Pringle was going to die when he found out he’d been this close to a future reality TV star without ever actually meeting her. I couldn’t wait to tell him.
“Angie?” Sharon stared at me with wide eyes and a concerned expression. I must have missed something.
“Have the police talked to you yet?” she said for what I guessed wasn’t the first time.
“Yeah,” I admitted, casting my eyes to the floor and discovering a luxe white marble with little glints of silver.
“Such a shame what happened to Junetta.” She clucked her tongue and set the cat back on the sofa. “Why, she’d seemed entirely normal when I stopped off this morning to bring her my fresh-made and famous lingonberry pie.”
My mind zoomed back to the scene I’d discovered earlier that afternoon. The pink-tinged vomit, the half-eaten pie. Mixed berry, I’d thought. But since I had no idea what a lingonberry was supposed to look like, that could very well have been what I’d seen.
Had Sharon just inadvertently confessed to the camp manager’s murder? Yes, she liked to talk, but enough to accidentally slip up in such a major way?
I didn’t know, and I was terrified of finding out.
Yes, suddenly I was very uncomfortable being alone with her in the RV…
Chapter Fifteen
“I have to go,” I blurted out, but Sharon’s wide body filled the passageway that led toward the door.
Her face turned down in a pout.“But you’ve only just gotten here.”
“I have to find my cat. Remember?” I tried to push past her, but either she didn’t get the hint or she didn’t want to let me get away.
“Oh, look at me, so carried away with introductions that I plum forgot.” She pressed her palm into her forehead and sighed. “Before you go, I have something for you.”
The moment she turned to get whatever it was, I raced through the door and back out into the open where presumably no one would try to kill me while I was in plain sight of the others.
“I’m watching you!” the Airstream lady screamed from several lots away and shook her fist in the air.
I glanced at her briefly, then went running back toward Charles’s and my camper.
At this point, I just wanted to go home and forget this whole day had ever happened, but I doubted the police would allow that while Charles and I were still under suspicion in an open investigation.
“There you are,” Charles said from where he’d taken up in one of the chairs outside our RV. “Angie, you’re bright red. What’s the matter?”
“Angie! Why’d you run off like that?” Sharon called, jogging to catch up.
A few other campers watched us and whispered to themselves.
A little girl with curly pigtails turned and hid her face against her father’s leg. He stared daggers at me. This more than the interaction with the police made me feel very exposed and misunderstood.
Charles stood and wrapped an arm around me while Sharon finished her approach.
“Here,” she said between gasps for air. It wasn’t a long walk from her RV to ours, but I wasn’t one to judge. Before Nan had forced me into morning runs with her and Cujo, I, too, would have been out of breath from the short jaunt.
When I tore my eyes away from Sharon, I looked down and saw a short, flat metal can resting on my palm.
“For your cat. I sure hope you find him.” Sharon bent forward and took another deep breath, then left us to return to her own camper.
Charles took the can from me and read the label.“Albacore tuna. Huh.”
“Tuna?” Pringle repeated from somewhere nearby.
“Pringle, where are you?” I whispered, scanning the area.
“Under here,” the raccoon called quietly.
I got down on my hands and knees and peered into the darkness beneath the camper.
Two little hands reached out in supplication.“Tuna me, baby!”
“I’m going inside. If you want this, then maybe you should come inside, too.” I huffed, then climbed back onto my feet and into the RV.
A moment later a thunk sounded from the bathroom.
“I’ll get it,” Charles announced as he paced across the living space.
As soon as the door clicked open, Pringle tore out of the bathroom in a manic fury.“Tuna, tuna, tuna,” he chanted, jumping up beside me.
“You’ve been a very naughty raccoon.”
He folded his hands in front of him and blinked up at me with large eyes.“What? Me?”
I scowled at him, ripping the can away when he tried to make a grab for it.“Yes, you. I told you to stay put.”
“I did!” he squeaked. “See, I’m right here?”
“Then why did I spot you creeping into that other camper?”
Pringle took a step back.“Wh—?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. I saw you.”
“Okay, fine.” When he sighed, his little shoulders rose and fell in defeat. “Okay, so maybe I was trying to solve the murder for you. Thing is, I want in on Pet Whisperer P.I., and I figured if I cracked this case single-handedly, you’d have no choice but to invite me to partner.”
“Keep dreaming, ringworm,” Octo-Cat snarled before appearing as if out of nowhere. He padded over to us, stretching each leg as he walked, making him look like some kind of bizarre circus act.
“And where were you?” I demanded, folding my arms over my chest, tuna still in hand.
A shudder wracked his striped body.“Hiding from that awful Sharon person.”
“Ah, too bad you think she’s so awful,” I teased with a half-grin. “She brought a can of tuna for you, but seeing as you don’t like her, I’m sure you don’t want anything to do with—”
“Mine!” Octo-Cat cried, then batted the can from my hands and sent it crashing to the floor.
Both animals fell upon it at once, embroiled in a bitter fight for dominance.
“Do I even want to ask?” Charles pulled two bottles of soda from the mini fridge and handed one to me.
“Probably best that you didn’t.” I scooted over to make space for him on the sofa. “Did the police say anything more to you?”
“Not really. Although I was thinking you might want to change.”
“Why?” I asked, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over me as I remembered about my “juicy” booty.
He glanced down at my lap.“Well, the campground manager was murdered with a poisonous pie, and you’re covered in berry juice. Looks a little suspicious.”
“Oh, I haven’t told you yet. I know who made the pie.” I loved sharing what I’d learned with him. Even though I’d been terrified at the time, now I was quite pleased with myself for gathering this little piece of intel.
He took a swig from his soda and then lowered the bottle.“Who?”
“Sharon,” I revealed, pressing my lips in a tight line to keep from saying more.
He snorted and took another drink of soda.“But you don’t think she’s the one who did it, do you? I mean that’s circumstantial evidence at best.”
“Are you kidding? She totally did it,” I said even though I still wasn’t entirely convinced myself. I felt better having a primary suspect in mind rather than keeping the entire thing open-ended.
“I guess we’ll see.” Charles leaned forward and plucked the can of tuna away from the bickering animals, then went to stash it in the glove compartment where neither of them would be able to get it.
“No fair! No fair!” Pringle cried, jumping up and down in protest.
“Upchuck strikes again,” Octo-Cat declared using his preferred nickname for whenever he was feeling irritated with my boyfriend.
“Where’s that salmon?” I asked whoever was willing and able to answer.
“I left it outside, Charles replied, returning from the front and settling beside me on the sofa once again. “Couldn’t very well bring it in here and stink up the rental.”
“Look, how about this?” I attempted to reason with our furry stowaways. “If you two can be good for the rest of this weekend, I’ll let you share that salmon.”
“I don’t want to share with him,” they each cried in unison, sticking their tongue out at the other.