Paradise Palms: A Murder Mystery in a Time-Traveling Trailer Park

By J.R. Murdock

Half a body is not half a mystery.

Sam Jeffery's friend has been killed and someone made off with half the body. Or did they?

Sam Jeffrey knows the Minnesota woods. He's spent his entire life in them. There should have been signs of a struggle or getaway, but there's nothing.

When the police discover the severed head of a giant reptile, Myra Tolie, an archeologist specializing in dinosaurs from the Science Museum of Minnesota, is brought in to help identify it. Excited by the discovery, she heads to the Paradise Palms trailer park to see if there could be a hidden nest of dinosaurs living there.

Strange occurrences draw together several members of the trailer park to find out what is going on and how to stop the trailer pack from teleporting back in time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.R. Murdock
• Release date: Oct 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201134792

Book preview

Sam

Sam Jeffrey rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. After smacking his lips and rubbing his face, he decided it was time to get up. He'd never needed an alarm clock. Somehow he could just tell when the time was right to get up.

He ran his fingers over his scalp; he'd worn his hair in a tight buzz cut since junior high.

Sam, come back to bed, Girlfriend Sokolov purred as she rolled toward him, her accent thicker than normal.

Sam rubbed her thigh. Girlfriend, you know I have to go to work.

You work here in the trailer park. It's not like you have far to go. Just keep me warm for five more minutes.

Sam loved Girlfriend. Her parents came from Russia and had gotten heavy into the hip-hop scene of the '80s. They thought 'girlfriend' was a name, not just slang they used. Because it was said so much, they assumed it was also a popular name and hence, had a child named Girlfriend. Being raised in the States made her accent light and bordering on unnoticeable, but when she wanted to entice Sam, she could lay it on thick.

Sam, she said in a husky, accented whisper reminiscent of Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle. Come back to bed, Sam. I will take care of you all day long.

Aw, Girlfriend. You know I can't.

Sam jumped up and ducked into the bathroom before she continued her advances. He shut and locked the door, knowing that Girlfriend wouldn't try to get in. One thing she respected was privacy. He'd have at least a few minutes to himself. He knew Mrs. Bilkins was waiting for him with the paint. Every August 21st she insisted that the Paradise Palms sign be repainted. Sam had sanded it down yesterday and today she expected it to be painted. When she expected something, she could be quite a bear to deal with if she didn't get it, and if Sam didn't start painting it right away, he wouldn't get done before dark.

Girlfriend knocked on the door. Sam, I want to shower with you. She kept it up with the accent. It had a way of tearing down Sam's defenses.

He reached into the shower then turned the water on. Cold. I'm already in the shower.

Sam, she whined.

Quickly Sam stripped and leaped into the shower. The cold water brought all his senses to life. He washed his body and the little bit of hair on his head and leaped back out, all in under a minute. He toweled himself off, dropping the towel to the floor, and opened the door.

All done, he said, standing naked in front of Girlfriend. She only had on a tight, white camisole and matching panties. She wasn't going to make getting to work easy today.

Her deep-black hair framed her face in a disarrayed mane, but Sam kissed her on her slender nose and tried to push past her. She put a hand on his chest, leveled him with an intent stare of her deep green eyes that held him back.

What does she have that I don't have?

Aw, geez, Girlfriend. You know I've only got eyes for you. If I don't get that sign painted today, Mrs. Bilkins is going to get upset.

You work too hard around this place, you need some time off. Girlfriend pouted. Time off for me. Can't you take a couple of days off and we'll head up to Duluth? Or maybe take a week off and go to Canada? Something. Anything. Please, Sam.

Her hand drifted down his chest to his stomach. He had to stop her. As much as he didn't want to, he had to.

Mrs. Bilkins pays me well and takes care of the lot rent and utilities for us. If I'm late, she could very easily take that away. The last thing I need to do is get on her bad side, and you know how she gets in the fall.

Girlfriend dropped her hand and her gaze. He hated it when she did that. He had to get to work, though.

Girlfriend, I'll make it up to you. I promise.

How, Sam Jeffrey?

She used his whole name. She was mad. Sam had to treat this one gently.

When I go over to pick up the paint from Mrs. Bilkins, I'll let her know I want next weekend...week off. We'll go somewhere nice. You just get on the net and make the reservations and I'll make sure I have the time off. How's that sound?

Her face brightened, but only slightly. She moved and allowed Sam to pass. He kissed her on the top of her head. As soon as he passed her, she closed the door. He was going to have to make this one up to her. She could get moody at times, but he had to work. What was he going to do, jeopardize his situation for some early morning sex?

He put on his boxers, a t-shirt, a pair of blue work pants, and a tan work shirt before he sat down and laced on his steel-toed boots. He hated painting. He'd choose to do anything else but paint. But today, that's what the job required, so that's what he was going to do. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and John Deere hat off the counter. The hat used to be bright green, but now was more faded than anything, and the brim black with years of grime. He loved his hat and was almost never seen without it. The only times he hadn't worn it in the past five years were the times Girlfriend had made him leave it home when he took her out to a fancy dinner at the golf club. He felt naked without it.

He grabbed a piece of garlic bread off the counter and scooped up the bite of lasagna that Girlfriend hadn't finished the night before and headed out the door. Perhaps he could take a long lunch and make things up to her. Yeah. That's what he was going to do. Paint fast and get back here in a hurry. She'd like that. Maybe he'd even pick some of those flowers by the road she liked.

Stepping out of his trailer and into his patio that he'd built to keep Blue inside, he caught a whiff of something nasty.

Blue! Did you tangle with a skunk again? Sam covered his nose with his sleeve. That's nasty, dog.

Blue, a Blue Heeler, whimpered and looked at Sam with innocent eyes.

Yeah, I guess you can't get out anymore, can you? What's that smell though? I hope nothing from the trash again. That took me half the day to clean up.

Giving the rest of the bread and lasagna to Blue, Sam opened the screen door. Blue shot out, still smacking on the food, and running into the yard to take care of her morning business.

Sam! Sam! You're awake. Thank God. I was getting worried.

Sam looked up to see Pops Jasper, Casper Jasper Senior, yelling down from his crow's nest. Not only did Pops have a crow's nest, but he'd also constructed a faux ship's bow over the front and top of his green trailer with white trim. Pops had built the nest to keep an eye over the trailer park, and he did that with aggression that Sam admired. He just wished the old man would quit scaring him so early in the morning.

Cupping his hands over his mouth, Sam yelled up. Pops, what are you doing up there?

Pops set down his telescope he used to keep a close watch and yelled back. It's Junior! He didn't come home last night! I'm worried about him, Sam. It's not like my boy to leave his place empty all night.

That caused Sam to laugh. Casper's powder-blue Bronco sat in his driveway. Could it be that Casper finally got Julie to go home with him? Or even that he'd gone home with her? Julie was the kind of girl to get what she wanted when she wanted it. Maybe Casper finally wore her down. That lucky bastard.

Pops, I'm sure he's fine. He'll probably be back later today. Maybe there was, you know, something he had to take care of last night.

Sam, you know my boy. He don't go nowhere without telling me or calling me. That's just not like him.

Pops, there isn't a lot of land between the bar and here. Maybe he gave Julie a ride home and, I don't know, slept on her couch last night.

Sam, he'd have called if he was going to do that. He knows I worry. Junior would have called, I tell you.

Look, Pops. I'd love to stay and chat here all day with you, but I'm sure Casper will turn up. I'll keep an eye out for him and the moment I see him, I'll have him call you. Say! Did you try his cell phone?

Do I look stupid, Sam?

Ever since Junior's mother was gone, Pops had become obsessively protective of Junior. Sam didn't want to answer Pops. Just keep trying him. He's bound to answer sooner or later.

Pops waved his hand at Sam in disgust. Sam wasn't winning any points with anyone this morning. Hopefully, things would go better with Mrs. Bilkins.

Sam walked across the park from his lot, #303, and through Pops' yard. Blue ran ahead to chase a butterfly. Pops had taken up his telescope again and scanned every inch of the trailer park. Poor Casper. He was in for it when he got back. He'd just better hurry up and turn his phone back on.

Mrs. Bilkins had the only actual house in the trailer park. She sat near the entrance next to the laundromat. Her house also included the rental office, but that rarely got used as everyone either gave their rent to Sam to take up to the office or dropped it through the mail slot. The park had been full for over ten years. The last family to move in was the Sanchezes; Julio, June, and their kids.

Across the main entrance road from the office sat the Sandy Bar, next to the Shell station. Sam would stop by there to make sure everything got locked up properly just to put his mind at ease. Pops could be paranoid, but it could also rub off easily. Sam just didn't want any surprises.

He tried to pull his hat down before the two old men in lot 101, already out on their porch and in their rockers, got to him. The men were old, balding, and always had something to say at anyone else's expense. Sam had washed their trailer once, the beige trailer with brown trim, and they'd only complained that it still looked dirty. Sam had tried to tell them that was the color they'd picked out. They only proceeded to give him a hard time about it.

Sam! Look at this grass.

Yes. I see your grass. I cut it last week, Waldorf.

Waldorf laughed and poked his partner. You hear that Statler? He said he cut the grass.

With what? A goat?

Even a goat could cut grass better than that.

The two laughed. Sam shook his head. Look, I've got to paint the sign today. I'll cut your grass again tomorrow if you want.

Statler leaned into Waldorf. What'd he say?

He said he'd cut the grass tomorrow.

Oh, good. I thought he said 'kick your ass tomorrow'.

Again the two laughed heartily. Always those two would twist his words and laugh at him. Sometimes they were funny. Sometimes. But today, Sam just didn't have his sense of humor. It had to be that smell. He just couldn't place it. If only a breeze would come and sweep the area clear of it.

Mrs. Bilkins stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. Her stare bore into Sam once he noticed it. Her fat lips puckered around a Pall Mall, and she narrowed her eyes when she saw him. Even her brown and yellow flower-print housedress, covering her massive girth like a poorly hung drapery, looked mad at him. This was going to be a long day. He could just feel it.

Sam! Are you going to get that sign painted today or what?

Or what! Waldorf yelled back.

I'm coming, Mrs. Bilkins. Sam picked up his pace.

She smashed out her cigarette once he made it over to her. It's about time. I need that sign painted today. You know that every year we change the colors on the 21st. That's how we've done it for 25 years now and I'm not going to change today. Now. She pointed to the paint and brushes sitting on top of a tarp. There’s everything you need. Get to it.

What could he say? Even she was in a bad mood today. It must be that smell that was making everyone so edgy. Sam just hoped he'd run into someone who was in a good mood.

Mrs. Bilkins lit up another cigarette and went back into the office.

Well, Blue. It's just you and me. Let's go paint us a sign.

Mr. Bilkins, God rest his soul, had always painted the sign on the 21st of August when he'd purchased the park and renamed it Paradise Palms. He died while painting the sign. Once she'd hired Sam on, Mrs. Bilkins had been pleasant the first few years. As the years had gone on, she'd gotten more and more cynical, but today her snippiness seemed harsher. Almost mean. He couldn't place it.

Sam collected up all the supplies and headed to the main entrance. It was called the main entrance, but it was the only entrance to the park. The rest of it, the two side roads that dead-ended and the main road, were all surrounded by thick woods. Everything for two miles back was owned by Mrs. Bilkins. Fortunately, no one had ever been interested in buying it. Sam had grown up here and once his parents died, he couldn't think of ever living anywhere else. He'd worked odd jobs all over the county until Mr. Bilkins passed away and Mrs. Bilkins needed full-time help. Sam, being the homebody he was, couldn't pass up the offer. Perhaps that's why all his girlfriends always left. Nah, couldn't be. Girls loved a man who stayed home, didn't they?

He put the paint and brushes down and spread out the tarp under the seven-foot sign that lay in front of the Shell station. Damn, he'd forgotten to bring a ladder. He didn't want to go all the way back over to Mrs. Bilkins. She'd probably just get on his case about not getting started early enough. And he hadn't even thought about bringing up his taking next week off. Damn. Now Girlfriend would be even madder at him.

He knew about a ladder kept behind the Sandy Bar. He could just go over there and borrow it. No one would be any the wiser and Julie wouldn't mind if he borrowed it for a day.

Walking across the front of the Sandy Bar, he saw marks in the gravel as if someone had peeled out. Spit up a lot of gravel too. He'd have to rake that over later. But who'd do that? Probably some kids that had a couple too many. He rounded the corner and saw something different. What was that? Drag marks? It looked like something heavy had been dragged off into the woods. Something really big. Like, what? A body? There was no blood. No sign of struggle in the dirt.

A shrill beep came from the woods. Sam didn't own a cell phone, but he knew the sound of a battery going dead. He waited and listened. It beeped again. Yeah, that was a dying cell phone battery alright. He walked slowly into the woods and kept his ears open for the sound. The crinkling of leaves was loud, but the piercing beep was audible over them.

Sam watched the ground. The drag marks led in the direction of the beeps. Could someone have been dragged out here to die?

The phone rang. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard it. Phone call for a dead man? The realization hit him. It had to be Casper. No! Don't let it be Casper. He and Junior had played high school ball together. They were the best of friends and you never wanted to see a teammate go down. No. It couldn't be.

Sam ran through the woods to the ringing. He had to find him. He had to see and know it wasn't Casper. Pops would be torn up if anything happened to his boy. It just couldn't be.

Sam saw the body. It was. Damn.

He took off his hat and approached. The phone stopped ringing. Sam looked at Casper's body lying on the ground. That's when he noticed Junior wasn't all there.

Girlfriend

Girlfriend waited until she heard the patio door close as Sam left. Some days Sam could be a real handful. She just wanted him to take her as seriously as he took his job. Most of the time, she felt as if everything in Sam's life took a back seat to his job, and she couldn't understand that. Perhaps that was why he was pushing forty and still hadn't gotten around to getting married. It wasn't that he was a bad person -- he didn't smoke, or drink, or do drugs, heck, he hardly ever left the house. Perhaps that's what frustrated Girlfriend so much. Her family had moved from the Soviet Union when she was a baby and had traveled all over the United States and much of Canada before settling in Minnesota. Sam was contented to live in this trailer park and work on his eighteen by sixty trailer, adding a basement, a patio, an upper-level deck, and a huge storage shed near the woods, for his 'big boy toys' like his snowmobile, jet ski, and quad. Toys he'd use, but rarely bring her along.

She'd run these thoughts over and over in her head before, and it always got her down. Now wasn't the time. She picked up Sam's towel off the bathroom floor and tossed it into the hamper in the bathroom, certain he hadn't even seen it when she'd brought it home. He noticed little in the trailer unless it was something relating to work.

Don't get yourself down. He's a good man. You know that. She had told herself this many times over the seven years she'd been with him, the longest of any girlfriend he'd ever had. She was thirty-five now and didn't want to hassle Sam about children, or marriage, but when was he going to get around to it? Perhaps she needed to be more upfront with him. Perhaps.

Rather than worry about it all, Girlfriend stripped and got into the shower, allowing the first cold blast of water to wake her up fully and relax as the water warmed. Well, water was the coldest she'd ever felt, and loved the way it made her body feel in that minute before it warmed. She washed her hair, her body, brushed in conditioner, and generally took her time.

She had nothing to do until around noon when she would pick up the laundry from Pops and Leroy. She did laundry for several retired men in the trailer park, and once a month would do maid service for them. She only charged them a small amount as she and Sam didn't need much, and it made her feel useful knowing that these men were taken care of. She'd tried to clean Mrs. Jenkins's trailer once, but with all her cats, it was nearly impossible. Just the smell of all those litter boxes made her eyes water. She wondered if that trailer would ever be clean again, or if it would need to be burned to the ground when Mrs. Jenkins died. Girlfriend shuddered at the thought.

After she put on her black Capri pants and a wine-colored blouse, she sat cross-legged on the bed and opened up her laptop. Her parents never lost their travel bug and, once her father retired, they bought an RV and had traveled everywhere they could. Currently, they were somewhere in South America but still had internet access so she could keep in touch with them. They also had a GPS device attached to their RV that she could use to track them if they were on the move. Some days she wondered how anyone could separate from their parents for such a long time.

As the screen came up, the phone rang. She nearly jumped. She hadn't been expecting anyone to call. Rarely did anyone call her. Her friend, Patty Kudola, would usually come after her daughter, Ashley, the cutest little eight-year-old you ever saw, caught the bus for school but never did anyone call her in the morning.

Hello?

Girlfriend! Why aren't you out here? Patty sounded frantic. Not that it was anything out of the ordinary for Patty to sound frantic, but usually she'd come over and be frantic. Usually going on and on about something one of the residents in the trailer park had done, like leaving the lid off their trashcan and raccoons scattering the trash everywhere. She sounded out of breath like she had just run somewhere. The phone call caused her more concern than did Patty's tone.

Out where? What's going on? Where are you?

There're cop cars, and fire trucks, and an ambulance. The cops are talking with Sam. I don't know what's going on, but everyone is out here except you. Get over here.

But I'm not fully dressed yet. I haven't done my makeup. Girlfriend rarely left the home without her makeup, but the police were talking to Sam? About what? Patty, what is going on with Sam?

I don't know. He looks okay, I guess, but just get over here.

Where are you?

We're all at the front entrance. You can't miss everything that's going on. I think we're going to be on TV or something. This is really exciting. Come on, get over here Girlfriend!

The line went dead before she could ask any more questions. She looked dumbly at her laptop. Was Sam alright? The only time an ambulance ever showed up at the trailer park was when one of the residents died, and that hadn't happened for three years. Who could have passed away? Pops was the oldest in the park, but he was in great health. Could her thinking of Mrs. Jenkins dying have made her pass on?

No, you're being stupid.

She powered off the laptop and pushed it to the foot of the bed. For a moment she thought about picking up the clothes tossed to the floor the night before, about picking up the dishes from dinner, about doing her makeup. She thought about everything she could do except walk out the front door and see what had happened to Sam. Fire trucks? Police? Ambulances? What could be going on? Nothing ever went on at the Paradise Palms. That was part of its charm. Why would something be happening now?

She shook her head and put on her sandals. She'd only find out if she went out there. Her hand trembled as she reached for the door. Could she stand it if something bad had happened to Sam? She couldn't bear the thought. She hadn't even kissed him goodbye. Oh, sure, he'd kissed her, but it wasn't the same.

She grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open. The air felt cold like she'd need a jacket.

You're just stalling.

Girlfriend stepped out and noticed that Blue's food and water dish were empty as usual.

Stop it.

Looking out the patio door she could see all the commotion at the front entrance. Lights flashed and people milled about looking as if they had nothing better to do. Most of them didn't have anything better to do. If any of them stood in the way of her Sam, there'd be hell to pay.

Girlfriend! Girlfriend! Pops yelled down from his crow's nest.

She stepped out and looked up at him. Yes!

He lowered a bucket down. When you get over there, let me know what's going on and if I should come over!

She walked over and looked in the bucket. Sure enough, he'd passed her down a walkie-talkie. She picked it up. It weighed a ton! Depressing the button on the side she said, Pops, can you hear me?

Ten-four. Loud and clear. Now get on over there. Sam looks like he needs moral support. Over.

She wanted to say, Then why the hell are you delaying me? but she bit her tongue. She didn't want to upset Pops, as he meant well. I will, Pops.

She bit her lips as she looked toward the park entrance. It looked as if everyone was there. She swallowed hard and walked, slowly at first, but hurried her pace the more she thought about Sam. Fighting back the tears was difficult, but she would need to be strong if Sam needed her.

She resisted the urge to run. Enough people were there that if anything had gone wrong, they could deal with it, but she lost. She broke into a run, slowed only by the dreaded walkie-talkie. Everyone stood behind yellow police tape back by Mrs. Bilkins's office. She could see the Sandy Bar and all the vehicles, but couldn't see Sam.

What's going on? Where's Sam? Girlfriend asked, trying to control the tremor in her voice. Everyone standing around and talking were in different states of getting ready for the morning. At least all the kids in the park would have caught the school bus and missed this fiasco.

Just calm down. I'm not sure what's going on. The police aren't telling us anything yet. All I know is I've never seen Sam look so bad. Something happened. They blocked off everything and the paramedics are in the woods. They said they'd let us know what was going on just as soon as they could. As far as I can tell, they even shut down the highway, redirecting traffic to one side of the road. This is a really big deal.

But Sam, is he alright?

I'm guessing he is. He's over there. Patty pointed to the back of one of the ambulances.

Girlfriend had noticed that three had shown up. Why would they need so many? And all the police cars and fire trucks? It was as if they'd brought out all the emergency response people for one incident.

But Sam! He looked white. All his color had drained from his face. He sat on the bumper of the ambulance with a blanket around his slumped shoulders. He didn't look up. He didn't even move. Even when the officer standing next to him asked him questions.

She stepped forward.

Slow down there, lover. The police aren't letting anyone by, said Patty, but Girlfriend only heard her voice, she barely registered what was said.

She needed to be by Sam's side. She pushed past June Sanchez, holding her baby, Jan (short for January). June's husband, Julio, drove a Peterbilt for the county and left at 4:30 am every morning except Sunday, so he wasn't here. June clicked her tongue and said something in Spanish to Mr. Van Buren. Who said something to her, but she didn't hear them. Her sole focus was on Sam. He had to be alright. He looked like he was in shock. She wanted to see the rest of his body under that blanket. She wanted to know nothing had happened to him. She had to know.

Something brushed against her waist.

Hold on there, Missy, an officer said. His blue uniform fit snugly on his pudgy frame causing his name tag to tip downward against his fat chest. His name was Rudy Dalrymple. This is a police matter. We'll have all this resolved shortly. Just stay behind the line and we'll let you pass as soon as this is all done.

That's my boyfriend over there, Officer Dalrymple. Please can I go see him?

The police officer looked over at Sam. Yeah, he's pretty shook up. He found the… The officer sucked in a breath. Look, just stay behind the line. This will all be wrapped up shortly and you can talk to your boyfriend. If we don't need to take him in for more questioning.

Questioning? Regarding what?

Ma'am, I can't talk about that. As soon as everything is clear here, we'll be around asking questions and letting people know what happened. Until then, just stay behind this line.

She wanted to run to Sam. Call to him. Anything, just to let him know she was there for him. The police officer didn't move out of her way and she was certain that he'd quell anything she tried to do.

The walkie-talkie at her side crackled. The officer reached for his radio but noticed her lifting hers.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. This is Pops. Over.

She wiped her nose. Hi, Pops.

What's going on? Over.

They're not letting me talk with Sam. I don't know what's going on. She glared at Officer Dalrymple. I'll let you know if I hear anything.

There was a long pause before Pops spoke again. They're bringing something out of the woods. I'd say it was a body, except it looks much too short to be a body.

Hey! Officer Dalrymple yelled. Give me that!

Girlfriend didn't know what to do. Pops had to be watching with his telescope like he always was, but everyone should be able to see the men carrying out-

The body? Could Sam have found a body? Who could he have found? And here? At Paradise Palms? Nothing