for a pull-through spot, but I guess that was not to be. I would have to unhook my blue compact car and then maneuver the RV in backwards. Thank goodness for my backup camera!
“Yes, I agree. I’m looking forward to hanging out here and relaxing by the lake. I’m glad to hear Sally is settled in Astoria, Oregon, but every time she emails me, all I can think about is Carl’s murder at Happy Trails.” Only a few weeks ago, I’d somehow become embroiled in a mysterious murder at the Happy Trails RV Park in Spokane, Washington. Sally was the less-than-unhappy widow of the dece
ased —a lying, cheating husband named Carl. The murder had only added a strain on my already anxious nature.
I understand, dear. You have not slept well since the incident. I think this beautiful place will offer you great comfort and solace.
“Well, let me go unhook the car,” I said. I put the motorhome in park and rose from the driver’s seat to unhitch the tow car, also whimsically known as a toad (towed). I climbed down from the RV and waited to shut the door as I always did for Ben to follow, whether I could see him or not.
Peregrine Ebenezer Alvord was a ghost—the ghost of a 19th-century Army officer and cartographer on the Lewis and Clark expedition. Somehow, I had picked him up at Cape Disappointment, Washington. Though we didn’t know how or why we were connected, there was no doubt that we were. He had been with me for several months now.
I grabbed my work gloves and pulled pins and bolts from the tow bar and hitch on the car. A tedious process that I had not yet reduced to a task of only minutes, I often wished I hadn’t brought a tow car. Had I not though, I would have been a tad immobile given that I liked to park the RV, hook it up to water, electric and sewer, and then take the car out for local exploratory jaunts.
Task completed, I straightened, removed my gloves to stuff them in my back jeans pockets, and surveyed the lake. Ben was right. The calm mirror-like surface reflected the pine trees surrounding the lake. Small boats dotted the surface. I squinted against the sun and noted they appeared to be fishing. Several paddle boats were being happily pedaled about. That sort of boating looked to be my speed.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it, Ben?” I sighed. “I’m so glad Nick suggested this place.”
Ah, yes. The handsome Nick Granger. Ben’s voice took on a gently mocking note as it always did when he mentioned the owner of the Happy Trails RV Park. Nick was a handsome man, and I’d had dinner with him on several occasions before I left. Nick had even taken me out for a golf lesson, though we soon found I had no innate talent at the game. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it and thought I might try taking it up at some point in the future.
“Yes, Ben. The handsome Nick Granger.” I shook my head and grinned. I backed the car away from the rig, parked it, and headed for the motorhome to back it in.
A flash of something bright on the hill behind my RV space caught my eye, and I paused to study the area. Five small pine cabins lined the crest of the hill above the row of RVs parked below. Could the flash have been the sun shining off one of the windows? There was no sign of movement up there. I saw no evidence of people—no lawn chairs, no hanging towels, no bicycles. Since it was a Monday, I supposed it was possible that the cabins were empty.
What do you stare at, Minerva?
I shrugged. “Oh, a flash of light or something caught my eye up by those cabins. I’m sure it was just sunlight on one of the windows or something.”
I climbed back into the RV to back it into my assigned spot. Having little experience with backing such a long vehicle, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the process went smoothly given the wonderful backup camera and excellent side mirrors. Feeling like quite the RVing expert, I eyed the RVs on either side of me and preened just a bit. I had nothing to be ashamed of in my handling of the rig. RVers often watched each other park from either an unashamed bold viewing stance in front of the RV or from the privacy of peeking through the window blinds.
You have good reason to be proud, Minerva. I continue to be amazed at your prowess with this large vehicle.
I smiled at Ben’s compliment, and playfully tossed the ponytail of my shoulder-length brunette hair.
“Why, thank you, Ben! I think I might have fooled any one of these campers into thinking I had a clue about what I was doing with that parking. I may be slow, but at least I didn’t have to straighten and re-straighten the rig like I used to.”
I climbed down and rounded the back of the motorhome to find my hose and cord to hook the RV up to water and power.
Again, a flash of light from up on the hill caught my eye.
“What is that, Ben? Can you see?” I spoke aloud but kept my voice low. How I spoke to Ben was often dictated by whether people were near enough to hear me, or whether I thought it best to communicate with him silently. Ben had a particular gift for reading my mind on occasion as well. I wasn’t too happy with that particular skill, but it did come in handy once in a while.
I do not see anything. Would you like me to investigate?
“Would you? Go up there and see what that light is?”
Your wish is my command, my dear.
I hooked the RV up, and turned to scan the hill. I saw no movement around the cabin. It still looked uninhabited. I supposed I could just climb up there and see for myself.
You may come if you wish, Minerva, but there is naught in the cabin nearest to your coach. I do not see anything out of the ordinary other than some very flimsy construction. These will not withstand a winter such as I remember in this region. I shall move on to study the rest of the cabins.
“I’m sure they’re prefab, Ben. And I doubt they’re rented in the winter. I think this park closes at the end of October.” I began my ascent of the hill.
Prefab?
“Pre-fabricated. Pre-made and probably just transported here and put together with some nails, nuts and bolts.” The hill grew steeper, and I took a few deep breaths.
I see. I also see that you are approaching.
“You know me, Ben. I was too curious to just sit around the RV and wait to hear back from you. Have you found anything?”
I have not surveyed into all of the cabins yet, not those to your right.
“I’ll check this one out.”
Check this one out, indeed! Your twenty-first century idioms fascinate me! I must incorporate them into my vocabulary.
I smiled and hoped he wouldn’t. I loved his formal language. I approached the first cabin on the right and peered into the cabin window but could see nothing in the darkness inside. I tried the door, but it was locked. I stepped back off the small porch and surveyed the outside of the cabin before turning to orient myself to the sun. Unfortunately, it was now hidden by a large cloud. I checked my watch. It was about noon. I supposed sunshine could have reflected off any of cabin’s windows a few minutes ago, but it certainly wasn’t now.
I am at your side, Ben said. Did you look inside?
“Which side are you on?” I turned my head to the left and then to the right. “You’ve never told me exactly where you were before.”
No, I have not, have I? Perhaps I sought to keep some mystery about me.
I heard him chuckle.
“Oh, you’re mysterious enough, Ben. Don’t worry about that.” I smiled warmly. “So, you have a sense of where you are? You don’t just float around? For some reason, I thought you did.”
His chuckle grew to a full-bodied laugh. I loved his deep laugh.
No, I do not simply “float around” as you put it. I have a corporeal sense. That is to say that although I do not seem to possess a tangible physical form, I am aware of my person—where I stand in relation to others. In relation to you.
I caught that caressing note in his voice that never failed to make my heart thump. Such a flirt!
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to see you?” I heard the wistful note in my voice and cleared my throat.
I heard him sigh.
I cannot say, Minerva. Do be careful about what you wish. My earthly presence might frighten you. I may not be as handsome as my portrait would suggest.
Ben referred to a portrait I had found of him on an Internet site featuring the exploits of the Corps of Discovery, better known as the Lewis and Clark expedition. The portrait showed Lieutenant Peregrine Ebenezer Alvord, an Army officer, had been a stunningly handsome man with thick straight blue-black hair, gorgeous aquamarine eyes, a prominent chin with a cleft, thin nose and a sensual full lower lip.
I grinned. “Oh, I doubt that. As long as you don’t show up like some 19th-century skelet
on, I’m sure I would be fine.”
He laughed.
We can only speculate, my dear. For now, I am here in spirit.
“I’m sorry. Was that supposed to be a joke?” I rolled my eyes and broadened my smile.
If a modest one, Ben said.
“I’m just going to peek in this last cabin,” I said. “I’m sure that what I saw was just flashes of sun on the windows, but the sun is behind the clouds right now so I can’t tell.”
I peered into the window of the last cabin. Although the interior was dark, I could see what I thought was a sleeping bag on the floor. I heard quick movement inside, and I jumped back.
“Oh, my gosh, Ben! Someone is renting this cabin. I must look like some sort of Peeping Tom.”
Embarrassed, I trotted off the porch and down the hill on a diagonal slant.
Yes, someone is inside. A young man. He appears to be hiding in the bathroom.
I stopped and turned around to survey the cabin.
“Hiding? From me? Oh, no! I must have scared him. When you say young, you don’t mean a child, do you, Ben?”
No, a young man, perhaps twenty-five years of age.
I dithered. I really should apologize for peeking in the window and yet if I had frightened him the first time, I would probably scare him to death this time.
“I didn’t mean to frighten him,” I murmured with a frown.
I can hardly believe you frightened him, Minerva, but it was upon the sound of your knock that he hurried for the bathroom.
“That doesn’t sound right. I think I’d better go check on him.”
Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 02 - Trouble at Sunny Lake Page 1