Misalignment and Murder

by Cathy Tully

  Camp-O-Ween

  Susannah shifted on the air mattress and stared up at the inside of the tent while Bitsy snored softly beside her. Jamal and Caden had enjoyed their weekend so much that she had heard them chattering excitedly about the next camp-out. Maggie Hibbard’s sons were in their group, but Maggie kept to herself, except for when she was nagging Travis. A long day hiking trails, and an evening making s’mores over a campfire, had led to Jamal and Caden collapsing in an exhausted heap inside their tent. Even Noah, one of the older boys whose tent was close by, was in early and asleep fast.

  Grateful that Caden hadn’t asked about Angie, Susannah could hardly believe two days had passed since Angie had been arrested. Susannah replayed every second of the arrest in her mind multiple times per day. Randy, crewcut and steely-eyed, the blue lights on his light-bar flashing. Detective Withers, awful eyes with their serpentine squint bearing down on her sister. Angie’s tears as she looked to Susannah for help. But it was too late. Angie’s gun had been found at the crime scene, they claimed. That was that. Later, Susannah had found the Glock case underneath the seat in Angie’s car, and her heart leapt. Maybe there’s been a mistake!

  But it was empty.

  Angie had taken the wrong case, an empty case, out of Gus’s house. What did that mean? Was Angie lying? Or had someone stolen her gun from Gus’s house and used it to kill him?

  Susannah sighed and rolled over, peering out the mesh window at the pine trees. The air mattress undulated with each of Bitsy’s exhalations. Susannah heard the sound of a zipper in the quiet of the morning, then the rustle of a camper leaving his cocoon. In a moment, Caden was outside her tent, his face scrunched against the mesh of the door. “I have to go potty, but I don’t want the monsters to get me.” He squatted and began to unzip the door, then stopped. “It’s stuck.”

  Susannah rolled off the air mattress and hit the ground with a grunt. The wave she created tossed Bitsy onto her side, and the snoring momentarily ceased. Peering at the door, Susannah noticed that the fluffy bits from Bitsy’s pink slipper had been zipped up in the door. “Hang on,” she said to Caden as she wiggled the slipper and tugged on the mechanism.

  “There are monsters in the woods,” another voice groaned from the window at the side of the tent. “Noah told us to stay inside the tent or the monsters will get us, but I have to use the restroom.”

  Bitsy pushed her sleep mask onto her forehead and sat up. “Jamal, you get your face outta that window. You gonna ruin my brand new camp-out tent.” She bumped to the edge of the mattress and leaned over Susannah’s shoulder. “Go easy now,” she said. “Don’t break that zipper with your spine-crushing chiropractic hands.”

  Susannah threw a look at Bitsy and tugged with such momentum that she fell back into her friend’s lap as tiny bits of pink fluff filled the air. She dropped the slipper and crawled through the opening, pulling Caden in to her. “It’s okay. I can take you to the latrine.” She upended her hiking boots, which had spent the night outside, and banged them, making sure no stinging critters were inside.

  Jamal appeared from around the tent. “I don’t want to go the latrine. Auntie Bitsy said I could get tick-bit there. I want to go to the dining hall restroom,” Jamal said.

  Susannah pulled her hoodie down and stamped her feet. The October air was sharp. What time was it? “Fine, fine,” she said, looking around the campsite, hoping one of the male leaders were awake. If they were, they were smart enough to stay bundled inside their sub-zero-rated sleeping bags.

  Bitsy yawned as she emerged from the tent. “I could use the restroom too.”

  Susannah walked the boys to their tent and peered inside, locating and picking up Caden’s hoodie. “Where is Noah?” She helped Caden put the heavy garment over his pajama top.

  “I don’t know,” Caden mumbled from inside the fleece.

  “Did he already go to the dining hall?” She glanced around the campsite. The campfire ring was deserted, portable canvas chairs vacant. The small pavilion was empty and the woods were silent. The trail to the dining hall was barely visible, but no one was around for yards in any direction. She yawned and felt around in her pocket for her phone. Six twenty-five a.m. Maybe she could wheedle a nice strong cup of coffee out of one of the kitchen staff before breakfast officially started at seven.

  “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell us,” Jamal said, holding up a sneaker. “Found it.”

  “He told us to stay in the tent or the monsters would get us,” Caden said, his voice a scratchy whisper. “So we did. And then I fell asleep.”

  Susannah bent, peering into the boys’ tent again. No sign of Noah. She wasn’t sure if she should be alarmed or angry. “Let’s go.”

  Bitsy led the way up the steep path to the dining hall in silence. When they reached the top of the hill, Susannah paused, out of breath from the climb. The dining hall was a large, squat building, one of the few buildings on the grounds of the camp. At the far corner of the dining hall, not far from a group of scout leaders, a man stood smoking.

  “There’s Mr. Travis.” Jamal pointed, then sprinted past the thirty-foot flagpole and across the flat, grassless area in front of the dining hall. The hunched figure of Travis Keene, clad in jeans and a denim jacket, darted around the corner. Caden followed Jamal, passing a group of uniformed troop leaders, heads together, talking. “Mr. Travis!” Jamal called.

  “Boys! Come back.” Susannah waved at their backs.

  The troop leaders looked askance as Bitsy sped past them, the laces of her hiking boot slapping the ground. She caught the boys before they scampered around the corner. Susannah huffed, catching up to her. She peered around the corner. Travis was gone. “Holy cow,” Susannah puffed, hands on her knees. “When did I get so out of shape?”

  “Around the same time Angie started feeding you trays of gluten-free lasagna.”

  Susannah pinched an area of fat around her waist and shook her head. “Did you see anything?”

  “No. Maybe it wasn’t Travis.” Bitsy pointed at the open door to the kitchen, from which steam escaped. “Maybe it was one of the cooks.”

  Susannah shook her head. She was sure it was Travis. Glancing down, she saw a cigarette butt. She nudged Bitsy with her elbow and pointed at the butt with her toe. “Why don’t you take the boys to the restroom, and I’ll poke around here for a minute.”

  As they turned to go, Susannah squatted to snap a picture with her phone. The brand was Camel, the same brand she had seen tucked behind Travis’s ear at the store. Next to it, she noticed the deep impression of a heel in the soft earth—a print that could have been made by a cowboy boot. From the open door, a man stared at her as he dumped water out of a plastic basin onto the ground. That accounted for the softness of the soil on this side of the building. Scanning the area, she noted another cigarette butt, a Marlboro, and took a picture of that. The prints of other hiking boots and sneakers were not so deep. Directly across from Travis’s print there was the impression of a smaller hiking boot with a very distinctive, three-pronged design in the middle of the tread. Susannah tapped her phone and made several images, then turned to go. There was the snap of a twig and she spun around, but all she saw was a fluffy-tailed squirrel scurrying up a tree.

  At the entrance of the dining room, scents of coffee and bacon floated out to greet her. Bitsy stood with her hands on her hips before a closed door; she blew out a sigh of frustration and pounded on the door. The noise echoed through the trees, and one of the scout leaders peered around the corner of the building at them.

  “The dining hall’s not open yet,” he said and disappeared.

  “Hmmph,” Bitsy replied, raising her fists to knock again when the door opened with a scraping sound. Noah Howard stared at them.

  “Noah,” Susannah said, surprised. “What are you doing here?” Noah’s face went red as he looked from Susannah to Bitsy to the boys.

  “I’m sorry I had to leave the boys,” he sputtered. “But Mr. Travis needed me for breakfast d
uty.”

  “Where is Mr. Travis?” Susannah asked, craning her neck to look past him into the dim hall.

  “I don’t know.” Noah’s body twitched; Susannah thought he was hiding something.

  Bitsy stepped into the doorway, but Noah didn’t move. “I’m not allowed to let anyone in yet.”

  Bitsy clucked at him. “Those rules are for the boys, not grown ladies in need.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he took a step back, giving her ample room to barrel past him into the building, pulling Jamal along behind her.

  Susannah pushed Caden in. “Go with Miss Bitsy.” She touched Noah on the sleeve. “Does Mr. Keith know you’re here?”

  Noah swallowed and looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “I don’t want to get Mr. Travis in trouble,” he whispered. “I wasn’t supposed to be on kitchen duty, but he woke me up and told me to get my butt out and come with him. So I did.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “He was in the kitchen at first. Got him a cup of coffee and then”—he lowered his voice—“was smoking outside the kitchen door. Miss Maggie’s gonna get onto him about it if she finds out. He thought I didn’t see him, but I did.”

  A bad feeling niggled at Susannah’s gut. Could Travis be somehow tangled up with Gus’s death? First Gus was shot, and Travis said he knew Gus had been shot with a nine-millimeter gun, then Angie was framed. Susannah inhaled and felt a sharp pain under her ribs. She hoped to God that Angie was being framed. Her sister had a lot of faults, but murdering her clandestine boyfriends was not one of them. She tapped her upper lip, thinking. Did Travis know Gus? Gus was new to town, but Peach Grove was small, and Travis owned a busy shop. Like Bitsy, he probably had contacts all over the county.

  A yank on her arm made her jump. Caden looked up at her. She had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard the boys approach. “When do we eat, Aunt Suzie?” asked Caden.

  “Y’all need to get out of that doorway and line up with your troop.” A gruff voice bellowed from outside the building. Susannah turned to see a uniformed man wearing a Smokey the Bear hat, glaring at her. In his hands, he clutched a clipboard. “What troop are you with?”

  Caden grabbed Jamal’s hand, and they both looked up at the man, speechless. Susannah approached and said, “They’re with me.”

  The man narrowed his eyes at her. “The dining hall is not open until seven. No food is served until after all troops check in and we say the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  “I—”

  A loud ruckus came from within the kitchen as Bitsy stepped through the door, beaming. She held two small blue enamel coffee mugs and quickly crossed the room, her laces slapping on the floor. Mr. Smokey the Bear Hat stared as she exited the building, bringing the smell of coffee with her. She managed to step daintily in her clunky Merrell boots and handed Susannah one of the steaming cups.

  The smell of fresh coffee made Susannah want to sing. “How did you get these?” she whispered while watching Bitsy drink.

  “Oh, shoo,” Bitsy replied. “My second cousin Fanny Vincent-Long has been running this here kitchen”—she aimed a thumb over her shoulder—“since the nineties.”

  Susannah raised her cup to Mr. Smokey the Bear, who stomped away. Blowing on the hot liquid, the small enamel cup warm in her hand, Susannah sipped at her coffee. She worried about her sister sitting in the Peach Grove jail, waiting on her arraignment. Scanning the paths and woods around her, she wondered if Travis Keene held some answers.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Makeup to Breakup

  Susannah flopped down on the couch. The weekend had been harder on her than it had been on Caden. She and Bitsy had kept Caden busy at the camp-out and the after camp-out on Sunday afternoon—which was what Bitsy called hanging out in Susannah’s living room, with her feet up on the coffee table, watching TV, and eating cold Burger King French fries. Caden and Jamal had played with Legos and then fallen asleep, sprawled across Susannah’s sofa. Their dirty jackets were still strewn over a pile of gear Susannah had lugged in from the Jeep.

  This morning, Susannah had taken Caden to school, chatting him up to convince him his mom had been working all weekend. He had bought it. Susannah felt a familiar twinge in her stomach. Maybe lying to a seven-year-old wasn’t the best parenting strategy, but she couldn’t tell her nephew that his mom had been arrested on suspicion of murder.

  Susannah pondered her sister’s predicament. Angie was in deep trouble. Worse, the bail had been set higher than she’d expected, and a bond on Susannah’s house would be needed to secure Angie’s release. Hiring a lawyer was now on Susannah’s to-do list—after she talked to her sister.

  After the arraignment, and an hour’s wait, she was able to speak to Angie in jail. “Tell me everything.”

  “You know most of it.” Angie lifted one shoulder. Dark circles under her eyes were enhanced by smudges of eyeliner.

  “Tell me all of it. How can I help you if I don’t know all of it?”

  “I think I need a lawyer to help me.” Angie ran her hand through her hair, looking off into the distance.

  “I’ll work on that when I get home.”

  “Okay.” Angie leaned forward. “But you have to believe me. I didn’t kill Gus, and no one can get me to say I did. Not even that detective with the squint-eyes.”

  “I know that,” Susannah said, but a feeling of relief spread through her. Was it that she knew for sure that Angie was innocent? Or was it because her sister would finally fill in the missing pieces? “Spill.”

  “My gun wasn’t the only thing I was looking for at Gus’s.”

  Susannah had to keep herself from shouting, I knew it! Angie had been holding back something—she could read her sister better than anyone else in the world. “What else were you looking for?”

  “My lipstick.”

  Susannah blinked. She wasn’t sure she heard her correctly. “Your…”

  “My lipstick. The last time I saw Gus, I had Marvelous Magenta with me. I must have dropped it, and I think the police have it.”

  Susannah’s heart was racing. Angie’s Marvelous Magenta was custom made for her. “What makes you think that?”

  “The kind of questions they were asking me. The same ones, over and over. I had to tell them.”

  Susannah was speechless. Slowly a picture formed in her mind: Angie looking pale, Angie pawing through her bag, Angie chewing on her lip. She wasn’t pale—she just wasn’t wearing lipstick. Other pieces fell into place. According to Little Junior, a woman had left something in Gus’s car.

  Angie had been in Gus’s car!

  Susannah reached for Angie’s arm, but a guard took a step toward her. “No touching.”

  “You were in Gus’s car before he died?” Susannah whispered.

  Angie hung her head. “You gotta believe me, Suzie. I had no idea what Gus was mixed up in. I went by the school to break it off, I swear.”

  “Why was his car in the parking lot of the library?”

  “I don’t know. He told me to meet him there. I thought he was leaving his car there to make room for the parents coming to the Fall Festival. I got into his car, but we only talked for a minute. Then I left.”

  “You had to use your lipstick?”

  “Gus took the breakup badly.” She pouted at Susannah, and the effect was unnerving. “You know I primp when I’m nervous.”

  Susannah cleared her throat. “Well, your primping has gotten you here.” She couldn’t imagine what to do next, but she had to give her sister some hope. “And somehow, I’m going to get you out.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dinner with the Doc

  Susannah stroked Rusty as she considered everything she had learned in the last day. Angie had a secret romance with a man who had been murdered. She had been in his car shortly before the murder and in his house shortly afterward, and her gun had been found at the scene of the crime.

  It had been a long day for Susannah, starting with her spending the morning at the Peach
Grove Judicial Center, and ending with several hours on her feet treating patients. Tina and Larraine bustled around, trying to keep the tone light as they prepared the table for the food arriving soon. “My feet hurt,” said Susannah.

  “I’m so hungry”—Tina looked over to Susannah—“that I could eat that cat.”

  Susannah smiled at Tina’s attempt to cheer her. She wanted to go home and collapse into her bed, but supper with the ladies was in order. She needed their help.

  There was a squeal of brakes, and Tina pushed the curtain to the side. “It’s Bitsy.”

  Susannah was surprised to see Bitsy in the rear parking lot since it had not been officially exorcised.

  Larraine joined them. “Well, thank the Lord. Not a Krispy Kreme or Dairy Queen bag in sight.”

  “Mrow,” Rusty said as he rubbed against Larraine’s leg.

  She opened the door, and Rusty streaked out past Bitsy, who carried a large shopping bag in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other. Bitsy barreled through the doorway clutching the cardboard tray so firmly that her orange-painted nails made dimples in it. She deposited the food on the table and dropped her shoulder bag on the floor and shuddered. “I felt a spirit pass me by. It put a chill into my bones.”

  Tina grinned up at her and gently removed her fingers from the cardboard carrier. “It was Rusty. Larraine just let him out.”

  “Hmmph. That wasn’t no feline energy. That there parking lot’s been a poltergeist playground for months.”

  “Close the door.” Larraine crossed her arms and pulled her sweater closed.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bitsy leaned in. “You felt it too?”

  “What I felt was a draft.” Larraine shooed her and unloaded the bags.

  “Mmm, Mexican food?” Susannah pulled out a white waxy paper bag filled with tortilla chips, which she poured onto a plate. “Thanks for picking up dinner.”

  “Don’t thank me.” Bitsy helped Susannah unpack the rest of the food. “Thank Andrea.” She took a chip and snapped it in half. “She found me while I was taking down Larraine’s demands, um, I mean, dietary restriction list, and suggested Mexican food. She even called in the order for me, gluten-free enchiladas verdes and all.”