MILO CALLED AROUND FIVE TO TELL ME HE’D BE HOME between six and six-thirty, depending on traffic. The message was terse. Not surprisingly, he sounded like he was in a bad mood.
I’d spent the rest of the afternoon figuring out what to feed the sheriff and decided to dig out my chicken lasagna recipe. I hadn’t made it for so long that I’d forgotten it required three ingredients I didn’t have. After a quick trip to the Grocery Basket, I put the recipe together, made a green salad, and buttered some French bread to heat later. I didn’t put the lasagna in to bake until six. By six-thirty, Milo still wasn’t home, so I turned the heat down. Sunday cross-state traffic over the pass was always heavy, both ways. I paced the living room, with a glance every few minutes to see if the Yukon was pulling into the driveway.
Ten minutes later the sheriff finally arrived. I met him at the door. His kiss was perfunctory. He headed straight for the kitchen and the Scotch without saying as much as hello. But he did make a drink for me while I impatiently waited for him to speak.
“Here,” he said gruffly, handing me my glass.
“Thanks.” I kept silent while he settled into the easy chair and lit a cigarette.
“Why in hell did I ever marry Mulehide?” he asked, staring not at me but at the beamed ceiling.
Milo finally looked at me. “I swear to God she’s never going to stop trying to make my life miserable. She insisted I meet her for lunch at a restaurant near Bellevue Square. ‘So we can talk privately,’ ” he said in his grating imitation of his ex’s voice. “Michelle—sorry, she prefers Mike, being a lesbian, after all—came up from Portland and is at the house. Tanya was supposed to go back to Bellevue in a couple of days, but she didn’t want to leave Alpine. That’s why she tried to commit suicide. She hates everything about Bellevue and the Eastside since Buster shot her and offed himself.” He paused to sip his drink.
“Is that true?” I asked.
“Yes.” His hazel eyes were hard, the same look he gave mulish suspects.
“So why not move? She’s in her thirties, a college grad—she could go anywhere.”
“Tanya only feels safe in Alpine. With me.”
“Oh, shit!” I cried.
Milo showed the first glint of humor since he’d arrived. “You got it.”
I held my head. “What happened next?”
He heaved a big sigh. “I tried to level with Mulehide, but she kept interrupting me. She insisted she didn’t believe we were getting married and said I was mad—I sure as hell was—and I’d make a scene in this very chic bistro, where she’d spotted a couple of friends. I told her in that case, we’d better take a boat out in the middle of Lake Washington—or head to the house. Then I asked for the check, paid the bill, and left.”
“You went to the house, I assume?”
Milo nodded. “All that back-door stuff pissed me off. Tanya was due to go back to her job at Seahawk headquarters March first, but she’s not ready. I suggested since she wasn’t able to strike out on her own, why didn’t she stay with Mike for a while in Portland? Mike said her partner was living with her. I didn’t know she had a partner.” He paused again to run a hand through his hair. “I asked about the shrink she’d been seeing and why she seemed turned off by him. Tanya danced around that one, saying it was more about just being in Bellevue.”
I held up a hand. “Help me out here. How much of this is Mulehide trying to manipulate both of you?”
“I don’t know. Sure, I realize Tanya appreciated having me with her for the three weeks after she got shot. She seemed to enjoy being up here with me, too, even though I wasn’t around during most workdays. I never knew how much of a father figure Jake the Snake was to her. He liked to act as if he was Good Old Dad in Residence, but I always felt it was more for my benefit than because he really gave a rat’s ass. After he ran out on his first wife, he hardly ever saw his own two kids when they moved to the Tri-Cities. I’ve talked to Bran about him, and he said Jake was okay—for a step-dad.”
“Where was Bran today?”
“He and Solange—the girlfriend—went to some artsy deal in Seattle. Solange may have a weird name, but I kind of like her. She seems to have her feet on the ground.”
“How did everything wind up?”
“Inconclusive. I finally was able to make my point about us, I think. At least with Tanya and Mike. And I showed them the application for the marriage license. I took it along with me as backup.”
I glanced at the end table, where I’d last seen it. “I knew something was missing when I saw your note, but I was too upset about what you wrote to figure out what it was. Did that convince your daughters?”
“Maybe. It didn’t faze Mulehide, though.”
“Ben insists I have to meet her.”
Milo leaned back and looked up at the ceiling again. “Good God.”
“I’d rather not, but Ben has a point. He thinks maybe I can convince her I’m a decent person. We need her help with the annulment. Of course, my brother doesn’t know what Mulehide’s like.”
“I didn’t, either, when I married her.” He finished his drink. “She always was headstrong, but she was nice about it. Then gradually she changed. Hell, I know a lot of it was my fault—the job, the calls in the middle of the night, the cancelled vacations, the whole nine yards. She had too much responsibility on the home front. Somehow it gave her a sense of superiority over me. That’s when she started ragging on me, even in front of the kids. Then I’d go fishing and she’d really get pissed off.” He passed a hand across his forehead. “Sometimes it seems like a hundred years ago. Other times, like now, it seems like yesterday.”
I got off the sofa. “I made lasagna,” I said, leaning against his chair and putting my hand on his shoulder. “It won’t taste like it came from a chic bistro in Bellevue, but I think you’ll like it. Let’s eat.”
Milo lifted my hand and kissed it. “Where were you in 1972 when I met Mulehide?”
My smile felt ironic. “On the Mississippi Delta with Ben, bearing my illegitimate son. Where were you nine months before that happened?”
The first call I received Monday morning was from Rosemary Bourgette, asking me to come to the courthouse. I knew the reason from the tone of her voice. Luckily, Vida was on the phone when I went through the newsroom. I told Amanda where I was heading but asked her not to let Vida know. Our office manager instinctively understood.
The courthouse—which is also city hall—is a block beyond the sheriff’s headquarters on the opposite side of the street. The original had been a small wooden two-story building on the same site but was moved in 1933 to a vacant lot on the corner of Front Street and Alpine Way. The Great Depression had caused construction to grind to a series of halts. Completion of the new building with its brick facade and dome hadn’t taken place until 1939. Seventy-five years later, the courthouse was still the most imposing edifice in town, though the harsh winters had dulled the red bricks to a dun brown and earthquakes had shaken the dome, so it listed slightly to the west.
Rosemary’s office was on the second floor. I smiled, nodded, and greeted a half-dozen people who were gathered in the rotunda. At least that’s what Fuzzy Baugh called it, though technically the building itself is not round. His point of reference was the old Louisiana State Capitol in Baton Rouge, with its neo-Gothic architecture and many turrets. The mayor was practically beside himself with joy when I told him that Ben and I had visited the historic edifice while I was staying on the Delta. I didn’t tell him that we thought the revivalist architecture was right up there with Mad Ludwig’s Castle in Bavaria.
Rosemary’s office is larger than mine, but the furnishings date back over half a century. I sat down in a wooden chair that Clarence Darrow might have offered his clients. She didn’t bother with chitchat.
“Holly gets out today,” she said, her pretty face disgusted. “Is it my fault for not presenting a solid case against her?”
Her tone seemed rhetorical, so I didn’t answer directly. “Milo knew from the start she could plead self-defense.”
Rosemary flipped a strand of dark brown hair behind one ear. “I know Vida will be upset, but if only she’d made a better witness … Yes, I understand the situation inside that trailer was chaotic. Esther Brant’s a tiger. I wish she hadn’t taken on Holly’s case pro bono, but she’s well-known for siding with poor—and stupid—women. A real crusader when she’s not hauling in big bucks with her Everett practice. Esther’s the only person I know who could rattle Vida.”
“She was confused,” I said. “She told me right after it happened that she couldn’t be sure what actually went on in just a few seconds.”
Rosemary nodded. “Even Vida can be traumatized, especially when she’d just realized Roger was no angel. Holly will try to get her kids back. The two older ones are in Sultan in foster care.” She pushed a sheet of paper across her desk. “This is my formal statement.”
“Do you want editorial comment?”
Rosemary smiled, erasing her uncharacteristic gloom. “Only if you see something egregious. I have to stick to the basic legalities while making it understandable to the public.”
I scanned the three grafs and made two minor suggestions, which she accepted. “Is this your version of a press conference?”
“Right. I know the paper won’t come out until Wednesday, but I have to do it now or I’ll be in dereliction of my duties. As a favor to a fellow Catholic, I won’t alert Spencer Fleetwood until this afternoon. I held back until today because I didn’t want to ruin Vida’s weekend.”
“That’s kind of you,” I said. “When will Holly show up in town?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” She glanced at her daily planner. “Today is her official release date, but there’s a lot of paperwork involved at her end. I understand the trailer’s vacant, though I don’t know if she’s paid the monthly fees since she went to jail in Everett.”
“That wouldn’t stop her if nobody else is using it,” I said.
“Probably not,” Rosemary agreed, “but to get her children back, Holly will have to prove she has a stable home situation. That could take some time unless she’s already made arrangements.”
I nodded as I stood up. “Now I get to be the bearer of bad news. Maybe I’ll take Vida to lunch.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that was a bad idea. A public venue was no place to discuss such a volatile matter. “No—I’ve got leftover lasagna at home. I always make too much, even for the sheriff.”
Rosemary had also gotten to her feet. “Speaking of Dodge, what’s going on with Eriks’s death?”
“You may think this sounds crazy, but I don’t know.”
Rosemary smiled halfheartedly. “Cookie Eriks is my next appointment. She wants to have the funeral on Wednesday.”
“She needs a lawyer to help her make the arrangements?”
“No.” She grimaced. “It’s a different matter. I can’t say, of course.”
“Just like Milo,” I murmured, and took my leave.
It had started to rain again when I met Mitch coming out of the sheriff’s headquarters. “Dodge is in a bad mood,” he said. “Sam Heppner thinks it’s because he’s frustrated over the PUD guy’s death.”
“He probably is,” I responded, wondering if Mitch would ever figure out the relationship between Milo and me. “No leads, no witnesses?”
“Heppner says nobody’s come forward as a witness,” Mitch replied as we ducked around rain dripping from the canopy over the entrance to Parker’s Pharmacy. “If they have any leads, they aren’t telling. They’re going to interview RestHaven staff and residents in the area today.”
“Not many home owners have a good view of the accident site. Anything of interest in the log?” I asked, passing the hobby shop.
“A couple of accidents on Highway 2, three DUIs, one possible break-in, a prowler on First Hill.” He shrugged. “The usual.”
“Where was the alleged break-in?”
“I’m not sure. I only have the address on River Road,” he said as we entered the Advocate.
I figured that was RestHaven, but kept mum—for now.
Vida looked up when we came into the newsroom. “Well! Early coffee klatch for you two?”
“We met by chance,” I said with a smile. “Where’s Leo?”
“Off to check the special edition ads,” Vida replied, standing up. “He got four-color inserts from the Grocery Basket and Safeway.”
“Great,” I enthused, realizing that Vida was following me into my office. “I guess Leo was right to do the Spring Fling section last week and hold off the RestHaven edition until it officially opened. We might make some real money this week.”
“Very nice,” Vida said through lips that barely moved. She leaned on my desk. “Well?”
I know when to surrender. Not only does Vida have eyes in the back of her head, but she seems to possess X-ray vision. I hauled my handbag onto the desk and took out Rosemary’s statement. “See for yourself.”
We both sat down. She adjusted her glasses before removing the single sheet of paper from the manila envelope. Without any expression, she quickly read the three paragraphs before wordlessly handing the statement back to me.
“I’m sorry, Vida,” I said. “So is Rosemary.”
She still didn’t say anything for a long, uncomfortable moment. And when she did, I wished she hadn’t. “Rosemary, Milo, the new judge, and everybody else should be ashamed of themselves. They are all incompetent fools. I shall never speak to any of them again.”
Stunned, I forced myself to keep from lashing out at her. “Fine.” I turned away, poised at the keyboard of my computer.
Vida hesitated briefly, stood up, and made her majestic way out of my office. I sat frozen in place, trying to calm down. Had it not been for Roger, this whole mess would never have occurred. Yes, there would have been the inevitable falling-out among thieves, but Vida wouldn’t have been there when it happened. If the stupid kid hadn’t gotten involved with Holly and knocked her up, there wouldn’t be an innocent child caught in a trap between mother and father. And Vida wouldn’t have had her heart broken. I might have wept if the whole situation hadn’t made me so angry. There would be no warmed-over lasagna for lunch at my house. In fact, if Vida kept to her word about not speaking to Milo, she might never cross the threshold of my little log cabin again.
I took a deep breath and went to work.
The frost between Vida and me didn’t melt during the rest of the morning. But I was busy. Leo sensed that something was amiss. He came into my cubbyhole shortly before eleven-thirty.
“What’s going on, babe?” he inquired, keeping his voice down.
“Want to go to lunch at the diner?” I asked.
“Sure. It’ll be a lot better than being in the morgue that used to be the newsroom. Even Mitch is noticing that Vida’s really off her feed. Kip and Amanda sense it, too. I’ve been hiding out in the back shop.”
I shook my head. “We’ll talk at lunch, okay?”
Leo nodded. “Meet you outside at a quarter to twelve.”
Ten minutes later Kip appeared in my doorway, his face flushed. “You talked to Dodge in the last hour or so?”
Kip brushed back his wavy red hair. “I had the radio on in the back shop. Fleetwood broke in with a special bulletin about a witness in the Eriks death.”
My mouth fell open. “No! Who is it?”
“Unidentified. That’s why I wondered if Dodge knows. Do they listen to KSKY at headquarters?”
“Not if they want to keep their jobs,” I snapped. “You know there’s no love lost between Dodge and Spence.”
Kip grinned. “I kind of like the way the sheriff rearranged Fleetwood’s nose.” He sobered quickly. “Where do you suppose he got wind of this witness?”
I already had my hand on the phone. “I’ll ask Milo if he knows about it. Thanks, Kip.”
He leaned further into the doorway, gesturing discreetly at Vida. “What’s going on with Mrs. R.?”
I pointed to the manila envelope. “Sneak in here after I go to lunch and see for yourself. I haven’t written it up yet, but you’ll be putting it online this afternoon. As for the paper, we’ll …” I stopped. I didn’t want to run Rosemary’s statement on the front page. Maybe I could slip it in at the bottom of page four. “I’ll keep you posted,” I said lamely.
I dialed Milo’s number as soon as Kip left. “He’s not here,” Sam Heppner said, always glad to give me negative news. Or no news at all. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do for you.”
“Yes, there is. Who’s Fleetwood’s eyewitness to Wayne’s demise?”
Silence. “I have to check with the boss before I can release that information,” Sam finally said in his most formal tones.
“Thanks, Sam. You’re a sweetie.” I banged down the phone. The doofus was clueless. Milo probably was, too. I fought off the temptation to call Spence and harangue him. But that would only make him happy. I wasn’t happy, especially after looking into the newsroom, where Vida sat staring at a news release. I hadn’t seen anything that sour since I left a quart of milk in the back of my fridge for six weeks the previous summer.
Vida had already left by the time Leo and I rendezvoused to head over to the Heartbreak Hotel off of Alpine Way. Two of Rosemary’s brothers had founded the fifties-style diner some seven years ago. It seemed like an appropriate place to deliver their sister’s bad news.
We took Leo’s aging Toyota to the restaurant. During the short drive, I filled him in with the brief version of Holly’s release. He took the news with a sad shake of his head. “Damn that useless Roger.”
Arriving just a few minutes before noon, we beat the rush. Terri Bourgette, another of Rosemary’s siblings, greeted us with her usual cheerful countenance. I told her we wanted to talk business, so we’d appreciate being seated away from anyone who might want to eavesdrop.
“I’ll put you across from an older couple who are driving through to Seattle from Ohio,” she said. “Ever hear of Fostoria?”
“Only in dinnerware,” I replied.
Terri laughed obligingly. “I saw you in church yesterday,” she said as we settled into a booth that featured glossy photos of Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley, and Jerry Lee Lewis. “I heard Sheriff Dodge asked Dad to work on your log cabin. He’s never done one of those before.”
That was news to me. “I’m sure he’ll do a good job,” I said.
“I’d better scoot,” Terri said. “They’re lining up. Joshua will be your server. He’s new.” She dashed away.
“Nice girl,” Leo said. “I’m glad she didn’t ask why I wasn’t at Mass.”
“Well? Why weren’t you? It’s Lent.”
“I’ve backslid since my burst of piety at Christmas in Santa Maria,” Leo said sheepishly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for Easter.”
I let the subject drop. We studied the menus, making up our minds just before Joshua arrived to take our orders. I chose the Love Me Tender Steak Sandwich; Leo went for the Blue Monday Special, which was chicken-fried steak. The freckle-faced Joshua poured coffee for each of us and went off to put in our requests.
“So what’s the cause of the Duchess’s high dudgeon?”
“Milo and Rosemary are now personae non gratae to her,” I said, still smarting from her tirade. “Oh, and Judge Proxmire.”
“Damn,” Leo said under his breath. “Deep down, she must know she’s got this whole thing backwards. I wonder how Buck will react.”
I hadn’t considered how he’d deal with her hostile attitude. “Buck does exert some influence over her. But she revolted against his suggestion that Roger join the military to get his head straight. She also didn’t do anything about his backup plan for the kid to go back to college.”
Leo shook his head. “From what I can tell, Roger can’t handle that. He’s not very smart and lazy as hell. I don’t see how long he can last volunteering at RestHaven. That’s just an excuse not to get a real job.”
“And to hang out with the amply endowed Ainsley,” I added.
Leo’s brown eyes twinkled. “Hey, maybe he’ll knock her up. The Duchess would probably be proud of him.”
“That’s another thing—she seems to have forgotten what a jerk he really is. What more of a wake-up call does she need?”
Leo’s leathery face turned somber. “Let’s hope we never find out.”
The conversation turned to ad revenue. We were up 8 percent over the past year. I grudgingly credited the co-op ventures with Spence for much of the gain, though the arrival of RestHaven had helped, too. Just as Joshua brought our bill, the Ohio couple left. A few minutes later, when Leo and I were about to exit our booth, Cookie and April Eriks were shown to the empty table. They didn’t notice us until we stood up.
Leo greeted them first, though he knew the women only slightly. He offered condolences to Cookie, who looked appropriately saddened.
“It’ll be an adjustment,” she said, after saying hello to me, “but April and Mel are such a huge help. I don’t know what I’d do without them.” She reached over to pat her sister-in-law’s hand.
“Family,” I said, hoping to sound sincere, “is always the best comfort. Is it true that you plan to hold the funeral on Wednesday?”
“Just a graveside service,” Cookie replied. “Wayne wasn’t religious and Tiffany hates funerals. I had to practically drag her to Mrs. Rafferty’s service last week. We’re going to see Al Driggers after lunch to make the arrangements. I wonder if we should put the notice in the paper.” She glanced at April as if she expected an answer.
But her sister-in-law looked at me. “Is it necessary?”
“It’s expected,” I said. “Everyone knew Wayne, if only because of his job. Besides, he’s a longtime resident.”
Cookie turned thoughtful. “I’ll think about it. Nice to see you.”
Leo and I knew we’d been dismissed. “Jesus,” Leo said when we were walking to his car, “Cookie’s not exactly the grieving widow, is she?”
“That was my impression when I saw her. She acted very different when Tim died. She seems relieved. Maybe Wayne abused her.”
Leo waited until we got in the car before responding. “I gather he played around—or tried to. That doesn’t mean he beat up on Cookie.”
“It doesn’t mean he didn’t. I wish I knew why Tiff moved out.”
“Blackwell wouldn’t have to try hard to seduce her.” He paused, having trouble setting his windshield wipers on high. The rain had turned into a downpour. “He’s rich. Did anybody try to kill him today?”
“Nothing in the log,” I said. “Milo won’t make the complaints official until he has proof that Blackwell isn’t inventing the so-called threats.”
Leo concentrated on getting onto Alpine Way in the poor visibility. “You sure Dodge isn’t taking Jack seriously because he hates his guts?”
“Yes,” I said. “Milo is fair, even when he deals with jackasses.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Leo said, pulling out of the parking lot.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
Leo slowed to make a left onto Front Street, giving way to a Blue Sky Dairy truck. “You know my opinion of the sheriff has always been blighted by my infatuation with you,” he said. “Okay, so it was more like lust. I still think you’re a doll, but my renewed relationship with my ex, Liza, and your obvious passion for Dodge has changed my attitude. I’ve grudgingly come to respect him. He’s smarter than I thought. Hell, if he could win you, he must be a damned genius. But he’s a stubborn S.O.B. I don’t think he forgives and forgets. Wasn’t one of his deputies dumped by a wife who ran off with Blackwell?”
“Yes, Dwight Gould,” I said as we drove past the sheriff’s headquarters. “Kay married Jack, but it didn’t last long. She left town.”
Leo was temporarily distracted trying to cross traffic to park in front of the Advocate. “This morning I went to see the woman who handles P.R. and marketing for RestHaven to finalize their special-section ads. She lived here years ago and was married to a couple of jerks.” Leo pulled into his parking space without getting us killed. He switched off the ignition and looked at me. “Her name is Kay Burns. Ring any bells?”