Beaches, Bungalows, and Burglaries~ A Camper and Criminals Cozy Mystery Series
Tonya Kappes
BOOK ONE
BY
TONYA KAPPES
BEACHES, BUNGALOWS AND BURGLARIES
“I’m very aware that you had nothing to do with his Ponzi scheme, but I’m not so sure you didn’t have anything to do with his escape.” He pulled his sunglasses off his face so smoothly, that he looked like one of those cute TV cops.
“Escape?” I gulped.
“We figured he’d come here to see you since he never really wanted to sign the divorce papers and from what your lawyer told us, this piece of property was done under the table which wasn’t in his dealings, so it didn’t get taken away. That’s why we think he’s here.” Detective Hank stared while the other guy started to walk around. “Have you seen him?”
Suddenly, I got nervous. Was he trying to read my body language like I’d seen done in movies. I began to pick at the stray limbs and other unrecognizable things that clung to my plastered head of hair.
“Trust me.” I put my hand on my hip after I realized I looked nervous. “I’d done killed the jerk if he’d showed up here.”
“Hank.” Detective Burke jutted his chin in the air gesturing Detective Hank over. “You stay there, Ms. West,” he instructed me.
“Listen, this is my campground and if there’s something to see, I’m gonna see it.” I stomped on my way over before he could stop me.
“Is that a foot?” Henry asked over my shoulder.
“Foot?” I laughed. “No.” I took a closer look and it sure looked like something that could be a foot, but nah. “It’s part of that dock.” I nodded.
“I’m thinking it’s a foot that’s attached to a leg.” Henry curled his nose and then his brows rose as the leg floated to the top of the lake and was attached to a body. “Definitely a foot.”
“Ahhh!” I screamed and jumped when the head of the body popped up like one of those red button things on a pressure cooker that let you know when it was finished cooking. “Paul!” I gasped bringing my hand up to my mouth.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I truly want to thank Eddy for recognizing that writing is part of my core and spending hours lost with my fictional characters are food for my soul.
I always have to thank my readers. I swear, y’all are the best in the world. I’m excited to bring you into the camping world of crime. I crack myself up. Seriously, it’s been a lot of fun writing these new characters and I hope you’re going to love them too!
XOXO~
T.
ONE
“A campground?” I gulped back a good hissy fit, because no one could ever underestimate the power of a good hissy fit, something I’ve tried really hard not to do in years. “As in tiny little metal houses and port-a-potties?”
“Well, I think they have a toilet in them,” said Stanley Shelton, my lawyer.
He eased back in his big fancy, wingback leather chair with his elbows resting on the wooden arms and his fingers drumming against each other. The grey pinstriped suit was of the finest materials and the nice crystal cufflinks were the touch it needed that screamed successful lawyer.
“I think the toilet is small, but you’re small.” He rubbed his hand over his bald head and then proceeded to draw his hand over his mustache and beard.
I tried as hard as I could to keep it together, but my composure was under attack.
“What about my house in the Hamptons? I’ll just go there.” I let out a sigh of relief. It was a perfect plan. “I’m desperately going to miss the New York City apartment, but I need a break.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to change the fact that my now ex-husband was in jail for a Ponzi scheme. He kept me busy by sending me to the spa, salon, and shopping for most of our two-year marriage. Not to mention, I’d cashed out my 401K to help him start a side business where he said we’d be partners. Little did I realize it was partners in a crime.
“And the house is gone.” Stanley’s jaw set. “I’m going to need the keys to your car and trade you for these.” He dangled a very small key from a flamingo keychain in the air.
“What’s that? A moped key?” I joked.
“It’s to your house and your new car.” He glanced out the window of his fancy office that was filled with plaques and certificates that boasted of his high education.
“You can’t even look at me? Because I clearly remember when we were donating to your son-in-law’s election fund and visiting our friends in the community who ended up being big donors, that you had no issue looking at me. And now that my bank account has taken a hit, you won’t even look at me?” I questioned, with a slight bitter taste in my mouth.
“It didn’t take a hit. There’s no bank account. The FBI seized it all.” Stanley made no effort to make me feel the slightest bit better about my situation.
“Where is my new house? The Upper-East Side? Not that that’s a bad place to live, but not like where we live now.”
“Ummm,” He licked his lips. “Out there.” He pointed to the window.
I sat up a little straighter in my chair and leaned on the arm of the leather chair.
“There’s nothing out there but an RV; a small one at that.” I laughed and eased back into the chair. “Wait, you mean that. . .” My voice trailed off when I noticed he didn’t find amusement in my teasing about the camper.
“I’m afraid that there’s no money to give you. The only thing free and clear are the camper and the campground.” He stood up and walked around the desk. He eased down on the edge. “I’m sorry, Mae. You don’t deserve this.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
I mean, I was having a real bad day before I got here, but this just made it almost unbearable. I rested my elbow on the arm of the chair and covered my mouth with my hand. I twisted my head to the side so Stanley couldn’t see my tearing up. There was a glimpse of my silhouette in the door of the mini-refrigerator.
My hazel eyes were sunken with half-moon dark circles under them. I’d not taken time to straighten my long brown curly hair and the humidity in the air wasn’t making it any better.
“Mae?” Stanley said my name. I blinked a few times. I didn’t recognize the image staring back at me.
“Sorry,” I apologized and forced a demure smile.
I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I had nothing. No family. No marriage. No place to live. No car. Nothing. “I mean, Paul is a jerk and I’d like to kill him, but he left me with nothing?” I hugged my designer bag to my chest.
That scum, I couldn’t believe that I was so dumb that I put everything in his name.
“He owed a lot of people money and some still don’t have their retirement back. You’re lucky I could salvage this in the settlements since he did have it in your name alone.” He sounded as if I needed to thank Paul. Stanley picked the flamingo keychain up and once again stuck it in my face. “The campground is in Normal, Kentucky.”
“Kentucky?” My jaw dropped. “You mean I have to go there?”
My mind rolled back to the last time I was in Kentucky. It was 2:04 a.m. I knew the exact time because it was the time I was born and also my eighteenth birthday. It was the day I grew up and knew that no one was going to give me a free ride. Somehow, Paul made me feel safe and secure, until now.
“You have to go there and be the manager if you want to have some sort of income or we can look at selling the place.” He didn’t move those darn keys.