A Flurry of Lies (Bison Creek Mystery Series Book 4)

by A. Gardner

  “Snow flurries,” Patrick added.

  “We’ll be fine.” I scratched Miso’s curly midnight coat and opened the passenger door. Miso immediately leaped inside and claimed his spot for the drive up the mountain.

  “Do you have a double sleeping bag? I heard that couples use double sleeping bags these days.” Mrs. Tankle walked toward the bed of the truck and scanned the items inside. It was in her nature to be nosy—sometimes a blessing but it usually got her mixed up in trouble.

  “No, but we plan on sharing pajama bottoms.” Patrick chuckled at the sight of Mrs. Tankle’s confused expression. “You know, one leg each.”

  “He’s kidding,” I said.

  The sound of a bell chiming made Mrs. Tankle look over her shoulder. A few customers had entered her bookshop. She took a sip of her tea and carefully examined the rest of our luggage.

  “It’ll be nice to have some peace this weekend,” she stated rather than attending to her customers. “Do you know how noisy that mutt can get when he’s excited?”

  “Then go home,” Patrick muttered. I shoved his shoulder as soon as he was within reach.

  “Uh, don’t you have customers that need you, Mrs. Tankle?”

  “Pumpkin will handle it.” She waved off my suggestion to return to her bookshop in case someone wanted to buy something.

  “I hardly think Pumpkin knows how to work the register,” I replied.

  Mrs. Tankle took another sip of tea and glared at me. “I guess I’ll be going.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Tankle.” Patrick waved as she took her time strolling along the sidewalk and back into her shop.

  After everything was loaded, I joined Patrick in his truck. He rolled down the windows as we drove down Canyon Street. It was a typical Friday afternoon with people crowded around storefronts and a line out the door at the local bakery. It wouldn’t be long before the faint sound of laughter drifted on the breeze from every direction, the smell of wood-burning ovens filled the air, and every restaurant and bar emitted an enticing glow.

  “Are you ready for this?” My hair blew across my face. I loved having the windows down and smelling the mountain air, but it was killer on frizzies around my face.

  “One last hoorah.” Patrick nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Let’s hope not.” I bit the side of my lip. “But yeah.”

  I’d called and told Wade about the news about his gun. It was enough for him to call in sick at work and drive up the canyon early in the morning. He’d convinced Joy to go early with him. The two of them were up at Wade’s usual camping spot alone, and I prayed that neither of them were dead. I wasn’t sure how Joy had taken the news.

  Wade’s camping spot was above Bison Creek next to a river and a small meadow of wildflowers. It was a peaceful place filled with wildlife and rich green trees that made the side of Pinecliffe Mountain look even more brilliant. Wade’s spot had been a hidden gem until recently. The influx of tourists had resulted in his special place being outed on a popular lifestyle blog. Wade spent days filling up the comments section with obscenities hoping that the writer would take the post down. No such luck.

  The drive went smoothly until we’d reached the dirt road leading up to the river. Patrick took his time maneuvering around potholes and rocks. The path only got steeper and more treacherous. Patrick joked that it was almost as bad as Wade's driveway.

  We passed the meadow of wildflowers. Alternating shades of purple, yellow, and red filled the patch of grass, and the Rocky Mountains were the perfect backdrop. It was like a scene straight out of a painting. I imagined a family of deer gently strutting through the colorful piece of land.

  “Oh, no.” Patrick cleared his throat as we approached Wade’s campsite. My eyes went wide.

  “Please tell me he’s dressed.”

  “It’s not that.” Patrick pointed to a distant grove of trees where another cluster of tents had been set up.

  We had company for the weekend.

  “Geez, do they have to pitch their tents so close to ours?”

  “Some people don’t care about boundaries.” Patrick parked the car, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Wade appeared fully clothed. Joy unzipped their tent and carefully touched her hair as she came to greet us. I immediately looked for signs of distress. A scowl. Red cheeks. The imprint of her hand on Wade’s face.

  “You made it.” Joy wrapped her arms around me. I resisted at first. Her embraces were usually attached to strings of negative comments, and ones which required me to side with her immediately or explain why I hated her as a sister.

  “We made it,” I responded. Joy continued smiling, and I didn’t know how to react. Is this a trap? A test? Is she secretly planning on murdering Wade in his sleep?

  “Check out the duds.” Wade’s hair was in a ponytail, and his forehead glistened with sweat. He tilted his head toward the other campsite. “I’ve already found two beer cans in the river. Those guys are going to attract every bear from miles around.”

  “Perhaps a friendly reminder to pick up their trash is in order?” Patrick tugged the top waistband of his jeans.

  “Okay, Smokey Bear.” Wade crossed his arms, his flannel shirt splotched with stains. “Be my guest. But I think they’re from Silverwood. Just a fair warning.”

  A few seconds of silence passed through the campsite, leaving only the sound of the trickling river. Patrick took a deep breath and marched toward our new neighbors. Wade covered his mouth as he watched. I had an inkling he’d already tried Patrick’s approach and had failed.

  “I should probably go with him,” I said.

  “We’ll carry on gathering wood for the fire tonight.” Wade pulled the collar of his shirt like it was beginning to suffocate him.

  “Is that what you two were doing?” I raised my eyebrows, scanning the area for a pile of wood. I wasn’t surprised to find nothing of the sort.

  “Come on, Essie,” Joy chimed in. She placed a hand on her chest, covering a sporty T-shirt that sat a bit crooked on her torso. “We’re newlyweds.”

  “That depends on who you ask.” I grinned and turned to join Patrick. Miso followed behind me, stopping to sniff every loose rock and patch of foliage he came across.

  Patrick had already gathered an audience.

  Of women.

  “You must get asked for photos all the time.” A woman in tiny shorts and a crop top swirled a lock of her long, sandy hair. She looked like she was in her early twenties. I stopped myself from barging in on their conversation. I didn’t want to be that type of girlfriend.

  “Not all the time,” Patrick replied.

  Another woman in the group touched his shoulder.

  I balled my hands into fists.

  “You’re so in shape,” the other woman commented. “I thought you said you were retired.”

  “He probably hits the gym every day, Jenna,” her friend muttered. “Very impressive.”

  “Do you ladies know that there’s lots of wildlife around here?” Patrick stuck to his mission of getting our neighbors to lock up their garbage at night.

  “Oh, what a cute dog.” The woman named Jenna pointed at Miso and her friends practically cooed. One of them placed her hand on Patrick’s shoulder again, ignoring me altogether.

  “You really shouldn’t litter.” He seemed oblivious to the flirting. “And make sure you clean up all your food tonight and lock your trash in your car. We don’t want bears poking around after the sun goes down.”

  “Bears?” Jenna’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? But we’re close to a town.”

  “Bears don’t care about that sort of thing,” he explained. “They just want the food.”

  “You mean like they want to eat us?” Jenna went on, fear swirling around in each iris.

  “Maybe we should bunk with you, Patrick,” her friend playfully added.

  I took a few steps forward.

  “Hi there.” My voice came out abnormally loud. It was enough to wipe the eager grins off of all of
their faces. “Can I help with something?”

  “Oh, you must be the girlfriend.” Jenna nodded. “Yep. I knew a guy this hot couldn’t have been single.”

  “That would be me.” I pointed to myself. Miso sniffed my hiking boots before exploring their campsite. “I’m the girlfriend.”

  “Your boyfriend here was just telling us about the bears,” Jenna said, folding her arms and covering her midriff. Her two friends slightly leaned away from their prey. “Is it true they can smell fear?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Patrick narrowed his eyes. “But they have an eye for the wounded so make sure you don’t slip on a river rock or something.”

  Jenna giggled. “There goes my hopes of bouldering.”

  One of Jenna’s friends stepped forward. “What do you mean by wounded? Do you mean like blood?”

  “Yeah.” Patrick nodded. His head of golden hair gleamed in the last rays of sunshine. “I guess you could say that.”

  The woman cursed under her breath. “Oh, shoot. I guess we’re all doomed and it’s all my fault.”

  “Really, Taylor?” Jenna rolled her eyes. “You should have told us it was shark week. Now we’ll all be eaten alive.”

  “Am I missing something?” Patrick frowned. He eyed the woman in front of him, searching her limbs for signs of bleeding flesh wounds. “You look fine to me.”

  “She means she’s closed for business,” Jenna explained.

  Patrick looked around the campsite. “Are you selling stuff from the back of your car?”

  “She’s jamming,” Jenna went on. “Aunt Flo is in for a visit.”

  Patrick scratched the side of his face. I grabbed his hand and called Miso.

  “I think this our cue to leave,” I whispered.

  “I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about,” Patrick muttered back. “Do you know what she’s going on about?”

  “You’re better off being left in the dark. Trust me.”

  Chapter 18

  Joy wrinkled her nose like she’d smelled something rancid. “Ewww.”

  “I’m just telling you what she said,” I replied.

  “And did you tell her that’s all a myth?” Joy ran her fingers through her platinum locks. She’d done it regularly since dyeing her hair. She’d also been a little more chatty and a little less pessimistic in general. Is it the blonde or just the placebo effect? “Did you tell her that bears don’t maul menstruating women?”

  “I’ll let her figure that one out.” I snuck a glimpse of Patrick as he kindled the fire. Miso sat sleepily at my feet, the starlight above us glowing like diamonds against a dark velvet curtain. I’d set up my tent and sleeping bag, and I’d already laid out my bedtime essentials. I loved camping, minus the peeing in the woods part. I was excellent at holding it during the night when I was home. For some reason, all of that went out the window when I was in the wilderness. Nature called me way too often, especially during the night when I was too nervous to leave the comfort of my sleeping bag.

  “Wade told me about his rifle.” Joy sighed.

  “Yes, you seem to be handling it well. Brownie points for you.”

  “Someone has to put on a brave face,” she whispered, observing Wade as he pulled out his pocket knife and began preparing a stick to be used as a marshmallow skewer. “Wade practically cried when I mentioned jail time. He’ll never admit it, though.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Please tell me you’re on to something,” Joy continued. “I don’t have much faith in the sheriff. He’ll blow the whistle on Wade any day now. I’m sure of it. Mom and Dad will lose it. You know Dad and his temper.”

  “Yep.” I nodded. “And I’m pretty sure he gave it to you.”

  Joy paused and glared at me. There was still a little of the old Joy hidden underneath the blonde somewhere. I pressed my lips together, my dad’s description of one of Joy’s episodes running through my brain. He had a word for when my sister boiled over and completely lost control of all sense of logic. He called it redlining. He was a car enthusiast.

  “Good thing you’re adopted then,” she barked back. Oh, yeah. Joy is still in there.

  “Okay, before this turns into a gripe night, I do have a theory,” I responded.

  Joy leaned in closer. “It had better be good.”

  “If I’m right, it’ll take a lot of work to prove it,” I added. “Work that might get us arrested.”

  “Did you see me blink?” Joy raised her eyebrows.

  “First, the facts.” I cleared my throat, patting Miso on the top of his head. The mundane gesture helped me keep my nerves in check. “According to Murray, the bullet came from Wade’s rifle, right? So, he must have been shot from a nearby location. One of the office buildings near Canyon Street is the most likely place. Those ones above Morgan Antiques face Canyon Street and they’re right there where they did the shootout.”

  “Sounds legit.” Joy nodded, staring off at the crackling fire as she processed the information. “The shooter could have also been across the street. Those ones are apartments, but they could have broken in or something.”

  “If only I could get my hands on those files.”

  “Easy.” Joy focused her attention back on me. “Flash Murray. He’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “I don’t want to give him a heart attack.”

  “You’re right.” Joy cupped her hand underneath her chin. “I doubt he’s ever seen a naked woman in person.”

  “Uh, moving on.” I took a deep breath. “Booney told me that the mayor was supposed to be in the shootout, but he bailed at the last minute. It was going to be front page news in the BC Gazette.”

  “So, you think that bullet was meant for the mayor?”

  “He still showed up.” I shrugged. “He was also standing close to where Dalton was when he was shot.”

  “That means the killer was a lousy shot. And the mayor has lots of enemies.” Joy narrowed her eyes. She pulled her attention away from our conversation again and fixated on Wade. He’d finished sharpening his stick and was using it to stab marshmallows. Patrick watched him cautiously as he laid out the rest of the food we’d brought to make s’mores.

  “Exactly.” I carried on with our conversation, unsure if Joy was listening whole-heartedly. “The only person who would know of a possible threat is the mayor himself.”

  “And he’ll never open his mouth. Not as long as he’s mayor.” Joy looked at me again. “Should we torture him?”

  “We can’t do that,” I replied.

  “It wouldn’t take much,” she added. “He cracks easily under pressure. We could set a trap for him at the fun run.”

  “Are you serious?” I studied her face. There was no hint of a smirk. “No.”

  “Then we’re back to the shooter.” Joy patted the side of her hair. “If you won’t flash Murray, I will.”

  “Joy, you and I both know that he’ll blab all over town. You’ll never be able to live it down.”

  “Better that than let my husband rot in jail for a crime he had nothing to do with,” Joy argued.

  I closed my eyes and searched for another solution. Joy was right. My options were slim, and I had to do something. I weighed my options, although both of them were dangerous—break into the police station or torture the mayor for information. My best chance of secrecy lay with the mayor. If someone was trying to kill him, he would know who. Hopefully.

  “Hey, babe, a little help?” Wade shoved a few marshmallows into his mouth. “I can’t make them nice and brown like you can.”

  Joy jumped to her feet and walked toward the campfire. “That’s because you have no patience. Babe.”

  “Or really bad hand-eye coordination,” Patrick added.

  “You stick to those graham crackers over there, golden boy.” Wade clenched his jaw when he acknowledged Patrick. “I’ll ask for your input when I want my mallows burned to a crisp.”

  “So, this all about the mallows?” The firelight
lit up the grin on his face. “And here I thought you hated me just for breathing.”

  “You ain’t in this family yet,” Wade responded, glancing at me. “I reserve the right to whoop your—”

  “Wade,” Joy scolded him, muttering a few curse words herself. “Chill out and have a s’more.”

  Wade promptly obeyed, shoving his first s’more into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. The fire crackled and embers floated through the night air and landed at Joy’s feet. She moved away from the fire, running her fingers through her hair.

  “I love that smell,” I said, patting Miso some more. I leaned back in my camping chair and stared at the sky above me. The stars shined brighter in the mountains.

  “Yeah, but now my hair is going to reek,” Joy said. “I still can’t wash it for a few days.”

  “Maybe it’s time to retire to our tent then.” Wade gobbled down another s’more and grabbed Joy around the waist.

  The sound of laughter burst through our campsite like the howls of a pack of wolves. Jenna and her posse weren’t alone. They’d been joined by a group of male suitors for a night of booze, laughs, and a decent amount of groping. Wade rolled his eyes and let go of Joy.

  “Those dirtbags are ruining my night,” Wade muttered. “I’m minutes away from letting them have it.”

  Joy grabbed his face, trying to distract him from his own temper. “They’ll all pass out eventually. I’m pretty sure those guys brought enough beer for the entire state of Colorado.”

  “Fine. I’ll give them one more chance.”

  Miso jumped to his feet at the sound of more roaring laughter.

  “Aunt Flo isn’t stopping anyone tonight,” Joy said.

  “Huh?” Wade glanced at Patrick. Patrick shrugged in response.

  “So, hiking in the morning?” I chimed in before the conversation went down the path of awkwardness. A light bulb would go off in Patrick’s head at some point. That time didn’t have to be now.

  “Bright and early.” The smile returned to Wade’s face. “Those bozos over there will still be sleeping when we get back. What’s the point of camping if you don’t plan on seeing the sunrise?” He grabbed Joy and pulled her toward their tent. Joy happily welcomed her chance to be manhandled.