The Alpine Xanadu (19 page)

“Sure. I gather he didn’t lead a hugely eventful life?”

“Not that I know of. The only unusual thing is how he died.”

“That’s the real story,” Mitch remarked before heading to his desk.

Al’s wife, Janet, answered the phone. “Yes, I’m doing the dead thing today,” she said in her husky voice. “Burying people is better business this time of year than sending them off on vacation at Sky Travel. How’s cohabitation with the sheriff going? You sure you’re not bored and would like Al and me to join you for a foursome?”

I was used to Janet’s bawdy tongue. “We’re planning our addition.”

“Dodge knocked you up? I thought you were past that!”

“I am,” I said wearily. “I’m talking about my house. Hey, I’m up against deadline. Has the date been set for Wayne Eriks’s funeral?”

“No funeral,” Janet replied, sounding unnaturally glum. “Private graveside service Thursday. Talk about cheap!”

“Cookie told me, but I thought maybe Al could twist her arm.”

“Cookie!” Janet cried in disgust. “When did that meek little twit get a spine? Think she’s got a guy on the side?”

“Which side? Get real. Did Cookie provide obit information?”

“He was born, he lived, and he died. Oh, he screwed. Tiff and poor Ringo. Good-looking until he smacked into some boulders. Closed casket.”

“That’s it? I mean about Wayne?”

“He’s being cremated. In his case, we call it refried.”

“Stop, please. You’re—”

“Killing me?” Janet said. “Sorry about that, but we could use the money. Wait—don’t die. You’ve got a lot to
screw
for—I mean
live
for.”

“Good-bye, Janet.” I went to the newsroom and asked Mitch to call Cookie about Wayne’s obit. My phone rang as I got back to my desk.

“Hold the Eriks announcement,” Janet said. “Dodge just called. He’s not releasing the body.”

“What?” I practically shrieked. “Are you serious?”

“When was I ever not?” Janet asked in mock indignation. “Don’t you two ever stop doing it long enough to actually
talk
?”

“He’d better talk now,” I said grimly. “Did he give you a reason?”

“No. Someday
you’re
going to talk about what it’s like in the sack with that guy. I have to wonder how he—”

“Shut up,” I snapped. “I have to call Milo. I’ve got work to do.”

“You call that work with Dodge? If I were you—”

I hung up and dialed the sheriff. Lori said her boss was on the phone. I realized Mitch should stay with the Eriks story. But he, too, was on the phone. It sounded as if he was talking to Cookie. Amanda brought my mail and Vida’s. I was getting more coffee when Mitch hung up.

“The widow does natter,” he said, looking a little dazed. “We don’t run baby pictures of the deceased, do we?”

“Only if it’s for Ed Bronsky. It’d be the only way we’d get one of him weighing under a hundred—” I stopped as Milo entered the newsroom.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, but you should really talk to—”

“Stop.” He paused to pour coffee and grab a maple bar before stalking into my office. I shrugged at Mitch and followed the sheriff.

Milo sat down. “Close the door.”

I obeyed and took my place behind the desk. “What’s wrong?”

“No wonder we couldn’t figure out how Eriks was electrocuted. He wasn’t. What do you make of that, my little smart-assed newspaper sleuth?”

“I
’VE NO IDEA,”
I
SAID, STUPEFIED BY THE SHERIFF’S BOMBSHELL
.

“You mean … what
do
you mean?”

Milo finished chewing a chunk of maple bar. “I admit I was stumped about how it could happen. So was the M.E., Colin Knapp. I had the body shipped back to the hospital morgue, but I literally couldn’t let it go. You may not believe this, but I paid attention to what you said last night. The stiff’s already headed to Everett for a second opinion. Knapp’s good, but he’s fairly new, at least to doing autopsies in a county as big as SnoCo. This time he’ll bring in the veterans, like Neal Doak.”

I was confused. “You don’t mean he could’ve died of natural causes and …” I shook my head. “I don’t get it.”

The sheriff grimaced. “Maybe he was run through after he was dead. We still don’t know why he died. This time we’d better find out.”

I shivered. “That’s creepy.”

“You bet.” Milo paused to finish the maple bar. “Keep this to yourself. That’s why I bypassed Mitch. Your star reporter can think we’re having a lovers’ quarrel or some damned thing.”

“He doesn’t even know we’re a couple.”

Milo glanced over his shoulder. “The door’s closed. Want to open it so he can figure it out?”

I giggled. “No. We’re working, remember?”

“Right.” The sheriff unfolded himself from the chair. “Got to go. How come you look so cute? The last I saw of you, you were staggering around the kitchen trying to find the coffeemaker and cussing a lot.”

“It
was
morning. Go away, Sheriff.”

He picked up the mug and opened the door. “Where’s Vida?”

“She took the day off. Personal reasons.”

“Christ,” Milo said under his breath. “See you around, Emma.”

Watching him amble out through the newsroom with a curt nod for Mitch, I couldn’t resist smiling. But my reporter blotted out that brief bright spot when he came into my office two minutes later, demanding to know if I was usurping his story. “Hey,” he said, leaning on my desk, “I thought I was handling news from the sheriff. If you want to take over, tell me. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“I don’t like being bullied,” I shot back. “Vida’s diva act is bad enough. The Eriks story is still yours. There are other issues involving the sheriff’s department. If you read my editorial, you’ll find out.”

Mitch slumped into a visitor’s chair. “Sorry,” he said wearily. “I’m not functioning at full speed mentally. It’s bad enough having a son in prison, but it’s worse with my wife clear across the country.”

“It must be hell,” I said with genuine sympathy. “Anything new?”

“I talked to Miriam last night. Brenda was asleep. It was after ten in Pittsburgh. She won’t leave the condo. I guess the only thing I can do is bring her back here and send her to RestHaven. But I can’t do that until our daughter can fly out here with her. Or I go get her. I don’t know if they’ll take Brenda or what it’ll cost. I should ask Farrell.”

“Do you think that once she’s here in Alpine Brenda would be able to stay at home?”

Mitch looked bleak. “Maybe. Miriam’s working, of course, but she has an elderly neighbor keeping tabs on Brenda during the day.”

“You might be able to make the same kind of arrangement here,” I said. “There are quite a few widows and other women who would be willing to do that, if only to relieve boredom or loneliness.” Cookie Eriks came to mind, but I’d hold that thought for now.

Mitch smiled wanly and stood up. “Thanks, Emma. You’re a good person. By the way, when I checked the log earlier, I gathered that one of the deputies had been suspended. Do we run that kind of thing?”

“No. That’s an internal matter. It’d be a bad idea to broadcast that the sheriff was short-handed. It might give would-be crooks ideas.”

“In Detroit, they had plenty of their own. Do you know who it is?”

“Dodge didn’t mention it to me this morning,” I hedged.

“I just wondered. He strikes me as a hard guy to work for. He’s pretty damned prickly and he’s got a temper.”

“He wasn’t always like that,” I said candidly. “He was more laid-back and quiet. He was always stubborn, though.”

Mitch shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. You’ve known him longer than I have. I didn’t like his attitude when Troy escaped from Monroe. He seemed insensitive to our request to keep our son here at the hospital when he got pneumonia instead of shipping him back to prison.”

“That wasn’t his decision,” I said. “He had to defer to the state.”

Mitch looked incredulous. “Cops bend rules. They did it all the time in Detroit.”

My face tightened. “This isn’t Detroit. It’s Alpine. And Dodge goes by the book. He always has.”

Mitch shrugged. “Okay, you have a point. But I don’t like his book much. How long has he been sheriff?”

“Twenty years? It used to be an elected position.”

“Maybe we should do that again. Why was the process changed?”

“It doesn’t make sense. Several counties appoint their sheriffs. I wrote editorials about it. Campaigning for a law enforcement official is a waste of time—and money. It interferes with the sheriff’s duties. Police chiefs don’t run for office. I don’t think judges should be elected, either.”

“Well …” Mitch ran a hand through his thick gray hair. “Maybe it’s time to investigate Dodge’s operation. How long has it been since anyone looked into how things work on his watch? Twenty years is a long time for a guy to run his own show without some serious scrutiny.”

I was just a breath or two away from telling Mitch to stick it. But I held back. “Until something comes along that raises our hackles, let’s not ask for trouble. I understand your feelings about how your son was dealt with. But it would never have happened if Troy hadn’t escaped from prison twice
and
then caught pneumonia. He wouldn’t have been behind bars if he hadn’t been dealing drugs.”

“That’s a low blow,” Mitch said softly, but with fervor. “I’d better go back to work.”

He strode off to his desk. I held my head, thinking that the last thing Milo or I needed was a reporter on a vendetta. Reminding myself that I had a paper to put out, I too went back to work.

It was almost noon when Ross Blatt of Alpine Service & Repair came to see me. He was looking for his aunt Vida.

“If,” he said after I informed him she’d taken the day off, “she’s not here, where is she? I was supposed to check her furnace. I
planned to do it last week, but I got the flu. She told me she’d leave the key under the mat, but it isn’t there and her car’s gone. Was she going out of town?”

“Not that I know of,” I replied. “Did you call her?”

Ross settled his stocky body into a chair. “I tried her home and her cell phone. She didn’t answer. That’s why I figured she’d be here.”

“Did you call your cousin Amy?”

“She didn’t answer, either.” His bushy graying eyebrows almost met in a frown. “Maybe they went somewhere together.”

I had a sudden thought. “Have you talked to Buck Bardeen?”

The query seemed to catch Ross by surprise. “No. That might be worth a try.” He grinned. “Somehow I can never quite take in that Aunt Vida has a boyfriend. I’ve met him a few times, but I always think of her as … sort of old-fashioned. I mean …” His broad face reddened slightly.

“I know what you mean,” I said, to save Ross embarrassment. “But believe it or not, your aunt’s human.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Sometimes the rest of the family forgets that. Thanks,” he added, getting up. “I’ll call the colonel right away.”

I was tempted to ask Ross to let me know if he found out where Vida was, but I didn’t want to sound like a snoopy boss. Instead I changed the subject. “Is your part of the work done now at RestHaven?”

“It is, unless something breaks. Hey, do you remember Clarence Munn, the guy who owned Bucker Logging?”

“I recall the name,” I said. “In fact, your aunt mentioned him just recently. She told me he’s at RestHaven.”

Ross nodded. “I had a long talk with him last week. He’s got that problem where he forgets what happened five minutes ago, but boy, has he got a memory that goes way back. I told him he should
write a book about the gyppo loggers he bought his timber from. That kind of logging is almost gone around here. He’s got stories to tell if you’re interested.”

“I might be,” I said. “I’ll make a note.”

Ross thanked me for my time and left as my phone rang.

“Are you free for lunch?” Rosemary Bourgette asked.

“Yes. Do you want to join me?”

“Is the ski lodge coffee shop okay?”

“Sure.” My watch showed a quarter to noon. “I can leave now.”

“Meet you there,” she said, and rang off.

Rosemary had just pulled into the parking lot when I arrived. We exchanged chitchat until we were seated in the busy coffee shop.

“Good,” she said after the hostess left us. “I don’t recognize anybody who might overhear us. They’re hosting a gardening conference.”

“Yes, Vida wrote it up. Is she the subject of our get-together?”

“Wait until we order,” Rosemary said as the typical blond ski lodge waitress came toward us. Rosemary opted for the Caesar with extra anchovies. I decided to have the same.

“Holly has landed,” Rosemary announced after the waitress left. “She has an older sister in Centralia who’s offered to take on her and the kids. Esther Brant helped Holly make the arrangements.”

“And it’s been approved?” I asked in surprise.

Rosemary nodded. “The sister’s name is Dawn Harrison. Married, two kids of her own older than Holly’s brood. Unlike Holly, Dawn has apparently led a blameless life. I think she’s very brave. Or crazy.”

“Is Holly in town?”

“Supposedly. Esther notified me Holly was on her way and asked me to make sure the child’s transition goes smoothly. That’s
the problem. I can’t reach Amy Hibbert, and Amanda said Vida wasn’t at work today. She’s not home, either. Do you know where she is?”

I sighed. “No. Did you call her son-in-law, Ted, at the state highway department?”

“Yes, but he’s in Olympia at a meeting. Roger’s not at RestHaven. Being a volunteer, he isn’t accountable for his time.”

“He’s not accountable for much,” I murmured, feeling a sense of unease come over me. “Maybe Vida and Amy have gone to visit someone and took Diddy with them. Does Diddy have a real name?”

Rosemary looked askance. “It’s Leonardo. Holly must be a DiCaprio fan. I think she saw
Gangs of New York
once too often.”

Our salads arrived along with a basket of warm rolls. I speared an anchovy before speaking again. “Is it your duty to oversee that Holly gets her child back? Doesn’t Roger have rights as a father?”

Rosemary looked exasperated. “No, it’s not my duty, and yes, Roger has rights, if he can prove he’s the dad. Has he taken a paternity test?”