The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5) (18 page)

Twenty-Seven

T
he bedroom door swung open. Buckshot yipped and bounded out the door. Like guilty high-schoolers hiding their vices, Viktor and I scrambled to stuff the map inside my sketchpad and shoved the lot under the nearest bunk.

Todd stepped inside, casting a curious gaze on our floor sit. “What’re y’all doing?”

“Reckoning a possible killer.” I hopped from the floor. “How’d it go with Lesley?”

“Messy.” Todd pointed to his mud-splattered form. Mud suited some men. One of God’s crazy gifts. “But we’ve got Lesley wrapped in a tarp in the back of the Mule. I need a shower and there’s a line forming.”

“Listen, Todd. Don’t mention this to the rest of the guests, but someone’s messed with the radio to the lodge. We can’t call for help. As you well know, until we find the Gator we lost, right now we’ve only got the two-person Mule left between thirteen people.”

“Perhaps we can radio on the walking-talking and speak to Max Avtaikin. We should send someone to get them and find your utility vehicle. It would also settle my doubts that he is still in the deer stand,” said Viktor.

“
Sure.” I folded my arms over my chest, annoyed Viktor had abandoned our short detente. “Besides, we need to get them back here. We aren’t hunting the hog anymore anyway.”

Todd’s head swiveled, following our exchange. “Mike said we can still hunt.”

Viktor and I abandoned our mutual glower to pivot toward Todd. “What?”

“Mike said that although he’s sorry about Lesley, we can’t all get to the lodge tomorrow morning. He’s going to send some folks back and figures the rest can stay to finish the hunt.”

“But the police will want to cordon the area,” I said. “They need to investigate Lesley’s death.”

“Mike said it looked like an accident.”

“Mike’s not the police. He promised me he would contact the sheriff’s department.”

“He cannot contact police if radio is broken,” said Viktor.

“Mike doesn’t know the radio is broken.” I paused. “Does he?”

Viktor started toward the door and I scurried to catch him.

“Hang on,” said Todd, grabbing my arm. He bent down to whisper in my ear. “What’s with trusting Viktor? I thought you two were about to kill each other earlier.”

“You know what they say about keeping your enemies close,” I whispered.

Appeased, Todd righted. “That’s a good idea. You work on your enemies, I’ll work on mine.”

I left that dubious statement for Todd to reconfigure in the shower and caught up with Viktor in the main room. Arms crossed over his chef’s jacket, he leaned against the bedroom wall next to Jeff Digby and the two remaining outfitters. In the far corner, Rick fidgeted with his bandages. Bob, Peach, and LaToya sat at the long table, listening to Mike’s explanation of Lesley’s demise and the evacuation plan for the morning. After swapping the Gator’s flat tires for the two-seater Mule’s, Big Clem and Lil Joe would drive LaToya and Lesley’s body back to the lodge. Jeff would hike out to locate my missing Gator, then rescue Team Three from their deer stand.

“I can’t see why I have to return if Mr. Bass, Mr. Rick, and Mr. Avtaikin can continue to hunt,” LaToya said. “I’m as good a hunter as those men. I have awards to prove it. I’m eighteen. It’s not like I’m a kid.”

Mike held up his hands. “I understand, Miss LaToya. The contest is over. I’m not going to present the big prize or trophy. And I will refund your money. I’m just allowing the remaining participants to continue to hunt while they wait to return.”

“If they don’t shoot that hog tomorrow, I’ve got to take care of the beast before he does more damage to the area,” said Jeff Digby. “LaToya, won’t your parents be worried sick about you in this weather?”

“My parents know me well enough,” LaToya fumed. “They know I’m an expert shot and likely to have a spot on the Olympic team in a few years. They know I keep a cool head. I’m not some girl who gets shook up by a little rain and cold.”

I slipped to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Your parents would be proud of how mature you’ve been this weekend, particularly with all the weird stuff going on. You act better than some adults.”

She shook off my hug. “Pardon me for saying so, ma’am. But I’d think you’re a better candidate to go back. Considering how most of us think you might be behind this ‘weird stuff’ going on.”

Under the table, Buckshot barked her assent and pushed her nose into LaToya’s hand.

“Et tu, Buckshot?” I gritted my teeth and turned to center Viktor in my fiery gaze.

“I may have made haste in the accusation of Cherry Tucker.” Viktor accompanied the statement with an Eastern European-fueled sigh. “We have examined the map and it is possible Lesley Vaughn cut the tires. I am sorry to speak ill of the dead, but Lesley wanted to protect the giant hog. Perhaps too much.”

LaToya dropped her gaze to the table. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to stick around to help my friend, Max.” I patted LaToya’s shoulder. I recognized her attitude stemmed from a competitive nature combined with teenage stubbornness. “I won’t be having much fun, hanging on here. Chock this weekend up to ‘hot mess’ and grab hunting time somewhere less jinxed. You’re braver than me if this weekend hasn’t given you the heebies.”

“Nature doesn’t give me the heebies.” Her Mars Brown eyes glared at me. “Only people.”

“I want the guides to drive so they can bring back another ATV. Caleb Guterson doesn’t realize we need a return vehicle,” said Mike. “We could squeeze one more person in. Miss Tucker?”

I realized I could send a semi-reliable messenger to Rookie Holt. One who was currently showering and unable to defend himself. “Take Todd. Mr. Max would rather have my help than Todd’s. And I’m sure Todd won’t mind accompanying Lesley’s body.”

“Yes,” agreed Viktor, fixing his eyes on Jeff Digby. “I think the artist should stay. She is of no importance to return early. Send other guests first.”

“I guess by important guests you mean me,” said
Bob
Bass. “But I want to hang out and finish the hunt. Avtaikin and I have our own little competition that doesn’t involve any of y’all. And that artist gal still needs to paint my picture.”

“I should stay with Bob,” piped Peach. “No way can you get me to ride with a dead body. Gross.”

“What about
Rick
there?” said
Bob
. “He’s hurt, after all.”

“I’d rather have Todd, I mean, Mr. McIntosh, accompany me.” The rush of her words darkened LaToya’s cheeks.

Rick
flicked his gaze between
Bob
and LaToya, but remained silent as usual.

Eyeing Rick, I thought about Mike’s statement about Caleb Guterson. Had Mike tried to reach Caleb on the walkie-talkie and failed? Or tried to radio the lodge and failed?

Wait a minute, I thought. Could a Guterson have pulled these tricks to ruin the lodge’s big event?

Caleb would have known about the radio antenna. He and the Sparks had left just as Todd and I arrived at the bunkhouse. Rick’s Gator had already been parked.

All Caleb would’ve needed was a minute or two alone to cut the tire valves. That kind of stunt was more fitting to Caleb’s background than Lesley’s.

Caleb also could have followed Abel into the woods from the Double Wide. But why? Did Abel overhear plans by the Gutersons to disrupt the hunt?

I dropped onto the long wooden bench next to LaToya and used my finger to trace designs on the wood’s surface. The idea of Caleb sabotaging the radio and Gator made more sense than a mysterious stalker. I could see the Gutersons planning pranks meant to scare the guests. Had their intended pranks turned into deadly accidents? Or were the Gutersons driving toward more malevolent acts?

It was hard to imagine that kind of evil, but in the Gutersons, I recognized the viciousness that often came with self-preservation.

“I am serving more soup now,” announced Viktor. “There is also the corn soufflé, honeyed fruit salade, and barley tea.”

The crowd dispersed into the kitchen. I scooted down the bench toward Mike, waiting for Jeff Digby to join us.

“Did you find Lesley’s backpack?” I asked without segue, because I was not a segue kind of girl.

While Mike appeared momentarily perplexed, Jeff seemed to have adapted to my repartee. “Found it beneath him. It had gotten tangled around his legs in the fall.”

“That makes more sense for an accident,” I said.

“More sense than what?” asked Mike.

“Abel’s hat.” I waved that aside. “I’m glad you decided to send LaToya back. Makes me feel easier about this business.” I looked at Jeff. “Did you tell Mike about the radio antenna?”

He nodded.

“Damn shame,” said Mike. “It’ll be okay, though. Viktor’s first rate at nursing and we’ve got food and fuel. Big Clem and Lil Joe will get back tomorrow afternoon with more transport. That’ll give the last guests a chance to hunt tomorrow morning if they want. Then maybe we won’t have to refund everyone’s money.”
B
efore I could speak, Mike hopped up from the bench. “Thanks for your help, Miss Tucker. Boy, do I need a shower. I’m going to grab one while everyone’s eating.”

We watched Mike walk toward the kitchen, where he complimented Viktor on the food. I glanced at the lines tightening around Jeff’s eyes.

“Is Mike in denial?” I asked.

“He’s a good guy,” said Jeff. “Takes things to heart. Maybe a little too much. I’m going to suggest he take a vacation after this weekend.”

“You don’t like this plan of letting the hunt continue tomorrow.” I dropped my voice as the guests took their seats at the other end of the table.

“Nope,” said Jeff. “It’s not worth the money. Everyone’s keyed up and we don’t need more accidents. I’d just as soon have everyone sit tight and wait for the rescue. I’ll stay and get rid of that hog myself.”

He rose from his seat and I placed a hand on his arm.

“What about Caleb Guterson?” I whispered. “He had the opportunity to cut the tire valves. Possibly the antenna wire too, while we were getting ready to depart for the deer blinds. You know how the Gutersons feel about the lodge.”

Jeff kept his eyes on my hand clamped around his wrist. “I guess it’s a possibility.”

Behind us, the bedroom door opened and the fragrance of hotel shampoo mixed with the funk of wet dog, mud, and mushroom soup.

Todd emerged with his wet locks slicked back, long and water-darkened. I heard Peach’s sharp intake as she beheld the amazing sight of the freshly showered, shirtless Viking. Even LaToya gasped. As he lived in my home, I had become mostly desensitized to a wet and partially nekkid Todd.

Mostly. After all, as an artist, I could never become completely immune to beauty.

Next to me, Jeff grunted. “I thought he’d never get out of the shower. I’m next.”

I pulled my hand off Jeff’s arm to wave Todd over. “Do you want some dinner?”

“In a minute.” Todd shrugged on a flannel, plopped onto the bench next to me, and began buttoning the flannel over his muscular glory. “I want to talk first.”

At the other end of the table,
Bob
dropped a spoon in his empty bowl and resumed his constant prattle that had ebbed while eating.

Rick abruptly pushed away his bowl, yanked his cigarettes from his front pocket, and stood. Despite the bandages spotting his face, he appeared to have recovered from the misfire.

“Going out for some fresh air? I’ll join you. Who else’s coming?”
Bob
glanced at his dinner companions.

LaToya kept her eyes on her food, but Peach jerked from her internal musings at Bob’s statement.

From his pocket,
Bob
pulled out a metal cigar case and waved it at Rick. “Bet you’d like one of these Cubans. I betcha never even tried one before. I like to share little privileges with my fans. Try a Cuban.”

“I’m fine with the Pall Malls,” said Rick. “Thanks anyway.” He scurried toward the front door, grabbed his coat from a hook, and flew into the dark.

Still sharing his cigar knowledge with the room,
Bob
followed Rick. Peach snatched her GoPro from the table and hurried to grab her coat from the drying rack beside the fireplace.

The front door swung open again and a belt of cold and damp snuck into the room.

Finished with his buttons, Todd refocused on delivering his speech. “I thought about that idea you had about enemies.”

I kept my expression neutral as I searched my brain’s outbox for comments about enemies.

“You know how spy movies usually have a double agent?” said Todd.

I dropped neutral for bewildered.

“So I’m fixing to do that for you.”

“Fixing to do what for me, hon?” Poor Todd. I took his hand in mine and squeezed.

“When we get back, I’m going to ask Shawna Branson out. But I’ll do it as a double agent.”

I dropped Todd’s hand and planted my face in mine. “Oh Lord, of all the bad ideas.”

“It’s a great idea. From what I hear, Shawna’s been kind of lonely. She’s hot and all, but she’s got a reputation for being high maintenance.”