Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Good morning,” I whispered with my eyes closed when I felt Hank kiss me on the cheek. “Please tell me I have ten more minutes.”
“No.” His mouth touched my ear.
“Five minutes?” I was desperate for any more time I could spend sleeping, since I’d been up most of the night because my mind wouldn’t shut off. “I don’t wanna go to work.”
“And you can’t call in.” Hank ran his hand down my arm before it landed on Fifi, who was sleeping in between us. “You’re the boss.”
“And it’s Dottie’s morning off.” I groaned, knowing I had to get to the office to do my real job for the morning shift.
Hank kissed me one more time before he rolled back over to his side and peeled back the covers to get out of the bed. He stopped at the bottom, Fifi jumped off the bed, and Hank pulled the sheet off me. Then he walked into the bathroom.
“Get up, sleepyhead,” he said, laughing as he turned around when I groaned and reached to pull the sheet back up. “If you didn’t spend your sleeping time trying to solve murders, you’d be rested.”
“If the law isn’t going to do it,” I sighed, pushing myself up to the side of the bed, “then I have to.”
“Was that a dig about me?” he asked, popping his head around the bathroom door, the tube of toothpaste in one hand and his toothbrush in the other.
“If the shoe fits,” I teased and reached down to pick up my sweatpants off the floor. “Come on, Chester,” I called to him because he was still asleep on Hank’s side of the bed. “Let’s go potty and eat.”
Fifi was already down the steps of the fifth wheel’s bedroom side and at the kitchen door when I made it down the steps.
“All right,” I said as she and now Chester danced, waiting for me as I turned on the coffeepot. By the time I got back from letting them potty by giving them a quick walk around the campground, I wanted the beverage to be brewed.
The pale-pink sky stretched over the top of the trees just beyond the campground in the Daniel Boone National Forest. It was so pretty that for one moment, it helped me forget about the investigation of Florence’s death, which I couldn’t let go of otherwise.
My dear friend Tex was being accused of something I knew he hadn’t done, but Al just couldn’t see beyond the facts.
Yes, I knew it looked bad for Tex, but sometimes there were facts that weren’t so obvious, and that was why I had to get in front of that waitress.
Which meant I had to go see Coke Ogden to get the waitress’s information.
Possibly I could get it from Mary Elizabeth, but the problem with that was she was not in a good place to even discuss what had happened. When I had called to check on her, she just cried.
“No, ma’am,” I called after Fifi as she darted a little too close to some of the guest campers and sniffed around for the nighttime creature smells. “Let’s eat,” I hollered before giving a low whistle to get the dogs’ attention.
The campground slowly came alive after I’d gotten the dogs fed and myself ready for work. I visited with Hank for a few minutes after he came to the office to give me a kiss before he drove out.
“You be careful on the trail,” I told him, knowing he was the safest ranger in the forest and did everything to make sure of it while he was at work. “Call me as soon as you get cell service.”
“I will,” he said before giving me a kiss through the rolled-down window of his truck. “And I will have the beacon phone too.” He referred to the phone the rangers kept with them that could call from anywhere.
I didn’t watch him drive away because Mary Elizabeth always told me it was bad luck. Even though I didn’t put too much stock in that Southern superstition, I didn’t want to chance it.
The office work wasn’t too bad. I went through all the emails, including the one Waldo had sent with the zip files of the photos.
With those, I went a step further and sent them to the picture gallery on my cell phone, so I could have them with me when I went to see Coke Ogden.
I needed her photo so Coke could identify her.
I checked the phone messages and saw there was only one—from Alice Charles, asking me to keep an eye out for a necklace she’d lost. That was probably the necklace she was looking for at the Milkery, so I was sure it didn’t grow legs and hike here. But I would keep an eye out.
Then I filed some paperwork Dottie had left for me, paid some invoices, and made some calls to contractors around the state of Kentucky, who could help with our new vintage camper area going in later this summer so it would be ready for fall campers.
I had made the investment of purchasing three small vintage campers so I could make a little area in the back corner of the campground near the bungalows.
It’d taken up a lot of the funds I had set aside for campground upgrades, so we had to wait until we had built up more funds to actually start the project, but that meant getting several quotes.
After I’d put in some calls and requests on the internet for quotes, I made up some of the baskets my guests could order ahead of time or even request one when they got here. These baskets had themes like toiletries, coffee, local flavor, bridal items, a girls’ weekend, and really any requests.
These weren’t huge moneymakers, but they weren’t meant to be. I had the idea years ago, when Normal was in a horrible recession, that the local business owners needed to band together and promote one another.
Take the coffee basket. Gert promoted the campground at Trails Coffee, while I put samples of her coffee in the coffee baskets. Every business had something to provide for my guests, and it had actually worked. It was a win for everyone.
By the time I did all my work and tidied up the office, it was time for me to close down for the afternoon.
Dottie hadn’t even left her camper, from what I could tell, and that meant she was binge-watching her shows, and I would see her later tonight.
It wasn’t like we had to be in the office all day long. We didn’t, but we did put up a sign when we left that gave a number that guests could call at any time.
As soon as I locked the office door, it was like I unlocked the file in my head about Florence Sparks.
Like I always did when I got off work, I took the long way around the campground to make sure everything looked great. So I tried really hard to put Florence in the back of my mind until I truly finished up my job.
“Good afternoon,” I called to a couple who were sitting by their campfire, sipping something from oversized mugs.
They waved and smiled.
There were the usual sounds of metal clanking as someone retracted their stabilizers. The birds were singing and happy it was spring, and the breeze carried that fresh, earthy smell only a beautiful day like today would shape up to have.
“How are you?” I called to a woman taking photos of the cluster of tulips near her camper. “Don’t you just love those pinks and purples?”
She nodded, smiled, and continued to take more photos.
“Don’t forget to tag us on social,” I reminded her. Then I continued walking, but my brain stayed stuck on what I needed to do next in Florence’s murder investigation.
I had to go get the waitress’s name and information from Coke Ogden, which meant I needed to get to the Old Train Station.
The golf cart rattling toward me brought me back to the present, and Henry Bryant brought it to a halt a few feet from me.
“Where are you?” He laughed and pointed his finger at his brain before circling it around.
“Not here,” I teased and smiled. “What’s Dottie doing? She didn’t stop in the office today.”
“She’s watching them reality shows she loves,” he snickered. “She’s got one of them mask thingies on her face, smoking like a freight train, and conditioner in her hair around them curlers.”
“You mean she’s in hog heaven?” I asked.
“Yeppers.” He nodded, grinning, exposing the two front teeth missing. “I told her I was taking her out for supper, so she better have all that gunk off her face and be ready.”
“Good for you.” I laughed. “I’m going to let the dogs out and then run to town. I put your number on the door in case someone needs something.”
He tipped his baseball hat at me and then took leave, but as soon as he did, my brain circled back to Florence Sparks, Tex in custody, and the waitress that I felt somehow knew more than she let on.