Murder Hits the Road

by K. J. Emrick

  Cream was lying snug in her lap. She stroked his fur, head to tail, and he sighed with contentment. She would never leave him somewhere and make him find his way back to her. If he ever needed to, however, she knew for certain he could manage it. Cream was smart and brave. She liked to think she’d been a good influence on him. The truth was, he’d had just as big of an influence on her.

  The American Heritage museum came and went by on their left. They were almost there.

  “It’s going to be dark by the time we get back to the others,” Jerry mentioned. “We might want to just keep driving and meet up with them tomorrow. Depending on what we find here, of course.”

  Cookie stretched. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. “Maybe we can find a nice WalMart parking lot to sit in overnight, so we can sleep rather than pay for another night somewhere. I’ll take over driving whenever you want me to, but I can’t guarantee how long I’ll last. I’m sure you wouldn’t like me to drive us into a ditch.”

  “Yeah, definitely not,” he agreed. “All right. Parking lot it is, then. We’ll go as far as we can and park and then in the morning we can start out again. Wow, I’m really sorry, Cookie. Some honeymoon this turned out to be.”

  She reached out to put a hand on his knee, careful not to wake Cream. “We’re together, Jerry. That’s what matters. You promised me an exciting trip to see Titan’s Gorge. You know as well as I do that for us, exciting usually involves a good mystery to solve.”

  He snorted. “That’s for sure. My life got infinitely more exciting when I met you, Cookie Stansted.”

  “Likewise, Jerry Stansted.”

  When the Whispering Maples Caravan and RV park came into view again Jerry slowed down for the turn, and both of them sat forward in their seats. Cookie was anxious to find Selk and have him explain what had happened to Boxer. Considering how busy the RV park looked he could be anywhere. There were a number of motorhomes parked in place around the cul-de-sac, different ones than they were used to seeing in their group. More people on vacation, on adventures of their own, heading in different directions on their own currents. None of them seemed the least bit interested in what Cookie and Jerry were doing here.

  They pulled up alongside the office. “I’ll go inside,” Jerry offered. “If you want to stay here so Cream can finish his nap?”

  “No, I’m coming with you,” Cookie told him. “Just let me put this one down.”

  She went down to the bed and laid Cream down on top of the comforter. Before leaving she made sure there was food in his dish and fresh water, too. They shouldn’t be too long, but on this trip, nothing was for certain.

  Selk actually met them at the door to their motorhome. In his hand he was carrying a black garbage bag and judging by the heft of it, this was what he was using as little Boxer’s final resting place.

  “Give me that,” Cookie snapped at him. His eyes got bigger in his wide face as she snatched the bag away. “This is not how you treat someone’s loved one.”

  “Geez, lady,” he said to her. “It’s just a dog. You’re lucky I put him in the bag instead of rolling him in newspapers.”

  Oh, she really really wanted to slap him.

  “Abraham,” Jerry said before Cookie could act on the growing impulse to knock sense into this man. “Where did you find Boxer? Was he alive when he got here?”

  The question drew a blank stare from Selk. “I don’t follow. The dog was dead, and I bagged him up for you. Now you’ve got him back. You’re welcome. Now, unless you want to stay another night, I’ve got to ask you to move your RV for the paying customers.”

  Jerry took out the badge case from his back pocket. Before coming out to meet Selk he’d taken it out of his drawer, just in case. He opened it to show his identification and his badge and gave Selk a moment to process what that meant. “Okay. Let’s try this again. Today, when you noticed Boxer was back here, was he still alive or was he already dead when you found him?”

  “Today?” Selk repeated. “What are you talking about?”

  Cookie fumed, wondering which of those words he was having trouble with.

  Jerry tried to explain. “Boxer was with his owner at our next stop. Something… bad happened there last night. It spooked him, and he ran away. He came back here sometime during the night. So. When you saw he was back today, was he alive, or not?”

  Selk was shaking his head. “You don’t understand. This dog didn’t come back today. He never left here. He’s been here the whole time.”

  Cookie traded a look with Jerry. “You’re mistaken,” she told Selk. “You must be.”

  Selk sniffed at that suggestion, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m really not. He’s been here, this whole time.”

  “But how is that possible?”

  “It’s not hard,” Selk shrugged. “The dog didn’t come back today, because he was never gone. I found him as soon as you guys left yesterday. His owners took off, you took off, everyone in your group took off. I have to check all the parking spots to make sure the hookups aren’t damaged and all that. I found the dog while I was doing that. Somebody tried to hide it under a pile of leaves under one of the picnic tables. Not much of a hiding spot. I’m very particular about my job. I keep this place spotless. So, of course I found a dead dog.”

  Ignoring his tactless attitude, Cookie tried to reason it through. Selk found Boxer yesterday, which meant Stacia had misplaced him yesterday. Well, things like that happened, she supposed. It was the sign of a bad owner, but dogs had been forgotten and left behind on trips before.

  With everything that had happened, Stacia probably hadn’t had time to realize Boxer was missing.

  That didn’t explain everything, though.

  “So, then tell us this, Mister Selk,” she said to him. “How did he die?”

  “The dog? Beats me,” the man said with a callous smirk. “Like I said, he was dead when I found him. Looks to me like somebody beat him to death.”

  Cookie felt like she was going to throw up. She didn’t even dare open the bag to look. She didn’t want to know what she would find.

  “Humphrey Middlestead,” Jerry said, anger in his voice. “He must have done this, too. How could he hate Stacia and Ernesto that much? First he kills their dog, and then he tracks them down at our next rest stop and kills Ernesto, too?”

  “Wait,” Selk said, suddenly interested in what they were saying. “That old guy killed someone? Seriously? Wow, that’s deep.”

  Above them, a cloud passed over the sun, and the world seemed like a very dark place, indeed.

  CHAPTER 6

  “We’ll bury him,” Jerry promised Cookie. “Just like you wanted to do.”

  She carefully put the bag with Boxer’s poor body into the twenty-gallon Rubbermaid storage tote that had been previously keeping their spare clothes safe and dry under its snap-tight lid. Now, they had taken the clothes out, so it could serve as a makeshift casket for Stacia’s four-footed friend.

  Cookie made the sign of the cross over herself. “Thank you,” she said to Jerry. “It’s just so sad. Don’t you think?”

  “I agree.” He closed the lid on the tote and set it beside their motorhome. For a moment, they stood together out in the sunshine of what should have been a bright, happy day. “We’ve investigated a lot of mysteries together—”

  “Yes, but you’ve done even more on your own. You’re a cop, after all.”

  “True, but still… This one just isn’t sitting right with me. I think we need to go back and tell Stacia what happened here. I know her mind’s been distracted, what with being attacked and with her husband dying, but I’m sure knowing what happened to Boxer will ease her mind. Even if it is bad news.”

  Cookie nodded, but she looked around them at the semi-circle of parked RVs, thinking back to when their whole group had been here only yesterday. They had been so happy, just enjoying life, and looking forward to the rest of their trip. Now here was a different group of people, some of them maybe travelling
together, others separately, maybe even some of them coming to Titan’s Gorge like they were. What troubles would befall these people, she wondered? Certainly nothing as bad as what had happened to Stacia.

  Among the RVs were a few cars, some of them attached by trailer hitch, others tucked in close to the motorhomes. People walked about getting things ready for their day, folding up chairs, putting away totes, getting pets and kids into the vehicles. That sort of thing. The sort of stuff you did when you were on a trip like this and it was time to move on to the next spot. It was the same sort of thing that Cookie did whenever she and Jerry were going to go on to someplace new. Pick up your things, pack up Cream, buckle into her seat and ride.

  The same thing each time.

  Just like Stacia and Ernesto would have done yesterday morning.

  So then why…

  “Hey, Jerry?” she said, turning back to him as she thought this through. “How is it possible…”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. One of the cars was pulling out from its spot between two RVs. It wasn’t easing out, like a car should in an area this congested, with people and pets everywhere. It revved its engine and it spun its tires on the pavement and then it was shooting down the cul-de-sac.

  Directly at her and Jerry.

  Cookie barely had time to realize the danger she was in from the small purple hatchback. Jerry reacted faster than she did. Taking her by her arms he ran with her down the length of their motorhome and around the back. He held her there, wrapping his body around hers, while they waited for the car to go zipping past. The exit for Whispering Maples onto the main road was just past where they had parked, and Cookie expected the car to race out there and drive away.

  Instead they heard it squealing to a stop. They heard doors open. They heard doors close.

  Jerry looked confused. He started to poke his head out past the corner of their RV.

  Then the purple car was speeding past and Jerry ducked back again and held Cookie close. Tires barked as the car made a hard turn onto the road and accelerated away until it was almost out of sight.

  “Are you all right?” Jerry was asking her, again and again.

  Cookie didn’t answer him. Instead she pushed away and came around the side of the RV. She had a bad feeling about what they were going to find. With a gasp, she realized she was right.

  The tote with Boxer’s body in it was gone. The people in the purple car had stolen it.

  But… why?

  “Oh, my Lord! Are you guys all right?”

  It was Abraham Selk, and for a wonder the look on his face was one of honest concern. Whether he was frantic because he was responsible for anything that happened here, which would include customers run down by fast moving purple cars, or whether he actually had a sliver of human concern buried deep within him, Cookie didn’t know.

  “Who was that?” Jerry asked him. “Who owns that car?”

  “Well, I’m not sure,” Selk answered, his brow creasing with thought. “I don’t usually pay attention to what people have for cars. Just RVs, and whether their money’s good. But, hey, you’re the police officer. Go after them!”

  Jerry looked at him like he was crazy. “You expect me to chase that car? In what, my motorhome?”

  With a smile, Selk dug in his pocket and came out with a set of car keys. Cookie didn’t know the man could smile.

  “You can probably still catch them,” he said. “With these.”

  He tossed them to Jerry, and then pointed over to the office building.

  Cookie thought she understood. “You’re going to let us borrow your car?”

  Selk actually winked at her. “I don’t like most people. I don’t like pets, either. But I pride myself on keeping a good working relationship with the cops. You never know when that might come in handy.”

  Together, she and Jerry ran around the back of the office. When Jerry saw what was parked there, his eyes lit up. Cookie could almost hear him drooling.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  The vintage 1970s era Mustang convertible was dark green. It had the classic molded sides and the long, sloping front end. The vinyl seats inside didn’t have a tear in them anywhere. Cookie suspected all of the interior was original. It smelled of car wax and motor oil, and when they started it up the engine practically roared.

  “Top speed of a hundred and thirty,” Jerry said as he put the car into drive and pulled her out onto the driveway of the RV park. “Zero to sixty in under seven seconds,” he added as he spun around onto the road and Cookie held on for dear life. “Twelve miles to the gallon because it drinks gasoline like soda pop.”

  He shifted gears and pressed the accelerator down. Abraham Selk was just a little dot in the distance.

  “Yeah,” he breathed, his expression full of childish delight. “This will do nicely.”

  Beside him, Cookie cinched her seatbelt tighter. It was just the lap belt, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in any vehicle without a shoulder strap. It just didn’t feel that safe to her. “I’m afraid to ask how you know all of those facts about the Ford Mustang.”

  “I wasn’t always a police officer,” he told her, shifting down again. “Once upon a time I was a little kid who dreamed about fast cars. There isn’t much out there that’s faster than this. And, hey. It’s American made.”

  He passed a car, doing well over the speed limit to pull back in at the end of the passing zone. When he was back in his lane, he didn’t slow down.

  He was smiling the whole time.

  Cookie was not.

  “Jerry, if you can come down from this boyhood fantasy of yours for a minute?” she asked him. “I think I remember that car. The purple one. It was following Stacia’s motor home when they passed us at the American Heritage museum. They’re involved in this somehow.”

  “Then let’s catch them and ask nicely. There they are.”

  The purple hatchback was up ahead, and they were getting closer fast. Jerry checked his mirrors, checked his blind spot, and then moved over to the inside lane, skirting the double yellow line.

  “Uh, Jerry?” Cookie asked, holding so tightly to the handle strap above the door now that her knuckles were white. “What’s the plan here?”

  “Just hold on.”

  “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “Sure it is. Watch this.”

  “Jerry!”

  He gunned the engine once more, driving into the opposite lane and up alongside the hatchback. Cookie frantically checked ahead of them for oncoming traffic and at the same time kept an eye on how close they were to this other car. She braced herself with both feet against the floorboards because she wasn’t exactly sure what Jerry was going to do next.

  Yes, she trusted him… but she’d never seen this side of him before, this need for speed inner child of his.

  With a sharp movement Jerry twisted the wheel to the right.

  Cookie closed her eyes tight as their Mustang slid in a circle in front of the hatchback. She heard the squealing of the other car’s brakes and then there was a rushing sound in her brain that drowned it out because she just knew that they were going to collide with each other and this was going to be how she died right here, and right now.

  Several long moments passed, when all she could hear was that rushing white noise.

  When she opened her eyes again, the purple hatchback had careened to a stop with its bumper just inches away from Jerry’s side of the car. He’d spun them around crossways in the road and turned the mustang into a makeshift roadblock.

  It must have been exciting to see. Cookie was just as glad she had her eyes closed through the whole thing.

  She said a silent prayer of thanks that they had chosen to stop before slamming into the driver’s door of the Mustang. She wasn’t sure how safe cars from the 70’s were, but she could only imagine that the sheet metal of that door wouldn’t have been enough to keep Jerry from going to the hospital, or the grave. H
er too, maybe.

  “Gee,” she said to him, her voice shaking. “Thanks for turning the car so they would hit you first. You’re a true gentleman.”

  “For you, I am,” he said. “For bad guys… not so much.”

  He rolled his window down, using the manual handcrank like all cars used to have before electric windows. The other car was close enough that they could see the expressions on the faces of the two people inside. A man and a woman, both of them young, both of them white as sheets at what had just happened. However they were involved in this, they hadn’t been expecting Jerry Stansted to get in their way.

  When the window was down, he showed them his badge. The cars were too close together for him to open his door, but that wasn’t going to keep him from using his voice.

  “You two, get out of that car, right now. Show me your hands and stay by your car. If either of you tries to run I will shoot you. Understand? Good. Then do it. Right now!”

  Cookie lowered her voice so that just Jerry would hear her. “You aren’t carrying a gun,” she reminded him. “You didn’t want to bring it on vacation with us.”

  “I know that,” he whispered back, barely moving his lips. “But they don’t know it.”

  The people in the car opened their doors slowly, putting their hands up in the air as they got out, just like Jerry had told them to. Cookie smiled to herself. His ruse had worked. They had stopped these two, and now they would be able to question them and find out how they were connected to the death of Boxer the Jack Russel terrier, and Ernesto’s murder.

  As she was getting out of the Mustang she heard sirens coming down the road. Well, well, well. What do you know? Who said there was never a police officer around when you needed one. If the local cops could bring these two into their station, it would make the interviews much easier. Things were finally looking up. Something was going right for them for a change.

  The couple at their purple hatchback looked at each other, and then looked up the road at the approaching police cars. They were caught, and they knew it.

  Jerry slid across to get out Cookie’s side. There was a smile on his face. He loved it when a plan came together. He was like the leader of that team on the old television show. Cookie couldn’t remember the name. George Peppard had played the part and now that she thought about it there was actually a passing resemblance between Jerry and Peppard. Or maybe it was just in the way she looked at him.