Is that wise, Minerva? You do not know him. It is most unusual for an adult male to hide from a knock on the door.
I retraced my steps.
“Well, I’ll just stand out front and call out to him. I won’t knock.”
I heard Ben sigh.
You are most stubborn, my dear. I should think calling out to someone would be as frightening as an unwanted knock on a door.
I came to a stop at the foot of the wooden steps leading to the cabin. I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“So you think I shouldn’t bother him?”
No, I do not.
“What is he doing now? Is he still hiding?”
Minerva, I do not care to pry. The young man has done nothing wrong, appears to be in no danger, and no doubt wishes to be left alone. Please do not ask me to look any further.
I bit my lip and nodded. “You’re right, Ben. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t use you like this.”
I do not feel “used,” Minerva. You know there is nothing I would not do for you. There are times when I feel the situation warrants my “close scrutiny,’ and others where I feel it is an unjustifiable intrusion.
“I can see that,” I whispered. “I’ll just get out of here and leave him alone.”
To my surprise, the door opened about a foot, and a young man with an unruly shock of shoulder-length blond hair poked his head out.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
I stayed where I was. His expression was wary, and his gaze darted beyond me to search the rest of the campground.
“I’m sorry. I came to say I was sorry for peeking inside. I promise you. I’m not a Peeping Tom. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wanted to see inside the cabins, and I thought yours was unoccupied.” I gave him my best cheesy grin.
“No problem,” he muttered. He moved to close the door.
“So, how are the cabins?” I couldn’t resist. There was something odd about his behavior, and I wanted to know what it was.
Minerva… Ben gave me a warning.
The young man poked his head back out.
“Fine. I think they’re all empty right now.”
“Do you have air conditioning?” I have no idea why I asked that question. I didn’t care. I think I was trying to keep him engaged.
“No,” he said briefly.
I eyed the portable air conditioning unit fully visible on the side of the building.
“Oh!” I nodded. “My name is Minnie Crockwell. I’m staying down in the campground…with the RVs.”
“Nice to meet you.” He moved to close the door again.
“Are you here with family?”
Man, I was irritatingly nosy.
“No, by myself. Just got out of the Army. Looking for some alone time.”
I knew what he was saying. Leave me alone. I could have done the right thing, but I didn’t. I followed my instincts.
I nodded. “Army, huh? Good for you. I had a friend who was over in Afghanistan. He has a pretty good case of PTSD right now.”
It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter. I wondered if his evasive and skitterish demeanor stemmed from possible post-traumatic stress disorder. I had my own case of PTSD from a mugging a few months ago, which occasionally made me jumpy.
“Oh, really? What unit?” He opened the door a little wider. I could see now that he wore a faded black T-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare.
Unit? Uh oh! I winged it.
“I can’t remember. He was there some time ago.”
“I served three tours over there.”
I winced. That would certainly account for a good case of PTSD.
“That’s tough,” I said. “So, you’re out of the Army now?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m done. That was it for me.”
A troubled soul, Ben murmured.
“I’m so sorry!” I said sincerely.
He shrugged. He clearly didn’t need my sympathy, just like I didn’t want anyone’s sympathy for my mugging. I didn’t even want anyone to know.
Would that I could have prevented it, Ben said softly.
You were with me, Ben. That’s all you could do. You told me to stop fighting, and that’s probably what saved my life.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” I said. “And I’m sorry for peeking in. The cabin looked empty from the outside.”
“No problem.” He moved to close the door again but hesitated. “Hey, don’t say anything about me at the office, okay? My friend rented the cabin for me cuz I didn’t have any money. So, they’d expect to see him here, not me, ya know?”
Did it matter who stayed there if it was paid for?
I nodded. “Sure!”
He closed the door, and I turned away. I had no idea what his name was, but I supposed it didn’t matter. We wouldn’t be having coffee together.
Interesting, Ben said.
I descended the hill.
“What do you mean?”
Nothing specific. It seems that something is not quite right about him.
“You mean other than maybe some PTSD?”
I served in the Army, Minerva, and engaged in mortal combat on several occasions both against the British and various tribes of Indians. I know of the struggle to overcome the fear generated by warfare, the pain of injury, the desire to hide away from the world.
I stopped in front of the RV.
“I didn’t know that!”
I thought I imagined him shrugging.
We do not speak of these things. At least, we did not speak of them then.
I imagined Ben wounded on a battlefield somewhere—the lack of modern medical care, antibiotics, pain medication.
“Where were you hurt?”
It is not seemly to discuss such matters with a woman, my dear. Suffice it to say, I carry scars on my chest, my right upper limb and my left lower limb.
“Oh, Ben,” I murmured in a mournful note.
Nonsense! I healed. I only mentioned my experience because I have the distinct impression that the young soldier up on the hill was not particularly forthright with you. I know of no information other than what he disclosed to you, but something seems amiss. I cannot say what.
“Well, I trust your instincts, Ben.” I turned to look at the lake. “Let’s forget about him and go out on the lake.”
And will you be able to put the troubled young man from your thoughts, Minerva? That seems foreign to your nature.
“No, but I can try.” I grinned. “You know me so well, Ben.”
I am beginning to.
I would have loved to see the smile that his voice reflected. I walked back down to the office located a short distance to the right. I had checked in at the large redwood-stained wooden building topped with a green corrugated top and had been helped by a sweet, welcoming older lady named Mary. The multipurpose building featured an office, a small convenience store, and a snack bar with tables. Bathrooms and showers were located on the side of the building.
I sidled up to the counter and studied the pricing list for various types of boats, fishing gear and play equipment. I didn’t see Mary anywhere.
“Can I help you?” A tall red-headed young man with matching stubble on his chin, who appeared to be in his early twenties, rose from a desk and approached the counter. His name tag read “Sean.”
“Can I rent a paddle boat?” I asked.
“They’re all out on the lake right now.” His voice was matter-of-fact, somewhat cavalier.
“Oh!” I turned to look at the lake as if I could spot each paddle boat. “Do you have anything else?”
“All we have left are a couple of canoes and a pontoon boat. You can wait and see if anyone comes in soon.” He sounded as if he hardly cared what I wanted. Not the best customer service skills, I thought.
Take the canoe, Minerva. I will instruct you in the use of the oars.
Oars? What about a pontoon boat? What’s that? I asked Ben silently.
I believe it is that boat tied up to
the dock. Do you see? The one which floats upon two cylinders?
I eyed a large boat which could easily seat about 8 people, maybe more. As Ben had said, it floated on top of two pontoons.
That looks easy enough, I said silently to Ben
“I’ll take the pontoon,” I said.
“You’ll have to watch a 15-minute video on boating safety. It’s required by the state.”
“Okay.”
I followed Sean over to a dining table in front of a television set. He inserted a disc into a video player.
Pay attention, Ben. I’m counting on you to remember what I don’t.
I am at your service, madam, as always.
The video seemed interminable and covered more than just floating about on a calm lake with a pontoon boat. I hardly thought I would create a wake in the thing like a speedboat, nor did I think I would rev the engine up fast enough to start porpoising—a movement where the bow bounces up and down at higher speeds.
Oh, please tell me you’re getting all this, Ben. I stifled a yawn. I was not known for having a long attention span.
Yes, I am attending to the presentation. There is nothing in this pictorial which would not be dictated by common sense.
Safety video over, I jumped up and hurried to the counter to let Sean know I was ready to take my boat out.
“I’ll take you down to the dock and get you a life vest.” Sean handed me the key to the boat. My fingers closed around it with both anticipation and a whole lot of nerves. I could just imagine myself floating around in the middle of the lake with no idea how to maneuver the boat. Worse yet, trying to back away from the dock.
Ben! I muttered silently. What am I doing? This is nuts!
It is not the boat I would have chosen for you, Minerva, but we will manage nicely. Have no fear.
And I did relax. Ben might not be able to grab the wheel, at least not to my knowledge, but his presence gave me strength. Not that I would tell him.
No, of course not, Ben said with a chuckle.
I shook my head with a grin and hurried after Sean along the floating boardwalk toward the pontoon boat. Sean stopped at a small boathouse and hauled out a life vest for me which was apparently optional for an adult. I went with the optional choice and set it on one of the boat benches.
“All right,” Sean began as we climbed aboard the pontoon boat. “This is where the key goes. To back up, you push the throttle down just like it showed in the video, and to go forward, push the throttle up. Check to see that the motor is in the water. Here’s your safety equipment.” He pointed toward a floating cushion and a fire extinguisher. “That’s about it. I’ll toss you your lines.” He turned to leave, as if I had all the boating experience in the world. But I didn’t!
“Wait!” I said, panic setting in. “Is that it?”
Sean, who had hopped onto the dock to untie my lines, turned around.
“That’s it,” he said. “You’ll be fine. It’s a small lake. Just keep your speed down until you pass the buoys.” He threw my lines onboard and strode toward the office without a backward glance.
He is right, Minerva. You will do well. I am here.
I relaxed again at the sound of Ben’s voice, and pushed down on the throttle. After a few seconds, the boat began to move backwards.
Keep your hand on the bottom of the wheel and turn the wheel in the direction you want to go, Ben said.
“Hoooeeee, Ben! Here we go!”
I followed his instructions and backed the boat out with more ease than I thought. Once clear of the dock, I pushed the throttle up and moved out toward the center of the lake, making sure to steer clear of the other boats, all lazily bobbing in the water while the operators fished. By now, I thought the paddle boaters looked like they were working too hard.
You have a knack for this, Minerva. Very smooth.
I preened for a moment. Praise from Ben was always welcome.
I must say I am enjoying the modern amenities such as the motor on this boat. Far different from the oared keelboat we used on the expedition to traverse many rivers.
I loved hearing Ben’s references to the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Other than reading a biography of Sacajawea as a young adolescent, I hadn’t really given the expedition much thought. To “meet” someone who had actually lived during those years was surreal and yet enlightening.
“Let’s go over to that small cove over there.” I pointed to a wooded area down the lake that looked a bit isolated. No boats bobbed near there. No houses peeked through the trees above the inlet.
Do be careful not to get your motor snagged in vegetation near the shoreline.
“Gotcha!”
I steered the boat in that direction, admiring several small cabins and homes with well-manicured emerald green lawns that gently sloped down to the water’s edge.
“I wish I could have a home here,” I said with a sigh. “Imagine sitting in some Adirondack chairs on one of those porches and admiring the lake.”
Would you stay if you did?
I chuckled. “Probably not. You know me, Ben. I’ve got itchy feet. After twenty years of scrimping and saving, I don’t think I can settle down again.”
No, I did not think so. I too longed for adventure, hence, the Army and the expedition.
“I’m not sure traveling with me is going to measure up to the adventures you’ve had, Ben.”
You have not failed me yet, Minerva. Since I have been with you, I have seen marvelous works of engineering to include your recreational vehicle, your car and now this pontoon boat. I have seen smooth-surfaced roads that defy my early nineteenth-century imagination. And let us not forget, the troubles at the Happy Trails RV Park only a few weeks ago. That was certainly exciting.
If I could have, I would have chuckled, but Carl’s murder didn’t seem very funny, even if he had been a bit of a jerk.
“Well, there was that,” I conceded. “But that incident was a fluke. I don’t expect to find myself knee-deep in another murder mystery as long as I live.”
I neared the isolated cove and adjusted the throttle to allow the engine to idle while the boat drifted about in the mild current. Short, forest green ponderosa pines dotted the steep, rocky cliffs above the inlet. As I had noted, no houses were visible above the ridge. It seemed likely lakeside homeowners preferred the easy access to the water afforded by the sloped lawns, docks and sandy beaches that dotted the other side of the lake.
I scanned the cliffside for wildlife. An eagle perched on top of one of the ponderosa pines would have a perfect sight! But nothing moved on the cliff.
A spot of blue caught my eye, and I squinted against the sun which had now reappeared. A blue jay?
“What’s that spot of blue, Ben? Is that a bird? Seems pretty large for a blue jay.”
Ben didn’t answer. The boat drifted around, and I pushed the throttle slightly to maneuver it so I could rotate around to see the shore again. I dared not move in any closer to the rocks for fear of damaging the outboard motor.
“Ben? Where are you?”
I leaned over the edge of the boat to see better. No, the navy blue object was definitely not a bird. Half buried by rock debris, it looked an awful lot like—
Minerva! Do not approach the shore! You are going to be very unhappy, but I fear it is a body. A man’s body.
Chapter Two
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 c
ourse, 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.
I clambered to the front of the boat to climb down.
“Maybe he’s just hurt, Ben! I have to go see.”
Stop, Minerva! He is not injured. He is dead! You do not want to see this.
I stilled and stared at the figure. I couldn’t make out whether it was a man or a woman, but I took Ben’s word for it.
With a shaking hand, I reached into my jeans pocket for my phone and called 911. I stuttered my way through my story and location, aided by Ben, and followed their instructions to remain in the area so they could spot the pontoon boat. I wasn’t quite sure I could have maneuvered the boat back into the water at any rate.
Then I called the RV park office.
“Sunny Lake RV Park.” I thought it was Sean’s voice.
“Hi, this is Minnie Crockwell,” I said in a squeak reminiscent of my nickname. “I’ve got your pontoon boat out? There’s a body at the edge of the lake. I think it’s a man, and I think he’s dead. I called 911.”
The silence at the other end of the phone lasted so long that I thought we’d been disconnected.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
I jerked my head back and looked at the phone. It seemed like an odd question, but I supposed it really wasn’t. If he weren’t dead, then he was an emergency. If he was dead, then lifesaving measures would not help.
“Yes, Sean, he’s dead.”
“Did you check?”
“You mean did I check his pulse or something like that? It’s kind of awkward here. The boat rammed into shore…don’t ask, and I saw his body. I’m pretty sure he’s dead, Sean.” I couldn’t very well explain Ben’s assurances that the poor man was dead.
“And you called the police?”
I nodded. “Yes. They said to wait here. Frankly, I’m not sure if I can get the boat out of here.”
“What happened?”
“Well, when I saw the body, I overreacted and pushed the throttle. The boat ran up onto the rocks.”
Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 02 - Trouble at Sunny Lake Page 2