The Alpine Journey (28 page)

I accepted, though Vida asked for ice water. Jeremy seemed loath to leave Jesse alone but finally went into the kitchen. Vida hadn't forgotten her question.

“I meant,” Jesse began, “I wondered why I hadn't heard from Ms. Imhoff. She said she'd check to see how I was doing this semester.”

“You were fond of her?” Vida asked, her voice more pleasant.

A flicker of something I couldn't define passed across Jesse's face. “Fond? I liked her. She was a nice woman.” His casual attitude seemed forced.

I had remained standing next to a big stereo unit. “When did you last see Ms. Imhoff?” I inquired.

Jesse's forehead creased. “Let me think.… A couple of days before I left Cannon Beach.”

“Which was when?” I pressed.

Jesse took a deep breath. “I got back here before Labor Day, so it must have been at the end of August. The
twenty-eighth, twenty-ninth, I guess. What did you say about her will?”

Vida sat up very straight and folded her hands in her lap. “Did you expect Ms. Imhoff to mention you?”

“What?” Jesse seemed completely dumbfounded. “I didn't know she had a will. I didn't know she was dead. Why would I expect
anything?
I hardly knew her, except for … well, you know, seeing her around town.”

“Seeing her often enough that she intended to follow your college career,” Vida pointed out. “You must have been rather … intimate.”

Jeremy entered with coffee mugs and a glass of ice water, which he balanced with aplomb. I couldn't help but wonder if he was working his way through college as a waiter.

“Look,” Jesse said, accepting a mug from his roommate, “Ms. Imhoff was the friendly type. She had kids about my age, maybe a little younger. She talked about how she wanted her son—I think he was the oldest—to go to college. She'd never gotten a degree, and she was sorry. So when I'd see her around town, she'd ask me about school, and how I decided to go into law and all that kind of stuff. It was no big deal. I liked her, and I'm sorry she got killed, but we weren't all that tight.”

He sounded sincere, yet his eyes kept veering away from Vida—and me. Apparently noticing the evasion, Vida didn't give up.

“That's not what we hear in Cannon Beach. You were rumored to be more than friends with Audrey Imhoff.”

Jesse shot Jeremy a quick, furtive glance, then took a deep breath. “Okay.” He sighed. “I don't need people spreading false rumors about me. Is it all right?” He looked again at Jeremy, who nodded. “I wasn't the least bit interested in Ms. Imhoff as a woman. Jeremy and I are
gay, and we're very happy with the way things are. Go ahead, go back to Cannon Beach and shout the news down Hemlock. We don't give a damn.”

“REALLY,” VIDA
SAID after we were in the pickup and figuring out how to get back to 1-5, “I hadn't expected
that.
Why are you laughing?”

I couldn't help it, even though it hurt. “Because it's funny, that's why. It shows how wrong people can be. All the tales of Audrey's extramarital affairs have come to naught.”

“I don't think so,” Vida said doggedly. “Her mother, her father, both alluded to her promiscuity.”

“Rett's a drunk,” I asserted as we finally found a sign for the interstate. “Besides, he was speaking mostly about her wild youth in San Francisco. And Rosalie may really be talking about her daughter's ability to attract men, which doesn't mean Audrey slept with them. For all we know, Rosalie was jealous. Rett Runkel and Walt Dobrinz weren't exactly Oregon's Most Eligible Bachelors. Sometimes mothers envy their daughters' youth and good looks.”

“Silly, if they do,” Vida declared, guiding the pickup along the on-ramp to the freeway. “I can't imagine being jealous of Amy, Meg, or Beth.”

Since Vida's three daughters were all plain as pikestaffs, I could understand their mother's feelings. But of course Vida thought they were quite beautiful,
which was both natural and admirable. My son, who closely resembled his father, was just plain handsome. I was already worried about how he would fend off the unholy advances made by his future female parishioners.

“He's lying,” Vida said, jerking me out of my reverie.

“Who?” I asked, trying to get comfortable as we hurtled along toward the exit to the coast.

“Jesse. Oh, I don't mean about not having an affair with Audrey or about being gay. Those things are true,” Vida went on. “But he wouldn't look me in the eye. And that was rubbish about expecting Audrey to keep in touch regarding his studies.”

“I'd better check in with Valerie Bryan,” I murmured. “She wouldn't have mentioned Jesse unless she knew something.”

“The bookstore woman?” Vida slowed as we left 1-5 and headed west. “She sounds interesting. I'll talk to her myself.”

“I wonder why Jesse was never questioned by the sheriff,” I said. “They heard the same rumors we did.”

“Maybe they were able to check into Jesse's lifestyle before they went to the trouble of interrogating him,” Vida suggested. “Or else they discounted him because he was so far away.”

“Maybe.” I tried to relax as we crossed the green-and-gold farmland. Many of the fields had already been harvested, and the dark, rich earth had been turned for the fall planting. Somehow Oregon always seemed more orderly than Washington. While the two states share much of the same rugged beauty, the Columbia River flows like a parent between two similar, yet disparate children. Oregon is tidy, more domesticated, proud and aloof; for all its rampant growth—or maybe in some ways because of it—Washington still seems untamed,
often harsh, even careless in the facade it presents to the wider world.

“You're daydreaming,” Vida reprimanded as we began to wind through the coast range.

“Sort of,” I admitted. I thought back to the exchange in the small living room in Salem. “You never did explain what we were doing there.”

“They never asked,” Vida responded. “Which in itself is strange. Why? Was it because they were relieved?”

“About what?”

“Not having to answer other, more difficult questions.”

“Such as?”

“I wish I knew.”

After another hour had passed, we reached Highway 101 and headed north to Cannon Beach. It was only then that I realized I could have hopped a bus in Salem and gone home.

The Bistro was a small European-style restaurant surrounded by late-blooming flowers and trailing vines. Vida had balked at first, saying it might be “too pricey.” But I prevailed. If I'd been dumb enough not to pack up my things and get out of town permanently, then I intended to enjoy what I could of Cannon Beach.

“Kip should be putting the paper to bed about now,” I remarked, glancing at my watch. It was going on seven, and we had arrived back at the motel in time to change for dinner.

“Yes,” Vida agreed in a vague voice. “I wonder how late the bookstore is open?”

“Fairly late, I think. I don't remember exactly.” It seemed to me that Vida had forgotten about
The Advocate
, maybe even put Alpine out of her mind. Solving the mystery of her niece's death seemed to consume her. I
tried to tell myself that she needed my help, but I'm not sure I believed it. Maybe she only needed me as a prop, or a sounding board.

We discussed Molly's diary over excellent pasta and prawns. Vida intended to read the last four-plus months after dinner. I admitted I'd found nothing so far that was of interest.

“As of May, Molly hadn't mentioned any problems between her parents,” I noted. “That seems odd, since I recall the kids saying that the trouble started around the holidays last year.”

“Self-absorption,” Vida responded. “From what I read, Molly was primarily concerned with her weight and her hair and her friends at school. She rarely mentioned Stacie and Derek, and when she did, it was usually because they'd criticized her or made her feel rejected.”

“Poor Molly.” I sighed. “She's at an awful age to lose her mother. It's never easy, but fourteen is really rough with girls.”

“Indeed. All three of our girls were grown by the time Ernest died.” Vida gazed into the glass of red wine I'd persuaded her to order. “If they'd been younger, I might have considered remarrying.”

“How's Buck?” I asked, wondering if Vida had forgotten him, too.

“He's fine,” she retorted, looking at me over the rims of her glasses. “Your implication is amiss. Buck and I have no plans to marry. We enjoy our lives the way they are.”

I didn't apologize for the hint. “He's settled into his new home?”

Vida nodded. “It was basically in good repair. And such a steal. He's thinking of leaving the handicapped
access as it is. None of us is getting any younger, you know.”

Vida referred to the house at Startup that Buck Bardeen had purchased a few months earlier from Milo's ex-girlfriend, Honoria Whitman. It had been on the market for over a year following Honoria's return to California. She had been partially paralyzed, and had converted what had once been a summer cabin into a charming residence, complete with ramps and other items to meet her special needs.

Noting that Vida still had room in her mind—and maybe her heart—for Buck, I was about to recount some of the events that had taken place in Alpine during our absence. But before I could begin, Gordon Imhoff entered the restaurant with his mother-in-law on his arm. He saw us and stopped, grinning sheepishly.

“Mama Rosie and I are celebrating my return to public life,” he said. “I'm treating her because she got stuck covering for me the last few days.” Gordon gave Rosalie's shoulder a squeeze.

“How nice,” Vida said with enthusiasm. Then she wagged a finger at Rosalie. “I have a bone to pick with you. We'll discuss it some other time. Do enjoy your meal.”

Rosalie was taken aback. “What is it? What'd I do?”

“Never mind.” Vida assumed a coy look.

By chance, Gordon and Rosalie were seated across from us, at a matching table for two. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that Rosalie was casting equally surreptitious glances at Vida. But the Imhoff party was so close that I couldn't ask Vida any questions about her alleged pique with Rosalie. Nor, as it turned out, could we discuss Audrey's murder.

Thus I started to deliver the Alpine news. Vida listened
attentively, especially to the account of the fire. But it was Darla Puckett's misfortune that aroused the most interest.

“Darla must be wild!” Vida exclaimed. “Not that I thought much of all that claptrap in her yard, but such wantonness! Youngsters, I suppose.”

“Undoubtedly. By the way, Carla is dating Ryan Tallia-ferro.” I waited for what I assumed would be Vida's explosive reaction.

It didn't come. “Well now. I've only met Dr. Tallia-ferro once or twice, but he seems like a nice man. It's about time Carla found someone. She hasn't really had a boyfriend since Peyton Flake. And goodness knows, they were never suited as a couple. Marilynn Lewis is much better for him. And vice versa. I wonder how they're getting along in North Bend?”

Dr. Flake had bought a thriving practice from a general practitioner who was retiring. The wedding was set for November, and they were building a house outside of town. Like Alpine, North Bend is in the Cascade foothills, the last major stop before ascending into the mountains. Unlike Alpine, its proximity to Seattle gives residents a more cosmopolitan attitude. Alpine's isolation feeds on itself, breeding ignorance and prejudice.

“Marilynn told me she'd work for Flake only until he got established,” I said as Vida perused the dessert menu. “She's afraid that too much togetherness could cause trouble.”

“Indeed,” Vida concurred. “Very few couples can survive—”

A commotion next to us cut Vida short. Rosalie Dobrinz had fallen out of her chair and was writhing on the floor, clutching her chest. A horrified Gordon Imhoff was standing over his mother-in-law, shouting for help.

Vida also got to her feet. “CPR! Who knows CPR? Quickly!”

The older couple I'd seen in the bookstore emerged from the other end of the long, narrow restaurant. “I'm a surgeon,” the silver-haired man announced. “Step aside, please.”

Vida, along with one of the servers and two other customers, moved back. As soon as the doctor reached Rosalie, Gordon also withdrew a couple of steps, standing so close to my chair that he just missed bumping into me.

“What happened?” I asked in an urgent voice.

Gordon was holding his head. “I'm such a fool … How could I know Rosie would—” He stopped, his eyes riveted on his mother-in-law.

“Call 911,” the doctor commanded. “Hurry!”

Apparently, someone already had. I could hear a siren in the distance; the sound was becoming a leitmotiv for my stay in Cannon Beach. Vaguely, I remembered seeing the fire station on my dash from Marlin's house. I assumed that was where the emergency vehicles waited on call.

“Dear me,” Vida murmured, leaning as close to the doctor and patient as she dared.

“She's responsive,” said the woman I assumed was the doctor's wife. “That's good.”

“Thank God!” It was Gordon, on a tortured sigh.

The dimly lighted restaurant exploded with controlled activity. A quartet of emergency personnel arrived, two of whom I recognized from my accident the previous day. I got up and hurriedly helped Vida move our table and chairs out of the way. By now, other diners had gathered nearby. I would have gone outside to make room, but I knew Vida wouldn't dream of budging.

She was, in fact, trying to pump Gordon, but getting
nowhere. It wasn't that he consciously ignored her; rather, he was fixated on Rosalie, his entire being drained by concern.

The doctor and the emergency personnel now formed such a tight circle that I could no longer see Rosalie, but I heard her voice. She was answering questions in a weak, but coherent manner. Finally, the woman medic I remembered as Mary Jean Pratt turned to Gordon.

“We're not sure if she's had a heart attack, but we're taking her to Providence Hospital in Seaside,” Mary Jean said. “Do you want to follow us in your own car or ride in the ambulance?”

Dazed, Gordon took a moment to respond. “I'd better take my car. Rosie's car, I mean. Otherwise, I couldn't get back. Unless,” he added, with a glance in my direction, “I rented that Taurus again.” Gordon began to laugh, a semihysterical sound. Mary Jean put a firm hand on his arm, steering him toward the door. Another pair of medics arrived with a gurney. Moments later Rosalie was whisked away. We heard the siren fade as we were replacing our table and chairs.