The Alpine Xanadu (27 page)

I’d forgotten all about my first attempt at putting Fuzzy’s plan in motion. “Thanks. I’m thinking of a series. Maybe find some ways to reorganize how the town and the county operate. If anybody’s got an idea, let me know. We need to change how we raise funds. I imagine the storm caused some damage.” I looked at Mitch. “You’re doing a follow-up?”

He nodded. “I can wind that up today. The heavy rain last night may’ve caused more problems. I’ll check after I see the sheriff’s log.”

He’d barely finished speaking when Vida burst onto the premises. I hurriedly put out my cigarette. Luckily, she didn’t notice, being absorbed in the presentation of the bakery box she was carrying. “The Upper Crust’s ad had some new items, Leo. You should’ve told us in advance.”

Leo looked puckish. “Why? You don’t read the paper, Duchess?”

“Fie on you, Leo,” she said, opening the box. “ ‘Advance’ means before publication, you ninny. I have croissants with cream cheese filling, red velvet cupcakes, filled florentines—though I’m not sure what they’re filled with—and a selection of petit fours.”

“Hey,” Leo said, “you must’ve blown up the monthly bakery fund.”

Vida shook her head, which was adorned by a green hat with a long pheasant feather that looked as if Robin Hood should be wearing it. “My treat for missing an entire day.”

Mitch and Leo began to plunder the baked goods. I let them go at it while I went to my office. A few minutes later I plucked up a cream cheese croissant. It was delicious.

Mitch hadn’t returned by nine-thirty, so I couldn’t ask him if the sheriff was at work. Just before ten Milo appeared. He greeted Vida perfunctorily, got some coffee and a cupcake, and came into my office. He closed the door. I could imagine Vida seething in the newsroom.

“I had to bring Tanya to work with me.”

“How come?”

He’d taken a bite of cupcake and waited to swallow it. “This is breakfast, by the way. Tanya was too nervous to stay alone. She’d had the nightmares again. When she was up here before, she stopped having them after about three days. It was a long night and a short sleep.”

“Poor you. Poor Tanya.”

Milo lifted one broad shoulder. “Maybe she’ll stop doing it after another night or so. I called Doc this morning and she’s going to see him at eleven. Tanya likes Doc. She can do that on her own. I don’t know if he can help, but I want his opinion. Hell, he’s known her since the day she was born. He delivered her, one of his first babies.” He polished off the cupcake and gave me a close look. “Are you okay?”

“Just worried.” I reached out to touch his hand. “I feel worthless. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint spark in his eyes, “but not here. This place is small and so cluttered we’d probably have to ask Vida to untangle us.”

I laughed—which felt good. “You can’t bring Tanya with you every day. She stayed alone before.”

Milo nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping for. But she can’t just sit on her ass. There’s plenty for her to do around the house. The first time, she mostly watched TV all day.”

“Hey,” I said, feeling almost human, “Mitch is going back to collect Brenda tomorrow. Maybe she and Tanya can watch each other. He’s already said he can’t leave her alone.”

“Shit.” Milo shook his head. “What’s wrong with all these people? It’s getting to the point that Crazy Eights Neffel seems normal. I hardly noticed on my way here that he was wearing an Uncle Sam outfit and saluting the Sears catalog office.”

“Maybe that’s where he got the Uncle Sam outfit.”

Milo grinned and squeezed my hand. “God, Emma, what would I do without you? I feel better already. Will you marry me?”

“I already told you I would. Did you forget?”

“No.” He turned serious, but he kept hold of my hand. “I mean right away. If we file the application today, we can get married Monday or Tuesday. At least that’ll keep Mulehide from insisting we’re not serious.”

“Tuesday’s pub day,” I said.

“So? It’ll only take about ten minutes.”

I hesitated. “Sure. We could honeymoon in the back shop.”

“That sounds about right. I’m glad you’re not very romantic.”

“Neither are you, big guy. Romance is highly overrated, as I found out to my sorrow.”

He let go of my hand and got to his feet. “May I kiss the bride?”

I giggled. “Yes.” I got to my feet and fell into his arms. He kissed me, a long, lingering kiss that made me feel a little weak in the knees.

“Wow,” he said softly, finally letting me go and picking up his hat. “I’m coming home tonight if I have to get Crazy Eights to sit with Tanya.”

“Play it by ear,” I urged him.

He opened the door. “I’ll get somebody to give me a break for a couple of hours. See you later, Emma.”

He grabbed another cupcake, nodded to Vida, and departed. I was about to see if there were any croissants left, but Vida rocketed out of her chair, heading toward me like a running back sniffing the end zone.

“Well? What was that all about? And my, but you look much improved. You should, however, put on some lipstick. You’re very pale.”

“Would you mind if I get something to eat? Then I’ll unload, okay?”

Vida stalked me over to the pastry tray. Luckily, one croissant remained. I filled my coffee mug while she nudged me out of the way. “Those are very tasty,” Vida remarked. “I don’t suppose it’d hurt my diet if I sampled the petit fours. They are, after all, petite.”

“Go for it,” I said.

She took the last two and followed me back to my office. After a bite of croissant, I gave her the brief version of Tanya’s emotional status. As expected, Vida had little sympathy.

“No spunk,” she declared. “Tricia probably had some very modern and very silly theories about child rearing. I can’t imagine that her philandering second husband was an adequate stepfather. I know Milo wasn’t around his children as much as he might’ve been, but that was because of his job. Goodness, you couldn’t expect him to keep going to Bellevue! All those people and traffic would’ve made him very grumpy. Why, even Bellingham is getting
too big. It’s hard to find a parking place, especially in the section they call Fairfield or Fairfax or—”

“Fairhaven,” I put in. “It’s a nice historic part of town, though.”

“No more so than Alpine,” Vida asserted. “I was in Pioneer Square once in Seattle. Why do they call it that? The pioneers arrived forty years before it was built.”

“The first mill was there,” I explained. “The logs were sent down what was called Skid Row to—”

“Oh, twaddle! We had a first mill and we had logs. So what? But to get back to Tanya, she’s clearly mental. She needs to go back to work.”

“I don’t think she can do that right now. As I told you, Doc’s going to talk to her this morning.”

“I hold Gerry in high regard, but he is, after all, a man.” She paused. “I’ll pay Tanya a call to see for myself what’s going on with her.”

That struck me as a good idea for more than one reason. “Do it. I’d like to get your reaction. If you go today, would you mind seeing her around six-thirty?”

Vida looked shocked. “Are you crazy, too? I have to be at KSKY for my program. I can drop by afterwards, say around seven-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” I said hastily. “Milo is going to … um …” I winced.

Vida heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re both very lonesome. Really, I had so hoped that once you got engaged, you’d act like adults. I’m beginning to think neither of you went through adolescence. My memory must be hazy. I could’ve sworn Milo did. He seemed normal—if extremely gawky—back then.”

I changed the subject, if only to remind my House & Home editor that I was the boss. “Are you caught up on everything?”

“Of course, except trying to make sense of Clarence Munn’s ramblings. Maybe we should hold off on those for now. I confess,
I was stumped over the letter from the wife who was put off by her husband’s reading matter. I assume she meant magazines like
Playboy
.”

“Probably. Didn’t they make her feel inadequate?”

“Yes. But the response didn’t get into this issue even though the letter was written at least a week ago. Then I got another one from her yesterday saying not to bother. They’d taken care of the problem. I assume they cancelled his subscription. Naturally, I’ve been trying to figure out who she is. Not that I’d pry, but it’s always easier to respond if you know the person. It was an Alpine postmark,” Vida added, as if that would identify the writer. Of course, it often did.

“Shall we pull your answer?”

“Well … maybe. Though my advice might serve wives in similar situations. I said she should worry less about her husband’s reading material and concentrate more on her personal grooming while making sure that he knew she loved him. I added that flattery was always a woman’s best secret weapon, men being so vain and full of themselves.”

“Your call about running it,” I said.

Vida nodded. “When are you and Milo getting married?”

Even Vida couldn’t listen at my office door keyhole. It was in the doorknob. Nobody’s hearing was that acute. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You have a license application. You were glum earlier, but you had on lipstick. To convince Tricia you’re serious, marry and be done with it. Do it before deadline so I can put it on my page.”

I gaped at Vida. “You are amazing. But don’t tell anybody. Who’s the local justice of the peace since Harold Krogstad retired? I don’t know enough about Diane Proxmire’s full range of duties. In fact, I don’t know her at all.”

“Don’t you remember my story on Simon and Cecelia Doukas
last year? They went to China after his semiretirement. He was sick of divorce cases and got a J.P. license to deal with happy couples for a change.”

“Simon Doukas?” I exclaimed. “I haven’t spoken to him in fifteen years! I sure don’t want him marrying us. He’ll ask Milo if he wants to take this trollop as his lawful wedded wife.”

“No, he won’t,” Vida said. “If he did, Milo would have to hit him. That would spoil everything.”

“Let’s hope Judge Proxmire can do it.” I meant it. Just looking at Simon would make me want to hit him first.

“She probably can. If not, you could go to Sultan or Monroe. Unless it’s pub day, of course.” She rose from the chair. “Now don’t forget my program tonight. I’m hosting Jennifer Hood from RestHaven. We’ll discuss their volunteer program. I’m sure Roger’s name will come up. I asked Rosalie Reed first, but she demurred. So busy, she said. My show is after hours. Dr. Reed has a great deal to learn about life in Alpine. I understand she’s from the Bellevue area, too.”

With that parting sally, Vida left. Only later would I remember a passing remark she’d made that would help finger a killer.

T
HE REST OF THE MORNING MOVED ALONG BRISKLY
. F
UZZY
called to tell me that several of our fine citizens agreed with my editorial. I told him I was pleased, but didn’t add that I’d gotten two letters, three phone calls, and four emails from irate readers stating they didn’t want any taxes or levies or bond issues that would cost them money. Two called me an idiot, three said I was stupid, and one addressed me as Erma.

Mitch handed in his storm article before lunch. Except for the power outage, a minor washout on Highway 187 near the ranger station, and Carroll Creek sweeping away a chicken coop, there were no injuries or loss of life, not even for the chickens. They’d flown the coop years ago.

“By the way,” I asked Mitch after telling him his copy looked fine, “was Deputy Gould back on the job today?”

“I didn’t see him,” Mitch replied. “And I didn’t ask.” He looked sheepish. “Now that I know about you and the sheriff, I assumed you’d hear that sort of thing before I did.”

“Guess again,” I said. “Milo and I try to keep our jobs separate.”

“Smart,” Mitch said.

I smiled halfheartedly before going back to my office. If it hadn’t been for Kay’s concern about Dwight, I wouldn’t have been curious. I dialed the sheriff’s office. Lori Cobb answered.

“Dwight is back,” she said. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“No,” I replied. “I’d heard somebody say he might be sick.” A small fib, but I couldn’t reveal my source.

“He’s fine,” Lori said. “For Dwight. He’s not here right now, though. He took a call about something on Second Hill.”

I thanked her and hung up. I assumed Milo would be lunching with Tanya to hear how her appointment with Doc Dewey had turned out. I realized it was ten after twelve. The newsroom was empty. I contemplated getting a sandwich from Pie-in-the-Sky, but the croissants had spoiled my appetite. Maybe I could use the time to research other forms of local government. Or go back through old copies of the
Advocate
to find articles about Sheriff Moroni closing dens of iniquity. I was still mulling when Kip came in from the back shop.

“Don’t get mad at me,” he began, “but I turned on KSKY to see if the weather was really going to clear up. Chili and I want to drive over to Leavenworth for dinner tomorrow night.”

“How could I ban KSKY when I have to listen to Vida’s show?”

Kip nodded. “Required by all Alpiners. Anyway, a patient got loose at RestHaven a little while ago. Spence had it on the noon news.”

“Got loose? You mean somebody from the psych ward?”

“Yeah, no name, but it’s a man, fifty-six years old, and he could be dangerous. Description is five-eleven, a hundred and sixty pounds, balding, with gray hair and matching goatee. He’s wearing regular clothes, probably dark slacks, corduroy jacket, and maybe a baseball cap.”

“Great,” I said, having scribbled down the description. “I assume Spence has confirmed this? If we put it on our site, I don’t want to alarm the public unnecessarily.”

“He did the broadcast,” Kip said. “He sounded grim.”

“Okay, I trust him, but I’ll call first. Are you going to lunch?”

Kip said he’d wait until after one. He often did. His wife made
him a big breakfast every morning. She was a far better mate than I was to Milo when it came to feeding him in the morning. At seven a.m., my future husband could go out in the backyard and graze, for all I cared. I called Spence to request confirmation of the escapee.