Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 03 - Trouble at Glacier

by Minnie Crockwell

  How are you doing now? Keep me posted.

  Juan, your one and only ex

  So much had happened since I’d written him. That seemed like a lifetime ago. I dashed off a reply.

  Dear Juan or John or you,

  It seems that said black bear did not in fact kill the poor guy, but that he was murdered, and the murder made to look like a bear attack. I’d rather not describe the details of the murder, but you can imagine. So now everyone wandering around with bear knowledge or bear claws is suspect…at least in my book. I don’t think the police (rangers actually) have a suspect, but I can think of about five people who weren’t particularly fond of the victim. Five! Most had motive, one is just kind of nutsy, and all had the necessary tools to simulate a bear attack.

  I’m not sure where the rangers are in their investigation, but I don’t want to point fingers. I’ve been caught snooping twice today by potential suspects, and I’m none too popular right now. I’ll have to tone it down and mind my own business…for a while.

  Glacier National Park is beautiful. I wish you were here.

  Minnie

  I sent the email and stood up.

  “Are you ready?” I asked the air in general.

  Yes, of course. And no, dear, I did not read over your shoulder in answer to your unspoken question. We have talked of this before, and I am doing my best to respect your privacy.

  “Good,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I grabbed my camera and an apple and walked down to the lake to take pictures. The lake seemed to have multiple personalities. No matter what time of day one came down, it always looked different. Today, a breeze had whipped up the blue-gray water and it was a bit choppy. I admired the myriad colors of the rounded wet pebbles in the shallows of the lake.

  Do you know how to skip stones, Minerva? Ben asked.

  “I’ve never been able to,” I said. I picked up one of the small rocks.

  No, not that one. You must use a less rounded pebble, one with a flat surface.

  I searched and picked up another. “Like this?”

  Yes, now throw it sideways, imagining yourself skimming it along the surface.

  I threw it, and it dived in.

  “And that’s what usually happens,” I said. “Kerplunk!”

  Do it again. Think of cracking a whip sideways. Bend your wrist. Bend your knees. Follow through.

  I tried everything Ben said, and lo and behold, the rock skipped twice before sinking into the water.

  “I did it, Ben!” I exclaimed “I did it!”

  Yes, you did. Nothing to it. Throw harder, and it will skip more.

  “Thank you!”

  I tried a few more, perfecting my style. One or two still sunk, but I thought I had the hang of it.

  “That was great, Ben! Thanks again.”

  It is my pleasure.

  “Let’s head back.” I looked at my watch. “I’m getting hungry. That apple didn’t do it for me.”

  I walked back to the campground, chatting with Ben along the way. As I approached my RV, Steve came rushing up, almost as if he had been waiting for me. But it wasn’t me he was looking for.

  “Have you seen Amanda?” he asked roughly. “I know she was going to stop by to talk to you last night.”

  “No, I haven’t, not today.” Privately, I thought if Amanda weren’t available, she was probably somewhere with Jackson, but I certainly wasn’t about to say so.

  “Do you know where she might have gone? I haven’t seen her this morning at all.” He looked angry, and I began to worry. Maybe she wasn’t with Jackson after all. What if she were the killer’s next victim?

  “Did you call the rangers?”

  “No,” he shook his head quickly. “She’ll tell you that I’m too protective, and they’d think I am overreacting.” He frowned. “Of course, with this murderer on the loose, I’m worried.”

  He didn’t look so much alarmed as irate.

  “I’m sure she’s all right,” I said inanely. A pointless thing to say, but I had recently noticed I often filled the air with meaningless comments.

  “You didn’t happen to see that ranger around, did you?”

  “Which ranger?” I asked, stalling. “Do you mean Ranger Schwin? Well, as a matter of fact, I saw him this morning. He came to take a statement from me.”

  “No, no,” he said irritably. “The other one. Jackson. Amanda used to work for him at Yellowstone. John too.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “She’s been consumed with grief about her husband’s death.” Which did not answer his question at all.

  “I couldn’t believe it when I saw that guy here,” Steve ground out. “I should have known there was a reason she suggested John reapply to work at the park here.”

  I remained silent. He looked harried, searching the woods as if she were going to magically appear.

  He must have had some pull with the wood fairies, because Amanda appeared on the edge of my campsite at just that moment.

  “Where have you been?” he barked. He moved quickly toward her, but I panicked at his display of temper, and I flew to her side, wrapping my arm around her. With a flash of my eyes, I dared him to act out on his anger.

  Oh, Minerva, my dear, please be careful. You cannot take on a full-sized man in the throes of anger, Ben said.

  Watch me, Ben!

  Amanda clutched my waist.

  “You were with Jackson, weren’t you?” Steve said harshly. “Man, that husband of yours isn’t even buried yet, and you’re with that guy.”

  Oh, gosh, the gloves were coming off…and in front of me.

  Amanda said nothing but dug her hand deeper into my waist.

  “Girl! When are you going to learn to stay away from these guys?” Steve said. “What is it with them? The uniforms?”

  If that were Amanda’s affliction, I understood it perfectly.

  “Uncle Steve, calm down,” Amanda said. “My love life really isn’t any of your business. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

  “Love life?” he spat out. “More like disaster zone.”

  “Stop!” Amanda said angrily. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Uncle Steve, everything you still do for me. I really do. But I’m not a girl anymore. Jackson is just a friend, that’s all.”

  Steve threw a glance in my direction but apparently decided to hold nothing back in front of the stranger.

  “That wasn’t the situation two years ago. I’m sure he’s just waiting to pick up where you two left off. No wonder John…” He seemed to bite his tongue.

  “Hit me? Hit me, Uncle Steve?” Amanda cried out. “Is that what you were about to say?”

  “No, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to sympathize with John. If anything, he had it coming.”

  “Oh, nice!” Amanda said with sarcasm. I turned to her, expecting a torrent of tears, but none came. Her expression was hard, cold. “Very nice!” she repeated.

  “Listen, this is family business, Amanda. Why don’t we leave the lady here and discuss this privately?”

  “I’m good,” Amanda said firmly. “At this point, there isn’t much that Minnie doesn’t know.”

  “Like what?” he said with a steely-eyed gaze in my direction. I clung to Amanda myself.

  “Everything,” she said. “Except who killed John.” She turned to me. “Unless you know that, too?”

  They both stared at me with varying degrees of intensity.

  “What? Me?” I shook my head. “Oh, no. I don’t know anything. Really.”

  “I think you have a pretty good idea of what was used to kill him, don’t you?” Amanda said tightly. “My guess is someone used a meat shredder on him. I know Minnie must think so too since she was over at my trailer taking a look at mine.”

  “Oh, no, I was just looking at yours. I really do cook, and I wanted to see one.”

  Lame! Lame! I
thought.

  I suddenly started to worry. Amanda was looking at me a little too intensely. She wasn’t about to haul out her handy dandy shredder and have at me, was she?

  Advice, Ben? Quickly!

  Make haste to enter your RV? he suggested.

  “You have one of those shredders, too, don’t you, Uncle Steve?” Amanda asked. “I saw you using one a couple years ago at a barbecue. Remember? Did you kill him, Uncle Steve? Did you kill John?”

  I turned wide eyes on Steve.

  “What? Me?” he said in a harsh note. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come on. Let’s talk about this privately.”

  “No, Minnie can be my witness…in case you confess.”

  “Amanda! What’s gotten into you?” Steve said.

  “Nothing! Everything! I’m so tired of angry men. I can get angry, too. John knew that!”

  Amanda turned to me. “You asked about my knuckles? Well, I smacked John that night. I wasn’t even cooking that night, so I didn’t use the meat shredder. That’s why I couldn’t find it. You thought I killed John, didn’t you? That’s why you were looking for it.”

  Minnie dearest, please leave at once. This is escalating beyond what is safe for you.

  I don’t have the answer yet, Ben. Just a few more minutes.

  “I’ll admit, I was,” I said.

  “Well, like I said. Uncle Steve has one!”

  I threw Steve a look. His face was livid, and he looked crushed.

  “Are you trying to convince her that I killed John, Amanda? She doesn’t matter. She’s not the police.”

  “No, she’s not, is she?” Amanda said.

  “What’s all the commotion here?” Jackson said as he stepped into the campsite, his hand poised over the gun at his hip.

  Oh, boy! I said silently.

  Help has arrived, Ben said.

  “None of your business,” Steve snarled.

  “It is his business, Uncle Steve, if I say it is,” Amanda said. She moved to stand beside Jackson, and I felt bereft. If she was the killer, at least I had hold of her. If she wasn’t, then John’s killer could now be staring at me and Jackson with baleful eyes.

  “I can’t believe you’re trying to pin this on me, Amanda,” Steve said in an almost mournful tone. “You’ve known me for years. I’m all bark. I don’t bite.”

  Amanda, a tear rolling down her face, spoke.

  “Well, it wasn’t me, Uncle Steve. It sure wasn’t Minnie. I doubt old Rick Cannon could have killed John. Who does that leave?”

  “Jackson actually,” I said. “Though it is possible that Rick Cannon could have killed him. He has the same tool that both of you do. And he’s pretty angry.”

  I was watching Jackson’s face. Gone was the charming wide smile. In its place was an expression of shock—shock at Amanda’s words. He looked almost bewildered.

  “Jackson!” Amanda repeated with a wide-eyed glance in my direction. “Don’t be silly,” she directed to me. “Jackson couldn’t hurt a fly. He wouldn’t have killed John. I could have gotten a divorce. Why would he have killed John?”

  Jackson turned toward Amanda. “But you told me two years ago you wouldn’t divorce him.”

  Amanda shook her head. “He changed. I didn’t want to live with him anymore. And I missed you.”

  “But you told me you wouldn’t divorce him,” Jackson muttered again.

  Jackson’s look of confusion evolved into one of anger. His eyes glittered. My heart sank. I had a feeling I knew what had happened to John…and why. Amanda reached for his hand, but he pulled it from her and reached for his weapon.

  “Whoa!” Steve cried out.

  Do not move, Minerva, Ben said. It is too late. Any sudden movement, and he may shoot you.

  Jackson held his handgun high, pointing it alternatively at one of the three of us. I didn’t think he would shoot Amanda, but Steve and I were definitely in jeopardy.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda screeched.

  “Quiet!” Jackson said, pointing his pistol at her. “Quiet!”

  “What are you doing, Jackson?” she cried out again. “Don’t do this!”

  “It’s too late, Amanda. You said you wouldn’t divorce him.” It was as if Jackson couldn’t stop staying the same thing over and over.

  “But I would have,” she said softly. “I would have. Please don’t tell me that you…”

  Jackson nodded, his expression now bitter.

  “Yes. I did it. For you, for Marsha. I did it. When I saw him again, with you, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “How did you do it?” I couldn’t help asking though my instincts told me not to antagonize the man holding a gun on me.

  “You did pretty well in figuring out what the weapon was, Minnie. That’s for sure. I overheard your conversation from the other side of the RV just now.” His charming wide grin was gone. “I used a meat shredder. I have one of my own…or I did before I dumped it into the lake. I didn’t know how common they were. I should have pinned the blame on ole Uncle Steve here since now I know he had one too.”

  Steve shot daggers at him with his eyes. I trembled. How were we going to get out of this?

  “I just had to wait for the right time, and when I saw John heading for the showers, I knew that was the right time,” Jackson said.

  Amanda backed away from him, and he trained his gun on all of us, moving it back and forth.

  “I’m not sure how I’m going to explain three deaths,” he said. “I don’t really want to shoot any of you.” He bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile. “Well, maybe you, Steve.”

  Amanda gasped at his words.

  My eyes were so focused on the end of the pistol that at first I didn’t see Rick Cannon rush Jackson from behind and tackle him. Jackson, taken by surprise, fired a round in the air that missed everyone. I threw myself to the ground, as did Amanda and Steve.

  Jason Schwin ran onto the scene from behind my RV. He saw Jackson struggling with Rick, and he went for Rick.

  “No!” I screamed. “It’s Jackson! Not Rick.”

  Jason threw me a startled look, and let go of Rick. As Jackson was trying to rise, Jason put a knee in Jackson’s back pushing him to the ground. He pulled out his pistol and held it on Jackson, who stopped struggling.

  Amanda grabbed her uncle and started crying.

  I rose to my feet and stood uncertainly. Why I stood up was beyond me because my knees just about gave way.

  Rick pushed himself to his feet gingerly as if he had hurt himself in the tackle. For an older, slender man, he had certainly taken Jackson down decisively.

  Rick stood over Jackson as Jason spoke into his radio calling for backup.

  “Why?” Rick asked “Why would you kill him? Nothing is that important. Nothing was worth ruining your life.”

  Rick’s words were hard to hear over Amanda’s sobbing.

  Jason handcuffed Jackson and pulled him to his feet.

  “I don’t know,” Jackson said. “I wanted to be with Amanda, and I thought she wouldn’t divorce him. I’ve never forgiven him for Marsha. Never will. There was every reason to kill him, and none to let him live.”

  “Oh, Jackson,” Rick said with a heavy sigh. He sank down on the picnic bench as if his own legs couldn’t hold him. “You don’t have Amanda now, and Marsha is still dead. What have you done?”

  Chapter Eight

  I peeked out of my RV door the next morning, not sure of what to expect. Murder? Mayhem? Dead bodies? A gun to my face?

  But none of those presented themselves. Today was a new day. A light mist settled on the campground, and I suspected it would burn itself off.

  I took my cup of coffee and moseyed out to the picnic bench to warm myself under the rays of sunshine that were breaking through the thick canopy of trees.

  I lifted my face to the sun.

  “I’m trying very hard not to think about Jackson, Ben,” I said. “I’m just trying to be present to Glacier National Park and all her glory.”

&
nbsp; Yes, my dear. That is an excellent plan. Put this affair behind you.

  “I can’t help feeling sorry for Jackson. I mean…maybe not. Or maybe I do. I don’t know.”

  Could it be that you find it hard to accept the handsome and dashing Ranger Jackson was a murderer? That a charming smile can hold such malice?

  “Yes, I do find it hard to accept. He was actually likable. Well, at least before he held a gun on me. I don’t think he would have shot Amanda or me.”

  Perhaps not, Ben said, but I for one am pleased that we will never know.

  “I guess it didn’t matter that so many people were from Michigan,” I mused. “That was just a distraction. For some reason, I thought it was important. But I guess not, huh?”

  It would seem to be mere coincidence.

  Footsteps from behind startled me, and I jumped.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jason Schwin said. He looked drawn and tired as if he hadn’t slept. I suspected that he hadn’t. It wasn’t often that one had to arrest a colleague for murder.

  “You’ll never guess what I need from you,” he said with a half smile. He looked almost too tired to be shy.

  “A statement?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yup, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  He sat down at the table.

  “Do you want some coffee?” I asked. “You look beat.”

  “I’d love some,” he said. “And yes, I’m tired. Very tired.”

  I returned to the RV and brought him a cup of coffee.

  “I’m sorry about Jackson,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate that. Most people will vilify him and maybe they should. Pretty violent way to kill a guy, but he was trying to fool us into thinking it was a bear attack. Pretty dumb idea if you ask me. He might as well have shot John.”

  I looked at him with surprise.

  He shook his head in shame.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Of course not. I just can’t wrap my head around Jackson killing anyone.”

  “For love?” I asked.

  “That’s not love,” Jason said with a vehement shake of his head.

  My sentiments exactly, Ben said. That is not love, but obsession.