Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3) by Karen Musser Nortman Page B

intruder go, two more cars pulled up. Several officers joined them, one with a large dog on a leash.
    Flashlights bounced along the ground as the officers headed toward the slope and Larry returned to their camper.
    “Obviously, no one was in there,” Frannie said to him. “Did she find anything else?”
    “Oh, yes, someone was definitely looking for something. She said drawers were pulled out—quite a mess.”
    “Seems to me that indicates that the twins’ deaths were not just random. There are more layers to this than it appears.”
    “Frannie,” Larry hesitated, leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “No offense, honey, but the police—or in this case, the sheriff and deputies—aren’t idiots. They’ve done this before, and they will do it again. They were sure this wasn’t random by yesterday afternoon.”
    “Oh.” Frannie sat looking at her hands feeling foolish. Larry was right, she was trying to interfere and didn’t know what she was doing. She was suddenly exhausted, and even though she was dying to know if the deputies caught anyone, she recognized her limits.
    “I think I’ll go back to bed,” she said, standing with some effort.
    “Good idea. I’m not trying to belittle the help you’ve given them…”
    She waved him off. “I know. You’re right. But maybe I can sleep now—I am so tired.”
    And she did. Laying flat on her back, she felt relief from the tension and pain and immediately dropped off.

Chapter Ten
    Sunday Morning
     
     
    The next morning, Frannie awoke to the patter of rain on the camper roof. Odd, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky a few hours before. She smiled to herself. Not that odd, really; she’d lived in the Midwest her whole life and shouldn’t be surprised by sudden turns in the weather. So much for Mickey’s forecast.
    She eased out of bed so as not to disturb Larry, and slipped on a hooded sweatshirt and slippers. After plugging in the coffee pot they had readied the night before, she raised the blinds and looked out. Not a heavy rain, and the sky appeared lighter off in the West. But the firewood would be wet; maybe it was a good day for an easy breakfast. She got a container of veggie pancakes out of the freezer.
    Sitting in Larry’s recliner, waiting for the coffee, her thoughts were drifting when her phone chirped for a text message. It was from Jane Ann: MYBE BRFST INSIDE THIS MORN? Obviously, great minds do run along the same track. Frannie replied, GOING TO WRM UP VGGI PANCAKES. Ten seconds later, an answer: B RITE THERE.
    Frannie smiled. NOT YET. LARRY’S STILL IN BED. The response: FIGURES. K.
    By the time Larry got up, and the group shared a throw-together breakfast of the pancakes, fruit, and leftover rolls from Donna’s purchase on Friday, the sky had cleared and the grass glistened with the rain drops. Everyone trooped outside and wiped down tables and chairs while making plans for the day’s ride from Wheat Valley.
    Jane Ann straightened from wiping the picnic table bench. “Frannie, what about you?”
    “Well, the doctor didn’t say I couldn’t, but this morning I’m thinking I will pass.”
    “I’ll stay here, too,” Larry said.
    “Don’t be silly. I’ve got plenty to read and I’m sure Mary Louise will be by to check on me.”
    “I know you,” Larry insisted. “You have something planned. You need to stay out of this investigation.”
    She shook her head and held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I will be in that recliner except for trips to the bathroom. I don’t feel that bad—I just don’t want to take any chances.” And she meant it.
    Larry put up more objections and Frannie parried them all. Finally, she said, “When you get back, you can make it up to me with a trip to the pie shop.” He gave up.
    In another hour the bikes were loaded and they were ready for departure. Larry offered again to stay with her, as did Jane Ann. As further proof of her intentions, she brought three paperbacks and