Just then the door to the Airstream flew open, and Sara Stevens stepped out in a robe not entirely dissimilar to my own.“What are you doing out here?” she shouted, then pointed at Pringle. “And what is that thing?”
Another camper door opened and a man and woman wearing matching flannel pajama bottoms exited from it.
“Go get Charles,” I muttered to Pringle from the side of my mouth.
He saluted, then scampered off.
“Not going to answer me?” Her face was red, her eyes wild. “Then I’m calling the cops. I’m sure they’ll just love coming back out after spending half the day with us.”
She grabbed her phone and punched in the number.
“That’s enough, Sara,” a man said. “This is a public campground, not your private property.”
Sara stood on tiptoe trying to see past me in search of the voice. Even with that added bit of height, she wasn’t tall enough, though.
“Is that you, Carl?” she called out. “Don’t be fooled by her pretty face. This woman murdered Junetta today, murdered her in cold blood!”
Aww, she thought I was pretty. Not that that made me despise her any less.
Sara lifted up her phone and shouted,“Do you hear that? I have a murderer sneaking around outside my camper. Come and get her, boys.”
“Funny, from what I understand Angie only just arrived here today,” Carl pointed out.
Sara ended the call with humph and thrust her phone back into her robe pocket.“Yes, and an hour later Junetta was dead. Coincidence? I think not.”
“I didn’t kill her,” I insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. This time my confession of innocence was more for the benefit of the other campers who had come out to gawk at our confrontation. “Someone poisoned her with a pie, and I don’t know the first thing about baking.”
A gasp sounded across the way.“With my pie?” Sharon cried, waddling over in a hurry. “The secret ingredient is love, not poison. Never poison.”
Behind Sharon, I spotted Charles striding over. This gave me all the courage I needed to trot my theory out for all to hear.
“The pie wasn’t poisoned when you gave it to her,” I called to Sharon, then fixed my gaze directly on Sara Stevens. “Someone added it in after the fact. Someone who’s been around for a bit and knows all about Junetta’s open door policy.”
I paused to gauge everyone’s reaction, but no one said a thing. Charles was at my side now, standing in a silent show of support.
And so I continued.“And Junetta wasn’t murdered in cold blood. Her death was planned. Somebody was very unhappy with her. From what I can gather, she might not have been the best campground manager, but she was learning on the job. And recently she’d learned all about an illegal hunting ring operating right here under her nose. She planned to put an end to it, to make sure the guilty parties were held accountable. But they silenced her before she could say a thing.”
“She knew.” Carl’s voice cracked and he hung his head. “This whole time, she knew. Oh! This is all my fault!”
“So you confess!” Sara shouted and pointed. “Filthy scum, no wonder Junetta left you.”
“No, no, it wasn’t me. I would have never…” His words fell away as he stumbled backward.
Catching him in a weak moment, Sara pounced.“You killed her. It makes perfect sense. You couldn’t have her, so you decided no one could.”
“When Junetta found out I’d been coming out here to hunt illegally, she was so upset. That was the beginning of the end for us.”
“You came here?” I prompted, even though I was already pretty sure I knew what he would say next.
Carl pumped his head.“Yes, I came here many times over the past couple years. The animals aren’t expecting it, so they’re easy shots. I’d bring Junetta with me on my trips sometimes, but never tell her where I was going after dark. I guess that’s why she came after the divorce, why she decided to take a job here. She thought it was just me hunting out here. She didn’t know there were more of us. Didn’t know who made it so that local law enforcement didn’t catch on.”
“Who was in charge, Carl?” I asked. “Who made it all possible?”
“She was your friend!” he shouted at Sara. “Why would you do this?”
The accused took a giant step back and pressed herself against her Airstream.“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s easy to blame others when you’re trying to cover your own back,” I said, taking a step toward the cornered killer.
“You! You can’t prove anything,” she spat at me.
“Oh, but I can,” Carl said, taking out his phone and jiggling it at her. “I kept a record of every hunt. Won’t be difficult to match you up to the timeline.”
“Go away! This is my home, and you’re not welcome here!” Sara shouted, completely losing it now.
“You’re going to jail. For Junetta’s sake, I hope you rot in there,” Carl hissed.
More and more campers overheard the yelling and came outside to investigate. The police arrived a short while later to take things over. And the hysterical killer was the one who had called them herself.
Chapter Nineteen
With Junetta’s killer behind bars, Charles and I headed back to our little home on wheels for the weekend. Pringle and Octo-Cat had made themselves scarce, allowing us to cash in on some much-needed relaxation.
We slept in late the next morning, then ate our way through a massive stack of messy, syrupy pancakes in bed. It was bliss.
“If we don’t go anywhere, we can’t be forced out of relaxation mode,” I reasoned, and Charles agreed enthusiastically.
“I still feel bad about dragging you all the way out here only to have the worst weekend ever,” he said with a slight frown pulling down the corner of his mouth.
I pushed my last bite of pancakes around the edges of my plate to collect the remaining drips of syrup, then shoved the whole thing in my mouth and sighed with delight.“Well, it was a pretty bad Friday,” I said once I’d managed to swallow down that heavenly bite. “But the weekend as a whole has yet to be determined.”
Octo-Cat, who lay cuddled at our feet, popped his head up and said,“Life with Angela is often irritating, but it’s never boring.”
I decided not to translate that for Charles.
“Hey, should we grill up that salmon for lunch?” he asked with a laugh.
“Are you kidding me? It’s been sitting out since yesterday. The thing is probably covered in flies by now.”
“Actually, I already took care of that,” Pringle announced, standing in the doorway with one paw to the wall. “Sorry. I know I was supposed to let you have it as a way of saying sorry for ruining your picnic, but I was just so hungry after all that sneaking around I did on your behalf. You know how it goes.”
I nodded and set my polished-off plate at the end of the bed.“I do, and it’s okay. We weren’t going to eat it, anyway.”
Pringle cast his eyes toward the floor, then grabbed the tip of his tail and began grooming it nervously with his fingers.“Sure, but I still feel really… I don’t know… sick to my stomach. It’s weird.”
“That feeling is guilt,” I supplied with a lazy grin. “You feel bad about ruining our picnic, but really, it’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“If you’re not mad, then why do I still feel this way? How can I make it stop?” He pouted and began to twist his tail in his hands.
“Really, it’s—”
“Oh, I’ve got it!” Pringle shouted, then turned and ran off. When he returned, he jumped up onto the bed and climbed onto my lap. His little black fist was closed tight around something, but I couldn’t see what.
“I’ve been feeling sick like this for a while now, and I think it all started after Chucky and I helped those seagulls,” he said, pointing toward Charles with his free hand. I was definitely not okay with him nicknaming my boyfriend after a demonic horror doll, but seeing as Pringle was attempting a genuine, heartfelt moment here, I let it slide.