Fear of Frying

Claypool?”
    Jane and Shelley glanced at each other, and Shelley replied, “What do you mean... we ‘say’ it was Sam Claypool? It was. There was no mistaking him. You met him yourself, earlier today.“
    “And exactly where did you see this?“
    “At the far end of the campsite from the path we came in on. There’s a semicircle of big rocks,“ Jane said. “Well, medium-sized. And he was just on the other side of them. Sheriff Taylor, these are odd questions. Why are you asking them?”
    He sighed. “Well, ma’am, it’s because there’s no body up there. Not Sam Claypool’s or anybody else’s.“
    “What!“ Jane and Shelley yelped in unison. “Not a sign,“ he said.
    “Somebody moved the body?“ Shelley asked. “Either that or...“ The sheriff left the words hanging in the air.
    “Or what?“ Shelley asked.
    “Or you imagined it,“ he replied bluntly.
    “Neither of us are in the habit of imagining bodies,“ Shelley said angrily. “We’re not lunatics!“
    “I didn’t mean you were,“ he said, not at all convincingly. “But it was dark, raining, you’re in unfamiliar territory—“
    “City slickers, you mean? Who can’t tell the difference between a corpse and a pile of dead leaves?“ Jane asked. She was as mad as Shelley. “We saw Sam Claypool’s body. There was no mistaking it. We were standing only a couple feet from him. He was lying on his back. His eyes were open and he’d apparently been smacked in the head with a frying pan that was on the ground next to him. There was blood.”
    Taylor was shaking his head and glaring at them from under his heavy eyebrows. “We’ve had people here swear they’ve seen the ghost of a pioneer woman. It’s easy out in the woods. There are strange shadows, animals, and tonight it was pouring down rain, there was lightning. It doesn’t mean you’re crazy, just that—“
    “It was a body,“ Shelley said firmly. “If Sam Claypool’s not dead, where is he?“
    “I just sent my deputy to their cabin. We’ll know in a minute or two.”

Nine

    “Well, he is missing,“ the deputy reported to the sheriff a few minutes later.
    Jane and Shelley had dragged their bedspreads off the beds, and were huddled in them by the doorway where they were eavesdropping.
    “See!“ Shelley exclaimed.
    Sheriff Taylor glared at her and turned back to the deputy. “When did he go missing?“
    “His wife says“—the deputy consulted his notes—“that he said he wanted to just sit by the fire for a bit and told her to go on back to the cabin. She walked back with her brother-in-law and his wife and went to bed to read. Fell asleep and didn’t even realize he still hadn’t come back until I wakened her. Now she’s in a panic.“
    “The couple in the cabin across from her are her in-laws. Better send them to her,“ Taylor said. “Keep her as calm as possible until we have this sorted out.“
    “That’s it,“ Jane said to Shelley. “I’m giving up and getting dressed. We’re not going to get any sleep.”
    Taylor overheard this. “Good idea. I’d like all you people in the lodge. My deputy will escort you down there when you’re ready. Don’t come outside unless he’s here. Don’t roam around anyplace on your own.”
    Jane closed the door, muttering, “Can we possibly look as stupid as he seems to think we are?”
    Shelley looked at Jane, then down at herself. Both were clad in several layers of nightwear topped with matching bedspreads.
    “Yes,“ she said.
    They put on clean, dry clothes, but had to don the wet, muddy ponchos. The deputy—who turned out to be named Reedy, which was a serious disappointment to Jane, who wanted him to be called Fife—was waiting for them. The rain had again let up a little bit, but they hurried along as quickly as possible anyway for fear it would start up again. And it did, just as they reached the lodge. There were several unfamiliar cars parked in front, plus an ambulance, but no sign of the people who went with the vehicles.
    Inside, most of the rest of the guests and staff, plus the ambulance driver and another police officer, were milling around. Allison wasn’t in sight, but Benson, Edna, and one of the boys who had helped with dinner and entertainment had thrown together hot cocoa, coffee, and an assortment of doughnuts, apparently on the premise that a crisis always went better if there was plenty of food around. John Claypool was moving the sofas away from the fireplace and setting up