We were nearly back to the cabin when a golf cart screeched to a halt in front of us, blocking our path.
“Good afternoon,” Copper Marchand said from beneath a floppy brimmed hat. She wore gray sweat pants and a different Minnesota sweatshirt, this one black, and I wondered how on earth she didn't die of heat stroke tooling around in attire better suited for winter. “How are we this afternoon?”
“We are fine,” I said. I glanced down at her feet. She had on different sneakers this time, red ones that looked brand-new, too. “You?”
“Oh, fine, fine,” she said. She peered at both of us. “You look like you both got a little sun?”
“We did,” Jake said. “So we're headed back to the cabin to cool off.”
She smiled at him. “Of course you are. You two do seem to like to cool off quite a bit.”
I wondered if we'd already gotten a reputation as being sex fiends in the couple days we'd been there. Back in Moose River, I had no doubt that we had a reputation because we were always affectionate. And I didn't mind. If the worse thing that people said about me was that I was attracted to my husband, I was more than okay with that. But I thought we'd been discreet so far at Windy Vista.
Maybe not.
“Any more run-ins with Mr. Hackerman?” Copper asked, looking at Jake.
“No, ma'am,” he answered. “And I don't think there will be another one. A one-time thing where my temper got the better of me.”
She chuckled. “Ol' Wayne is pretty good at getting under people's skin, so never say never.”
Jake smiled at her and nodded.
“He was even able to get to Harvey and he wasn't an easy young man to rattle,” she said, leaning back in her seat.
I ignored Jake's frown and looked at the old woman. “Oh? How is that?”
“Harvey was very even-keeled,” she said. The breeze tugged at her hat and she reached her hand up to plant it more firmly on her head. “I don't believe I ever heard him raise his voice to anyone and it was rare to see him get angry over anything.”
She misunderstood my question. “So how was Wayne able to rattle him then?”
She tapped her long fingers on the small black steering wheel. “Well, I'm not quite sure. But about a week ago, I saw them having a pretty good go at it.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were over near the laundry room,” she explained. “And I was just driving down to the clubhouse, minding my own business.”
I wasn't sure Copper had ever minded her own business.
“It was in the morning,” she continued. “Before most folks were up and moving. They were quiet at first, but then it seemed to get a little more heated.” She paused, making sure she had our attention. “And I couldn't make out the entire conversation, but I'm fairly certain Wayne was trying to bribe Harvey.”
“Bribe him?” I said.
She nodded. “There was some discussion of money, mostly on Wayne's part. Harvey kept shaking his head and it looked to me like he was telling him no. Then Wayne pulled out his wallet. Harvey put up his hand, like he didn't want to see it.” She raised her eyebrows beneath the floppy hat. “Wayne was not happy about that and that was when he raised his voice and said, 'Then tell me what it's going to take.'” Her eyebrows dropped. “Harvey leaned toward him, so he was right up in his face.” She glanced at Jake. “Sort of how you and Wayne were at karaoke.”
Jake forced a smile onto his face.
She looked back to me. “But Harvey was mad. And his voice was louder than normal, but I still couldn't tell what he was saying. Harvey turned to leave and Wayne grabbed his arm. Harvey turned around. Wayne said, 'Just name your price.' Harvey then shook his arm free and stomped away.” She clucked like an old hen. “I don't think I've ever seen him angrier.”
I was trying to take Copper's words with a grain of salt. She clearly enjoyed reporting on all the resort drama and I couldn't help but wonder if she didn't embellish the stories to make them more exciting. Still, even if the gist of what she was saying was true, it was very interesting.
“Why would Hackerman have been offering Harvey money?” Jake asked.
I wanted to ask him why he cared, since he'd made it perfectly clear he was not interested in solving any of the campground mysteries. But I kept my mouth shut.
Copper's gnarled fingers wrapped around the steering wheel to her golf cart. “I have no idea. But that is certainly what seemed to be going on.” She smiled at both of us. “Anyway, I've held you up long enough. Enjoy your...cooling off.”
She stepped on the gas, sped around us and disappeared down the hill.
“She seems a bit...odd,” Jake said as we watched her go.
“You think?”
“I do.”
“Me, too.” I squeezed his hand. “You think she's right? I mean, about what she saw?”
He shrugged. “I don't know. It sounds like Hackerman. But who knows if she's getting it all right or all wrong? I think she just likes being in the middle of it all.”
“Me, too.” I hesitated for a moment. “Maybe there's something there, though. Maybe we should let the sheriff know. It seems like an important piece of information to share.”
“You are not on the police force, Daisy,” Jake reminded me. “It's his job to investigate. Not yours.”
“I know, but now I think he thinks Delilah—”
“Delilah's a big girl,” he told me. “She can take care of herself. If she didn't have anything to do with his death, she'll be able to prove that.”
“She's just so down,” I said. “With Harvey's death and the whole financial situation. I think it might ruin her if the sheriff really thinks she was involved with whatever happened to Harvey.”
He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Maybe she was, Daisy.”
“What?” I shook my head vehemently. “No. There's no way she would have done something to him. He was like a son to her. She loved him.”
“Love can make people do strange things.”
“She didn't kill him,” I said firmly.
He chewed on his lower lip. “Remember what the sheriff said?”
I waited.
“Everyone's a suspect, Daisy.” Jake's eyes were hard. “Everyone.”
TWENTY ONE
Despite our heated conversation on the way home—or maybe because of it—Jake did get lucky when we got back to the cabin.
Twice.
Then we had dinner, sat out on the deck with a couple of beers, built a campfire in the small fire ring in the lawn and talked about everything but the campground and dead Harvey and just who might be suspects. Which meant we talked about kids and Jake's work and the house.
The sun streamed through the window the next morning and we were both slow to get out of bed. Jake was in the shower when my phone buzzed and I saw Will's name on the screen. My heart immediately jumped into my throat as I imagined all of the possible scenarios of Very Bad Things that might force my thirteen-year old to call me.
I tapped the screen. “Hi, Will.”
“Mom.” Will's voice was slightly agitated but nowhere near panicked hysteria. My heart calmed down a bit.
“What's up?”
“Okay, it's nothing too bad,” he began.
A new surge of alarm pulsed through me. “What?”
“Okay, so I was mowing the lawn this morning,” he explained, his voice coming out in a rush. “Just like I always do. Grandpa helped me get it started.”
“Okay,” I said. “Are you hurt? Did you run something over?”
“No, no,” he said quickly. “Nothing like that.”
I waited.
“Well, so Grandpa was looking at the hedges and he thought he should trim them for you guys. Like a surprise or something.”
I leaned back against the pillows. “Okay...”