The Alpine Journey (29 page)

“I believe I'll skip dessert,” Vida said with a trace of reluctance. “We must tell Derek what's happened. And Walt Dobrinz, I suppose.”

“Gordon can do that after he gets to the hospital,” I said.

“He won't remember. Oh!” She gave herself a shake. “Rett! He ought to be informed. We should do that in person. Ugh.”

I couldn't think why Vida wanted to call on her brother-in-law, unless it was to observe his reaction. Maybe she hoped he'd be shocked or saddened. Maybe she wanted to gloat.

In any event, after we'd paid our bill, we headed to 101
and Rett Runkel's trailer home. He was sitting out front, a beer can in one hand, a copy of
Guns & Ammo
in the other. An old-fashioned Coleman lantern sat on an upended peach crate. T-Bone looked up from his place next to Rett's chair and snarled at us.

“Yoo … hoo,” Vida began, her usual greeting dampened by the baring of the dog's teeth. “It's me, your sister-in-law. And Emma.”

“Yeah, so I see,” Rett replied without much interest. “What now? You here to give me a bad time about Marlin?”

Vida approached Rett and the dog carefully. “No. Rosalie's been taken to the hospital. She may have had a heart attack.”

“I didn't know she had a heart.” Rett took a swig from his beer can.

“Rett!” Vida tapped her foot, causing T-Bone to sit up and growl again. “That's very cruel, especially under the circumstances. How can you sit here while your daughter is dead and your son is in prison and your former wife may be mortally ill?”

Rett regarded Vida over the top of the beer can. “How would gettin' off my ass help any of that? I never could help 'em even when I did. Or so Rosie always told me. ‘You're no help,’ she'd say. ‘You're worthless.’”

“I see her point.” Vida paused, her chin up. “You could change that now.”

Rett sneered. “How?”

“By going to see Rosalie in the hospital. By doing what you can to get Marlin out of this mess. By being there for your grandchildren. When was the last time you saw any of them?”

“I already posted Martin's bail. He got out this afternoon. Hey, Marlin!” Rett turned in his camp chair. A
moment later Marlin Runkel appeared in the door to the trailer.

“Martin!” Vida cried.

Marlin just looked at his aunt. So did the dog.

Rett gestured with his beer can at Martin. “He's stayin' with me for a couple of days. It seems the sheriff don't want him back on the farm. If you know what I mean.” Rett winked not at us, but at T-Bone.

Vida turned her attention to Marlin. “Your mother may have had a heart attack. Gordon has gone with her and the ambulance to the hospital in Seaside.”

“Oh?” Marlin was unmoved. “Hey, Pa, you got any orange juice? I could drink about a gallon.”

“Orange juice?” Rett scowled at his son. “What do I need orange juice for? I got this.” He waggled the beer can.

“I'm going to the mini-mart up the highway,” Marlin said. “Toss me your keys.”

“They're on that hook by the door. You got a driver's license?”

“No. I haven't had one in eight years.” Marlin disappeared briefly, then came out of the trailer, walked right past us, and headed for Rett's battered truck. “You need anything?”

“Nope. Yeah, some smokes. Camels, the real stuff.”

In a trail of thick exhaust, Marlin left. Vida squared her shoulders, gave T-Bone a wary look, and marched up to Rett. “See here,” she said in as angry a voice as I'd ever heard her use. “I don't care if you drink and smoke yourself to death. I don't care if you rot in this horrible trailer you call a home. I don't care anything about you—but you
are
a Runkel. I expect better. Ernest must be turning in his grave to think that he has a brother who is so shiftless.
What have you ever done in your entire life to make the world a better place?”

“I put my ass on the line in Korea to save that big butt of yours, lady,” Rett retorted. “I got shot at, damned near blown up, practically froze my balls off, and watched a bunch of my buddies get torn in two by the Chink commies. Don't tell me you've forgotten about Pork Chop Hill and Pusan and all those other places where we fought to keep things nice and cozy for dumb-shits like you?”

“In the coast guard?” Vida all but hooted. “You sailed around in a nice little boat. I suspect the most danger you got into was if you spilled gravy down your swim trunks!”

Rett leaped out of the chair, knocking it over behind him. “Bitch! You don't know dick about the coast guard! It's not like that! We saw plenty of action!”

T-Bone's teeth were bared again and I honestly thought he was ready to go for Vida. Moving quickly, I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and spoke softly.

“Nice doggie. Good doggie. Emma thinks you're cute.”

“Action, my foot! And what if you did?” Vida shot back. “That was almost fifty years ago! I suspect your grandchildren don't even know when the Korean War took place!”

T-Bone continued to growl, but he didn't move. I kept jabbering away, wishing he had a chain or a leash or, better yet, no teeth.

“You talk about those grandchildren,” Rett shouted, spitting as he spoke. “When was the last time
they
came to see
me?
I ain't seen those girls since they were little kids, but they go by here on that friggin' school bus every day! I seen Derek two, three times at the grocery store.
He acted like I was some kind of crud. He wouldna talked to me if I hadna talked to him first, the little bastard!”

“It's no wonder.” Vida had dropped her voice, though she still tapped her foot. “They've lost their mother. They need you, Rett. They need family. You've never been there for them. You've never been there for anyone but yourself.”

“I was there for Marlin this morning, with two grand,” Rett retorted. “That's more than that hump Rosie would do for him. Now whaddya think?”

“I think that's good,” Vida said after a long pause, during which T-Bone stopped growling. “You see? You
can
change.”

“Bullshit,” Rett muttered. “Who wants to?”

“Try,” Vida said softly. Then, to my astonishment, she put both hands on Rett's shoulders. “In the end, all we have is family.” Apparently, she noticed the glower on Rett's face. “I don't mean me, or even the other Runkels back in Alpine. After so many years they're all strangers to you. I'm talking about your kinfolk here. This side of the Runkel family has been fragmented and estranged for too long.”

Rett ducked his head. “Rosalie probably blamed it on the booze.”

“Blame is easy,” Vida said. “Don't stay chained to the past.” She patted Rett's shoulders. “You have Ernest's eyes. They were ever so kind and intelligent. I can't believe you've drowned all that in liquor.”

Rett, who had recoiled at first from Vida's touch, now stared at her. “They don't want me. None of 'em do.”

“Don't be so sure.” Vida stepped back. “We all make mistakes. But eventually, we have to make things better. Goodbye, Rett.”

She turned and trudged off to the pickup. I followed.

Rett and the dog didn't move.

Traffic was light going into Seaside. Although we had no idea where Providence Hospital was located, we were able to follow the big “H” symbols. We found the hospital on a small hill above the town. It was a relatively new one-story complex that looked as if it had been added onto recently.

After inquiring at the desk, we were sent to the emergency waiting room. Before we got there, we passed one of the receiving rooms, where we saw staff members huddled around Rosie. Gordon leaned against the door jamb with a haggard expression on his face.

Vida poked him; he jumped. “They're still not sure if she had a heart attack,” Gordon said in reply to Vida's query. “I feel terrible. This was supposed to be a happy evening.”

“Come,” Vida said, taking his elbow and steering him to the waiting room at the end of the corridor. “You need to sit.”

Gordon was docile. “Rosie's going to be okay,” he said, more to himself than to us. “One of the doctors told me too many things have happened to her all at once, and she's tried to take on too much responsibility. I never should have gone away.”

“She seemed chipper when she came into the Bistro,” Vida remarked. “Of course I shouldn't have teased her. That wasn't very nice of me.”

“What set her off?” I asked.

Gordon winced. “Well … I had to tell her about Marlin. It upset her.”

“Does she know he's out on bail?” I inquired.

Gordon looked surprised. “No. I didn't have that kind of money at hand. Who posted bail for him?”

“Your father-in-law,” Vida said in a pained voice. “I suspect he has a nest egg, probably hatching under his mattress. He's certainly not spending it on housing.”

“That could be,” Gordon allowed. “Rett lives … simply.”

Vida mentioned that we'd stopped by to inform Rett—and Martin—of Rosalie's possible heart attack. Gordon said he'd called Walt Dobrinz, who should be arriving soon from Manzanita. Derek hadn't answered at the Imhofif house, so Gordon assumed he didn't know what had happened to his grandmother unless he'd picked up the news on the grapevine.

“This is all such a mess,” Gordon declared, getting out of the chair where he'd been twisting and twitching. “How's it going to end? Or will it just keep going on and on until we're all crazy? Or dead?”

Vida made a sharp, jerky motion with one hand. “Gordon! What kind of defeatist talk is that? Where's your spunk?”

“Spunk?” Gordon looked as if he'd never heard of the word.

Vida had also gotten to her feet. “See here, I have no intention of giving up. I never do. I'm not leaving until I get to the bottom of this.”

Gordon hung his head. “It's got nothing to do with you,” he mumbled.

“It does so,” Vida countered. “You're Runkels. You're family.”

“
I'm
not a Runkel.” Surprisingly, Gordon's tone was almost savage.

“But your children are,” Vida said, a bit smug.

“Whatever.” With a huge sigh, Gordon wheeled out of the waiting room and returned to the emergency area.

Vida was striding up and down, seemingly lost in thought. “It doesn't make sense,” she murmured. “So much of it doesn't.”

“Such as?” I asked in a mild voice.

“Ooooh … Most of it.” Vida pulled up short, standing by a table that held several current magazines, including recent copies of
Catholic Digest.
Out in the corridor, I heard voices, one of which sounded vaguely familiar. “Why kill Audrey in the first place?” Vida spoke under her breath. “What was the point?”

Walt Dobrinz was standing in the doorway. “Are you the ladies I met in Manzanita?”

Vida marched over to him and shook his hand. “We are indeed. Have you seen Rosalie yet?”

“I peeked in,” Walt said, looking more confused than worried. “She seems okay. But doctors never tell you much. I guess that's because they won't admit they don't know.”

“That's often the case,” Vida agreed, now at her most friendly. “Do sit, Walter. I believe there's coffee over on the counter at the end of the room.”

“Not for me,” Walt replied, though he did join us. “I wonder if they'll send her home tonight. I hope I didn't drive all the way from Manzanita on a wild-goose chase.”

Vida's friendliness took on a hint of frost. “I'm sure Rosalie is glad you're here.”

Walt uttered a sound that might have been a snort. Then he pushed his thick glasses with the hearing aids up on his nose and leaned down to look at the magazines on the table. “What's this stuff? Propaganda from the
Pope?” He batted at the cover of a magazine put out by the Franciscans.

“My brother's a priest,” I said with a tight little smile. “His church burned down last year. He had an article about it in one of the
Digests
.” I leaned over in my chair and randomly pointed. “I don't think that issue is here. The piece came out in June.”

Walt had no comment, but at least he stopped making cracks about the Church. The silence hadn't grown completely awkward before Vida spoke again.

“Emma and I were trying to figure out why anyone would want to kill Audrey. I don't suppose you have any ideas on the subject?” It was a question we'd both asked so often. But not, I realized, of Walt Dobrinz.

“It's the way,” Walt responded without taking time to mull. “You get mad at somebody these days, shoot him. You want to get even, grab a knife. You get pissed off about life in general, take it out on the guy standing next to you. Hell, you go into Portland, you can't honk at anybody. They'll get out of the car and do you in right there on the Hawthorne Bridge.”

“Yes,” Vida said in an odd voice. “That's so. Thank you, Walter, for the insight.”

Behind the thick lenses, Walt blinked at Vida. “Insight? That's no insight. Like I said, it's the way it is.”

“That's what I mean,” Vida responded. She gave Walt a big, bogus smile that left me as baffled as he looked.

Vida kept mum. On the way back to Cannon Beach, she refused to explain herself. She could only tell me that it was a feeling she had, a sense of the crime itself. All along, it had been there, sitting at the back of her mind, niggling away. There were certain things, apparently harmless things, that kept reinforcing her train of thought.
While admitting she wasn't sure who had killed Audrey, she was beginning to understand the why of it.

“The least you can do is tell me that part,” I chided after we were back at the motel.

“I can't,” Vida protested. “When I know
why
, I'll know
who.
”

“But you told me …” Lost in Vida's mental labyrinth, I surrendered. It was going on ten, and once again, exhaustion was overtaking me. “I'm going to bed.”

Vida thought she'd stay up for a while and finish Molly's diary. She could read it in the bedroom so that I could turn off the living-room light. We hadn't stayed on at the hospital much longer. While the doctors didn't seem to think that Rosalie had actually suffered a heart attack, they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. Walt had been annoyed, but Gordon had offered to buy his stepfather-in-law a beer. Mollified, Walt had gone off in a better mood.

“What were you going to say to Rosalie?” I asked while getting undressed.