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

and his Chick-of-the-Day are somewhere on that hillside but they show up and—pouf!—they’re gone again. Are there caves around here?”
    “I don’t know about near the river. There’s some back in the hills south of here.”
    Jane Ann was pushing off the bow of their boat. “That guy from the pie shop is on this float trip? Didn’t the sheriff stop to tell him about the twins’ death?”
    “Yeah, we saw her car at his camper,” Mickey said.
    “I didn’t recognize him. Are you sure it’s the same guy? With another woman?” Jane Ann couldn’t quite grasp this twist.
    “It’s definitely him—I saw him with Valerie last night.” Frannie said. “I’m guessing that his feelings for Val weren’t quite as deep as she thought.”
    “Maybe it’s his sister or cousin,” Larry said from the back of the canoe.
    “If she’s his sister, he treats her a lot more—shall we say, tenderly?—than you treat Jane Ann,” she turned slightly to smirk at her husband, but instead winced as the pain seized her side.
    “Doesn’t pay to be a smartass,” he said.
    “I know,” she grimaced. “My mother always told me that. We should check out that bluff—see where they went.”
    “No,” said Larry.
    The river made a big lazy loop, turning north, east and then back south. Nothing was required of Frannie, and it gave her a chance to think about the dead women and Richard. She wondered if the sheriff had actually talked to Richard and if so, what she had found out. Maybe the sheriff hadn’t found him yet; he could have been out on his bike. She didn’t want to think that he was that much of a scumbag to lead two women on at once. She was enough of a romantic to want Val’s hopes had some foundation, even though those hopes had evaporated at the power plant.
    The loop ended and the river turned east. As they rounded the bend, the ominous hulk of the power plant—now even more so with its recent history—came into view on the right bank. A small sand bar jutted out at the base.
    “Can we stop?” Frannie asked.
    “Because you’re hurting or because you’re nosey?” Larry kept paddling at a steady rate.
    “Well…”
    “ We are heading to the ER as soon as we get off this river. If the doctor says you haven’t broken anything and if they also say you are allowed mild activity, we will visit the Power Plant later , okay?” The paddle chopped through the water to emphasize each condition he gave her.
    “Geesh. What a grouch,” said Jane Ann, coming up on their left side.
    Mickey agreed. “She just wants to do a little investigating.”
    “Exactly what I’m worried about,” Larry answered. “With any luck at all, they’ll keep her in the hospital for six days.”
    “But we’re only here for five days,” Frannie protested.
    Larry grinned. “I’ll wait for you.”
    As they passed the gray, crumbling relic, Frannie examined it thoughtfully. What could possibly have led to the deaths of two women in their prime? The night before, they talked enthusiastically about their careers and their travels—as the saying goes, not a care in the world. Now they were both gone. It didn’t seem like they could be a threat to anyone.
    They reached the western edge of the campground, and back in the trees she spotted the derelict camper the men had seen the night before. A young man, about eighteen or nineteen, carried wood from a stack behind the camper to a fire pit in front. Compared to the man she had seen in the pickup the night before, this guy looked pretty clean cut. Almost too clean cut—kind of a skinhead look. When he glanced up, his look was stoic and certainly not friendly. Maybe the twins had put themselves in danger with their cameras. He watched them pass and then turned back to his task.
    They followed another large loop around the campground; hence the name River Bend. At the end of the loop they found a wide, gentle takeout, and waiting at the top of the slope, Mary Louise Larson and her golf