Cat Got Your Corpse

by Louise Lynn

  Ranger Albright's brow furrowed. "Letter? Oh, you were the one who scratched that on a piece of paper about some big game hunter? No. It was that James fellow. He brought me a magazine featuring the two of them. Nasty pieces of work, both of them.”

  A magazine?

  Right.

  Summer had said they were featured in magazines for their sponsorships.

  “Do you still have it?" Hazel asked.

  Ranger Albright gave her a flat look. "I'm pretty sure your cat is chewing on the edge of it right now."

  Hazel glanced at Anthony Ray who, was indeed, chewing on the edge of a magazine. She shoed her cat away and flipped through it as Ranger Albright and her father started chatting, as if she hadn't just confessed to tampering with a crime scene or accused her father of murder.

  She stopped on a page of hunting knives. One of them was small, only four inches long, and curved. It tucked into a little leather loop and looked about the right size for the murder weapon. The knife was from the Huntsman company, like everything on the page, but that didn’t prove anything.

  It was only a picture.

  “Find the real weapon,” Hazel said to Anthony Ray.

  He batted at the magazine in her hands and yawned.

  “I didn't know if you did it or not, but I didn't want you to go to jail. I actually love your work," Ranger Albright said.

  Edgar beamed. “You’ve seen it? Thank you so much. It's always an honor to meet someone who recognizes it."

  Of course. Her father could get chummy with just about anyone. Just like her mother. Well, anyone besides Cliff Crawford, Hazel thought.

  It didn't take long to find the spread in the magazine. It was an ad for a motorcycle gun rack for extreme hunting, from the brand, fittingly, called Huntsman—the same brand as the knife. A broad smile stretched across Summer Crawford's face in the photo. She straddled the motorcycle and had a rifle propped under her armpit.

  Her father, still very much alive, stood next to her.

  So, the girl was telling the truth about her sponsorship deals, and she was right that this was a real ad and not some Instagram post. Hazel glanced over the sponsorship items. Besides a motorcycle gun rack, they wore all sorts of things made by the Huntsman company.

  She read the little description under the photo:

  Summer Crawford wearing her sponsored Huntsman motorcycle boots (with a surprise on the next page!), which go perfectly with her matching motorcycle

  They were the same boots Summer Crawford always seemed to be wearing. The closer Hazel looked at the motorcycles in the picture, she realized they were the same ones in the back of the ugly diesel truck as well.

  What had Esther said about Summer having a good motive the night before? Money. Right. Maybe she didn’t want to share her deals with her dad.

  And this right here made it look like she could have had nearly everything at her disposal to kill her father and make it look like a mountain lion did it. Including a motorcycle that could get her to and from the campground without drawing too much attention to herself.

  What was it James said? That Summer insisted on going with him when he left the night before the murder. Why would she do that?

  But they still didn’t have the murder weapon.

  Sheriff Cross and his deputies had been over the crime scene and found nothing.

  Unless, Summer hid it it somewhere.

  Hazel’s heart pounded, and she flipped the page to see what surprise the boots held.

  Before she got the chance to look, shouts erupted outside.

  "This is what you get, Summer Crawford!” Abby Reynolds screamed.

  The outburst was followed by the deafening bang of a gunshot.

  Chapter 22

  Hazel burst out of the Ranger’s Station without any consideration for the fact that she was running toward gunfire instead of away from it.

  Anthony Ray charged after her, and so did Ranger Albright and Hazel's father. They arrived in time to see Abby drop the gun, and the bright red blood stain that spattered Summer Crawford's stomach.

  Summer touched the blood and scowled. "You've ruined this shirt!”

  "Like I said, that's what you get."

  Why wasn't Summer Crawford falling over and screaming in pain?

  "Put up your hands, you're under arrest," Ranger Albright yelled at Abby.

  The girl did as she was told.

  “Abby, what have you done?" James Duke cried.

  "I think it's pretty obvious that she shot me with a paint gun, you idiot. But this isn’t paint—it’s real blood. I thought you were a vegan," Summer said nastily and wiped her bloody hands on her thighs.

  “A paint gun?" Hazel breathed and let out a sigh of relief. At least Abby hadn't used a real gun, but this was still assault.

  "Abby, what did I tell you?" Hazel's father said in his disappointed dad voice.

  Abby hung her head as the ranger led her away. "I know, but I did what I had to do. I’m not sorry. She deserves what her father got. Maybe worse," Abby spit.

  Summer sneered. "You can believe I’m going to press charges," she said and marched toward the bathroom.

  James Duke stood there stunned, and Esther and Deputy Simmons ran to the scene.

  "It's fine. It was a paint gun. She's been detained," Hazel said and leaned down to pet Anthony Ray.

  "A paint gun?" Esther said and raised an eyebrow.

  Hazel nodded. She thought the same thing, and glanced at the ugly diesel truck. That was probably Abby's work too, but she wouldn't know until she asked the girl. Hopefully, Ranger Albright let her do that.

  If Abby could do this, she could’ve killed Crawford as well. Hazel couldn’t put it above the girl, no matter what her gut was telling her.

  The ranger didn't give Hazel stink eye when she entered, so she figured she was at least semi-welcome.

  "I have to fill out so much paperwork because of this," Ranger Albright said and disappeared into a back room.

  Abby sat up straight in the chair Edgar Hart had just occupied, her hands in her lap and her shoulders poised. "I needed to do something. Before you ask, I defaced her truck. Big deal."

  Hazel nodded, and Anthony Ray went back to his exploration of the office. She didn’t think the murder weapon was there, but she couldn’t see the harm in him looking. "It actually is a big deal. You shot her in front of several Sheriff’s deputies that are armed. They could've killed you.”

  Abby frowned. "Okay, so I didn't think it entirely through. But like I said, no one else can stand up to her. "

  "Is that why you killed Cliff Crawford, because no one else would?" Hazel said quietly.

  Abby's eyes widened. "Me? You're serious? I said I would applaud whoever did it, but it wasn't me. No way." The young woman shook her head.

  Hazel wanted to believe her, but—if Ranger Albright didn’t do it, Abby was the next best suspect. Especially since she had that cooler filled with meat. The same one in the picture.

  Hazel just didn’t want it to be Abby because she liked the girl and disliked Summer Crawford. But finding a killer wasn’t about her personal feelings; it was about justice.

  That’s what her father would say. She had a feeling Colton would agree with that sentiment.

  "I found your cooler full of steaks, the one you set out to lure an animal to kill Cliff Crawford. And when that didn't work you had to do it yourself, didn't you?"

  Ranger Albright stepped back into the room at that point, and Abby gaped at Hazel. "Those aren’t my steaks. You have to believe me. I thought I was just getting in trouble for shooting Summer and writing on her truck, but I swear I didn't kill anybody!”

  Ranger Albright’s expression grew shrewd. "What's this about? Are you accusing her of murder too?"

  Hazel's cheeks heated. "Listen, with you, the boots fit, but with her–" Hazel explained the pictures James Duke had given her and the cooler full of the meat.

  "That's stronger evidence than you had against me," Ranger Albrig
ht said and crossed her arms.

  Abby Reynolds shook her head, her curtain of brown hair flowing after it. "No. That's not what happened. I found it. I was on an early morning hike, okay? I've gotten up early every single morning since I've been here to do yoga, usually around four. So, that's why I was up, and I was headed out and I saw it. The cooler was just sitting on the picnic table, and it was full of steaks. First of all, eww! And second of all, I know what people like Cliff and Summer Crawford do to meat like that. It's poisoned. Or at least has tranquilizers in it. They were gonna set traps with it. I couldn't have that, so I switched our ice chests."

  Hazel blinked. "You what?"

  "I switched them. We had the same ice chest. I noticed it right away. I took everything out of mine, then I thought an empty ice chest would be a little bit suspicious, so I left my coffee creamer. It was expensive too." Abby said and shook her head.

  Is that why Summer seemed confused when Hazel mentioned the only thing in the ice chest was coffee creamer? She wanted those steaks.

  "You're not off the hook yet. The killer had a pair of boots on, similar to Ranger Albright's but–"

  Abby shook her head. "I don't even own boots. They hurt my feet. I love hiking sandals, if you haven't noticed,” she said and wiggled her toes, painted pastel colors.

  "That Summer brat wears boots,” Ranger Albright said and raised her brows. “I’ve never seen her take them off, even in the heat of the day.”

  Hazel's heart hammered in her chest. The ranger was right.

  Summer did wear boots all the time.

  Summer had access to a motorcycle to get her to and from the campground nearly unseen. And she had access to a Huntsman brand knife that looked like the murder weapon, and, like Esther said, maybe the killer hadn’t gotten rid of it.

  What was it she'd seen.

  Boots and–

  Anthony Ray yowled. He sat on that side table again, chewing on the same magazine.

  Right.

  The magazine!

  She’d asked him to find the murder weapon, and he had, in his own special way.

  Hazel snatched it away from him, and he batted after it and then licked his paw as if it was what he'd always wanted.

  She flipped to the page she'd been reading.

  Special Huntsman boots with—she flipped the page—a hidden compartment in the heel.

  Hazel looked at the picture.

  The heel sure looked big enough to hold a small curved knife, especially if it folded.

  That’s why she never took them off.

  That’s why she kept blaming it on Hazel’s father and the mountain lion.

  "Call Sheriff Cross right away. I think I know who the killer is,” Hazel said. “And follow me after you get through to him, please!”

  Ranger Albright and Abby Reynolds both stared at her.

  “Please! And it’s not one of you!”

  With a frown, the ranger picked up the phone, and Hazel rushed outside to find the deputies.

  She ran smack into Esther, her sister’s eyes were wide and frantic.

  "I know who the killer is!” Hazel cried.

  Esther shook her head. "I don't know if that's important right now. Dad just spotted the mountain lion by the stream, and Summer Crawford is trying to kill it."

  Okay, that was a little bit more immediate.

  She glanced around wildly. “Where is Deputy Simmons when I need him?"

  Esther worried her bottom lip. “That’s who dad went to find. James Duke asked to have a word with the deputies and they walked off with him about twenty minutes ago.”

  Of course.

  She couldn’t do anything the easy way.

  "Okay, new plan. Do you want to stay with the ranger, or help me face down an insane woman with a gun?"

  Esther tugged on her braid. "Honestly, neither. But adventurous Esther would say: crazy woman with a gun?"

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. She honestly didn't expect that answer.

  Then, to Hazel’s further surprise, Esther ran toward their campsite.

  Making sure she had a good hold on Anthony Ray's leash, Hazel followed.

  Chapter 23

  Hazel's heart thumped in her throat, and her body felt as taut as the string of a bow ready to be fired. She expected the sound of a gunshot to thunder through the air at any moment—that they’d be too late—and she pumped her legs even faster in Esther's wake.

  They charged to their campsite, past the tents and picnic table, and to the side of the stream.

  Summer Crawford stood there, a rifle clutched under her arm, and the still form of a fully grown mountain lion sprawled on the ground across the water from her.

  They were too late.

  But she hadn't even heard a gunshot.

  Then Hazel noticed the mountain lion’s chest rose and fell, and she remembered what Abby had said only a few minutes before.

  "You tranquilized it?" Hazel cried.

  Summer rolled her eyes. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill big-game without knocking it out first? You think I want to get my throat ripped out like my father did?”

  Ripped? Yeah, that’s not what happened, and looking at Summer Crawford, Hazel now knew for certain.

  "And here we thought you were a grand hunter, yet you can’t even take down one of nature's best predators without putting it to sleep first?" Esther said and put her hands on her hips. She used that mom tone of voice, and Hazel silently applauded her sister for her bravery.

  At least the rifle wasn’t presently pointed at them, though Hazel had a feeling that could change in an instant.

  She let go of Anthony Ray's leash and splashed into the creek. She hoped her tennis shoes weren’t ruined due to the water. Well, even if they were, the cougar’s life was worth it.

  "What are you doing?" Summer said, incredulous.

  Hazel saw that the young woman still wore the same heavy boots, the ones from the magazine. The ones with a hidden compartment just the right size for a curved folding knife. No wonder they hadn’t been able to find the murder weapon. Summer had kept it on herself the entire time!

  "Stopping you, of course. Did you give your father a tranquilizer before you killed him too?” Hazel asked.

  Summer's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I killed my dad? I wasn't even here when it happened, or did you forget about that?"

  Hazel smiled thinly, and cast a glance at Esther, who looked around wildly for a weapon.

  “It’s convenient that you weren’t here when it occurred. Or was it? I have a feeling you planned it like that."

  Summer made that the pa-shaw sound. "You're just trying to get your daddy off for his crime, and save this mountain lion’s life, and it's a futile effort either way. There's absolutely no proof that I killed my dad. Like I said, I wasn't even here.”

  Hazel nodded. "That's what you wanted everyone to think. You needed an excuse to leave the campsite, and why not use James Duke’s pretend fear to return to civilization for the night? But you didn’t know that James came back that morning and took a picture of you at the campsite.”

  She decided to leave out the bit about it only being a photo of Summer’s boots. Lying to a murderer didn’t make Hazel feel bad in the least.

  Summer's eyes widened at the accusation. “I don’t believe you. That hippie chick is always skulking around. How do you know it wasn’t her?”

  Hazel shook her head. “Abby was off doing early morning yoga, but she did stop by your campsite and see the cooler of beef you left out to lure large game close enough to kill your dad. But that didn’t work out, because she took the cooler and replaced it with her own. You missed that. I’m guessing you didn’t want to be there when the animal attacked, but when nothing happened, you returned. Did you kill your dad in his sleep, or did he get a chance to see you before he died?”

  Summer laughed. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t do any of those things. Abby is obviously lying. And your sheriff boyfriend said you didn’t have a murder
weapon, so you’re lying too!”

  Behind Summer, Esther's eyes were wide and frantic.

  Right. She’d never done the whole ‘confront a killer with a deadly weapon thing and hope for the best.’ Hazel realized she needed to think through this part more thoroughly next time.

  Assuming there was a next time.

  Meanwhile, Anthony Ray batted at a butterfly, completely unhelpful. Still, as long as he didn't draw Summer's attention it would be fine.

  "Playing dumb doesn't really suit you. You had this entire thing planned, including your rock solid alibi. But I know how you got back here after you dropped James off and got your own hotel room. The diesel truck didn't return because that would be far too obvious. But one of those camouflage motorcycles with the custom gun rack? That's perfect. And, even better, it accounts for the sound I heard that morning. The one that woke me up."

  Summer clenched her jaw, and her grip on the rifle tightened. "So you heard a motor and assumed it was one of my bikes? Do you not understand what the word proof means? Abby has a moped!”

  The water rushing around Hazel's thighs was cold, and she wondered if she regretted charging into the creek like that—especially if the mountain lion came to and mulled her from behind.

  Well, she had to take that chance.

  It’s what her father would do.

  “You’re right that the motor isn’t proof, but that’s not the important part—the murder weapon is. I saw a picture of it in one of those hunting magazines. It's a little curved knife, slightly larger than the claw of a mountain lion, so it would inflict a similar type of wound. But the edge is smooth and it cuts too cleanly while a claw rips. And the brand? It’s one of your most generous sponsors. Huntsman. In fact, nearly everything, including those fancy boots, are Huntsman brand. As for where the murder weapon has been all this time? It's in your boot. Your heel has a hidden compartment, and that's why you never take those things off, even when it's a good eighty-five degrees out," Hazel said.

  “Oh! It makes perfect sense. Did you kill your dad for money, like I guessed?” Esther put in.