Table Of Content
BEACHES, BUNGALOWS
AND BURGLARIES
A CAMPER AND CRIMINALS COZY
MYSTERY
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 smooth, 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 weren’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 on 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 camp ground 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.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
RECIPES AND CLEANING HACKS
About the Author
Also by Tonya Kappes
Copyright
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’d like to thank cover artist Mariah Sinclair for the adorable covers for A
Camper and Criminals Cozy Mystery Series. When I saw them, I knew I
had to have them and it was perfect for my next cozy series.
I’d also like to thank Sheryl Boothe for editing all the words and making the
way I talk and write, translate to the page.
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 Ponzie 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 key chain 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 is 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 key chain 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.
“I didn’t even know about this campground.” I shook my head refusing
to take the keys. “I’ve certainly never been a manager of a campground.”
“When Paul was in college, he somehow ended up at this campground
and winning some silly bet. After the two of you were married, he had me
put the deed in your name and your name alone. The FBI couldn’t seize it.”
Stanley thumbed through some papers on his desk.
“Lucky me,” I groaned.
“You have a camper to live in and a way to acquire some income.” He
pushed himself up off the desk and put a hand on my shoulder. “I suggest
you take a trip. Make it an adventure. Check the place out and save up a
couple of months before you decide if you want to sell it or not.” He held
out a brochure that had Happy Trails written in big letters across the top.
There was a beautiful, bright and vibrant photo on the front that looked
more like a vacation spot than a campground.
“Adventure?” I cocked a brow and looked back out the window at the
camper. “Yellow?” I questioned the color on my home on wheels. “I don’t
even like yellow.”
“It’s a pop up. The top lifts to make more space. There’s a kitchen,
bedroom, bathroom and you can drive it. It’s perfect,” he said with an
upbeat tone. “Be sure you read the manual in the glove box on how to work
all the equipment. It can be tricky.”
“Are you really trying to sell me on this camping idea? I lived in a ten-
thousand square foot home with a house cleaner. I drive a Maserati. Drove.”
I gripped the keys of my little car in my hand. I looked down and opened
my palm. “Did drive a Maserati.” I gulped back the tears and practically
ripped the flamingo keychain out of his hand.
