Craig scratched his head. “Let me help you look. What does it look like?”
“Umm,” I said.
“Wasn’t it the one with the silver band and the blue stone?” Charlie asked me.
“Umm,” I said again.
“Yeah, it was. The stone is a light blue,” said Greer.
We all started pretending to look for a ring. While we were doing that, Deacon snuck around with a folder filled with papers under his shirt. He kept an eye on Craig, but the man never noticed that Deacon was there. Instead, he searched diligently for my imaginary ring.
We waited about ten minutes before giving up. I desperately wanted to get to Deacon to see the papers, so at last I sighed, tried to contort my face into sadness, and said mournfully, “We might as well stop. If we haven’t found it by now, I must have lost it somewhere else.”
“People lose all kinds of stuff here,” said Craig. “You’d be surprised what turns up. I’ll be sure to let the staff know to keep an eye out.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” I said.
“For sure. Shall we go eat breakfast?” he asked, looking around at the group.
“Right after I wash the dirt off of my hands,” sighed Hansen.
“You can use the washrooms in the Lodge,” said Craig. “Breakfast is all ready, you don’t want it to get cold.”
Since he didn’t seem to want to leave us any choice, we agreed and headed inside. Then we immediately split up to go to the bathrooms. But Craig went with Deacon, so we still couldn’t look at the papers.
If we hadn’t been in civilized company I would have screamed.
“What do you think those papers are?” Charlie asked when we were alone in the women’s wash room.
“I don’t know, but I’m starting to think they’re the key to this whole thing,” I said.
Charlie and Greer nodded.
“We have to get Deacon to show us the papers before everyone leaves after breakfast,” said Greer.
“It’s likely that whoever did it was here last summer, so it probably doesn’t matter if breakfast ends and the guests leave,” Charlie pointed out.
“It would be a nice gesture for Delia and Damon, though,” I said. “Besides, if there’s a chance that the murderer is here now too, and the papers implicate that person, that’s something we have to know,” I said.
“True,” Greer said, biting her lip.
Just then we heard voices through the door.
“That’s definitely Detective Smith,” Charlie confirmed.
“He’s looking for his brother!” I gasped. We might just get lucky.
The next instant we heard the men’s room door open and then Craig’s voice.
“They’re going back into the breakfast room! Now’s our chance,” said Charlie gleefully. Before we could even leave the room, the door swung open on Deacon and Hansen.
“What’s in the papers?” I asked desperately.
“We haven’t opened them,” said Hansen.
Deacon handed them to me and I set them on the counter next to the sink.
“Do it!” Charlie urged.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” I said, unfurling the documents.
For a few minutes, we were quiet. Everyone else peered over my shoulder to see exactly what this epic secret was.
As I skimmed the papers along with everyone else, I felt my wand brush against my skin and was comforted. Though I didn’t think this was a time for magic, you could never be sure. In my first few cases, both the killer and the victim had ended up dead. I didn’t think that had happened in this case, mostly because there was only one ghost. But we still hadn’t worked this one out, so I was reserving judgment.
“It’s real estate documents. Cushman was trying to sell,” said Hansen with surprise.
“We haven’t heard anything about that. There’s no for sale sign out front,” said Charlie.
“No, the sale didn’t go through,” said Hansen, bending closer. “Looks like it didn’t go through because Burke was telling would-be buyers that the guy next door was unpleasant.”
“So Cushman killed him?” I whispered.
Just then the door scraped open to reveal Cushman, gazing at us with cold eyes.
And holding a gun.
“I think that’s enough speculating, don’t you?” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Looking entirely calm, Cushman was dressed in a plaid shirt and an old pair of jeans. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and he was carrying a coil of rope over his shoulder.
All five of us stared at him. Deacon shifted subtly to put more of his body in front of Greer, but Cushman raised the gun and said, “Don’t move.”
Deacon stopped. I couldn’t quite see Charlie, but I could feel her next to me, trembling.
“I’ve spent the past year searching for those documents. Imagine my surprise when I looked out the window and saw you lot digging under my trees. At first I thought you were looking for something one of you had lost, then I realized that you were searching for what had been stolen from me. How you got the inside information I’ll never know, but I’m so glad you went to the trouble of digging it up and bringing it to me. Quite the amateur detectives.” He smiled for the first time.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to tie you up now,” he said. “And I’ll take those papers.”
He proceeded to make Charlie tie all of us up with the rope he’d brought. He checked the knots to confirm that they were secure, then he tied Charlie up too.
“Yell all you want. There’s music playing in the dining room now, so they aren’t going to hear you,” he said. With a smile he turned on his heel and disappeared.
We looked at each other in dismay and struggled against our bonds, but none of us could get free.
Having prepared for just this sort of eventuality, I let my wand slip into my palm, first glancing at the guys to make sure they weren’t paying attention. They couldn’t see my hands behind my back, but they would surely think it was fishy if they noticed me squirming in an odd way. So far so good; they were both still trying mightily to figure out a way to get free themselves.
As tightly bound as I was, I had barely enough freedom to wave my fingers. But it was enough.
The ropes binding my wrists sprang free. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a slight green glow fading from them. Before I let my arms loosen, I was careful to stick my wand back up my sleeve.
“I got loose!” I cried, springing up.
Everyone looked at me in surprise, Charlie and Greer in less surprise than Hansen and Deacon.
I raced to untie all of them.
In a matter of moments we were free.
“We have to go after him!” I said.
We all made for the bathroom door at once, running into each other and getting nowhere. We backed off and tried again, taking turns, but by the time we got through the door, the hall was empty.
“I don’t think we should split up,” said Deacon.
Driven by the urgency of the situation, I ignored him and darted for the front door.
“Find Detective Smith!” Greer yelled over her shoulder. At first I didn’t know who she was talking to, but then I heard her and Charlie right behind me. Deacon wasn’t going to like being ordered to let us go off on our own, but I hoped he and Hansen would do what Greer told them to anyhow.
We raced outside. I was trying to guess where Cushman might have gone, telling myself that the guys could just as easily find him still inside.
For a split second we stood there, unmoving. Birds chirped and a cool wind blew.
Then, as if controlled by one mind, the three of us ran for the woods. I saw a figure streaking through gaps in the trees and went in hot pursuit. I just hoped we’d catch the campground killer in time.
Running over dried leaves and old branches made stealth nearly impossible. We ran for a few minutes, but at no point were we close to catching Cushman.
“Did you ever think that
chasing a man with a gun might be a bad idea?” Charlie panted.
“Can’t say I ever thought about anything of the kind until today. As of when it occurred to me five minutes ago, yes, I think it’s a bad idea,” said Greer.
“So we’re going to keep going?” Charlie said.
“Of course,” I said.
Cushman knew these woods intimately, every dip in the path, every tree. He knew shortcuts and turns. He expertly avoided bushes and brambles that slowed us down. I had no idea where he was going. The only thing that was clear was that if we let him out of our sight now, he’d be lost to us for good. By the time someone found him again, if someone found him again, those real estate documents would be long gone. I flinched, imagining a puff of smoke as he threw them onto a fire.
Greer reached out her arm. “Stop!”
“What? Why?” Charlie skidded to a halt.
“He’s leading us in circles. See that overhanging branch? This is the third time we’ve passed it. Lemmi, you’re going to have to use your magic in a minute,” she said.
We looked at the branch. Now that she mentioned it, it did look familiar.
I felt foolish. Without Greer pointing it out, I would probably have run past it another three times without a clue.
“What do we do?” I asked, staring at the last spot where I’d last seen Cushman.
We could still hear crashing and crunching through the woods, but the noise was slowly fading. He was getting away, and we were letting him.
“You’re going to have to perform a spell,” said Greer. “He’s going somewhere, and it can’t be too far away or he would have headed there already instead of going in circles. We’ll catch up with him again soon.”
Despite our errand, the forest was quiet and beautiful. Unfortunately, we weren’t out there for a casual walk.
Charlie’s breathing returned to normal as we waited. The last sounds of Cushman getting away disappeared. He was well and truly gone now.
“All right, now,” said Greer.
I pulled my wand out of my sleeve.
“That was a good bit of hand trickery in the bathroom,” said Charlie approvingly.
“Thank you,” I grinned.
Now I concentrated. The spell I needed to perform shouldn’t prove too difficult. In fact, it should be a lot like the spell I sometimes performed to see what had recently taken place in a given location. Like the site of a murder.
I waved the wand and a trail of green sparks formed where the wand moved through the air. The green sparks grew and gathered, then sped off to follow Cushman.
“Excellent,” said Charlie.
“Very handy,” said Greer. “This way! Let’s catch a murderer.”
The forest was a bit darker than it had been earlier because the sun had gone under a cloud. Between that and the thick forest cover, it had suddenly gotten easier to see some of the local ghosts disappearing in surprise at the magic flowing through their territory.
There was a chance I even saw a beaver scurrying back underneath some dirt.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Charlie asked. We had been moving again for a few minutes without finding our quarry. She glanced over her shoulder in concern, but I hastened to reassure her.
“Yes, we are,” I said.
We weren’t running anymore, we were just walking as fast as the terrain would allow. Hiking boots would have helped, but we weren’t wearing them. Charlie was only wearing ballet flats that had no padding or traction whatsoever. At least Greer and I were in sneakers. But Charlie was keeping up just fine, carried by her determination.
“Any idea what we’re going to do when we get there?” I asked Greer. She’d had all the good ideas recently, so I figured I might as well check.
“Nope. We should probably wait for Detective Smith to get there, actually. Cushman does have a gun, and you can’t use magic on that unless you can keep him from seeing you try,” she said.
“I’m just not sure how Detective Smith is going to find us,” I worried. We were far out into the middle of the woods, so how was that supposed to work?
But just then the green sparks we’d been following suddenly slowed, so we lessened our pace to match.
“We must be getting close,” Charlie whispered.
“I smell smoke,” said Greer, her eyes narrowing.
Then I too caught a whiff of smoke. What on earth was burning? Could Cushman have a cabin out here in the woods where he had a woodstove? That seemed highly unlikely.
“I think it’s a campfire,” Charlie said softly, pointing through the trees.
Sure enough, we hadn’t lost Cushman’s trail. The magic had kept track for us. We were now just steps away from what looked like a hidden campsite.
We moved closer as quietly as we could, and crouched down. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I quickly turned around to confirm that no one had snuck up behind us.
There was no sign of Cushman, either ahead of us or behind.
Through the trees we could see a fire crackling merrily, and a tent, and several other pieces of camping equipment.
“He planned to come here. This fire didn’t just start two minutes ago. He set up this spot to help him in his getaway,” whispered Greer.
She was clearly right. Cushman had had no intention of going back to the campground or the Lodge. Maybe he had known we were looking for the documents or maybe not. More likely the discovery of Burke’s body after all this time had prompted him to run.
I couldn’t be sure, but Detective Smith must have been suspicious that none of the employees ever looked inside that one cabin at the end of the row. The notion that the small building had been condemned, or that there wasn’t money to fix it, had made no sense from the start; there had to have been something else going on. Like: one of them knew where Burke’s body was and didn’t dare try to move it.
I couldn’t help but think that Cushman’s not wanting to move the body again had been his real mistake. If he had brought it out into the woods, no one ever would have found it, at least not for years. Then again, if Norris happened upon it, who knew what he might have done?
“Why do you think he has a fire going?” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked. “It’s cold.”
“It’s not that cold,” Greer pointed out. She shook her head. “You know, I’m not sure either. Maybe. . .”
“He’s going to burn the papers, just as I feared,” I whispered, suddenly frantic. “If he does that we’ll have no evidence against him. That’s why he took them.”
“How did he know he’d have papers to burn? Isn’t the fire acting as a signal for anyone looking for him?” Charlie said.
“Not yet. By the time it does, the papers will be ashes and he’ll be on his way,” I said.
My head swiveled around again. There wasn’t any sign of him yet, but it was only a matter of time. The magic had stopped here, and that meant he wasn’t far away. I didn’t think the spell could get confused and just stop at a person’s campsite. At least, I hoped not; this magic thing could be awfully complicated sometimes, and I was still little more than a beginner. As if it heard my thoughts, my wand vibrated against my forearm as if it was laughing at me.
Now’s not the time, I thought.
The next instant Cushman emerged from the tent, the papers loose in his hands, and walked straight for the fire. We were way too far away to keep him from throwing them in.
I thought about performing a spell to protect the papers, but he was moving too fast, so that really wasn’t an option. My heart sank. He was going to get away with the Murder at the Lake Campground.
Just then something brushed past me.
It was Detective Smith, streaking toward us through the woods, running full tilt at Cushman. All I could think was that Smith must have played a sport in his youth. He was very fast and brutally efficient.
The murderer’s eyes went wide. He threw care to the winds and tried to dump the entire
stack of papers in the fire at once, even though there was enough of a breeze to make that a chancy proposition. He knew the jig was up, and the papers were the only evidence against him. If he did manage to destroy them, all he’d be charged with was holding up the five of us in the Lodge bathroom.
If we could prove it.
Cushman threw the papers into the fire.
Detective Smith made a diving catch.
He wasn’t going for the culprit, he was going for the papers.
He grabbed them and rolled.
Cushman’s eyes went wide and he started to run.
And ran smack into a wall composed of Deacon, Hansen, and Craig Smith.
Knowing that he was out of options, he turned around and held up his hands.
Leaves swept around us and a breeze blew as the air warmed just a little. The sun had peeked through the clouds for just a moment.
The jig was up.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They’d been able to find us only because Craig Smith knew where Cushman’s favorite campsite was, and he led his brother and the others straight there. Even though Cushman had taken us on a wild goose chase, Craig was impressed with our ability to keep track of him in the woods. Plus, the time Cushman wasted trying to tire us out had allowed the others to catch up just in time.
As he was led away, Cushman kept yelling that there was no way we could have tracked him like that, that we must have done it by magic. Detective Smith ignored him.
The detective was stern with Charlie once he had a minute to attend to her. Given his last experience with the pushy reporter, he was far less surprised this time that she’d cracked the case, and more resigned and philosophical about the whole thing. He even seemed to think there was a chance it would happen a third time.
“I like that he only blames Charlie. My editor wouldn’t be pleased if I kept having to say the police were investigating me,” said Hansen with a grin as Charlie made her way over to say goodbye to the detective for now.
Cushman was sitting in the back of a police car. He had stopped yelling when he realized we couldn’t hear him through the glass anyhow. He had admitted to everything, so much so that the detective had told him to calm down and wait for a lawyer. Now that Detective Smith had the incriminating real estate documents safely tucked under his arm, he wasn’t worried about a conviction.
Witch of Mintwood Mysteries 7-9 Page 55