The Alpine Xanadu (13 page)

As I started down River Road, I recalled Spence’s comment about calling on Cookie Eriks. April had probably rebuffed him because he’d gone there as a newshound. I, however, had a personal relationship with the widow. After the loss of her son-in-law, I’d offered comfort. Following Wayne’s arrest, I’d consoled Cookie—and managed to scoop Spence in the process. I decided to see if I could one-up him again.

I turned into the Icicle Creek development, driving by Milo’s split-level and the Melvilles’ remodeled house, both of which were almost adjacent to the golf course. The Erikses lived several doors north, closer to the railroad tracks, where property was cheaper.

Maybe it was just the circumstances, but the house’s exterior looked bleaker than I remembered it. The cream-colored paint was faded and chipped in places, the chimney was missing a couple of bricks, the small front lawn was patchy, and the roof—which had needed replacing on my last visit—was still deteriorating. I put on my most sympathetic face before I rang the doorbell.

April Eriks came to the door after, I assumed, she’d peered
through the peephole. “Emma,” she said with a wary look in her big brown eyes, “are you here to interview Cookie?”

“No,” I replied. “I wanted to offer my condolences. Cookie has been through some awful things the past couple of years. I understand how she must feel. A lot of us have had some bad luck.”

Flipping her prematurely gray hair over one ear, April stepped aside to let me pass into the small foyer. “Isn’t that the truth? You certainly had a scare a few weeks ago. Cookie’s baking scones. Let me see how soon they’ll be done. I’ll put on the teakettle.”

Indicating I should sit in a rocking chair by the empty fireplace, April went out to the kitchen. The interior looked as well maintained as I remembered it. Basically, the house was similar to Milo’s, if somewhat smaller. There was no TV in sight, so I guessed there was a family room, probably downstairs.

April and Cookie entered the living room together. Though not related by blood, both were slim, almost wraith-like women. Given that the Eriks brothers were burly, I figured they shared a penchant for waifs. I stood up to hug Cookie, something I rarely do with people I know only slightly, but I had devious motives. Journalists are born with them.

“So kind of you to stop by,” Cookie said, sitting on the leather sofa as April excused herself. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since the explosion at your house. You’re looking very well.”

“I am,” I said, surprised at Cookie’s concern, though I couldn’t say the same for her. Not only was she haggard, but she appeared older since our last meeting. Yet it was her manner that had changed most. During the crisis following Tim’s death, Cookie had seemed unhinged. I’d compared her spates of jerky speech and mannerisms to a wind-up toy. Maybe she’d been on drugs—or she was on them now. Losing a husband must be harder than losing a son-in-law. “I’m glad April’s here,” I said.

Cookie smiled. “We’ve always been more like sisters than sisters-in-law. Like the rest of us, she’s had her own trials.”

“You seem to be coping,” I remarked.

Cookie shrugged. “What can I do? Wayne shouldn’t have been working in that storm. He always said weather never stopped him.”

I heard a teakettle whistle in the distance. Cookie got up. “I must check my scones. I’ll make some tea, too.”

Just as she went out to the kitchen, Tiffany wandered into the room carrying a small child. “Oh, hi,” she said vaguely. “Ashley just woke up. You want to hold her while I get some juice?”

I could hardly refuse. “Will I scare her?”

Tiffany shrugged. “She doesn’t mind strangers. We’re taking off soon anyway.” She handed over Ashley before exiting the living room.

Ashley stuck a finger in her mouth and regarded me with big blue eyes. Sure enough, she didn’t seem to care that I was a mere visitor. At a little over a year, she was a cute, plump little creature, more intrigued with looking over my shoulder out the window than with me.

Tiffany returned, glass in hand, but didn’t offer to retrieve Ashley. “How come you’re here?” she asked, slouching in an armchair and flipping limp strands of blond hair over her shoulder. In her faded jeans and shabby bouclé sweater, she didn’t look like a kept woman.

“I wanted to tell your mom how sorry I am about your dad,” I said.

“Oh. Right. Mom’s okay. Aunt April’s solid.”

“And you?” I asked as Ashley turned to look at Tiffany.

“Me?” The query seemed to surprise her. “I’m fine.” She glanced at a wall clock set in a metal frame of grape clusters and leaves. “Gee, it’s after three. I should get going.” Tiffany drank some juice, set the glass down, and got up. “I’ll change Ashley first.”

I handed over the child and watched them disappear into the hallway. The doorbell rang. April rushed out of the kitchen to answer
it. I heard her faintly from the entryway, but the moment the second voice spoke, I held my head.

“Come into the living room,” April said. “Emma’s here, Sheriff.”

“So she is,” Milo said, looking as if he’d like to stuff me up the chimney. “Hello, Emma.”

“Hi,” I said with a fixed smile as he loomed over me.

“I’ll tell Cookie you’re here,” April said, scurrying to the kitchen.

“Beat it,” Milo murmured to me. “I’m delivering the bad news.”

“But—”

Milo grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. “I mean it. This is official—and ugly—business. Go home, clean the damned oven.”

I left the sheriff to make excuses for my hasty exit, but I only drove as far as the development entrance. If Milo’s announcement was official, I wanted to hear it before Fleetwood did. Ten minutes later, it started to rain and I was still waiting. Milo didn’t like tea and I’d never seen him eat a scone. What was worse, I realized I was hungry. I’d skipped lunch because of my late breakfast. I wondered what the RestHaven staff had served at the reception following Ed’s tour. Visions of salmon sandwiches were dancing in my head when I saw the Yukon coming toward me. In a fit of pique, I turned the ignition key and blocked the sheriff’s exit.

“God damn it, Emma,” Milo roared as he got out of the SUV, “why’d you pull a stupid stunt like that?”

I’d rolled down my window. “Because I want to know what you told Cookie and I want to hear it before Spence does. Well?”

The sheriff heaved an exasperated sigh. “Follow me to my office. No—
lead
me there, you ornery little pain in the ass.”

I smiled sweetly. “Okay.” After giving my future husband an obscene gesture, I rolled up the window and pulled back onto the Icicle Creek Road. I was sorely tempted to take Milo’s reserved
parking place just to see how he’d react. But this was business, both mine and his, so I parked two spaces down, next to Jack Mullins’s pickup.

“Mullins is back from security duty at RestHaven,” Milo said as I joined him on the sidewalk. “He better not be screwing off.”

Jack looked up from whatever he was doing at the reception counter. “Hey, it’s my favorite pair of—”

“Shut the hell up, Mullins,” Milo growled. “Are you AWOL or are they finished with the big bash at RestHaven?”

“Just got here,” Jack replied, patting down his red hair, which had a tendency to stick up in various places. “All’s quiet on the nut shop front.”

“Where’s Doe?” the sheriff asked.

“She was officially off duty,” Jack said. “I’m about to go on patrol.”

“No, you’re not,” Milo countered. “Heppner’s on patrol. You’re staying here so I can go home after I put together the statement about Eriks. Ms. Lord and Fleetwood have a need to know.” He turned to me. “Stay here until I’m finished.”

“Gee,” I said, “guess you don’t need anybody with writing skills to help you … Sheriff.”

“No, I don’t.” He headed for his office and slammed the door.

“Is he always so nice to you?” Jack asked with a mischievous grin.

“Pretty much,” I said. “On the job, anyway. We agreed to keep our personal and professional lives separate.”

“Hunh. Nina and I did the same thing, except in our case, she agreed to keep our personal lives separate.”

“Jack, don’t talk about Nina like that. You know you’re nuts about her. I’ve seen you hold hands in church.”

The deputy’s eyes twinkled. “That’s to keep her from stealing my wallet. Say,” he said, lowering his voice, “what are the odds
you can get the boss man to go to church with you? I haven’t seen him there yet.”

“About as good as the chances of the Mariners winning the World Series. The sheriff is not a churchgoing kind of guy.”

“I know, but …” Jack shrugged. “Seriously, he’s marrying into a family with two priests. Don’t you think that makes a difference?”

“Not to Dodge. They’re just a couple of guys who have a different job than he does.”

Jack’s puckish grin returned. “He’ll have to go inside a church if he gets his marriage annulled. The real question is, how are you going to get him to wear a suit?”

I laughed. “That thought
has
occurred to me. In fact, this morning I went to look for—” I stopped as Milo reappeared.

“Come and get it,” he said, motioning to me.

I sat down in a visitor’s chair while he remained standing in front of his SkyCo wall map. To my critical eye, the statement looked fine. The bottom line was that Eriks had died from a lethal 110-volt charge to the chest and that his death was under investigation.

“You don’t mention ruling out an accident or foul play,” I said. “Is that because you and Colin Knapp can’t be sure?”

“That’s right,” Milo replied, turning around. “Those burn holes in his clothes not being a match makes me suspicious—Knapp, too—but there’s always the possibility of something weird in terms of the entry from a hot wire. And where did anybody get one in the first place?”

“The truck?”

“That’s the most likely. But why would a live hot wire be there in the first place?” Milo took out a pack of cigarettes. “You want one?”

I shook my head. “I’m on the job. I want to avoid temptation.”

He ruffled my hair. “Me too. Go away so I can give Fleetwood the news. You’ll put it online, right?”

“I’ll have Kip do it,” I said. “I’ll call from home.”

“See you there,” he said after lighting the cigarette and picking up the phone. “I wouldn’t mind a steak for dinner.”

I’d gotten up and was in the doorway. “I’m working. Go shoot a cow.” I made my exit.

If the sheriff wanted steak, I’d go to the Grocery Basket before I went to my little log house, which was inexorably being turned into a stately mansion. I called Kip from my car and read Milo’s statement to him. He was bewildered. “Weird,” he said. “Did Eriks fall on a hot wire?”

“It’s possible,” I hedged. “That’s why Milo’s investigating.”

“He doesn’t mention an accident,” Kip pointed out.

“That’s because he isn’t sure.”

“Wow. If it’s not, then it’s really grim.”

“That’s why Milo’s cautious. Can you put it on the site now?”

“Sure,” Kip said. “Is it raining where you are? It just started here, so Chili’s letting me stop doing yard cleanup. It’ll spoil the Erikses’ barbecue, though. Isn’t it a little early in the season for that?”

Raindrops were falling on my windshield, a half mile from Ptarmigan Tract, where Mel and April Eriks also lived. “April’s not home,” I said. “She’s staying with Cookie. Why is Mel barbecuing? That’s odd.”

“Maybe their kids are here for Wayne’s funeral. They both work in Seattle. Heck, I don’t know. I can’t see over the fence. It could’ve been a brush fire. I didn’t think of doing that with the dead stuff I hauled out of the yard. Now it’s raining.”

“Enjoy your leisure,” I said before disconnecting.

Driving up Alpine Way, I wondered what Mel was really doing outside. Small fires seemed to be a leitmotif in connection with the Eriks family. My musings were diverted by the store’s reader board,
where a Help Wanted sign was posted. The O’Tooles had to replace Tiffany. After picking up two T-bones, I saw Betsy facing out deli shelves.

“Looking for a second job?” she asked with a smile.

“I should, given our remodeling project. Any applicants yet?”

“Two,” she replied. “College students, no experience. Not that Tiff was the sharpest cutter on the cheese wheel.”

“Were you surprised when she quit?”

“Yes.” Betsy rubbed Lubriderm on her hands. “No notice, either. Jake and I were irate, but what could we do? I wrote a check for the money she’d earned this month and that was that.”

I shrugged. “She got a free ride and a man to lean on.”

Betsy stepped aside to let an elderly couple pass. “Oh? I wonder.”

“What do you mean?”

Betsy made a face. “She seemed scared, which was odd. When Jake or I had to chew her out, which we sometimes did, she’d get sullen. This was different, but I don’t know why.”

I didn’t, either. But, as with all bad things, we’d find out.

M
ILO WASN’T HOME BY FOUR, SO
I
REREAD
M
AVIS’S LETTER
, trying to figure out how to tell her she was wrong about my marriage plans. Maybe I should call her. I was still mulling when I heard the sheriff arrive, cussing his head off.

“Now what?” I asked from the kitchen doorway as he came inside.

“You put the garbage can lid on half-assed and raccoons got in it. There was stuff all over the place. Didn’t you see it when you came in?”

“No. I was carrying the groceries. This morning I was rushed when I took out the garbage. Guess what—you could do that instead of me.”

“I do,” Milo said, brushing raindrops off of his jacket. “The can under the sink wasn’t full last night.”

“It was this morning.”

Fuming, I started for the carport, but Milo stopped me. “I cleaned up the mess. The solution for foraging wildlife is to enclose the garage. I don’t know why you didn’t do that when you moved in.”

“Because there wasn’t even a carport then and I couldn’t afford a full garage. That’s why, you big jackass.”

Milo took off his jacket. “It’s the best way to go now. With our weather, it’s the only way. It’s a damned nuisance when one of our
cars is blocking the other one. As long as we extend the addition, an enclosed double garage will balance off the whole thing.”