Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 06 - Cozy Camping

by Jeanne Glidewell

  “Go on, go on,” I urged her, impatient for her to get to the point. “So what were they doing that night?”

  “Detective Colmer notified them to meet him here at the campground yesterday at two-thirty so he could question them. He wanted to see if they’d witnessed anything unusual or suspicious. They’d been questioned before and were very evasive with their responses, so this time the detective grilled them and put the fear of God in them. They finally opened up after being threatened with jail time for obstruction of justice and some additional trumped up charges the detective came up with. They began to sing like canaries, which would have been beneficial had they known anything to sing about.”

  “I’d be spilling my guts too if I were them, whether I knew anything or not,” I said.

  “The detective also got their attention with a comment about how all their hard work at the gym would make them real popular with their cell mates. It didn’t take them long after that to start answering Colmer’s questions as truthfully as they could. They claimed they didn’t recall seeing anyone pull in the gate besides the shuttle buses and other folks returning from the night show Saturday around eleven-fifteen. Neither did they recall seeing any vehicles parked near the pool area, or even any foot traffic near the pool. But they confessed they couldn’t be certain something like that didn’t occur, because they couldn’t see the front gate or the pool area from their vantage point.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Weren’t they patrolling the park on their golf carts?”

  “No, they were sitting behind the trash dumpsters, in their carts of course, smoking a couple of joints, playing games on their cell phones, and texting their girlfriends. For that kind of service, I was paying them each twenty bucks an hour, and this is the third year we’ve employed the lazy creeps,” Emily explained with a grimace. “According to Detective Colmer, when he inferred that the two of them were prime suspects in the murder of Fanny Finch, they couldn’t get the truth out quick enough. Imagine, using incompetence as an alibi.”

  “Good grief,” Stone said. “I’ll bet Stanley wanted to throttle those two.”

  “We both did,” Emily replied. “I also spoke with Kylie. I told her you all had seen her walking into Vex Vaughn’s motor coach. I hope that was all right for me to tell her.”

  “Sure, no problem. What did she say?” I asked, feeling a bit uneasy about telling the young woman’s employer something she’d obviously wanted to keep to herself. On the other hand, I felt the Harringtons had a right to know the truth.

  “She told me she’d discovered Vaughn was her biological father just a few weeks ago, by tracking down and contacting her grandmother on her mama’s side, just as she told you guys at dinner a couple of nights ago. Kylie knew he was a prime target of the media, and was under additional scrutiny due to Fanny’s book right now, so she didn’t want to take the chance of causing him more problems by releasing his identity. She was afraid he’d want nothing to do with her if news of her existence got out, especially at this most inopportune time of his life and career.”

  “I can understand why she’d feel that way,” I said.

  “Yes, so can I,” Emily agreed. “Then I asked her why she wanted to go back home to Florida so soon. She told me that when she spoke with Vaughn, he was very gracious to her. He seemed truly happy to see her and to know that she was doing well. But, for the same reasons Kylie didn’t want her relationship to him to be released, Vaughn didn’t want the news to be made public either. He promised to keep in touch with her, if she promised to keep their connection a secret. But visiting with him made her realize how lucky she’d been to be adopted by the very parents she would have chosen had she’d been able to pick them out herself. And she told me she really missed her folks back home in Longwood.”

  “That’s a touching story. Was Kylie aware from the beginning that Fanny Finch was the author of the book vilifying her father?” I asked, wondering if the gal could have been resentful enough to murder Fanny in order to avenge her biological father. It had been blatantly obvious she had no use for the author. In fact, Kylie had practically snarled at Fanny in the office on Saturday morning for penning such a disrespectful book with no regard for the lives of the people who might be affected by it.

  I described the confrontation in the office that morning to Emily, who hadn’t been present at the time. After I finished my story, she said, “Kylie was a little vague about whether or not she recognized Fanny Finch when the woman walked into the office to register for her site, or if she knew in advance Fanny had a reservation here. I didn’t want to press the issue, because I didn’t want to give her the idea that I or anyone else suspected she might have been involved in the woman’s death.”

  “That was probably a good decision on your part,” I said. “And I appreciate you coming over to fill me in on the details. I’m anxious to pass them on to Wendy.”

  I looked at Stone as I spoke. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes before stabbing another sausage patty off the plate in front of him.

  * * *

  After I cleaned up the kitchen and washed our breakfast plates, I decided to walk over to Wendy’s site and tell her what I’d learned from Emily. We had nothing on our agenda for the day, and had planned to rest and relax around the campground until suppertime.

  While the four youngsters, as Stone and I refer to them, spent the evening at the Lady Antebellum concert, Stone and I would be treating our hosts, Stanley and Emily, to supper and cocktails at the Little Bear Inn a few miles north of Cheyenne. Emily had described the place as a former brothel with plenty of history behind it and said it was a longtime personal favorite of theirs. She raved about their lobster tails, and Stanley loved their steaks. I was looking forward to visiting with them over a meal and drinks.

  Just as I approached Andy and Wendy’s site, Brandi and Chace Bumberdinger met me coming from the other direction. I acknowledged them with a pleasant greeting. Without any unnecessary small talk, I asked Brandi if they were managing all right after the loss of their stepmother. After she replied affirmatively, I asked, “Weren’t you shocked to find she and your father were staying here when you arrived?”

  “No, we planned it that way so my brother and I could spend some time with Daddy. He took us to the carnival and rodeo a couple of days ago. This afternoon he’s taking us down to Rocky Mountain National Park for lunch and to view some wildlife, like elk, bighorn sheep, and maybe even a moose if we get lucky.”

  “Now that sounds like a fun day to me,” I said sincerely. I had always been interested in wildlife photography and wish we’d had time to visit the park, too. “I could have sworn your mother told the detectives she was unaware your daddy and Fanny were going to be here at the same time as you three.”

  “She did. When I asked her why she told them that, she told me she didn’t want to look as if she were stalking them, or anything else of that nature. I’m not sure I even understand why a person would stalk another human being, but that’s what she told me. Why are you asking me about that, anyway?”

  “My daughter and I are doing a little delving into the murder case, and we’re trying to tie up loose ends. I’ve actually been instrumental in solving a number of murders in the recent past. So we were just curious about the discrepancy in her statement to the police. Thank you for clearing that up for me. We wanted to assure ourselves we had the right killer pin-pointed before we went to talk to the cops. Do you remember what your mother did the evening of Fanny’s death?”

  “No, I can’t recall anything about that night,” Brandi replied defensively. I knew this young girl would do anything to protect her mother, and I admired her loyalty. I listened as she went on to say, “But I’m sure my mommy didn’t hurt Fanny. We have to go now. We told Daddy we’d be at his trailer by nine o’clock, and it’s two minutes to nine already.”

  “I don’t want to hold you kids up, so you better get going. I hope you see a whole slew of moose, lots of elk, a herd of bighorns, and oth
er amazing animals as well!” The stalking part of Brandi’s remarks sounded feasible, but I would bet my last dollar Brandi had lied about not recalling what their mother did the night of the murder. This baby Einstein could remember all the distinguishing features of a mountain lion’s turd, so she surely wouldn’t forget seeing her mother sneak out of the house with her hair dryer late in the evening.

  “A group of moose are called a herd, not a slew, as are multiple elk, and a group of sheep are referred to as a flock, unless there’s a large number of them, and then it’s—”

  “Okay, okay, Brandi,” I said before I had to listen to the entire list of what groups of animals were officially called. “I only meant to say I hope you have fun.”

  I had pulled Brandi’s string and she wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to put her vast knowledge on display. With her hands on her hips, she asked, “Did you know that three or more crows is called a ‘murder?’”

  “How interesting, Brandi,” I replied. “Does that make two crows an ‘attempted murder’ then?”

  The young girl looked befuddled as the children walked away. I’d forgotten Brandi lacked a humor chip in her DNA makeup.

  * * *

  Stone and I sat with the Harringtons at our table near the bar at Little Bear Inn, sipping on our drinks and waiting for our meals to be brought to our table. I’d taken Emily’s advice and ordered the lobster tail. Stone and Stanley ordered porterhouse steaks. If my lobster was as good as the Tequila Sunrise I was drinking, I’d be more than satisfied.

  One drink led to another, and before I knew it I was draining my fifth glass of strong tequila with barely a splash of orange juice. The drink contained just enough grenadine to make the concoction look like the bartender had sliced his finger cutting a lime into wedges and dripped a few drops of fresh blood in it.

  I was pretty much looped before my supper arrived, and was thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol. I think at one point I told the young man who waited on us that he had the sexiest little butt I’d ever seen, but I can’t be certain I said it out loud. However, he’d looked at me as if he were on the verge of throwing up after some old blitzed broad had just hit on him, so I’m guessing I did verbalize the observation. The look Stone threw my way was not one of amusement, but more one of concern about my behavior.

  I saw our waiter make a short comment to another male waiter crossing his path with two full plates of food in his hands. I couldn’t read the young man’s lips, but I’d guess his remark was something like “Cougar Alert—Table Four.”

  As we took our time savoring our meals, Emily and I exchanged slurred, nearly incoherent thoughts and theories about the death of Fanny Finch as the men discussed fishing for salmon in Alaska. They were talking about the four of us booking a trip to Homer, Alaska, next summer. One of the top things on Stone’s bucket list was to catch a big halibut, which was likely to happen in that area, since several halibut charter companies were located on the four-and-a-half mile peninsula of land called “The Spit.” He’d always wanted to experience what had been described to him as “like reeling in a garage door.”

  The food was exceptional, our conversation lively, the camaraderie between friends was enjoyable, and overall, it was a wonderful evening. Stone won the battle over the bill, as he had been determined to do come hell or high water, and he left a healthy tip for our charismatic and finely built waiter.

  On the ride back home, sitting in the back seat of Stanley’s truck with Emily, I fought to keep my eyes open. I eventually lost the fight, but I remember thinking that I hoped the youngsters’ evening had been as nice as ours. It crossed my mind, right before I dozed off, that a trip to Alaska with the Harringtons would be a fun vacation, and also that I should have bypassed the last two Tequila Sunrises I’d practically chugged.

  Chapter 18

  Early the next morning, I was sitting in the recliner, drinking a cup of strong coffee, of course, when I heard a light rapping on our door. It was a quarter to six, and Stone was still in bed. I opened the door quietly to hear Wendy whisper, “You up?”

  “No, what you see standing here with a cup of coffee in her hand, is a very detailed figment of your imagination, my dear. Of course, I’m up, silly girl. Come on in, but keep your voice down because Stone is still asleep.”

  “I don’t need to come in and take a chance of waking him,” she replied. “I only wanted to see if you were interested in an early morning swim. Kylie unlocks the pool gate at six, and we’d probably have it to ourselves.”

  “Yeah, that does sound appealing this morning. But why don’t you come in and have a cup of coffee while I get my suit on.”

  “I’ve already had two cups, Mom, but I guess I could handle one more.”

  I quickly changed into my skirted one-piece suit, the most modest one I could find at Kohl’s, and left a note on the kitchen table to let Stone know where I was. After we both finished our cups of coffee, Wendy and I headed to the swimming pool. The campground was so quiet, it felt like we were the only two stirring at six in the morning.

  Despite what Wendy had expected, we weren’t the only two people at the pool. I was delighted to see Rapella Ripple already executing a backstroke while doing laps the length of the pool, which I estimated to be about forty feet long. We exchanged pleasantries. She told me she always liked to get in a little water aerobics before cleaning the shower houses.

  I wasn’t completely surprised to see the senior citizen wearing a purple and white polka-dotted two-piece that looked amazingly good on her. I hadn’t realized how toned and youthful her body was for a woman her age. In comparison, I felt dumpy, lumpy, and now grumpy, for being so totally out of shape. Rapella and Wendy had clicked immediately at their first encounter the previous day, and engaged in a lively conversation about Lady Antebellum, the popular singing group.

  Apparently, the Ripples had also attended the concert the previous night, which I found a bit surprising. Rapella said, “We don’t normally throw away good money like that, and even though we’d never heard of the lady before, we try to attend at least one concert every year while we’re here during Frontier Days. It helps broaden our horizons and keeps us in the loop. We don’t want to get so completely out of touch that we can’t even converse with the younger set.”

  “What a wonderful attitude, Rapella. I take it you all had a pleasant evening?” I asked. I didn’t bother to tell her that Lady Antebellum was the name of a group, and the female singer’s last name wasn’t “Antebellum”.

  They agreed it was a great concert, and fun was had by all. All three of us were standing in the middle of the pool in water up to our chests when Brandi Bumberdinger walked in through the pool gate and said, “I saw you walking past our trailer in your swimming suits and carrying beach towels, so my little brother and I came down to speak to you.”

  Brandi was alone, so I greeted her by saying, “Well, good morning young lady. I trust you had a good time with your dad yesterday and spotted all sorts of wildlife. Where’s Chace, by the way?”

  “He’ll be in here shortly,” she answered, with no inflection in her voice. The foliage on both sides of the fence surrounding the pool was so dense it provided complete privacy from anyone outside the pool area. I couldn’t see her brother, but I heard a low humming noise. I listened with a feeling of uneasiness as Brandi continued to talk.

  “Of course we had a good time with daddy yesterday. I told you before that Chace and I miss seeing him and hate seeing our mommy upset all the time. If not for Fanny Finch, we’d still all be together, and a happy, loving family—”

  “Not necessarily, honey—” I began.

  “Yes, we would!” The ten-year-old said with a great deal of vehemence in her voice. Wendy, Rapella and I stood there in stunned silence, chest-high in water, as the young girl continued, “So, when we saw that woman going into the pool area alone late Saturday night, my brother and I decided to eliminate Fanny Finch from the picture so we could have our family back
together. Like I said before, I don’t like it when my mommy’s unhappy. Mommy had taken a sleeping pill, as she’s had to do every night since Daddy left, and was sound asleep. We knew she’d just put her hair dryer in the trash because it would only run on high and she liked to dry her hair on low so she could style it at the same time. The three of us went into town to purchase a new one at a beauty supply store she located on her computer. She bought the exact same model, since she’ll be reimbursed for it by the manufacturer. She is the model in all of their magazine advertisements.”

  Wendy was staring at the child with her mouth open, apparently finding it hard to believe what she was hearing. Rapella looked shell-shocked, as well. Dreading the answer to my question, I asked Brandi, “Are you telling us it was you and Chace who killed your stepmother?”

  “Yes, and I was afraid you might have accidentally figured it out for yourself, since you were snooping around asking questions. That’s why my brother and I decided we need to eliminate you, too. It was actually his idea to kill Fanny, and now you, after I told him about water being an ideal conductor of electricity. It was one of those rare, but genius, ideas he occasionally comes up with. Chace’s the one who actually threw the hair dryer in the pool next to Fanny. Unfortunately, Ms. Starr, the other ladies with you will be collateral damage.”

  “Collateral damage” is not a term one would expect to hear from a ten-year-old, even one with an incredible I.Q. such as hers. Hearing it come out of the child’s mouth in reference to my daughter and new friend sent chills down my spine. Before we could make a move toward the ladder, Chace came through the gate with a running hair dryer in his hand, which was covered with a latex glove like one his mother might have had under the sink with her cleaning supplies.