Chapter 2

The loud voices woke me. After listening to the shouting for several minutes I still had no idea what was happening. I wanted desperately to ignore it, but I had to pee. That's what happens when a 46 year old woman gets awakened in the middle of the night.

The bathhouse was in the trailer part of the campsite. So like it or not, I was going to be near the shouting. I was sleeping in my clothes, so the .357 was near me, but not inside my jeans. Before I left the space the pistol was back under my sloppy tee and inside the waist band of my jeans.

The bathhouse should have been the only puddle of light in the dark night, but the trailers were all lit. I noticed the small group standing outside shouting at each other. Even dumb ass me could tell it was escalating quickly. I went inside the bathroom to pee before I even considered anything else. I seated myself on the last toilet inside a small cubicle. I really was in a hurry to get it over with and get the hell away from the loud voices. Of course my nerves made it harder to start the flow.

I finally got the flow going. It felt wonderful even on just a physical level. Emotionally, I was thrilled to think I might be gone before it went too rank. Alas it was not to be. On my very first night on the road I heard what was the unmistakable blast of a shotgun. I was pretty sure someone had just been shot and likely killed. I had absolutely no intention of getting involved.

I knew two things for sure. I was not going to call 911 and I was going to go hide my .357. With a little luck none of the participants in the shooting had seen me enter the bathhouse. I was pretty sure they were going to be too busy to see me leave it.

Once I got back to my space I lay on top of the tarp and waited. As I expected the sirens began within a minute of my arrival. It was a minute or two later that they entered the park. It was also about the time I decided that I could kill for a cup of black coffee, even the terrible shit they call coffee in a restaurant would do.

It was hard for me to believe but the Sheriff's deputy woke me. I had somehow fallen asleep clutching the inflatable pillow. I should have bought the inflatable Ken doll pillow, but I went with the plain olive drab pillow. If I tried to sleep without a pillow I would lay awake all night with clogged sinus cavities. The blow up pillow was my best possible solution.

"Excuse me miss have you seen or heard anything?" the slightly more than half my age deputy asked.

"Something woke me earlier, but I'm not sure what it was." I was just about to continue lying but I remembered the father and son beside me. Most likely one of them heard or saw me leave the site for the bathhouse. Since that revelation came to me in the middle of the interview I improvised.

"When I got awake, I needed to pee, so I went to the bathhouse. I heard a gunshot, so I hightailed it back here. I must have fallen asleep waiting for you to arrive," I said.

"So you didn't actually see what happened," he asked again.

'No, I just heard loud voices. I would have went somewhere else, but I had to pee badly. So I was in the bathroom when the shot startled me. I thought it was just a domestic argument," I said.

"Could I get your name and address? So that we can have the detectives follow up with you, if they need more information," the deputy asked.

"If you really need it sure, but I have to warn you I'm on vacation and will be on the road for more than a month. I do have a cell with me. I can give you that number as well." He was agreeable so I gave him the new address back home, and the number to the smart phone.

The deputy left and I went back to sleep. Even though I sleep until 8AM I was still tired when I awoke. I didn't even bother with the coffee making. Instead I packed the trailer and then headed for the cafe where I had eaten the day before. I noted that the trailer, which had been very neatly packed the day before, was running over on day 2. The tarp took up more space than before. Even the thin cotton blanket seemed to be thicker. I had expected some difficulties, but I wasn't quite prepared for the growing trailer load.

Before I stopped at the cafe, I made a stop at a convenience store a block from it. I pumped exactly .5 of a gallon of regular gas into the tank. Then I found my plastic quart bottle of 2cycle engine oil. Next I used my calculator function on the smart phone to determine the proper amount of oil to add to the tank. the proper amount of oil I determined to be 1.28 oz. With the child's needle less drug syringe, I measured 1.25oz then just a smidgen over. The joys of a two cycle engine, I thought.

Most women wouldn't try mixing gas and oil but I used the gasoline weedeater at home most of the time. Jeff just wasn't the yard man type. Even with a yard service, I did most of the weedeating. I guess I am a little anal myself. I did a little reading to find the easy way to do it on the road, and I had to admit that it worked pretty darn well.

Inside the cafe I found that the talk was all about the murder at the campground. It was the first I had heard about it being a murder. "Damn strangers," seemed to be the consensus of opinion.

"Ain't even no mystery, just and inconvenience," and older farmer type said.

"Yeah, but so senseless. He told them to shut up and the man should have just shut up." His companion also a farmer type agreed.