The Alpine Xanadu (38 page)

Cookie mulled my suggestion. “I will. But I won’t mention Dad.”

“Your dad?” I said.

We had both stood up. “Yes. He helped Tiff when she needed him.”

I nodded. “Durwood’s a fine man,” I remarked as she moved slowly to the door.
Except when he drives
, I thought.

“Thank you, Emma,” she said. “Good-bye.”

After closing the door, I leaned against it. What was Cookie trying to tell me? Did she even know what she was talking about? I paced the living room for a few minutes, wishing I could talk to Milo. Maybe he was in his office. I picked up the phone and called him.

Dwight answered. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all contrite.
“Dodge is interrogating someone. Talk to him when he’s not working.” He hung up.

Despite Vida’s attitude, I wished she were home. It occurred to me that she might come back this morning. I dialed her number, but got the usual message to leave every detail except my shoe size. Disappointed but undaunted, I headed off along Fir Street under a pale winter sky almost directly overhead. The Parker home looked as it usually did—comfortable and welcoming. But I wasn’t sure their hospitality would last very long. I was on a mission I wished I could avoid.

Dot greeted me with a surprised smile. “I thought it might be Vida,” she said, ushering me inside. “She said she’d come back early if Meg and her husband had dinner plans.”

“Is Durwood home?” I asked.

“Yes, he’s giving Dippy his lunch. We’re going to miss the little fellow. But at least we hope to see more of Ashley.” She led me down the hall and into the kitchen. “You have a visitor,” she said to Durwood, who was scooping what looked like banana off Dippy’s chin.

“Almost finished,” he said, offering Roger’s child a last bite of chicken. “This little guy likes his chow. Not fussy like our girls were.”

Dot lifted Dippy from the high chair, which he’d almost outgrown. He protested loudly and kicked his feet, but she whisked him away from the kitchen. “Nap time,” she called over her shoulder.

“Should I put the teakettle on?” Durwood asked.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m fine. Am I interrupting your lunch?”

“Not at all,” he replied, leading me into the living room. “Dot will read to Dippy until he settles down. We don’t have lunch until after one anyway. When I retired from the pharmacy we changed our routine a bit.”

I again sat down on the plaid sofa; Durwood eased himself into
the recliner. “Cookie came to see me a little while ago,” I began. “She was very upset. Maybe confused, too. She told me quite a tale.”

Durwood looked at me over the top of his half-glasses before lighting his pipe. “Did she now? Cookie’s not very imaginative.”

“Do you mean she wouldn’t make things up?”

He smiled, his round face cherubic. “She’s not a liar. Why don’t you tell me about her story?”

“It’s about you helping Tiff, but Cookie didn’t say how you did it.”

“Ah.” He leaned back in the recliner. “Poor little Tiff. She hasn’t had an easy time of it. Tell me, Emma, what would you have done in my place?”

“That depends on the situation,” I said, feeling inadequate.

Durwood puffed on his pipe and nodded. “Yes. I hope you never face such a dilemma. Your son’s a priest. Being Episcopalian, I know more about that vocation than your average non-Catholic. He’s no doubt very levelheaded. But Tiff isn’t. Never was.” He fingered the furrows in his forehead. “We never knew, not until she moved back home. Dot and I felt so guilty. Why hadn’t we been able to sense what was happening?”

“There are some things we don’t want to know,” I said lamely.

“Turning a blind eye.” He stared at the deep blue carpet. “Trying to think the best of Wayne. Not that Dot and I were happy about Cookie’s choice, but it was her life.”

“Yet you finally stepped in,” I said.

Durwood looked rueful. “Thirty-odd years too late. Tiff called me in a panic. She thought she’d killed her dad. I asked if he had a pulse. She couldn’t tell. Too distraught. He was still in the van. I told her to stay put. I bicycled down there in the rain. Almost crashed the bike into a gatepost.” He chuckled, a hollow, dry sound. “I told her I’d give him an injection. And I did.” He folded his hands in his lap and stared at me. “It didn’t help Wayne. But it helped Tiff.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I finally found my voice. “What did you do then?”

He shrugged. “We put his shirt back on. I had matches and burned a hole in it. Not sure why, really, but I thought it might muddle things. All this took less than five minutes. I asked Tiff if she could drive. She said yes. She’d left Jack’s Rover in the drive at RestHaven. As soon as she was out of sight, I gave Wayne a swift kick out of the van and he landed on the ground. I should’ve done that thirty years ago. Then I got on my bike—I’d put it in the van—and came home.”

“As a pharmacist, do you know anything about sux?” I inquired.

“Sux?” Durwood looked puzzled. “You don’t mean sex? I do remember a little about that.” He winked. “Oh—come to think of it, I do recall something about the Dithers sisters having to put down one of their horses with something that sounded like that. A shame—those poor women dote on their four-legged friends. But then animals are often better creatures than some human beings.”

“Like Wayne?” I remarked quietly.

Durwood shrugged. “I did what I could. I gave him a heart stimulant. He was on his own after that.” He puffed again on his pipe. “I hear Dot going into the kitchen. You sure you won’t stay for lunch?”

I stood up, trying to smile. “Thanks, Durwood, but no. Some other time. I can see myself out.”

“Come again,” he called. “You can meet Ashley. She’s a cutie-pie.”

Feeling numb, I drove to the sheriff’s office. The clouds seemed darker. The sun had disappeared somewhere over the Valley of the Sky. I saw the Yukon in its usual place. Dwight Gould was still on duty.

“What now?” he asked. “Isn’t this a Saturday?”

“I don’t know,” I said, leaning on the counter. “Where’s Milo?”

“He went to the Burger Barn. Leave him alone. He’s got Beth Rafferty with him.”

“Beth?” I said stupidly. “You mean Tiffany?”

Dwight scowled. “Did I say Tiffany?”

“Is she here?”

He shook his head. “Mel Eriks took her home.”

“I’ll wait.” I parked myself in a chair near the door. Dwight went back to whatever he’d been doing before my arrival.

For the next fifteen minutes, phones rang, people came in to report incidents that might or might not make the daily log, and a tourist with a ferret on a leash asked for directions to Snoqualmie Falls. Dwight told him he was on the wrong highway—he had to go south eighty miles and take I-90. “Damned Californians,” he muttered, not looking at me. Why he thought the guy was from California, I didn’t know. It was as good a guess as any.

Milo finally showed up—without Beth Rafferty. “What are you doing here?” he asked in less-than-husbandly fashion.

“I heard you were seeing another woman,” I snapped. “I want a divorce.” I ignored Dwight’s stare and headed for the sheriff’s office.

By the time we both sat down, Milo seemed to decompress. “I had to talk to Beth to find out what she knew about Tiff and this frigging Eriks mess. It appears you stayed out of trouble. I’m amazed.”

I got up and closed the door. “I did and I didn’t. Before I unload, tell me what happened with Tiff.”

Milo leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “Oh, God! It was a freaking zoo. Why do people keep secrets? And on my watch.”

“You couldn’t help it if you didn’t know about it,” I said.

Milo regarded me with curiosity. “
You
know?”

“Yes, Cookie came to call. But I had no idea, either. I was shocked.”

“I wondered where she went,” he remarked. “I should’ve guessed. I’d forgotten how you propped her up when I busted Wayne. That family is about as screwed up as any bunch I’ve ever run into.”

“You didn’t arrest Tiff, though. Why not?”

Milo shrugged. “Self-defense. I brought her down here to see if she’d be more coherent outside the house. That place is contaminated. At least I gave her time to collect whatever brains she has. She said Durwood tried to save Wayne. Or do you know about that, too?”

I hesitated. “You mean by trying to start his heart?”

“Right. CPR didn’t do it. What I don’t get is …” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Emma, you can’t lie to me. You never could. What the hell are you
not
telling me?”

If I’d flunked lying to Milo when we were friends and even lovers, I couldn’t do it now that we were married. But I felt miserable. I wasn’t certain I could translate what I thought Durwood had meant.

“After Cookie left, I went to see the Parkers,” I said. I paused again, trying to recall what Durwood had told me, word for word. “Does that sound like a murder confession?” I asked when I’d concluded my recital.

“Shit,” Milo muttered, holding his head. “Is the old coot addled?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

Neither of us spoke for what seemed like a long time. It was the sheriff who broke the silence. “This reminds me of what happened years ago when Cody Graff was poisoned. The wrong person doing the right thing. Or is it the other way around?”

“Both, I guess.”

He turned in his chair, staring at his wall map of SkyCo. “I
could get a warrant,” he said, “but any evidence is probably gone. Interrogating Durwood is another matter. He’d play the senile card.” Milo laughed and looked at me. “Hell, he could prove it by pointing out all the times I had to bust him for driving his car through store windows and over Fuzzy’s petunia planters on Front Street.”

I smiled, surprising myself. “I’d hate to see anybody try to depose Tiff—or Cookie.”

Milo had sobered. “I don’t like it, though.”

I understood. “You’ve already considered the alternative. It sounds impossible.” I played my own hole card. “Think of all the paperwork.”

“Emma,” he said, “that’s a cheap shot. But I like it.”

I left Milo to do whatever he had to do regarding the Eriks-Rafferty case. It didn’t make me feel any better to learn from him that Beth had never suspected her sister-in-law had been a victim of molestation. Having taken calls of such nature over the years, Beth was more angry than guilt-ridden. Tim had never had a chance to convey his knowledge to his sister before he was killed. The circumstances of his death only made Beth more upset about the tragedies the two families had shared.

If Milo had work to do, so did I, and it wasn’t for the
Advocate
. I couldn’t ask Kip to put anything online until the sheriff made an official announcement. Getting in my Honda, I drove up to Second Hill and the town house where Kay Burns lived. The trio of homes were on the southeastern edge of the forest, under the shadow of Spark Plug Mountain. To the north, Mount Baldy and Windy Mountain were obscured by clouds. As I got out of the car, I could barely see the Tye River before it joined the Skykomish just above the turnoff to Alpine.

Kay came to the door wearing overalls and a kerchief tied around her head. Obviously, she’d been cleaning. “Emma?” she said, as surprised as Dot Parker had been when I’d called at her
house. “Come in. I’m getting this place in order. The previous owner was no housekeeper.”

“Denise Petersen also had a big dog,” I said, stepping inside. “It actually belonged to her ex.”

“So I was told,” Kay said, indicating a sleek dark green sofa where I should sit. “Why do I think this isn’t a social call?”

“Because I’m a professional snoop. I want your opinion.”

Kay sat down in a matching armchair. “Is this a poll?”

“In a way. What do you think of Jack’s claims that someone’s trying to kill him?”

Kay looked pained. “I only heard vague rumors until Jack came into my office the day before the grand opening. Typical Jack—all bravado, as if nothing had ever happened between us.” Her hand touched her jaw as if she could still feel a blow from decades past. “Dr. Woo insisted I look at Jack’s speech. It needed only minor tweaking. Jack’s smart. Then, to gain my sympathy, he mentioned his close calls. My first reaction was that he thought I might be responsible. But I don’t really think he did. I commiserated briefly and that was that.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I don’t know. Jack’s lucky somebody didn’t do him in a long time ago. Frankly, I wondered about Dwight. But why wait this long? It didn’t make sense.” Suddenly she flushed. “I do have a confession to make. I went through Dr. Woo’s files during the open house.”

I knew I looked startled. “The patient files? Why?”

Kay shook her head. “A ruse. I wanted to see the staff files. I knew Jack had been married to a girl from Dunsmuir before marrying me. Yes, it was Jennifer Hood. She’d had to list the marriage in her personnel file. If anybody has a grudge against Jack, I’m guessing it’s Jennifer.”

“I wondered, too,” I said. “I did my own digging. Jack’s complaints didn’t start until after everyone was in place at RestHaven.
That’s why I was surprised when I thought it was only patient files that were rifled.”

Kay shrugged. “That’s what I wanted people to think. I suppose you’re going to rat me out to Dodge.”

“Why? You’re an employee. You have a right to see the files.”

“No, I don’t. Nobody does without permission from Dr. Woo. He’s extremely strict about confidentiality for patients and staff. It’s a mania with him.” Kay’s shoulders slumped. “I violated an internal rule.”

“That’s none of the sheriff’s business. He and I and everyone else dealing with RestHaven have been frustrated by the insistence on privacy. It’s like a fiefdom. Milo wasn’t happy with Dr. Woo about the so-called break-in and told him so.”

Kay smiled. “Good for him. Don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I like my job. Woo’s a fine practitioner and administrator. But he does have his quirks.”

“Corner office mentality,” I murmured, getting up. “I feel kind of dumb coming here and asking you these questions. But I want to make sure the sheriff hasn’t …” I couldn’t find the right words.

Kay had also gotten to her feet. “Let his feelings about Jack get in the way? Easy to do. What I wonder is if Jennifer still loves the jerk.”