Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 02 - Trouble at Sunny Lake (7 page)

“But you knew my brother’s name. I could tell by your reaction when you heard
my
last name.”

I nodded. “Yes, the police told me later. They wanted to know if I knew him.”

“Why would they ask you that? You’re the one that found him, right? When you went out on the pontoon boat?”

I nodded. “It’s a natural question, I guess. After all, they might think I was the one who…” I didn’t finish the sentence.

“Who
what
?” He leaned in, and I backed up again. I had to admit that Scott Strait scared me, plain and simple.
 

“Nothing.” I muttered.

Minerva, dear, if you are frightened, it is time to return to your RV. Trust your instincts.

“No, you were going to say something.
What
?” He seemed to loom over me menacingly, and I’d had enough. Darkness had fallen, and I wanted to be behind locked doors.

“I have to go,” I said hurriedly. I turned and scooted for the door.

“Wait!” Scott called.
 

His voice stopped me at the doorway, and I turned. He approached surreptitiously. I raised my air horn.

“Do they think Jason was murdered?”

I nodded quickly and then dashed inside, terrified that he might start pounding on the door. I flipped the lock and waited, holding my breath. I could hear nothing, and after a few minutes, I assumed he had gone.

I slumped onto the couch. The most likely murderer was probably Scott, simply because he was the only one with a connection to Jason. That seemed like a hasty conclusion, though, and I let it go for the moment, relieved to be behind the safety of locked doors.

I wish you to stay away from that troubled young man, Minerva. Whether he is a killer or not, he presents as a man who might lose control at any moment.

“I agree with you, Ben. He’s pretty tightly wound.”

Tightly wound. Yes, that is an apt figure of speech.

I spotted my laptop computer and opened it up. Among other emails awaiting me, I noticed one from my ex-husband, John, chief of police in a small Colorado city. I smiled. Maybe he could shed some police-like insight on the situation.
 

I read his email.

Hey kiddo,

I haven’t heard from you in a while. I certainly hope that situation at Happy Trails RV Park resolved itself, and you aren’t suffering any long-lasting trauma from it.
John inserted a smiley face, and I knew he was teasing.
 

Nothing much to report here. A few wildfires have broken out in the mountains. I hate to see that.
 

I’m staying busy at work rounding up desperados, drunk drivers and feuding wives and husbands. What’s new with you? How’s life in the RVing fast lane?

Your favorite ex-husband

I smiled and sighed happily. John was my only ex-husband and therefore my favorite ex-husband. We’d been married only a few years at the young age of 20 when I had decided marriage was not for me, a decision that I came to bitterly regret over the course of my life. I would have happily remarried him if he had but said the word. John, however, never said the word.

I dashed off a response to him.

You would not believe! No, you wouldn’t. So, here I am at Sunny Lake RV Park, and guess what? Guess!

Okay, I’ll tell you. There’s been a murder here. It’s a long story, and you know me…I yack a lot, but I’ll try to be brief. I took a boat out on the lake, a pontoon boat, can you believe it? Anyway, so I’m toodling down the lake and what do I see but a body at the foot of a cliff. I call the police. The sheriff’s office comes…by boat! And an ambulance comes.
 

It seems the poor guy was pushed off the cliff above, or so the police say. Weirder still, there are a few cabins on the hill above the RVs here at the park. A very strange young man is staying in one of those cabins. He’s an Afghanistan veteran, and I’m not sure if he has post-traumatic stress disorder or whether he’s just scary cuz he is. He wants to keep a low profile, asked me not to mention he was staying there, that his brother had reserved the cabin for him. Now that I describe it, it actually sounds like he’s hiding…from law enforcement? Maybe he’s wanted. I don’t know.

Anyway, so he comes to see me a short while ago, and it seems that he is actually the brother of the victim.
 

I know, right? I have no idea how I found myself embroiled in a murder again, but I’m pretty sure the police are going to start thinking I’m a serial killer.

I’ll update you soonest.

Your ex

“Ben, you’re not reading over my shoulder, are you?” I asked as I clicked the return button to send the email.

I would not dream of it
.
That would be extremely ill-mannered of me.

“Well, it’s nothing anyway. I’m just updating John on the goings-on. As a cop, he might think of something that I haven’t.”

Certainly,
Ben said.

I closed my e-mail service and stared at the portrait of Ben I kept on the computer desktop, the picture I had copied from the Lewis and Clark expedition page.
 

“I wish I could see you in person, Ben.” I heard the wistful note in my voice.

I wish for the same, Minerva, but try as I might, I have not managed to manifest myself to you in the flesh.

“Okay, that sounds creepy.”

Ben laughed.
Nevertheless, I would be a more adequate companion if I could forcibly keep you out of harm’s way.

“Your lectures and stern warnings are pretty effective,” I said with a chuckle.
 

But you do not always heed my warnings.

I shook my head with a grimace. “No, I don’t, do I? I’ve been on my own so long that I’m just not used to letting a man tell me what to do, not even a handsome early nineteenth-century gentleman.”

You are independent.

“Not necessarily by choice though. Things have just never worked out since my first marriage. Maybe no one ever measured up to John.”

Perhaps you fear the commitment of love and marriage, Minerva.

“Are they a commitment?” I said on a sigh. “Sometimes, they sound just perfect to me. Everyone else around me seems to be married. All the other RVers and campers are traveling with someone.” I realized my slip too late. I did have a traveling companion.

No, do not fret. I understand fully what you mean. Do you think to marry again, Minerva?

I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s never too late.”

No, it is never too late.
Ben echoed my sigh.
 

If Ben had been real, alive, I think I might happily have married him. He was handsome, kind, charming, educated, loved to travel and seemed to care about me. What was not to like? But Ben wasn’t real in that sense. I hoped he wasn’t reading my mind at the moment as he so often did.

“You’re not reading my mind, right, Ben?”

No,
he said briefly.

And I knew that he had.
 

“All right then!” I rose briskly to shake off my feeling of sadness. “TV time and then off to bed. A murder mystery awaits us, Ben. Let’s see if we can solve it before the police do!”

He didn’t respond, and I turned the TV on to try to forget about the day’s events—the murder, Scott, Ben. Our relationship was complicated, to say the least.

****

I arose early the next morning and dressed quickly. Sticking my head out of the door, I looked toward the lake. The sun sparkled on Sunny Lake, as befitted its name. Everything looked much brighter that morning, much less frightening than it had been the previous night.
 

I stepped down from the RV and scanned the hill behind me. Scott’s cabin was silent. I knew I really needed to go up there and apologize for my panicked departure the night before. In the light of day, it seemed unlikely that he had killed his brother. For what reason?
 

But then who had?
 

I hurried up the hill and knocked on the cabin door. Ben had been unusually quiet that morning, and I heard no warning from him.
 

Ben?
I asked silently.
Are you awake?

I do not sleep, Minerva. I am here.

Oh, I thought you might be warning me right about now.

Would it do any good?

“Sometimes,” I said aloud with a smile.

The door opened, and Scott peered out.
 

“I’m sorry about taking off like that last night,” I said hurriedly. “I just freaked out.”

“No problem,” he said. He looked over my shoulder toward the park in general. “Have the police come by again?”

I looked over my shoulder. “Not that I know of. Should they?”

“If they haven’t found Jason’s killer, they will.”

A shiver ran up my spine. How did this guy manage to give me the willies?

“Who would have killed him? Do you know?”

“Come inside so I can shut the door. I don’t want anyone to see me up here.”

I waited for Ben to warn me, but he remained silent.
 

“No, I’d better not,” I said.

“Suit yourself. There’s a back door. I’ll meet you around back.”

He closed the door, and I skirted the cabin to meet him in the back. Still isolated, I could at least scream if I needed to or beat feet down the hill in a pinch. He sat down on some small concrete stairs.
 

“I don’t know who would have killed Jason,” he said. “For all I know it could have been Sean down there.” He nodded toward in the direction of the office.

I drew in a sharp breath. “Sean? Why would you say that?”

“They hated each other.”

My eyes bulged.

Ben? Are you hearing this?

I am listening,
he said.
 

“I didn’t know you all knew each other. Why did they hate each other?”

Scott sighed heavily. “Stuff from Afghanistan.”

I desperately wanted a seat, but short of cuddling up to Scott on the stairs—not something I thought he would welcome—there was nowhere else to sit. My legs felt weak.

“Afghanistan. Was Sean there? And your brother?”

“Yeah, we were all in the same guard unit. We deployed at the same time.”

“What happened?” Normally, I would be more tactful, but I just blurted the question out.

He avoided my eyes and looked toward the trees behind the cabin that served as a screen from the road.

“I don’t want to talk about it. The point is…they hated each other. So, yeah, it could have been Sean. Not sure I blame him though if he did do it.”

I gave up.

“Can I sit?”

Scott moved over, and I sat. He smelled sweaty and stale as if he hadn’t bathed in days. He sported the same black T-shirt and jeans.

“What do you mean, you wouldn’t blame him? I hate to say it, Scott, but that seems kind of cold.”

“My brother was a jerk. I hated him. Sean hated him. Our whole unit hated him.”

“Wow… That’s a lot of hate. Did he do something specific or was he just obnoxious?”

“Both. He did something heinous over there. Got some soldiers killed. Never got punished for it either.”

“What happened?” I asked again. For a guy who didn’t want to talk about it, Scott was certainly talking quite a bit. I imagined the police should know all this information, but
I
wasn’t about to tell them. I was sure they’d find out soon enough.

“Jason smacked one of the tribal leaders’ daughters around when she wouldn’t…” Scott didn’t finish the thought, but I could imagine what happened. “The Afghans retaliated. Jason knew better. We’d been told to stay away from the women. Jason had always been too aggressive with girls, and he thought he could get away with it in Afghanistan. But he didn’t. And some guys got killed over it.”

I thought I might happily have pushed Jason over the cliff myself if I’d had the chance.

“And Sean was bitter over that?”

“Everyone was.”

A thought occurred to me.

“Why do you hide from the people in the office if you know Sean? Doesn’t he know you’re staying up here?”
 

“Nah! Sean and I don’t get along either. Too much bad blood between us now.”

“Between you? Why?”

Scott cracked his knuckles together.
 

“I knew why the Afghans retaliated, but I didn’t say anything to command. I didn’t rat Jason out thought I blamed him. So, Jason never got in trouble for what he brought down on us.”

“Did Sean know? Why didn’t he tell anyone?”

“Not until after we left. It got out. I think Jason was boasting on the plane home or something. I’m surprised they didn’t just throw him off then and there. But we were all out of the Army within days of returning from deployment, so there wasn’t really anything anyone could do.”