Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 01 - Trouble at Happy Trails (5 page)

“I have no idea. Tell me more about your life.”

Ah! A subject designed to put even the most ardent insomniac to sleep. I understand.

“Funny,” I mumbled.

As I told you before, I was born in Bishop’s Stortford, Hertfordshire, England, on the 10th of August, 1770. My parents immigrated to Stonington, New London, Connecticut, in 1778, bringing my brother, sister and me with them. My father, an Army officer, was tired of war and wanted to settle in the Colonies.
 

I grew up a happy child, wanting for nothing. My parents were kind and loving. We had plenty. My mother was a gracious woman and worked tirelessly to better the conditions of the workers on my father’s estate in Stonington. My father indulged her every whim. He loved her dearly. They both died during an influenza epidemic.

I joined the Army in 1792 at the age of 21. In 1803, I was recruited to serve as an assistant navigator and cartographer on the Corps of Discovery expedition by Captain William Clark. We reached the Oregon Coast for the first time in 1805. We traveled up to Cape Disappointment on the 15th of November with Captain Meriwether Lewis. We camped. I went to sleep in my tent that night, and knew no more until I saw you at the remnants of the encampment.
 

“And you still can’t figure out what happened to you? Indian attack? Disease? A heart attack?”

Nothing. I am certain there was no Indian attack. The Chinook Indians were very friendly and accommodating, sharing with our party some roots. I felt myself to be in fine shape, no illness that I recall. I am far too young to have morbus cordis.

“Morbus cordis? What on earth is that?”

What you call a heart attack, disease of the heart.

“By my calculations, Ben, you’re actually fairly old—about 244 years or so.”

Very amusing, Minerva. I was only thirty-five
when I…perished/vanished/died/disappeared, whichever term is most apt.

“Whichever is most apt,” I murmured. Poor guy. I knew he hadn’t had a chance to marry or have children. I’d asked him that before. His voice had grown somber, and I thought I heard pain in his words. It was hard not seeing his expression. I had to go by tone in his voice exclusively.
 

Do you grow sleepy yet?

“Not really. Now, I’m wondering about you.”

 
You must allow your mind to rest, Minerva. It cannot be conducive to longevity to contemplate so many matters in the dark of night.
 

“I know,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to say anything, but it was also hard to sleep knowing Ben was always about, always available for a conversation.

I will leave you now so you can rest.

“Stop reading my mind,” I said.
 

I will try.
 

I heard him chuckle and then I knew he wasn’t there anymore. I turned over and closed my eyes, willing sleep to come.

****

I woke up and checked the cell phone by my bed.
 

8 a.m.
 

I had slept soundly from about midnight to 8. I got out of bed, washed my face and hands, and moved into the main cabin of the RV to make coffee.
 

In the light of day, I could hardly believe the events of last night. I opened the door and peeked outside. Everything seemed fairly quiet. RVers hadn’t stampeded from the park in the early hours, leaving it desolate and abandoned.
 

I shut the door and eyed my computer resting on a computer desk in front of the passenger’s seat. I wondered what my ex-husband, John, would have to say about the goings-on. He was a police chief in a small Colorado city. We emailed only occasionally, but when we did, we volleyed several emails back and forth.

I opened up my computer and started an email.

Hey, John,

So, guess what happened last night…

I went on to tell him about Carl’s demise, the suspicion of murder that quickly changed to an assumption of suicide and the arrival of the brother.

I never mentioned Ben in the emails…ever. More than anything, I wanted John’s approval, even 18 years after our divorce. I wanted him to think I was self-confident, on the ball, wise, learned, finally mature, a whole lot more petite than I was in actuality, and just generally a desirable woman whom he once loved and should again. I definitely didn’t want him to think I’d gone wacky and created my own giant eighteenth century rabbit.

He responded almost immediately. John was great that way. Though we had parted ways at age 22 because I couldn’t find the wherewithal to grow up fast enough to imagine marriage to the same person for the rest of my life, he was unfailingly polite when I did contact him. He never initiated the contact.

Gosh, kiddo,

That sounds bad! Believe me, I’ve seen a few of those. Police hate to respond to domestic violence situations. They’re always so volatile and unpredictable. And they hate suicides. Messy business.

Still, I’m glad to hear you’re finally getting out and traveling a bit. From the picture you sent me, that is one big RV. Brave girl to lug one of those oversized rigs around. I’m jealous. I can’t wait until I can retire and travel! That’s a long way off though.

So, you think the circumstances of the suicide are suspicious? Did you tell the police? Be careful that they don’t set their sights on you though.
He inserted a smiley face here.
My best advice is to stay away from the whole thing. Let the police do their job. You may not know whether they consider the death a suicide or if they’re investigating a possible murder.

I know you can stay clear of it. Right?

You asked how I was doing. I’m fine. Busy at work. Not doing much else besides going to the gym. My ex (the second one) is moving back to town. I’m not looking forward to that. My sons will be happy to see her though…for short periods of time.
 

Ted graduated this summer and is off to college, where his older brother, Tad, will look after him.
 

Other than that, all is well.
 

Stay safe. I’ll talk to you soon.

Your favorite ex

As usual, I reread the email over and over. I fell in love with John all over again every time he emailed me, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I had left the marriage after less than a year. I inhaled deeply and sighed.

You are sad, my dear.

“You didn’t read over my shoulder, did you, Ben?”

Certainly not! I would not presume to invade your privacy in such a reprehensible manner.

He sounded offended.

“I’m sorry, Ben. It’s just the lines between you and me are pretty blurry sometimes. I still don’t know what you can and can’t do, what you can see or hear, and how much of my mind you can read. Heck, I just found out you can taste and smell, albeit through me.”

I understand, Minerva. My presence must be very unnerving for you. I do try to give you the privacy you need.

“I know you do, pal.” I closed the computer. “Okay, what’s on the agenda for today? Somehow, a day of touring Spokane seems sedate in comparison to the events of last night. I wonder if a new campground host is showing up today. I think I’ll step outside and reconnoiter.”

Reconnoiter like spies! Yes, let us!

I opened the door and stepped down, waiting to close the door as I always did. I approached the road to the rear and looked toward Sally’s trailer. Yellow tape surrounded her rig.
 

“So, big doings last night.”

My neighbor appeared, coffee cup in hand. He came to stand beside me while we contemplated the police tape.

“Did you know about this?” he asked.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear anything,” I said. “I certainly heard quite the commotion when Sally found her husband. You know he was shot in the head.”

“I heard he shot himself. You make it sound like someone shot him.”

“No, I meant shot himself.”
 

I heard a caterwauling from his RV, not unlike that of Sally last night. What on earth? Another cat?

“Do you have a cat?” I asked.

He narrowed his eyes and turned to look at the RV. “Nah! That’s the wife. I guess she’s distraught about the affair.”

“The affair? Do you mean the shooting…or suicide?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Oh!” Had his wife known Carl? I didn’t dare ask. My neighbor seemed a tad unsympathetic about the whole thing…like Bob, but in a different way.

 
“By the way, I’m Minnie Crockwell.” I stuck out my hand. Sometimes, I felt like saying, “and this is…” to introduce Ben, but I always managed to hold back.

A shining example of good breeding and innate good manners.

I ignored Ben.

“Jim Brothers. Pleased to meet you.” He shook my hand. His thin, slender hand was cold to the touch, though the day was warm.

“So, you didn’t hear anything, huh?”

“Slept through the whole thing,” he said. “I heard the police were at your place though? Did you see anything?”

I shook my head. “No, not me. I heard screaming and crying and then Sally wandered by, covered in her husband’s blood. I took her inside and called the police. At first, I think they thought it might be murder, but I think they’ve decided it was suicide. At least, Sally thought so. They let her go.”

“Where is she now?” He pursed his lips.

“Oh, her brother was in town, so he came to get her. I’m not sure. They might be at a motel or something. She couldn’t possibly stay in the trailer.” I shuddered.

“I expect not,” he said flatly.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. Good gravy! He was taking this in stride as if I’d just said “Oh, look, the sprinklers just came on.”
 

Just then, a small nondescript metallic beige sedan pulled up to Sally’s trailer. It was Bob and Sally. Sally stepped out of the car and turned to survey the trailer, clinging to the passenger door as if she were weak. Bob stepped out of the car. Sally turned toward us, and her face crumpled.

To my surprise, Jim spun around and disappeared around toward the front of his RV. I heard a door slam within minutes.
 

I hurried across the street

Well, what was that all about?
I asked Ben.

I am at a loss, dear.

Can you go find out?
I asked.

I shall endeavor to do so. I am quite enjoying this mystery.

I took Sally’s elbow and steadied her while her brother came around the side of the car.

“Come on, Sally. We talked about this,” he said. “You knew it would be hard, but you have to get your things.” Bob’s tone remained gruff, but not unkind.
 

“Oh, Sally,” I murmured.

“Morning, Minnie. Thank you.” Sally leaned heavily on Bob and me as we approached her trailer. Bob pulled down the yellow tape with an angry swipe. I wasn’t quite sure about pulling it down and would have climbed under it. Didn’t the police leave it up for a reason? But what did I know?

Bob reached for the door handle on the trailer, and Sally started shaking violently.
 

“I can’t go back in there. I can’t!” she cried.

I looked at Bob. He couldn’t possibly force her back in there.

“Can you tell Bob what you need to get?” I turned to Bob. “You can go in there and get what she needs, right?”
I
certainly wasn’t going in there. I was already mouth breathing though I hadn’t smelt anything particularly unpleasant in the area.

His tanned face blanched just a bit, but he nodded.

“Sit down here, Sally. Gimme a list of everything you think you need.” He led her to the bench.
 

“Thank you, Bob,” she said weakly. She rummaged in her purse and produced a pen and a small pad of paper. I sat down and watched her write while Bob turned away and surveyed the outside of the trailer, arms akimbo.

I wondered if he was thinking about how they were going to move it or sell it. Sally had said she couldn’t come back to the park, couldn’t stay in the trailer again. I turned back to watch her while she wrote.

Ben?

There was no answer.
 

Ben? What did you find out?

Still no answer. He was probably still busy scoping out the neighbors.
 

“What else do I need, Minnie? Papers, photographs, my address book, my phone charger, all my clothes. I don’t want Carl’s clothes.” She shuddered.

“The food in the refrigerator? Canned goods?”

She shook her head.

“No. Most of it was his kind of food anyway.”

“Ummm… Towels, linens, books?” I was trying to think of what I would take from my own RV if I had to leave it in a hurry. Definitely my computer.