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MURDER AT CAMP PINEVILL GAZETTE MYSTERY #5 WENDY MEADOWS Copyright © 2019 by Wendy Meadows All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. LIKE COZY MYSTERIES? Join Wendy’s newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases. As a subscriber, you’ll get BLACKVINE MANOR, the complete series, for FREE! Join Wendy’s newsletter here. wendymeadows.com/cozy CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Thanks for Reading About Wendy More from Wendy! CHAPTER ONE M ary Holland drove her 1936 Chevy Slantback car down a long dirt road. Tall, rich, beautiful autumn trees lined the driveway, dripping with bright red, green, brown, and yellow leaves. The leaves danced and twirled in a crisp, cool wind blowing over pumpkin fields that seemed to stretch forever. “How beautiful,” Mary whispered. She slowed down her car, eased over a wooden bridge covering a lazy river, and then continued down the road. “Isn’t this beautiful, Betty?” Betty sighed. “I suppose it is beautiful,” she said in a sad voice. Mary glanced at her best friend. Even though the poor dear looked miserable, Mary was tempted to tease her friend. The dark purple dress Betty was wearing made her look like a grape; purple just wasn’t Betty’s color. Then again, Mary thought, quickly glancing down at the bright yellow and brown dress she was wearing, maybe being dressed like a bumblebee wasn’t much worse than being dressed like a grape. What a pair they made. “Honey,” Mary said instead in a caring voice, “you have to stop being so sad.” “How can I?” Betty asked Mary in a miserable voice. “Mother is...being courted.” Betty threw her eyes to the left, looked at the lovely autumn trees, and sighed again. “Mother is far past the age to be...considering having a male friend.” Mary grinned. She thought it was great that Betty’s mother was playing bingo with Mr. Steen. “Mr. Steen is a harmless old widower who spent his entire life running a hardware store. He was married for fifty years, has three sons and two daughters, and spends his days sitting at the bowling alley sipping coffee. I don’t think he’s...rambunctious.” “Mr. Steen has taken Mother to her weekly bingo games four times...four times!” Betty held up four fingers. “Four times, Mary. I call that being rambunctious!” Mary slowly stopped her car. “Honey,” she said and let out a sweet laugh, “your mother isn’t a child and neither is Mr. Steen. They’re both...familiar with time, if you catch my meaning.” Mary reached out and patted Betty’s hand. “When you reach a certain age in life, it’s nice to have a friend.” Betty looked into Mary’s loving, sweet face. In her eyes Mary resembled Judy Garland, even though Mary was a little older than the actress. Betty admired how Mary kept her soft hair, yet stylish. She admired how Mary glowed with a sweet beauty that held firm intelligence. Everyone in Pineville understood why Mary’s husband, John, had fallen in love with her: Mary Holland was an amazing woman. Betty—at least in her own eyes —was boring, bland, and clumsy. Sometimes she wondered why Mary even allowed her to tag along with her. “Mother doesn’t need a friend,” Betty replied, focusing back on the subject at hand. “Mother needs to stay home nights and bake cookies and read like she normally does.” Mary smiled. “You can’t lock your mother in a dungeon. The poor woman seems to enjoy Mr. Steen’s company.” Mary patted Betty’s hand again. “I think it’s wonderful that your mother has found a friend in Mr. Steen.” “Mr. Steen is no gentleman,” Betty objected. “Why, that man used to sell hammers and nails to my daddy and now he’s...romancing mother. Of all the nerve!” “Oh my,” Mary burst out with a laugh. “What’s so funny?” Betty asked, pouting. She folded her arms together and looked around. “I don’t think Mother being chased down by a fox is hilarious at all.” “A fox...oh my.” Mary laughed even harder. “Oh, I don’t consider a seventy-year-old man who can barely pick up a bowling ball a fox.” “What do you call a man ten years older than Mother?” Betty asked. “Ten years, Mary. Why. He’s old enough to be Mother’s...daddy.” “Daddy?” Mary laughed even harder. “John is older than I am. My daddy was older than my momma by eleven years. My grandpa had...let’s see...fourteen years over my grandma.” Mary struggled to stop laughing. “Look,” she begged, “we’ve driven all the way to Oregon to visit my cousin. So while we’re visiting my cousin, why don’t we forget about your mother and enjoy our trip?” “How can I forget about poor Mother?” Betty asked. Mary grinned, patted Betty’s hand, and pressed down on the gas pedal. “Honey,” she said, getting her laughter under control, “my cousin Stephanie needs help to get the new camp she bought into order. The camp opens this summer and from what Stephanie told me over the telephone, the entire place is in a poor state of affairs. Let’s focus on enjoying our trip and helping Stephanie, okay?” “I suppose that seems logical,” Betty agreed in a weak voice. She looked out at the beautiful autumn day and sighed. “It is exquisite...breathtaking, actually. I suppose it wouldn’t benefit me to spend my time stressing over Mother.” “That’s my girl.” Mary beamed and steered around a curve. “After all, we’ve been though we need a break.” “Uncle Albert had to be the worst,” Betty told Mary. “I thought being trapped in that spooky mansion in Maine was horrible...but Uncle Albert sure took the cake.” “Uncle Albert was horrible,” Mary agreed, thinking back to the mental hospital she and Betty had visited in Georgia. “Then again, so was fighting a crazy stalker in Los Angeles and nearly being killed by a foreign spy in our own town.” Betty winced. “Golly, when you say it like that it seems like we’ve been swimming against a violent current, doesn’t it?” “It sure does,” Mary agreed. “But all of our troubles are behind us.” Mary nodded her head around at the lovely day. “Look around, Betty, we’re surrounded by the Lord’s beauty. There’s nothing but trees, rivers, and pumpkin fields as far as the eye can see. The only trouble we will find out here are splinters, sore backs, and campfire smoke getting in our faces.” “Not to mention wondering where we will take a bath and use the bathroom,” Betty fretted. “We’re not driving to a home that has a bathroom, Mary.” “Yeah.” Mary winced a little. “Stephanie’s camp is kinda set away from time,” she agreed. “Look on the bright side...no people. No people, means no trouble.” “True,” Betty agreed and forced a brave smile to her lips. “Our entire drive has been very peaceful...other than worrying about Mother, that is. We haven’t encountered one problem.” “Not one problem,” Mary agreed. “The food has been good, the roads easy to drive on, and no one has caused us any problems. Everyone we’ve encountered has been very nice.” Mary spotted a closed wooden gate up ahead. A wooden sign that read “Snow Leaf Camp,” in painted bright green letters attached to the gate. “I think we’ve arrived,” she said in an excited voice. Betty’s smile slowly faded. “Uh...how far do you think the nearest town is?” she asked. “Oh, about twenty miles. Not far.” “Not far...” Betty sighed and nervously glanced down at her hands. Even though she was glad Mary had asked her to come along on the trip, the thought of being twenty miles away from the nearest town, staying out in the wilderness at a run-down camp, didn’t sit very well inside of her heart. Betty was not an outdoor-type woman. She preferred the cozy atmosphere