Murder at Camp (Pineville Gazette Mystery Book 5)

by Wendy Meadows

  “But the law in town could be corrupt,” Stephanie pointed out.

  Mary shook her head no. “I don’t think Mr. Cunningham would ask us to bring back the sheriff if he thought the sheriff was bad.”

  Andy began pacing back and forth. “Mary...Betty...you have to listen to reason. You two are not capable of going out into this storm and fighting two men who walk around like whispers. You don’t even know your way around.” Andy pointed at the front door. “Where do you think John Cunningham is taking Tom Mintson...down the trail for a short walk? That man knows this land by the back of his hand, you don’t.”

  “Andy is right,” Stephanie pleaded with Mary. “Please, come with us.”

  “I can’t,” Mary told Stephanie in a frustrated voice. “While it may be true that Tom and Dylan are killers, I can’t simply let them die. I could never live with myself...never look my husband in the eyes again...never stand for truth and justice again...never...look at myself in a mirror.” Mary walked to the front door and tapped it with her right hand. “Outside this door is a big old world full of lies, deceit, hypocrisy, and moral compromise that are causing folks to lose their way. But also outside this door is a big old world filled with truth, honor, justice, and integrity that are keeping people glued together...for now, at least. And I stand for truth, honor, justice, and integrity because if I don’t I’ll lose my way.”

  Mary focused her eyes on the front door. “If I walk away and let two men die the wrong way, I’ll compromise my very heart and invite a dirty shadow in that I’ll never be able to get rid of. I can’t do that...I won’t do that. I would rather die in a war than hide safely behind a crumbling wall.”

  Betty felt Mary’s words chase her fear away with two powerful hands. Sure, she had no desire to go out into a dangerous storm, in what appeared to be a vain attempt to save the lives of two trail rats. However, right was right and wrong was wrong and a person had to live with that truth for the rest of his or her life. Yes sir and no sir, honoring the elderly, respecting your parents, being kind to your neighbors, working hard, earning an honest living, treating others as you wanted to be treated, all those elements of truth still mattered. Betty knew if she ran away scared and allowed her own integrity to become compromised, everything she believed in would shatter and fall away into the wind. She would never allow herself to walk Mrs. Townfield’s little dog, or read Mr. Greenson’s favorite mystery to him on Tuesday nights, or even bring Mr. Perchson a pan of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She would never be able to go to the diner and talk with friends over a slice of apple pie or relax with a cup of hot tea at night with her mother. Betty knew if she allowed fear to dominate her heart instead of truth and justice, she would fall into a very deep hole that no one would be able to save her from.

  “I’m with you, Mary. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to do the right thing.” Betty looked at Stephanie. “Doing the right thing is what matters the most...even though I’m sure scared stiff.”

  Stephanie couldn’t believe that little ol’ Betty Mavery was being so brave. Of course, she knew when the river flooded and people ran, Betty stayed behind—regardless of her own safety—to help the animals. “And here I stand...being a coward,” she said in a miserable voice. “Oh, Betty...Mary...you two are something else.” Stephanie turned to Andy. “I—”

  “You’re staying.” Andy shook his head. “I kinda guessed.”

  “We have to do the right thing,” Stephanie pleaded with Andy.

  “And get all the right answers,” Mary insisted. “Right now my mind feels like it’s trapped in a thick fog. I can see bits and pieces of a town but I can’t make out what the town is. I need answers...we need the truth.”

  “There’s a bunch of truth out there to find,” Andy assured Mary. “We’re not looking at a simple mystery that’s a one-page thinker, Mary. We’re dealing with a lot of different villains.”

  “Villains that are somehow all caught in the same spider web,” Mary replied. She tapped the front door again. “Stephanie, maybe it wasn’t a mistake that you thought the men Dylan hired to work on your camp were supposed to arrive today. Maybe Dylan allowed you to make that mistake on purpose.”

  “What are you talking about, Mary?” Stephanie asked.

  “It seems to me that Dylan and Tom were trying to dig a deep hole to trap an angry bear and we're planning to use you and Jennifer as bait,” Mary explained. She turned from the door and looked at the flickering candle, listened to the winds scream and howl, the trees whine and bend, and then continued. “Maybe at first, they had a different plan...a well thought out plan. But something changed that forced them to consider murder. I think that something...or someone...is Mr. Cunningham’s brother.” Mary pointed at Andy. “Andy, the wooden bridge was destroyed by someone who knew what they were doing. Can you agree with that?”

  “What choice do I have?” Andy asked Mary. “The bridge is ruined and...” Andy stopped, studied Mary’s eyes, and then let out a loud “Oh.”

  Mary nodded. “You told me that Mr. Delston sent a contractor by the name of Rideback to work on the bridge, right?”

  Andy nodded. “Mitchell Rideback showed up with some of his men, secured the bridge, and left. He didn’t say much to me...didn’t even tell me he was leaving after he was finished. Just went to his truck, got in, and drove away.”

  “Andy, what did Mitchell Rideback look like? What was his appearance?” Mary asked.

  “Short black hair...tough face...about forty years old...looked like...” Andy stopped talking again, closed his eyes, and groaned. “Rideback looked like—”

  “An American Indian?” Mary asked.

  “Not full-blooded...but half, like me.” Andy nodded. “My brother, may he rest in peace, took more after my mother, and you can see that I took more after my dad’s side of the family. Not many American Indians with red hair.” Andy opened his eyes. “Mitchell Rideback...Mary, I was too worried about the money I was being forced to spend to fix the bridge to focus on the guy. I only spoke to him when he arrived...maybe two or three sentences at the most and all of ’em having to do with the job at hand.”

  Mary quickly folded her arms and began to think. “Okay...so Pastor Whitfield knew your mother, Andy. My guess is it was your mother who told him about the gold...at least that’s the impression I received from John.”

  “Are you trying to say that the pastor was corrupt?” Andy asked in disbelief.

  “No...no,” Mary said. “But the fact is that Pastor Whitfield must have known about the gold.” Mary walked over to the flickering candle and stared at it. “Andy...forgive me for saying this, but...maybe your mother...was after the gold. Maybe...Pastor Whitfield was helping her...somehow?”

  “Impossible,” Andy snapped. “Mary, my mother was a gentle woman.”

  “Then why did Pastor Whitfield sell you this land?” Mary asked. “Did you know Pastor Whitfield before you bought this land?”

  Andy shoved his hands down into the pockets of his pants. “Pastor Whitfield showed up at my mother’s house,” he said, trying to stand his ground. “I was visiting my mother at the time, oh, about four years ago.”

  “Tell us more,” Mary said.

  Andy nodded. “I was working as a farmer back then,” he explained. “I owned a little farm and some land southeast of here. I was...” Andy looked at Stephanie, “engaged to be married to a woman who I thought...loved me. I took her to visit my mother at the same time Pastor Whitfield visited.” Andy lowered his eyes. “After my mother cooked up a good supper Pastor Whitfield asked me to take a walk in the backfield sitting behind my mother’s house. So I did.”

  “What happened on the walk?” Mary asked.

  Andy shrugged his shoulders. “Not much,” he confessed. “Mary, I didn’t even know about the gold at that time. My mother didn’t tell my brother about the gold until about a year before she died.” Andy shook his head. “When I found the letter she had sent my brother, the letter he hid
in the attic of her home, I was...let’s just say the woman I was engaged to be married to decided a richer man was a better choice. I was angry...my brother had been killed...my mother was dead...my heart was torn...I needed something to hold on to...anything. So I held on to a promise...” Andy looked at Mary. “Pastor Whitfield didn’t mention selling the land to me when we went for our walk, Mary. It just seemed, at least to me, that he was trying to get to know who I was...become my friend.”

  “Andy, who is your daddy?” Betty asked in a curious voice and then nervously bit down on her lip. “Oh, that was wrong of me to ask. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Andy told Betty in a kind voice. “I’ve often wondered what you might be thinking.” Andy turned to the candle. “I never knew who my real daddy was. He left when I was born. My mother told me he was a bad drinker, and that I was better off without him.” Andy lost his eyes on the weak flame of the candle. “A man can redeem himself, can’t he?” he asked.

  Mary walked over to Andy. “Such as becoming a preacher and buying land for a woman that he wronged?” she asked. “And then selling that land to his son?”

  Andy turned his head and looked into Mary’s eyes. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It was Pastor Whitfield who suggested I look through my brother’s belongings in the attic, Mary. He was with me in the attic...he was the one who opened the old chest I found the letter in.”

  “Maybe he had the letter all along?” Mary suggested.

  Andy shrugged his shoulders. “When I sold everything I had...my little farm...and bought this land from Pastor Whitfield he seemed at peace.” Andy looked back at the candle. “He never told me but I knew Tom Mintson had scared him off and that the battle had been turned over to my hands.” Andy kept his eyes on the candle. “Even if Tom Mintson didn’t scare the pastor off I believe he was ready to call in the fight. The good pastor is old in his years, Mary. I could see that his heart was growing weary. He left me with a smile and a handshake...and that was enough.”

  Mary absorbed every word Andy spoke, filed the words away in a safe room in her mind, and nodded. “Okay, Andy, your story is clear in my mind. I think I’m understanding Pastor Whitfield more, too. Now I want to focus on Tom and Dylan, and,”—Mary pointed at Stephanie— “you, Stephanie. I can’t understand why those two killers would want you to have this land after Andy lost it. And how does Mr. Delston play in? And Jennifer? What did that woman have on her husband that caused her death? And how does Mitchell Rideback fit in? We still have many pieces of this puzzle to explore.” Mary bit down on her lip. “What I am sure of is that Tom and Dylan intended to kill you and Jennifer both today and leave your bodies at the camp for someone to find. My gut is telling me that that someone was supposed to be Mitchell Rideback or maybe Roy Delston.”

  Betty walked over to Mary and tapped her shoulder. “Mary?”

  “Yes?” Mary asked.

  “Maybe we should try and fit the pieces together later,” Betty suggested in a worried voice. She pointed at the front door. “The longer we stand inside this cabin...well, I don’t want Mr. Cunningham cutting his brother free while I’m still standing here.”

  “Good thinking,” Mary said and patted Betty on her shoulder. She quickly turned to Stephanie. “Stephanie, you have to take us to the cave Tom mentioned. Please.”

  Stephanie bravely nodded. “Okay, girls, it looks like we’re going on a grand adventure.” Stephanie walked over to Andy and softly touched his hand. “They’re right, you know...I could never live with myself if I left Dylan and Tom to die. One person is already dead, and that’s enough for me.”

  Andy looked into Stephanie’s warm and caring eyes. “You’re rubbing off me,” he said with a smile and nodded at Mary and Betty. “Prepared to get rained on, ladies, because we’re going out into the storm.”

  Stephanie and Tom ran up behind a large, wet tree and ducked down as Mary and Betty took cover behind another tree a few feet away. Andy pointed to a dark hole digging into the side of a rock hill. “There,” he mouthed at Mary and Betty.

  Mary raised her hand and shielded her face against the raging winds. She was soaked from head to toe, tired, hungry, and not sure that she was ever going to see her husband again. Sometimes doing the right thing, she thought, quickly wiping rain water away from her eyes, was sure tough. “I see it,” she mouthed back.

  Betty, feeling like a fish trapped under a deep sea, spit rain water out of her mouth. “It’s so dark...I can barely see,” she complained.

  “There...see the cave entrance?” Mary asked and gently pointed Betty’s face toward the rock hill.

  Betty squinted her eyes and searched the hill. She barely spotted a dark hole. The cave was nearly hidden by a large tree and a bunch of bushes. “I can hardly see it.”

  Mary nodded. “Okay, you stay here,” she ordered and waved her hand at Andy and Stephanie. “One of us needs to see if anyone is in the cave,” she whispered through the raging winds, just loud enough for Stephanie and Andy to hear her.

  “I’ll go,” Andy whispered back.

  Stephanie grabbed Andy’s hand. “Be careful,” she begged.

  “You bet.” Andy flashed her a warm smile, and without wasting another second, he searched the land, the storm, and then exploded on silent legs. He ran to a thick bush, squatted down, and then dashed to a tree, and then to another tree, making a small loop, and finally made his way to the right wall of the hill. Mary watched Andy press his back against the wall, ease over to the cave’s entrance, and stick his ear out.

  “Please!” Tom’s voice exploded into Andy’s ear. “We can...money. We have lots of money.”

  “Plenty of money.” Dylan’s panicked voice slipped out into the storm.

  Andy drew in a deep breath and cautiously eased his eyes around, just enough to see into the cave without being seen himself. He spotted John standing next to a small fire. Tom and Dylan were sitting a few feet away from him, tied up, with their backs pressed up against the right side of the cave wall. A third man, whom Andy recognized as Mitchell Rideback, was sitting against the left wall of the cave with his hands tied behind his back, looking at John with murderous eyes.

  “Plenty of money,” Dylan pleaded again.

  “Shut up,” Mitchell snapped at Dylan and focused his furious eyes back on John. “You are making a terrible mistake, brother.”

  John didn’t look at Mitchell. He kept his eyes on the small fire, lost in thought. “I told everyone that I was going to set you free,” John finally spoke. “I needed to scare them away.”

  “You’re never going to find the gold,” Mitchell growled.

  John kept his eyes on the fire. “The gold belongs to our people,” he told Mitchell. “I must find it, take it from this land, and hide it in a safe place. Too many of our people have died over that gold.”

  Mitchell fought against the ropes holding his wrists together. “You’re an idiot,” he hissed at John. “You still try to honor a people who are long forgotten.” Mitchell shook his head. “I wanted us to find the gold together, brother, and halve it down the middle. Instead, you have betrayed me.”

  “It is you who have betrayed our people,” John told Mitchell. “I trusted you and you placed a knife in my back.” John lifted his eyes and looked at his brother. “I confided in you and told you the secret of the gold. In return you went to the white man and betrayed our people.”

  Mitchel snarled at John. “Debts had to be paid,” he told John in an upset voice. “I owed money.”

  “Drinking and gambling money,” John said in a disgusted voice. “You wasted all of your money in gambling rooms.” John shook his head and looked at Tom. “Your nephew came to you for help. He needed a legal way to push Pastor Whitfield off this land but resorted to threats and intimidation when Pastor Whitfield refused to sell.”

  “Roy is a violent man,” Tom answered John in a scared voice. “Roy wasn’t even sure your brother was telling the truth about the gold but he wasn’t taking any chances. By then
...my wife had betrayed me and told Roy I knew about the gold.”

  “He’s telling you the truth,” Mitchell told John. “Delston came up with a plan to kill these two snakes.” Mitchell threw his eyes at Tom and Dylan.

  “Please,” Dylan begged, “we can talk about this...there has to be a way.”

  John closed his eyes. “The way of my people must be protected,” he said in a voice that told Dylan to stop begging for his life. “My people were killed over the gold. The gold is cursed.”

  “Gold is gold,” Mitchell snapped. “Stop being foolish and untie me. We can kill these two snakes, John. I can handle Delston and run him off. Together we can find the gold.”

  John opened his eyes. “You may be able to run Delston away from this land, but not the men you both owe money to.”

  Fear entered Mitchell’s eyes. He owed money to some very deadly men whom Roy Delston was also in debt to. “John...be reasonable,” he insisted. “There're millions of dollars’ worth of gold buried on this land. We can find it...split it...and go our separate ways.”

  “No,” John growled. “The way of our...my...people will be protected.”

  Andy eased away from the cave, ran back to Stephanie, and motioned for Mary and Betty to join him. “There are all four in the cave,” he whispered and wiped rain away from his eyes. “They’re arguing over the gold.” Andy looked around and studied the storm. “Mitchell Rideback is in the cave, tied up. Tom and Dylan are still tied up, John is holding them captive.”

  Mary tucked her head against a powerful gust of wind. “Any suggestions?” she asked.

  “Talking to John isn’t going to do any good, that’s for sure,” Andy pointed out. “John is determined to protect the gold.”