The Alpine Xanadu (25 page)

“No, she isn’t,” Vida declared. “Roger is in Bellingham with Meg. He’s rethinking the resumption of his college education and wanted to spend some time on the Western Washington University campus. His old chum Davin Rhodes is still there, finishing his degree.”

“That’s … good,” I said.

“Yes. He’s still considering a career in theater.”

Of the absurd
, I thought. But I smiled as Vida returned to the newsroom. Roger, I assumed, was probably sacked out at Meg’s house—with Diddy or Dippy or whatever the poor tyke was called.

Leo didn’t return until after four. Vida grilled him about Holly’s visit to the sheriff’s office, but Leo insisted he’d left immediately. I felt his flight was the better part of valor. I did wonder if Roger had taken a paternity test. I also wondered if he cared enough to bother.

Mitch had gotten word of Patti Marsh’s condition. She had two broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and multiple bruises. Vida was miffed. “What’s wrong with Marje Blatt? She usually keeps her aunt informed. Did Patti accuse Jack of beating her?”

“No mention of anybody,” Mitch said. “Patti stuck to her story.”

“She might be telling the truth,” I said. “The sprained ankle could indicate she fell. Had she been drinking?”

Mitch looked taken aback. “I didn’t ask. That seems like an intrusive question. I thought you wanted to know about her injuries.”

“I did, but—”

Vida interrupted me. “See here, Mitch, this isn’t Detroit—thank goodness. This is Alpine, and we take an interest in each other. Some might call it being nosy, but that’s not so. There are people we may not like or admire, but we are interested in their well-being. Have you no curiosity about your fellow human beings?”

“Only as background for a story,” Mitch replied. “Otherwise, it’s irrelevant. And nosy.”

Vida rose from her chair, her eyes impaling Mitch across the room. “You’ve been here a very short time. You don’t understand small-town ways. Cities are anonymous and impersonal. My own daughter Beth admits that after almost twenty years in Tacoma she doesn’t know half the people on her block. What does that say about a sense of community? I may despise Patti’s lifestyle, but if she sought my help, I’d be willing to offer it. And I’d be able to help her because I know her.”

Mitch finally managed to avert his gaze. “Fine. I’m a city guy. The private lives of people I covered wouldn’t be just a drawback—I’d lose objectivity. Besides, city dwellers are jammed into their neighborhoods, crowded on their streets. They need their privacy. I’m trying to adapt, but I’ll be damned if I’ll pry into somebody’s personal life unless it’s pertinent to the story I’m covering. Patti’s not a story, she’s an accident victim.”

Vida sat down. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But mind your language.” She turned to her keyboard and began typing at warp speed.

The workday finally ran down. I headed to the Grocery Basket. This week’s ad featured lamb chops on sale at seven bucks a pound. I mulled whether Milo would want two or three. He always griped that they were too small. Wincing, I asked for four. At least they were thick. I was in the produce section checking out early asparagus when a dark-haired woman I didn’t recognize called my name from two bins away.

“You don’t know me,” she said, smiling. “Betsy O’Toole told me where to find you. I’m Kay Burns.” She offered her hand. “I wanted to thank you for the fine job you people did on the RestHaven edition.”

“You’re in P.R.,” I said, returning her firm grip. “Mitch Laskey told me he’d been working with you. I hope all of you are pleased.”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk with everybody, but I’m sure they are,” Kay said. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Go ahead. If I won’t answer it, don’t be offended.”

She smiled again. “I understand. I noticed in the paper that you’re engaged to the sheriff. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I said, wondering how personal this was going to get.

“You may not know I was married briefly to Dwight Gould,” Kay said, her smile disappearing. “That was before you lived here. Anyway, I felt it would be wrong to move here and not get in touch with him. I called the sheriff’s office today, but the receptionist said Dwight wasn’t in and she wasn’t sure when he’d be back. I tried to reach him at home—he still lives out on Burl Creek Road in the house where we lived together—but he didn’t answer. Then I phoned his sister, Kay—or Kiki, as she’s called—but she … well, she doesn’t like me.” Kay paused and pursed her lips. “She wouldn’t tell me anything. Is Dwight ill?”

I wouldn’t reveal Dwight’s suspension, so I hedged. “He’s fine as far as I know. He may have gone fishing.”

Kay looked faintly incredulous. “In this weather? I’m a native. I know when the river’s too high and off-color. Not even Dwight would do that.” She paused again, this time to let a young couple with two children get by us. “This may sound silly, but I’m worried about him. Could you ask the sheriff if he’s all right?”

“Sure,” I said, “but I’ve seen Dwight recently and he seemed fine.”

Kay nodded once. “Good. But I’m still concerned. People can have health problems that aren’t caused by disease.”

“You mean … an accident?”

She avoided my gaze. “Maybe. I should finish my shopping. It was nice meeting you.” She pushed her grocery cart back toward the tomatoes.

I got home at five-thirty. It was going on six when the phone rang.

“I’m stuck,” Milo said, sounding unhappy. “I couldn’t talk Tanya out of staying here at the house, and Mulehide just took off.”

I didn’t respond right away. “Why don’t you bring her here? If you can spare a lamb chop, I can feed her. You both have to eat.”

It was his turn not to say anything for a moment. “I’ll see if she can cope with that, okay? I’ll call you back.”

I stood by the sink, hanging my head and silently cussing. I really didn’t blame Tanya. But I’d waited my entire adult life to be happy with a man I loved, and now it seemed there was one damned obstacle after another. Yes, I’d fouled up my relationship with Milo for years, but at least I’d finally come to my senses. I knew life wasn’t fair, but I felt hexed. I was fifty-two years old. Maybe this was payback for my delusions about Tom and my folly with Rolf. I thought about what Ben would tell me. He’d say it served me right—but I still didn’t deserve it. Life is random, not dictated by God.

It was ten minutes before Milo called back. “She’ll come. I had to coax her out of the bathroom. At least she didn’t have any pills.”

“Good,” I said, awash with relief. It was a small victory and eased the lingering guilt I felt for not letting Tanya take refuge at my own house. “I hope she likes asparagus.”

“See you in a bit. Tanya has to get herself together.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t started dinner.” I had a sudden thought. “Milo—why don’t you put the house up for sale now?”

There was a brief silence at the other end. “It needs work. But that’s not your weirdest idea. A For Sale sign in the front yard might be motivation.” He hung up.

It was going on seven before the sheriff and his daughter arrived. I’d put the potatoes on the stove to boil and had the lamb chops ready to go under the broiler in the oven. I’d steam the asparagus, which would take only a few minutes. I knew Tanya preferred wine, so I got out an unopened bottle of Merlot that I had on hand for my bridge club.

I stood at the front window watching Tanya come out from around the Yukon’s passenger side. She was wearing a brown hooded car coat and had her head down to avoid the heavy rain. She walked slowly, carefully, as if she thought the ground might swallow her. Milo had loped on ahead, but stopped to go back and take her arm. He looked more like a son helping his mother than a father guiding his daughter. Tanya seemed to have deteriorated since I’d seen her less than three weeks ago.

I met them at the door. Up close, she appeared more like herself. She was almost pretty, a tall, more angular version of how her mother might have looked as a young woman. Except for the sandy hair, she bore no resemblance to her father. Of the three children, only Brandon took after Milo. He wasn’t as tall or as broad as Milo, and though he had hazel eyes, they didn’t have the intensity of his father’s. The sheriff’s gaze revealed his every emotion—unless
he didn’t want a witness or suspect to know what he was thinking. Even I couldn’t read him then.

Milo leaned down and brushed my lips with a quick kiss. “Tanya says she isn’t hungry. I told her you could change her mind.”

“I’ll try,” I said, smiling. “Here, Tanya, I’ll help with your coat.”

Tanya mutely submitted to my assistance. Milo took the coat and hung it next to his. “Lamb chops, right?” he said, to break the silence.

“Yes.” I turned to Tanya. “Do you like Merlot?”

She nodded—and finally spoke. “I do. Thanks.”

“Good,” I said. “Come out to the kitchen and let your dad collapse. He’s had a busy day with his trip over to Everett.”

“Is that where he went?” she asked, trailing me like a lost waif.

“He had to get an autopsy report on Wayne Eriks. Do you know the family? Their daughter, Tiffany, is about your age.”

“Tiffany Eriks.” Tanya studied the wine bottle. “Yes, I think she was in the class ahead of me. She had a brother who was a little older.”

“He was killed in a rafting accident. Maybe that happened after you moved to Bellevue.”

Tanya looked mildly surprised. “I guess so. I don’t remember it.”

I got out a wine goblet and two cocktail glasses. “The corkscrew’s in that drawer to your right. You want to do the honors?”

“Okay.” She opened the drawer but seemed to have trouble finding the corkscrew. Not that I blamed her. As Milo often pointed out, I’m not organized. I rarely use the corkscrew except when I host bridge club.

“It’s in there somewhere,” I said.

Tanya found the damned thing just as I finished pouring her father’s Scotch. To my relief, she deftly removed the cork and managed to pour the wine without spilling it—something I might not have achieved. I made my own drink and lifted my glass to her. “To
better days. For all of us. I’m glad you’re here, Tanya.” To my astonishment, I meant it.

“Thanks,” she said as we clicked glasses. For a second our eyes met. A glint of tears shone in hers. I put my arm around her. Tanya leaned against me, then pulled away with what seemed like reluctance.

We moved out to the living room. Milo was in the easy chair, looking as if he’d been about to nod off. “The barmaids,” he said, stretching his long arms. “Want me to build a fire?”

“Sure,” I said, indicating that Tanya should sit on the sofa. I handed him his drink. I realized I hadn’t turned on the broiler or the stove, but it’d take that long for Milo to get the fire going and finish his drink. I sat next to Tanya in my usual spot. “Hey,” I said to Milo’s back as he stuffed newspaper into the grate, “any word from Dwight?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think he misses me.”

“Kay’s trying to find him.”

The sheriff turned to look at me over his shoulder. “The hell she is,” he said. “How do you know that?”

I explained about meeting her at the Grocery Basket. “She’s worried about him.”

Milo finished adding kindling and a couple of cedar logs before setting off the newspaper. “After twenty-five years?” he said, standing up.

“I remember Dwight,” Tanya said. “Doesn’t he look like a frog?”

“He’s no prince,” her father said, sitting down. “Why the hell is Kay worried? Something’s up.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but she really seemed concerned.”

Milo fingered his long chin. “Money? Didn’t you say she’s got a P.R. job at RestHaven? They must pay well.”

“It was like she thought something had happened to him,” I said.

The sheriff shook his head. “Nothing ever happens to Dwight. He likes it that way.”

“Maybe,” I suggested, “she’s heard about the threats to Blackwell’s life and thinks Dwight’s finally getting even.”

Milo scowled at me. “You’re in fantasyland.”

I didn’t argue. Instead, I went out to the kitchen to start the chops and the potatoes. I overheard Milo ask Tanya if she was going to look for a job in Alpine. I couldn’t hear her answer, but by the time I returned to the living room, her father was suggesting she check out the community college. “It’s the state, so they may have some money to spare,” he said.

She shook her head. “I had enough of college life. I wouldn’t want to deal with students.”

“I suppose you could start doing stuff around the house,” Milo said after a pause. “I’m putting it up for sale soon.”

“Dad!” Tanya cried. “You can’t do that! It’s home.”

The sheriff scowled. “Not for me. It hasn’t been your home since 1985. I have to unload the place to help pay for the remodel here. Don’t get excited. The market’s slow right now due to the recession. It could take months. You and Bran and Mike still have stuff downstairs.”

Tanya looked puzzled. “You mean from when we lived here?”

Milo nodded. “Mostly toys and games, but I never threw that stuff out. I thought for a while you guys might still want it when you came here to visit.” He sounded slightly wistful.

“I guess we outgrew it,” Tanya murmured.

“Donate it to the Salvation Army,” Milo said. “They’ve got a bin in the Safeway parking lot.”

“Maybe I’ll look. I can’t push myself,” Tanya continued after a generous sip of wine. “My psychiatrist told me it takes years to get over the kind of thing I’ve been through.” She finally looked at me. “Did Dad tell you I have post-traumatic stress disorder?”

I caught Milo’s uneasy expression. If he’d mentioned PTSD to
me, I’d forgotten it in the muddle that had been my own life in recent weeks. “That’s difficult to deal with,” I said. “I assume your psychiatrist has given you good advice about how to cope with it so you can move on.”

“He’s not a specialist in PTSD,” Tanya replied. “He gave me a referral to someone on the Eastside, but by the time Mom and I got back from Hawaii, the doctor had moved out of the area. That’s just as well. I wanted to move out of the area, too.”

Milo had taken a puff on his cigarette and exhaled. “I thought you told me that part of the treatment was to slowly relive the cause.”