Murder at Camp (Pineville Gazette Mystery Book 5)

  Murder at Camp

  Pinevill Gazette Mystery #5

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2019 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Thanks for Reading

  About Wendy

  More from Wendy!

  Chapter One

  Mary Holland drove her 1936 Chevy Slantback car down a long dirt road. Tall, rich, beautiful autumn trees lined the driveway, dripping with bright red, green, brown, and yellow leaves. The leaves danced and twirled in a crisp, cool wind blowing over pumpkin fields that seemed to stretch forever.

  “How beautiful,” Mary whispered. She slowed down her car, eased over a wooden bridge covering a lazy river, and then continued down the road. “Isn’t this beautiful, Betty?”

  Betty sighed. “I suppose it is beautiful,” she said in a sad voice.

  Mary glanced at her best friend. Even though the poor dear looked miserable, Mary was tempted to tease her friend. The dark purple dress Betty was wearing made her look like a grape; purple just wasn’t Betty’s color. Then again, Mary thought, quickly glancing down at the bright yellow and brown dress she was wearing, maybe being dressed like a bumblebee wasn’t much worse than being dressed like a grape. What a pair they made.

  “Honey,” Mary said instead in a caring voice, “you have to stop being so sad.”

  “How can I?” Betty asked Mary in a miserable voice. “Mother is...being courted.” Betty threw her eyes to the left, looked at the lovely autumn trees, and sighed again. “Mother is far past the age to be...considering having a male friend.”

  Mary grinned. She thought it was great that Betty’s mother was playing bingo with Mr. Steen. “Mr. Steen is a harmless old widower who spent his entire life running a hardware store. He was married for fifty years, has three sons and two daughters, and spends his days sitting at the bowling alley sipping coffee. I don’t think he’s...rambunctious.”

  “Mr. Steen has taken Mother to her weekly bingo games four times...four times!” Betty held up four fingers. “Four times, Mary. I call that being rambunctious!”

  Mary slowly stopped her car. “Honey,” she said and let out a sweet laugh, “your mother isn’t a child and neither is Mr. Steen. They’re both...familiar with time, if you catch my meaning.” Mary reached out and patted Betty’s hand. “When you reach a certain age in life, it’s nice to have a friend.”

  Betty looked into Mary’s loving, sweet face. In her eyes Mary resembled Judy Garland, even though Mary was a little older than the actress. Betty admired how Mary kept her soft hair, yet stylish. She admired how Mary glowed with a sweet beauty that held firm intelligence. Everyone in Pineville understood why Mary’s husband, John, had fallen in love with her: Mary Holland was an amazing woman. Betty—at least in her own eyes—was boring, bland, and clumsy. Sometimes she wondered why Mary even allowed her to tag along with her.

  “Mother doesn’t need a friend,” Betty replied, focusing back on the subject at hand. “Mother needs to stay home nights and bake cookies and read like she normally does.”

  Mary smiled. “You can’t lock your mother in a dungeon. The poor woman seems to enjoy Mr. Steen’s company.” Mary patted Betty’s hand again. “I think it’s wonderful that your mother has found a friend in Mr. Steen.”

  “Mr. Steen is no gentleman,” Betty objected. “Why, that man used to sell hammers and nails to my daddy and now he’s...romancing mother. Of all the nerve!”

  “Oh my,” Mary burst out with a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Betty asked, pouting. She folded her arms together and looked around. “I don’t think Mother being chased down by a fox is hilarious at all.”

  “A fox...oh my.” Mary laughed even harder. “Oh, I don’t consider a seventy-year-old man who can barely pick up a bowling ball a fox.”

  “What do you call a man ten years older than Mother?” Betty asked. “Ten years, Mary. Why. He’s old enough to be Mother’s...daddy.”

  “Daddy?” Mary laughed even harder. “John is older than I am. My daddy was older than my momma by eleven years. My grandpa had...let’s see...fourteen years over my grandma.” Mary struggled to stop laughing. “Look,” she begged, “we’ve driven all the way to Oregon to visit my cousin. So while we’re visiting my cousin, why don’t we forget about your mother and enjoy our trip?”

  “How can I forget about poor Mother?” Betty asked.

  Mary grinned, patted Betty’s hand, and pressed down on the gas pedal. “Honey,” she said, getting her laughter under control, “my cousin Stephanie needs help to get the new camp she bought into order. The camp opens this summer and from what Stephanie told me over the telephone, the entire place is in a poor state of affairs. Let’s focus on enjoying our trip and helping Stephanie, okay?”

  “I suppose that seems logical,” Betty agreed in a weak voice. She looked out at the beautiful autumn day and sighed. “It is exquisite...breathtaking, actually. I suppose it wouldn’t benefit me to spend my time stressing over Mother.”

  “That’s my girl.” Mary beamed and steered around a curve. “After all, we’ve been though we need a break.”

  “Uncle Albert had to be the worst,” Betty told Mary. “I thought being trapped in that spooky mansion in Maine was horrible...but Uncle Albert sure took the cake.”

  “Uncle Albert was horrible,” Mary agreed, thinking back to the mental hospital she and Betty had visited in Georgia. “Then again, so was fighting a crazy stalker in Los Angeles and nearly being killed by a foreign spy in our own town.”

  Betty winced. “Golly, when you say it like that it seems like we’ve been swimming against a violent current, doesn’t it?”

  “It sure does,” Mary agreed. “But all of our troubles are behind us.” Mary nodded her head around at the lovely day. “Look around, Betty, we’re surrounded by the Lord’s beauty. There’s nothing but trees, rivers, and pumpkin fields as far as the eye can see. The only trouble we will find out here are splinters, sore backs, and campfire smoke getting in our faces.”

  “Not to mention wondering where we will take a bath and use the bathroom,” Betty fretted. “We’re not driving to a home that has a bathroom, Mary.”

  “Yeah.” Mary winced a little. “Stephanie’s camp is kinda set away from time,” she agreed. “Look on the bright side...no people. No people, means no trouble.”

  “True,” Betty agreed and forced a brave smile to her lips. “Our entire drive has been very peaceful...other than worrying about Mother, that is. We haven’t encountered one problem.”

  “Not one problem,” Mary agreed. “The food has been good, the roads easy to drive on, and no one has caused us any problems. Everyone we’ve encounte
red has been very nice.” Mary spotted a closed wooden gate up ahead. A wooden sign that read “Snow Leaf Camp,” in painted bright green letters attached to the gate. “I think we’ve arrived,” she said in an excited voice.

  Betty’s smile slowly faded. “Uh...how far do you think the nearest town is?” she asked.

  “Oh, about twenty miles. Not far.”

  “Not far...” Betty sighed and nervously glanced down at her hands. Even though she was glad Mary had asked her to come along on the trip, the thought of being twenty miles away from the nearest town, staying out in the wilderness at a run-down camp, didn’t sit very well inside of her heart. Betty was not an outdoor-type woman. She preferred the cozy atmosphere of Pineville, the diner, the safe church basement she played bingo in with her mother, and warm cups of tea before bed; more than anything: indoor plumbing and light bulbs that chased away the bitterness of night. “Only...twenty miles.”

  “Oh, we will have a great time,” Mary promised as she drove up to the wooden gate and stopped. “Stephanie should be at the main cabin,” she said, quickly scanning the dirt road on the other side of the gate. The road was silent and still, stretching into an unknown corner of the world designed to bring children days full of summer joy. Yet, as Mary studied the road, a sudden, uncomfortable sense struck her heart. She could see lovely autumn trees, the endless pumpkin fields resting off to her right, smell the crisp air—and yet, somewhere hidden inside the beautiful day lurked...danger.

  “Oh, you’re being silly,” Mary whispered under her breath. “Stephanie would call you silly, too.”

  “What?” Betty asked, staring at the closed wooden gate.

  “Oh, nothing,” Mary said, forcing a smile to her lips. “I’ll go open the gate.”

  “Uh...wasn’t Stephanie supposed to meet us?” Betty asked in a hesitant voice.

  Mary bit down on her lip. “I’m sure she’s busy,” she tried to soothe Betty and opened the driver’s side door. “Besides, we’re three hours early. It’s just now one o’clock, and we weren’t supposed to arrive until four o’clock.”

  “Oh...I forgot,” Betty said and looked at Mary, who offered her a kind smile. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Everything is fine,” Mary assured Betty and hurried off to the wooden gate, walking across dry dirt in need of a good autumn rain. “Everything is fine,” she said as the silence of the looming woods slowly began to reach for her. In the distance she heard the river. “Fine,” she whispered as the trees played in the cool winds—yet the voice of the wind somehow sounded ominous instead of cozy. “Stop it, Mary,” Mary scolded herself. The fussing of a faraway woodpecker answered her.

  “Oh,” Betty whimpered, “why did I agree to drive all the way to Oregon?” she asked, watching Mary approach the wooden gate. “I love Mary...but how I wish...I could have stayed home. But I couldn’t let Mary drive all the way to Oregon alone, could I? And it was so nice of her to ask me to come...”

  Mary stopped at the wooden gate, looked around, studied the lane, and then focused on the gate. The gate was old-fashioned, kept closed by a simple metal latch that was very rusted. “Look,” Mary whispered, reaching her eyes into the deep woods to her right, “Stephanie is waiting. So stop letting your imagination run into dark corners. You have to—”

  Sudden movement to her right made Mary stop whispering. She froze, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, and slowly shifted her eyes to a large tree. As she did, a shadow lunged out at her. Mary let out a panicked scream. She stumbled backward, tripped over her feet, and went barreling down to the ground. A deer quickly ran past her and vanished into the trees on the other side of the road. “Oh my. A deer...just a deer...” Mary whispered, “Just a deer.”

  Betty jumped out of the car and ran to Mary. “Are you okay?” she begged in a panicked voice.

  “I’m...fine,” Mary said. She looked up into Betty’s scared face and then let out a shaky laugh. “I let a deer scare me.”

  Betty helped Mary stand up. “We should come back...another time?” she asked.

  Mary brushed off the back of her dress. “Stephanie is expecting us.” Mary approached the gate, disengaged the latch, and looked at Betty. “I’ll pull the gate open, okay. You can drive the car through.”

  Betty nervously glanced back at Mary’s car. The car represented safety. “Mary...” she began to say and then scolded herself for being a scaredy-cat. Betty thought, what was there to fear? She was standing inside of a beautiful autumn day, surrounded by gorgeous land, preparing to help an old friend’s cousin get a run-down camp in shape before summer arrived. Those thoughts were logical. Fearing that some unknown, horrible danger was lurking in the woods was not logical. “Okay, I’ll drive your car through,” Betty told Mary and hurried away.

  Mary watched Betty climb into the driver’s side and then, with much effort, pulled the wooden gate open. The gate whined and moaned on rusted hinges. “Gee...Stephanie...oil these hinges,” Mary grunted as she worked to pull the wooden gate free. As soon as the gate was open Betty drove the car through. “Now...back you go,” Mary said with a grimace as she fought to pull the gate closed. Once the gate was closed, she jogged over to the passenger’s door, opened it, and fell into a soft seat. “All set,” she said and wiped a little sweat off her forehead. “Remind me to tell Stephanie to oil the hinges on that gate.”

  “I’ll make a note,” Betty assured Mary and looked forward. The dirt road stretched out a ways and then hit a sharp bend. “I guess we should go.”

  Mary studied the road, fighting the urge to look back at the closed gate, and nodded. “Stephanie is waiting,” she told Betty. “I just hope she has some cold lemonade waiting for us.”

  Betty reluctantly pressed down on the gas pedal and got the car moving. “Mary, how big is this camp again?” she asked.

  “Oh...I can’t remember how many acres Stephanie said the camp sits on...but it’s a lot. There's a large lake that sits right in the middle of the camp. Lake...” Mary rubbed her chin as the car approached the bend. “Lake...Snow Fall or Snow Flake...something like that.”

  Betty reached the bend and stopped the car. She looked at Mary with worried eyes. “How many cabins?” she asked.

  “Well, there’s the administrative cabin, the chow hall, the medical cabin, the sleeping cabins,” Mary explained “Stephanie didn’t tell me the exact number. But she gave me a summary of how the camp was designed.”

  Betty focused on the bend. “Sounds normal,” she said and closed her eyes. “Normal...normal...not scary.”

  Mary reached out and patted Betty’s shoulder. “Let’s not get spooked,” she pleaded, even though the sudden sense that danger was lurking in the distance wouldn’t stop whispering in her ear. “I mean, weren't we just laughing over your mother and Mr. Steen?”

  “You were laughing,” Betty reminded Mary.

  “I suppose I was,” Mary replied and forced a brave smile to her lips. Surely, she thought, the feeling of unseen danger was only a paranoid manifestation of a spooked mind that had experienced four murder cases in a short time. “There’s no reason for us to be worried,” she pointed out. “Let’s put on our brave faces, get ready to get some blisters, and get to camp.”

  Betty opened her eyes, looked into Mary’s brave face, and let out a deep breath. She didn't want to look silly in front of her best friend. “To camp we go,” she said and carefully drove Mary’s car around the bend...and into an unknown danger that was lurking unseen.

  Betty slammed on the brakes. “Oh no,” she cried out.

  Mary placed threw her hands against the dashboard, caught her breath, and looked out the front windshield at a wooden bridge that had been placed over what appeared to be a very deep ravine. The gulf split the land in two, running north and south. “My, this bridge came up fast,” Mary gasped and quickly got out of the car and walked to the bridge. Betty reluctantly followed. “We’ve been traveling for about...oh...a mile since we left the gate, right?” she asked Betty.<
br />
  Betty glanced around. Beautiful, lush, deep woods surrounded her in every direction. The lovely, bright orange pumpkin fields were not far away; growing farther and farther away as the dirt road climbed deeper and deeper into the woods, following the river up into the hills of a scary mountain. “I guess...I don’t know,” she answered Mary in a worried voice.

  Mary tried the wood of the bridge with her right foot. “Seems steady,” she said and then looked below at the river. The river was no longer flowing softly. Raging rapids and dangerous currents were thundering over rocks and fallen trees, growling at the land. The sight of the angry water sent a chill through Mary’s heart.

  “We’re traveling north,” she told Betty, “so I guess the river will become rougher if we travel up instead of down.”

  Betty dared to approach the bridge and glance down at the river. She nearly fainted. “Oh, my...that’s very deep,” she cried out and grabbed her forehead.

  “Oh...don’t faint,” Mary begged and grabbed Betty’s arm. “Please, stay conscious...don’t faint.”

  Betty squeezed her eyes closed, drew in three deep breaths, steadied her mind, and then nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “I should drive us across the bridge?” Mary suggested.

  “Drive...across that bridge?” Betty gasped in panic. “Why, Mary Holland, I wouldn’t walk across that bridge let alone drive.”

  Mary bit down on her lip, walked Betty back to the car, and situated her in the passenger seat. “Betty,” she said, “we have no choice...so just close your eyes and hold on tight.”

  Betty looked up at Mary with terrified eyes. “You’re not serious?”