No Lifeguard on Duty

By Amy M Bennett

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water . . . Second in the Black Horse Campground Mystery series from the author of End of the Road.
 
Every year, Corrie Black ushers in the summer season by opening the campground’s pool and hosting a private party for employees and friends. This year is no different—except for the corpse found floating on the surface the next day . . .
 
It turns out that a bunch of graduating high school seniors snuck onto the grounds late that night for a little private party of their own. After arguing with both her current and past boyfriends, Krista Otero never made it home. Suspicion falls on her bad-boy ex—especially when an autopsy shows that Krista was dead before she hit the water.
 
With the Black Horse looking more like a crime scene than a campground, Sheriff Rick Sutton is up to his neck in suspects and motives. And it will take Corrie’s compassion and courage to stop an undertow of evil from claiming even more victims . . .
 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Feb 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9781504091022

Amy M Bennett

Amy M. Bennett was born and raised in El Paso, Texas. End of the Road started as a project for National Novel Writing Month in 2009 but it went on to win Oak Tree Press’s 2012 Dark Oak Mystery contest. Her first and second books in the series, End of the Road and No Lifeguard on Duty, were both awarded the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval. She and her husband Paul currently reside in Bent, New Mexico, with their son, Paul Michael.  

Book preview

Chapter 1

Twelve hours earlier

Corrie Black paused outside the gate leading to the pool area and smiled. For the last five years, she had been hosting a pool party for her employees and a select group of friends to usher in the summer season. It was always on a Wednesday, a day she had found had always been very slow in the campground business, and she didn’t take reservations for this one day, leaving the pool and patio area free for her friends to have a day-long party and relax.

Across the patio, Rick Sutton—he wasn’t Sheriff Rick Sutton when dressed down in his swim trunks and t-shirt, although he still managed to look as breath-taking as he did in his official uniform—manned the grill, like he usually did, flipping burgers. Even on the regular Sunday evening steak cook-out nights that the Black Horse hosted, he manned the grill, although his affiliation with the campground was simply as a friend, not an employee or as a law enforcement official. Corrie didn’t want to be reminded about the last time he was officially affiliated with the Black Horse. A few weeks earlier one of her long-time guests ended up dead, the victim of a murder committed by his own wife. Corrie shivered at the memory, despite the warm late-spring afternoon. She fervently hoped that that incident would be the last time Rick would ever have to set foot on the property in his official capacity. She didn’t count his daily morning visits, usually bearing a box of home-baked sweets of some kind.

You still planning on ‘girls’ night’ at my place tonight? Shelli Davenport, Corrie’s best friend since childhood and one of her weekend employees, came up behind her from the direction of the parking lot. Her three children were in tow, grinning with delight at being able to skip the last three hours of school for the pool party, and they stopped briefly to give their aunt Corrie a quick hug and greeting before making a dash for the pool. Mark, Naomi, keep an eye on Bart! Shelli called to her twelve-year-old and her ten-year-old as she deftly stooped to slip off her eight-year-old’s glasses.

Corrie waited to answer until Shelli had seen her trio into the pool. If it won’t be too late. This party won’t wrap up till after seven, maybe eight, tonight, then the cleanup …

Shelli shook her head, her unruly strawberry-blond curls bouncing loose from the scrunchy that held them back from her face. She reached up with both hands to try to tame them before they became a tangled mess. The cleanup won’t take ten minutes, not with me, the Pages, the Myers, and Rick helping. Besides, when have your guests ever left you a big mess to clean up?

Never, Corrie admitted with a shrug. Shelli gave her a nudge.

Come on, it’s been forever since you’ve been over to my place and I want to show off what I’ve done with the floors and the walls. You’re gonna love that furniture Mark’s grandma left me in her will. Must be a hundred years old and solid cherry. And it’ll be forever before you have another night where you don’t have to worry about guests. You never leave the campground anymore, Corrie. Shelli’s hazel eyes darkened. That’s not healthy. You need to get out once in a while.

I do, Corrie protested but Shelli shook her head, defeating her own attempts to bring her hair under control.

Church and the grocery store don’t count, Shelli said flatly. And I’m willing to bet you haven’t even made it to the grocery store lately either!

I’ve been busy, Corrie said, a little more curtly than she intended. Shelli arched a brow at her.

Busier than you were when you were taking care of Billy? Shelli’s voice softened. He used to make you get away from the campground from time to time. He’d want you to go on and have some fun, Corrie.

I do have fun, Corrie argued. Her father had been gone for more than a year, but tears still clogged her throat whenever she spoke of him. She swallowed hard. I don’t have to leave the campground to have fun. But I am looking forward to tonight, she added, not sure she really meant it, but not wanting to hurt her best friend’s feelings.

Shelli, of course, saw right through her. You’re worse than a teenager with a crush. You and the Black Horse will survive a few hours apart, she said. Don’t make me get Jackie over here to twist your arm! Corrie laughed and was about to answer when she was interrupted.

Cannonball! came a roar and everyone near the edge of the pool and the ones in the pool made a mad dash for safety as Buster—legally known as Oscar Bustamante, the Black Horse Campground’s ubiquitous and least productive maintenance man—ran across the patio from the changing rooms, ignoring the No Diving signs, and launched himself into the air. That Buster easily tipped the scale at over two hundred fifty pounds made the threat of a tidal wave even more ominous. Corrie grimaced as a fountain of water shot up and drenched the few who hadn’t been fast enough to respond to Buster’s warning. The waves made by Buster’s dive surged over to the shallow side of the pool where the children belonging to Corrie’s friends paddled in relative safety. They squealed with delight and mock terror as the waves bounced their little plastic inflatable pool rings and rafts up and down.

Suddenly the screams turned real as one little girl, the youngest daughter of Steve Placido, the campground’s pool maintenance man, in her excitement, raised her arms high above her head and slipped down through the center of the pink ring around her middle. The five-year-old had strayed just far enough from the shallow end to a section where her feet, even on tip toe, couldn’t touch the bottom and she started sinking.

Before Corrie—or anyone else—could take a breath to shout, Rick dropped his spatula and, in two steps, reached the edge of the pool and dove in. He hurtled through the clear blue water like a torpedo and when he surfaced, not ten feet away from Corrie, he had little Stephanie Placido in his arms, spluttering and blubbering and bawling, clinging like a barnacle to Rick’s broad shoulders.

It’s okay, it’s okay, he crooned, handing her up to her white-faced father and mother. Steve tried to scold his daughter and soothe his near-hysterical wife, Annabelle, but his own pale complexion hinted that he, himself, wasn’t handling the situation very well. Rick waved away their thanks as he climbed out of the pool.

She’s fine, just a little spooked, he said, patting Annabelle on the shoulder and gripping Steve’s upper arm and giving it a shake. Steve nodded, forcing a sickly smile. Rick gave him his usual half-smile that would pass for a full smile on most people before turning to Corrie and giving her a wink. Corrie realized she didn’t look much better than the Placidos and that she had been holding her breath. She let it out with a sigh and shook her head at Rick. He gave her a nod and returned to his grill. It was hard not to stare as he walked away and Corrie had a fleeting thought that Lois Lane must feel the same way whenever Superman saved the day then flew off to his Fortress of Solitude.

Whomp, whomp, Shelli murmured, her usual comment whenever she wanted to express approval. The campground is in good hands, as usual. Even if they aren’t yours.

Corrie looked around and, except for Jackie Page and Dana Myers fussing over Stephanie Placido and clucking sympathetically with the child’s mother, everyone seemed to have returned to their fun in progress. Several members of the Bonney County Sheriff’s Department sat at the far end of the patio under the awning. Deputy and unofficial undersheriff, Dudley Evans, had let down his usual reticence and was laughing and joking with the other deputies—Gabe Apachito, Bobby Fletcher, and Daniel Klinekole. That meant that Rick had left the department and the county in the care of Deputies Andy Luna, Mike Ramirez, and Angie Mirabal. Since the closest thing to a crime wave they’d had recently—not counting Marvin Landry’s murder—was a high school prank involving old Efrain Gonzalez’s flock of sheep being let out of their pasture and tying up traffic on U.S. 70 for forty-five minutes, Rick had agreed to rotate his deputies so that all of them could have some time at Corrie’s party with their families or significant others. She wondered if Dudley would be given extra consideration since his date appeared to be one of Corrie’s maintenance workers, Myra Kaydahzinne.

Hi, Corrie! Dee Dee Simpson, Corrie’s part-time camp store employee, stepped onto the patio, bringing conversation to a dead halt, especially among the men over under the awning. Dee Dee had aspirations to be a model/actress/singer, but so far was having trouble merely succeeding as a part-time employee at the campground, Frederick’s Beauty Salon, and the sheriff’s department. She somehow managed to have no problem remembering to show up for social occasions.

She had captured everyone’s attention by wearing a hot-pink bikini, only partially covered up by a matching, diaphanous hot-pink sarong, and ridiculously high-heeled sandals. Her hair—long, platinum blond today, and tied in a Barbie doll style ponytail—hung down to the middle of her back and she wore enormous mock-designer sunglasses. She had a hot pink straw bag slung over her shoulder and she stopped, struck a pose as if she were on a modeling runway, then raised her shades and gave Corrie a smile before she turned to her admiring audience and winked and blew a kiss. Howls and hoots of appreciation from the single men greeted her performance and Corrie rolled her eyes and sighed. Hi, Dee Dee, so glad you could make it, she said, not even trying to fake any enthusiasm.

You should be, Dee Dee sing-songed, as she reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Jo Mamma’s White table wine from the local winery, Noisy Water. Here’s a little hostess gift for you! Corrie’s brows shot up and she suddenly felt a rush of forgiveness, with only a slight twinge of guilt.

Well, thank you, Dee Dee, that’s sweet, she said, taking the bottle. Dee Dee crinkled her nose and laughed.

Well, it’s supposed to be your night off to hang out with your friend tonight, she said, flashing a perfunctory smile at Shelli, who responded with a waggle of her fingers and a twist of her lips. Dee Dee flounced her shoulders. I figured it might help you loosen up and actually have some fun. Enjoy, Corrie. I’m going to see if the boys might have a beer for me, she said and sashayed across the patio. Corrie’s eyes narrowed as Dee Dee aimed a smoldering gaze across the pool at Rick. To Corrie’s mean satisfaction, Rick didn’t spare Dee Dee more than a brief glance and a nod. From where she stood, Corrie saw Dee Dee’s hot pink lips—her fourth job as a Glamour Girl Cosmetics consultant gave her access to an incredible array of every color of lipstick imaginable—thrust into a pout before she tossed her head and gave the deputies under the awning a dazzling smile.

Dee Dee’s putting on quite a show, isn’t she? Jackie Page had sidled up beside Corrie and Shelli. Shelli laughed.

You say that like it’s something out of the ordinary, she said. I guess she forgot that I actually work at Noisy Water and my wine fridge is nothing if not stocked with some of the best vino in the state, including my BFF’s favorite, she added with a nod toward the bottle in Corrie’s hand.

Well, at least she got us wine we KNOW we’ll like, Corrie said, her attempt to give Dee Dee an A for effort falling flat. Shelli rolled her eyes.

I’d better go see if the kids bothered with sunscreen. I’ll catch you in a while, she said, giving Corrie’s arm a quick squeeze. Corrie glanced at Jackie and gave a shrug.

It’s just Dee Dee, she said. Jackie clucked, lowered her sunglasses down on her nose and shook her head, her thick, silver-gray pony tail swaying.

I don’t think she’s setting a very good example to some of the young girls here, and I don’t think their parents are going to appreciate any requests for a swimsuit like Dee Dee’s, especially since I don’t think that suit—what there is of it—is going to get wet unless Dee Dee spills a drink on it!

Corrie glanced down at her own ruby red one-piece suit, partially hidden under a not-quite-sheer oversized shirt of white crinkled cotton that she used as a cover-up. It wasn’t likely to get much water on it, either. Corrie had never been much of a swimmer; in fact, she couldn’t manage a sloppy dog paddle. She only wore it because someone, a long time ago, told her that ruby red was her color and because vanity refused to let herself appear at her own pool party in a t-shirt and Bermudas or, heaven forbid, a muumuu like Rosemary Westlake’s. Her longtime year-round guest and her husband, Donald, sat at the largest patio table, along with their pug, Bon bon, chatting with other year-rounders and employees. For one uncharitable moment, Corrie wondered if Rosemary’s voluminous, orange-and-yellow attire had been made from the same fabric as the patio table umbrella. Or by the same manufacturer.

Delbert Otero came through the gate, shepherding his family that included his own three sons and two nephews and a niece that he and his wife had taken in three years earlier when his brother and sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident. His wife, Natalie, had succumbed to stomach cancer a year earlier and Delbert had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the role of Mom as well as Dad, perhaps too wholeheartedly. It was apparent that there was some tension between Delbert and his niece, Krista, who was already eighteen. Her face was sulky and she stood a little apart from her uncle, cousins, and brothers, her arms folded stiffly across her chest. Corrie wondered if Delbert had ordered Krista to put her omnipresent cell phone away while they were at a social gathering and Krista had argued the point and lost her phone privileges for the afternoon.

Corrie knew that Krista, being the oldest and on the verge of graduating from high school, sometimes chafed at Delbert’s occasional over-protectiveness. Corrie had mentioned offering Krista a job at the campground to Delbert, but Delbert had politely declined. Corrie suspected that his main reason was that Krista’s boyfriend, Isaiah Pino, was one of Corrie’s employees as well.

Delbert raised a hand in greeting to Corrie and came over, leading his brood with Krista bringing up the rear. Hi, Corrie! The big man’s face creased into a smile and he nudged the boys forward so that they, too, could greet Corrie and thank her politely for the invitation to the party before they stampeded toward the pool. Delbert watched them go with some anxiety. Boys, be careful! No roughhousing! Watch where you’re swimming! Don’t splash people! Stay out of the deep end!

Delbert … Corrie began then Krista broke in.

They’re okay, Tio. They’re not bothering anyone. They’re just kids, let them have some fun. The young girl looked more pained than miffed; it occurred to Corrie that Krista was embarrassed at her uncle’s fussing and perhaps afraid that Corrie would be offended. Delbert threw his niece a look that seemed to indicate that he didn’t appreciate being corrected publicly and that it certainly wasn’t her place to do so … but he didn’t want to put a damper on the day or engage in a family squabble in front of Corrie. He turned to Corrie and shrugged apologetically.

Well, you let me know if they get out of hand … and don’t hesitate to correct them if they need it, he said.

Corrie nodded then gestured toward the picnic tables. Make yourself at home, Delbert. Rick’s got an amazing spread over there and you probably skipped lunch to get here this afternoon. Delbert gave her a bashful smile and bowed slightly before heading for the food.

A sigh from Krista brought Corrie’s attention back to the young girl. She knew that Krista’s frustration was compounded by the fact that Isaiah was not in attendance at the party; he’d had final exams at the university and those were definitely not something he could put off in order to attend a social gathering. Certainly, Krista understood that, but some of the other part-timers that worked summers at the Black Horse were teenagers—Krista’s fellow high school students. Will Davis, Jon Comanche, and Darrell LaRue were in the pool with their respective dates. Corrie had allowed them to invite one person apiece, lest the guest list get completely out of hand, so it had to seem to Krista that she was the odd one out for not having a date.

Corrie gave her a sympathetic smile. Glad the school year’s almost over?

Krista nodded, her face a study of gloominess. Not that my summer is going to be all that. Isaiah’s going to be working full-time this summer, isn’t he?

Corrie tried not to take the critical words as an accusation, but she couldn’t help but become a bit defensive. She nodded. He asked if I could use him full-time this summer and I said I definitely could. He said he needed the money … and he’s one of my best workers. I didn’t want to lose him to a full-time job someplace else. I wish all the young people I hired were as hard-working and reliable as he is. I don’t think he’s called out a single day in the three years he’s worked for me.

Krista nodded, abashed. Sorry, Miss Black. I was just hoping we—Isaiah and me—would be able to have some time together this summer now that I’m graduating and, you know, just have fun. He’s always studying when school is in session and now it looks like he’ll be working all the time. Is he going to have weekends off?

Well, maybe a few, Corrie said slowly, resisting the urge to tell Krista that even SHE, the owner, didn’t get weekends off. Business in the hospitality industry, whether a hotel or campground, was usually greater on the weekends than it was during mid-week; naturally, Corrie would have to schedule the majority of her employees to work weekends. And if they were exceptionally good workers, of the caliber demonstrated by Isaiah Pino, they were definitely the ones she wanted around when things got crazy. It seemed unfair that the better employees had to work weekends, while the newcomers and the less reliable—like Dee Dee—were usually scheduled off.

Well, it just doesn’t seem fair, Krista was saying, dragging Corrie’s mind back to their conversation. I mean, it’s hard to have a relationship when one of you is never around. My uncle wouldn’t let me go out every weekend, not even to the movies or to hang out with my friends … he said it was because we didn’t have a lot of money, but then he wouldn’t even let me get a part-time job during the school year because he said it would interfere with my schoolwork. Isaiah worked part-time and went to school, so I never saw him much either except on weekends. I mean, what’s the point of it all?

Corrie wasn’t sure what point exactly Krista was talking about, and she was equally sure that Krista wasn’t looking for advice or answers. She wanted to vent and her uncle wasn’t the type to listen to a teenager’s angst with any degree of patience. Corrie searched her mind for something to say when Krista’s face brightened a degree. Hey, Jenny, what’s up? I didn’t know you’d be here!

A dark-haired teenage girl with startlingly blue eyes stepped from the pool and came over to talk to Krista. I tried to text you, she said, her voice on the edge of whining and Corrie winced. She recalled the girl being introduced to her as Jennifer Bolin, the girlfriend of Darrell LaRue, one of Corrie’s part-time summer high school employees. If the girl had any recollection of having met Corrie at all, it wasn’t apparent from the way she ignored her hostess. You never answered. I figured you were too busy with your college boyfriend to hang with us.

Krista’s face turned as red as Corrie’s swimsuit. No, that’s not it at all! she stammered. My uncle took my phone away … he said he didn’t want me using it at a social gathering.…

The two girls moved away from Corrie and she knew better than to expect any kind of good-bye from either one of them. She shook her head and was silently thankful for the fact that she was now several years removed from teenage drama and problems.

J.D. Wilder heard the sounds of music, water splashing, laughter, and conversation as he stepped from the rental car that he parked in front of the Black Horse Campground’s main office. He followed the sounds to the patio gate and pushed it open.

It was apparent that there was some kind of party going on; it explained the sign on the front gate that said Campground Closed. Please Call Again. The sign had baffled him, but the gate was open so he entered anyhow. He saw that the patio area was full of people milling around, talking and laughing, the pool teeming with swimmers of all ages. The tantalizing aroma of hamburgers, hot dogs, brats, and barbecued chicken wafted across the patio and set his stomach to rumbling. He hadn’t eaten since leaving Houston early that morning. He had arrived in El Paso six hours earlier and, with his subsequent meeting with the law enforcement officials investigating his wife’s death a month earlier, had been delayed in leaving for Bonney County and the Black Horse Campground.

It was no surprise to see Bonney County Sheriff Rick Sutton manning the grill, as he often did; in fact, it was no surprise to see the sheriff at the campground at all. Corrie’s best friend, Shelli, was sitting on the edge of the pool, adjusting arm floats on a child he presumed was one of hers. Buster, the maintenance man who doubled as an overly-zealous wannabe security guard, lay on an over-sized beach towel on the ground, sparing the chaise lounges the strain of his considerable bulk. A stunningly beautiful blonde in a demure black tank suit sat beside him, listening attentively to him and laughing with obvious delight at his rapier wit. J.D. smiled; two mysterious blond biker chicks had muddied the waters during the murder investigation which marred his last visit to the Black Horse. One of them turned out to be a red herring, the other one very much NOT merely a figure of Buster’s over-active imagination. He saw the Pages, Jerry and Jackie, Corrie’s long-time employees who were more like family to her, sitting at a table under an awning with the Myers, Red and Dana, another couple who worked for Corrie and had arrived this spring around the time of the murder of one of Corrie’s regular guests, Marvin Landry. Though J.D. had been a cop for several years and no longer felt qualms about the grittier side of police work, he nevertheless felt a chill touch his back at the memory of that time. His arrival under suspicious circumstances right before the murder and his reluctance to announce his true identity had made him a prime suspect which hadn’t helped to make relations between him and the sheriff too amicable from the start. Sutton seemed to have gotten over all that, but not over the fact that J.D. had found an ally in Corrie Black. He was sure Sutton wouldn’t be overjoyed to see that he had returned, but that wasn’t J.D.’s biggest concern.

He would like to know how Corrie felt about it, though.

At that moment he saw her, standing off to the side by herself, watching her friends and employees enjoying themselves. She seemed lost in thought, almost unaware of her surroundings, and J.D. took the opportunity to study her. She looked as though she had recovered well from her harrowing experience of being kidnapped by Marvin Landry’s murderer—his wife—and her unwilling accomplice—her son. Corrie’s dark, waist-length hair was in its usual braid, falling down her back, setting off the golden-brown tone of her skin, now blessedly free of bruises. The breeze blew back the edges of the white cover up she wore and he found himself admiring the curves she was hiding. Ruby red seemed to flatter her very much and he wondered why she seemed so intent on keeping her simple loveliness under wraps. He followed her gaze across the patio and pool over to where the sheriff stood, intent on his cooking, and where Dee Dee Simpson was making an all-out effort to get the man to focus on her rather than his burgers.

To Sutton’s credit, he didn’t seem to be paying the stunning young woman any more than a polite amount of attention … and it seemed that Dee Dee either didn’t notice his aloofness or else was well aware of it but determined, nevertheless, to get him to pay attention to her. J.D. glanced back at Corrie, and the look of sad longing on her face seemed to drive a dull knife into his gut. If only Dee Dee knew the truth about the sheriff’s feelings….

If only Corrie knew….

He shook himself and took a deep breath, fingering the silver and turquoise earring he carried in the pocket of his jeans … Corrie’s earring, the one he had found in the trunk of Walter Dodson’s car, that had alerted him to Corrie’s whereabouts and which he had not been able to bring himself to return to her. It made a poor pretext for coming back to see her, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of it anyway. His grip on the earring tightened. The smart thing to do would be to simply pick up his belongings, load them into his rental car, and take the first flight out of El Paso to anywhere … anywhere but here, anywhere but Houston. Or forget his belongings, get his Harley out of storage, and take off without a word to anyone.

Of course, what he did was head directly for Corrie….

This a private party?

Corrie spun around. The sight of J.D.’s silver-gray eyes sparkling with humor in his bronzed face made her catch her breath, much the same way it did when she first met him a few weeks earlier. J.D.! When did you get back? She reined in the impulse to hug him as she would an old friend. She wasn’t quite sure where they stood exactly and she didn’t want to assume anything.

If J.D. was disappointed, he gave no indication. He looked the same, his dark shoulder-length hair caught back in a pony tail, his chiseled physique still straining his black t-shirt and blue jeans. He nodded to the festivities going on around the pool. Just a few minutes ago. If you’re busy, though, I’m sure I can find someplace to be until you’re done.

Don’t be silly, Corrie said, and fought back a blush. To her ears, she sounded too eager, but he didn’t seem to notice. This is a party we have every year to celebrate the opening of the pool. All my friends and workers, along with their families, are invited.

So that’s why you closed the campground for the day?

Well, I can’t very well ask my employees to come to a party and ask them to work, she said. He shook his head, his eyes moving over the crowd, and Corrie wondered if perhaps he felt uncomfortable because he didn’t know many of the guests. Why didn’t you tell me when you were coming back?

I wasn’t sure myself, J.D. said with a shrug. I wrapped things up in Houston a day or two ago, then I landed in El Paso this morning and I spent a few hours tying up some loose ends there.

How did … I mean, is everything … Are you all right? she finally asked. This time he looked her straight in the eyes.

I’m fine, he said. All things considered. I gave Trish a decent burial, even though there wasn’t anyone to mourn her, except for me and a couple of acquaintances. I had her buried with her parents; I figured it was the best I could do for her. He stopped, as if there were more he wanted to say, but kept silent. Corrie touched his arm gently.

I hope you gave yourself some time to grieve, she said quietly. He looked grim.

I did that when I found out she had planned to have me take the rap for her drug-dealer boyfriend and have me killed. I left a dozen red roses on her grave for the girl I fell in love with and married, not for the woman she turned into. He took a deep breath. Anyway, it’s over now, Corrie. I’ve put it behind me. It’s time to move forward.

She nodded, not quite sure J.D. was being completely honest or if he was saying what he hoped was true. "Well, Jerry and Red made sure to maintain your campsite for you and your tent