TEN

“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?”

“I don’t know,” I said, adding dressing to my salad. “It might be the one test Roger could pass. How come you’re stuck with the job?”

“Esther Brant’s a control freak. She likes to remind us little people how much clout she has. An officer of the court should do this, but we don’t have enough staff. When there’s a custody battle, we turn it over to the state. I’m hoping it won’t come to that. This could get ugly, though.”

I paused before taking a bite of roll. “What do you mean?”

Rosemary leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You know that Holly Gross is a piece of work. More to the point, if the Hibberts and Vida are trying to keep her from getting her hands on Diddy—especially if Roger has no proof that he’s the father—they could be subject to criminal charges. You wouldn’t want to see Vida in jail, would you?”

Driving back to the Advocate office, I wondered what next could happen to my staff. I had visions of Amanda giving premature birth in the office, Kip becoming so absorbed in his high-tech world that he became catatonic, and Leo draining a fifth of Scotch before my very eyes.

But all seemed calm when I returned. Both men were sane and sober, while Amanda was quite chipper and still pregnant. I did ask if there was any word from Vida. There wasn’t, but Amanda told me that Mitch had gone to see Dr. Farrell at RestHaven. “He’s so gloomy,” she said. “It’s his wife, isn’t it? I heard him on the phone when I put a couple of engagement announcements on your desk. They were in Vida’s mail.”

I made short work of the engagements, which involved two couples I’d never heard of, though both would-be grooms attended Skykomish Community College. My phone rang just after I sent them to Kip.

“Why,” my own fiancé groaned, “didn’t I become a game warden like I wanted to do as a kid?”

“I never knew you had a yen for that,” I said. “Are you considering a midlife career change?”

“I’m too damned old. Laskey’s not in, so I’ll give you the latest pain in the ass. Jack Blackwell just reported Tiffany Eriks Rafferty as missing. She’s been gone since Sunday.”

I was nonplussed. “Where’s her kid?”

“Not with Jack or Cookie, so I guess the kid’s with her. She took all her clothes and some of the kid’s stuff, along with Jack’s Range Rover. Cookie’s hysterical. I can’t get a coherent sentence out of her.”

“Good grief! Is Jack upset or mad?”

“Except for threatening to run me out of town if I don’t find her by sunset, he’s being his usual asshole self. Do you want to send Mitch to get the APB or should I have Lori drop it off?”

I paused. “I’ll send Mitch, but I warn you, he’s not in a good mood.”

“Who is?” On that sour note, the sheriff rang off.

For the next hour I scrambled around, checking with Kip to make sure we had Vida’s page ready, taking a last look at my editorial, and proofing the cut lines in the special section. I finally read the brief Lord-Dodge engagement announcement. It was the last of four, which perhaps was due to Vida’s current opinion of Milo and me. At least she didn’t refer to us as ninnies.

By three, Mitch had handed in the rest of his items, including Tiffany’s APB and Wayne’s obit. “I didn’t know he had a son who died.”

“The Eriks family has had their share of tragedies. Most people do before it’s time to write their obits.”

Mitch looked chastened. “He must’ve been young. How did he die?”

“A rafting accident on the Snake River. He was with two other teens who survived.”

“Not foul play?”

The question surprised me, even if I’d thought of it myself. “I guess not. I didn’t know about it until after I moved here.”

Mitch shook his head. “I covered boating accidents not only on the lakes, but on the Detroit River. It’s actually a strait. For years it was so polluted that you expected to see almost anything floating in it, including a body. A few were dead before they hit the water. Talk about filth.”

The reference to filth reminded me of the follow-up on Edna Mae’s rumor. “Did you ask Karl Freeman about porn at the high school?”

Mitch looked pained. “He fobbed me off, saying it was a matter of student privacy. Given that the majority of kids aren’t yet eighteen, he couldn’t discuss it.”

“So there is a problem,” I said.

“That’s my guess. Have you got any spies on the faculty?”

I shook my head. “I play bridge with Molly Freeman, Coach Ridley’s wife, Dixie, and Linda Grant, but they’ve never joined my fan club.”

“When do you play bridge again?”

“Not for a couple of weeks.” An idea landed on my brain. “I have one ally in the group, Janet Driggers. Maybe I’ll get her to broach the subject. She’s a gamer with a bawdy mouth.”

Mitch nodded once and made his exit.

Shortly after four I called Vida, but she didn’t pick up. I dialed Amy’s number next—with the same futile result. I was about to bite the bullet and call Buck when I heard raised voices in the front office. I went through the empty newsroom to find Holly Gross shaking her fist at Amanda. To my office manager’s credit, she didn’t flinch. “Go ahead,” Amanda said. “I’m not lying. Ask the boss.”

Holly whirled around so fast that she knocked a paper cup off the counter. Luckily, it was empty. “You better come clean, Emma Lord. If you don’t, there’ll be all hell to pay for everybody who works here!”

I studied Holly with an appraising eye. If she’d acquired any prison pallor while being locked up, it didn’t show under the heavy layer of makeup. As I recalled, her skin was naturally pale. The dishwater-blond hair trailed over her narrow shoulders, and her pewter-gray eyes seemed sharper than when I’d seen her in October at the Icicle Creek Tavern.

“What do you want?” I asked calmly.

“That old bat of a Runkel woman. Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just tried to call her, but she isn’t home.”

“Bullshit,” Holly snapped. “If you don’t know, who does?”

“Good question,” I said, still calm. “Why don’t you call her daughter, Amy Hibbert?”

“I’ve already been there,” Holly replied, losing a bit of steam. “Nobody’s home. I can’t get Rog, either.”

I’d never heard anyone call Roger “Rog” before. At first I thought she said “Raj” and was referring to somebody from India. “He might be working at RestHaven,” I suggested.

Holly scowled. “What’s RestHaven?”

“The rehab facility on River Road. Don’t you remember that they were remodeling the Bronsky place before you went … out of town?”

“Who gives a shit?” Holly retorted. “I want my Dippy.”

“ ‘Dippy’?” I echoed. “I thought his name was Diddy.”

“It’s Dippy, for Leonardo DiCaprio. Get it?”

I shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to wait until the Hibberts or Mrs. Runkel gets home.”

Holly fumbled with the long silver chain that dangled over her tight black V-neck top. “They won’t get away with it,” she finally said. “I’m going to see the sheriff.”

Before I could say anything, she hurtled through the door.

“Wow,” Amanda murmured, “am I glad Walt and I didn’t do something rash and take in one of her kids.”

I picked up the paper cup and tossed it in the wastebasket. “I’d better warn Milo,” I said, heading back to my office.

The sheriff answered on the second ring. “What’s for dinner?” he asked, obviously having seen my number on the caller ID.

“Never mind. Holly Gross is on her way to see you. She can’t find any of the Runkel gang.”

“Shit!” Milo was silent for so long that I wondered if he’d gotten up and made for the rear exit. “Okay,” he finally said in a tired voice. “I take it you don’t know where Vida is?”

“She’s not answering either of her phones. No response at the Hibberts’ house. Ted’s in Olympia. Holly came here and pitched a five-star fit.”

“I’ll let Doe handle it. She’s good at that sort of thing. She can play good cop and bad cop all at once when she’s dealing with women.” He paused. “How about fried chicken? You haven’t made that for a while.”

“How about you picking some up at the Grocery Basket’s deli? I’ve got a paper to put out.” For once I hung up on the sheriff.

I followed through on my call to Buck Bardeen. “Well,” he said, chuckling, “if you’re asking about Vida’s whereabouts, I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He chuckled again, a deep, rich sound. “Now Emma, do you expect me to keep track of Vida’s every move? She’s always on the go. I can’t keep up with her sometimes. I suppose that’s part of her many charms.”

I wasn’t in the mood to contemplate any of Vida’s charms, but I suspected that the colonel was stonewalling me. “Okay, I guess I’ll just have to wait for her to show up.” I also figured that Buck either didn’t know her whereabouts or, being an honorable military man, didn’t want to know. “Thanks, Buck,” I said, and rang off.

It was going on five. I went into the back shop to check on Kip’s progress. So far everything was going smoothly.

“Are we expecting late-breaking news?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. Did you put Tiffany’s APB on our website?”

Kip nodded. “That’s really weird. If she’s taken off, she’ll miss her dad’s burial service. I mean, she showed up at old Mrs. Rafferty’s funeral but won’t be here for her own father’s?”

I hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe she’ll be back by then. Tiffany’s in your peer group. Do you know of any close friends she might be staying with?”

“She was a year ahead of me in high school,” Kip replied, looking thoughtful. “I can’t think of anybody. She was the kind of girl who was always with a group of kids. You know—at school, the mall, wherever. The only guy she went steady with was Tim, and that was after graduation. Wouldn’t her mom know?”

“Milo says Cookie’s reverted to type and is a mess.” I shrugged. “It’s not up to us to find her. We’ve got enough trouble tracking down Vida.”

I started to head out of the back shop, but Kip stopped me by asking what had caused the ruckus in the front office. I explained it was Holly Gross, trying to find Vida or any of the Hibberts.

Kip frowned. “I guess Holly was born to make trouble.”

I nodded. “She already has.” I didn’t need to add that I suspected there was more on the way.