Alpine Zen : An Emma Lord Mystery (9780804177481) (18 page)

Farrell unfolded his arms and made a dismissive gesture. “Your education is of no consequence. I can't discuss Ms. Rawlings's condition with you because of patient confidentiality. As both a clinical psychology major and a working journalist, you surely understand.” He nimbly sidestepped me and moved on down the hall.

I had no choice except to keep going to the elevators. My feet dragged. I didn't like leaving Ren, and not just because I felt sorry for her. I was leaving her alone—at RestHaven. She might be resting, but the facility didn't seem like a haven. Despite the AC, it felt more like hell.

A
s long as I was in the car, I decided to do some grocery shopping. Even though we'd eaten out twice during the week, I was getting low on basics. I especially needed more easy-to-cook items. The first person I saw inside the Grocery Basket was Grace Grundle, the retired schoolteacher who had reported one of the lurkings. She was in the express lane at the checkout stand, her cart loaded down with cat food and other assorted items. Six people were already in line behind her. Pretending I didn't notice Grace, I started for the ATM, but she called my name in the same sharp manner that she'd no doubt used on three generations of Alpine students. To my dismay, she was next in line to be waited on by Kenny O'Toole, Betsy and Jake's nephew.

I approached her. “Let me help you unload,” I offered with a smile.

“No, no,” Grace said. “I prefer doing it myself. I have a certain routine with my groceries.” She began to take out the cat-food cans one by one, placing each tin separately on the conveyor belt. “I'm so relieved to run into you, Emma,” she continued, reading each label before letting go of the can. “Has the sheriff found that man who has been terrorizing us for the past week?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “He's been very busy trying to identify
the skeleton that was dug up at the dump site. In fact, he's working today.”

Grace frowned. “Whoever it is has been dead for some time. Milo should be more concerned with the living. But then, he always took his time handing in his schoolwork. I do wish he'd been more eager to speak out in class. He was such a quiet boy, not at all like his brother, Clinton. Very bright, outgoing, very cheerful. He still sends me a Christmas card every year from Dallas.”

I managed to keep a straight face. “Thoughtful of him,” I murmured, noting that the long line now reached Fresh Produce. “Did you get a good look at the person who frightened you?”

Grace shook her head. “I'd taken off my glasses. He was just a blur. But his manner was very sinister. I was shaking so badly that I could barely dial the telephone.”

“I thought it was Marlowe Whipp who'd been in your garden,” I said as Grace finally emptied her cart.

“Well, perhaps it was Marlowe who trampled my poor flowers, but it certainly wasn't him I saw prowling about earlier. Marlowe came much later. He was always late for class, too. He has no sense of time. I just talked to Betsy. She saw the same dreadful person this morning. He must be caught.” Her gaze indicated that nothing short of hanging the guy in Old Mill Park would satisfy Grace.

“I should speak to Betsy,” I said. “I'll do it now before I shop.”

“My, yes.” She stared at Kenny, who had just informed her that the total came to thirty-one dollars and fifty-eight cents. “Goodness, but that's quite high,” Grace said. “I might have to go to the cash machine. Would you mind rechecking those items?”

I virtually bolted off, knowing that Grace would also try to
make exact change. Someday she'd cause a riot at the store. I didn't want to be there when it happened. I also decided to skip the ATM, lest she need more money. I'd write a check instead. Heck, I'd shoplift the stuff to avoid another conversation with Grace.

I found Betsy in Canned Vegetables, replenishing the peas. She looked frazzled, more so than usual after talking to Grace.

“I didn't think you'd be working today,” I said in greeting. “The store doesn't seem all that busy—except for the express line.”

“Grace,” Betsy groaned, her attractive face looking more tired than usual. “She does that every time. I don't think she can see very well.”

“She can't ID the lurker,” I said, “but Milo heard you got something of a description.”

Betsy shrugged. “I couldn't pick him out of a lineup, but at least I got a vague idea. I was still half asleep when I saw him in the backyard around seven. He's average height, maybe a little more, average weight, wore pants and a shirt, medium-colored hair, somewhere between thirty and fifty. How's that for vague?”

“It's better than a blur,” I noted. “Did he see you and run off?”

“I don't think so,” Betsy said. “I didn't go outside. He was wandering around by the vegetable garden next to the garage. Then something—a car, maybe—seemed to make him hurry off and go over through the Carlsons' yard. They weren't up yet.”

“Apparently he hasn't tried to get into anybody's house,” I remarked. “Nor has he done anything threatening, unless you believe Grace Grundle or Ella Hinshaw Blatt.”

Betsy gave me a tired smile. “Poor old ladies. They're both
a bit addled in different ways. But you're right, now that I think about it. If I hadn't known about the other prowler reports, I might've gone out and asked if he was lost. Jake and I wondered if it's somebody from RestHaven. I mean, a patient who's allowed to leave the premises?”

The idea hadn't occurred to me. “I've never heard that they permit that sort of thing. But trying to get any kind of patient information out of that bunch is like pounding on a cast-iron door.”

Betsy smiled at an elderly man with a cane who was pushing a cart filled only with home health aids. “Could Milo find out?” she asked.

“I'm not sure they'd tell him,” I replied. “I'd better let you get back to work. Are you off tomorrow?”

“Are you kidding? Buzzy and Laura won't be back until Wednesday. Which reminds me—I have to check Buzzy's produce section. One of these days,” she said over her shoulder, “Jake and I are taking a
real
vacation!”

I didn't quite believe Betsy. The only big trip they'd taken was to Europe six years ago when they decided to splurge after inheriting money from Jake and Buzzy's sister, Ursula. They'd planned on staying for two months but had come home in three weeks. The English were snobbish, the French were rude, the Germans were gruff, and worst of all, the Irish never heard of corned beef. Or so the O'Tooles claimed. Betsy and Jake weren't married just to each other, but to the store his father had founded after returning from serving in the navy during World War Two.

After I got home and had put all of the hundred and twenty dollars' worth of items away, I realized I hadn't yet seen my namesake. I called Amanda to ask if they'd mind if I stopped by. She informed me that Walt's mother and his stepfather
were arriving from Boise later that afternoon, but to come ahead now. I left a note for Milo, in case he came home while I was gone and thought I'd run off with the lurker.

I kept my visit fairly brief. Little Emma was a sweet-looking baby, but she had very strong lungs. Despite Amanda and Walt taking turns trying to comfort her, Emma wouldn't shut up. Her parents were obviously frazzled. I offered to hold her, but the wee one took a look at me and howled even louder. Maybe, I suggested, she didn't like her name. Walt said he'd tried calling her Little Mouse, but she hadn't liked that, either. I left shortly after three-thirty, recalling the first weeks after Adam's birth. He'd had colic and nearly driven me nuts. I'd cursed his father's absence for almost a month. By that time I figured his loony wife had given birth to their own baby and they'd be as miserable as I was. But they'd suffered together. I was alone.

As I was leaving Parc Pines, Buck Bardeen was coming in. He'd sold his house in Sultan and moved to Alpine, apparently to be closer to Vida. We met by the mailboxes in the foyer. The tall, robust retired air force colonel smiled at me and shook my hand. I hadn't seen him in a couple of months. He asked how Milo and I were enjoying marriage.

“We like it,” I assured him, “especially now that the disruptions of the remodel are over. We must have you and Vida to dinner.”

His smile faded. “Kind of you to offer. I haven't seen much of her lately. Busy with family, I guess. Maybe you can talk her into an outing.”

Despite his longtime relationship with Vida, I didn't know Buck all that well. But I had the impression he was a man of great integrity and very down to earth—even when he was flying a plane. “She's not acting like herself these days,” I said. “I'm afraid we've had a bit of a falling-out this past week. Has she mentioned it to you?”

The furrows in his high forehead deepened. “No. We haven't talked for a while. Vida seems—as she would put it—on the peck.”

I had to ask the question. “Do you think it's because of Roger?”

Buck's keen blue eyes gazed at the ceiling. “No doubt. She refuses to discuss his jail sentence. Can't seem to accept what's happened. I could see it coming from a mile away. Just a matter of time.”

“I know,” I said sadly. “She's in denial. Maybe Vida's convinced he was framed. I don't suppose you know where she is this weekend?”

“No.” His gaze was again on me and he looked faintly dismayed. “Amy already asked me.”

“She's really worried,” I told him. I gather nobody's seen Vida since she left work Friday. My guess is she went to see Roger, but Amy insists she wouldn't do that. Has she spoken to you about Roger since his arrest? She hasn't mentioned his name to me.”

Buck briefly closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his blunt nose. “I tried to talk to her about the whole sorry mess, but she didn't want to hear it. Told me I didn't understand young people. After all my years in the service dealing with kids who were still wet behind the ears and didn't know their ass from a…Sorry, Emma,” he apologized, his tanned face growing darker. “I don't use that kind of rough language around Vida. You can be sure of that.”

I managed to smile. “Forget it. I'm married to the sheriff.”

Buck nodded. “Good man. Solid. He should've put Roger away the first time. Oh, I know Dodge was in a bind. Munkie-Runkie…I mean,
Vida
,” he went on, though I knew his pet name for her, “is a force to be reckoned with. One of her many virtues. But now you've got me worried.”

I was beginning to think my belief that Vida had gone to see Roger was a pipe dream. Too many people had too many reasons for her not doing that. “Amy wants Milo to put out an APB on her by six o'clock. I have doubts about doing that. What do you think?”

“Well…” He rubbed his chin. “If she's gone somewhere over the long weekend, that'd make her mad enough to chew nails and spit rivets. On the other hand…I don't know what to say. Wait another day? She'll probably be back by tomorrow night.”

“Good point,” I said. “If you think of anywhere Vida might've gone, let me—or Amy—know.”

“I'll do that.” He patted my shoulder. “Take care, Emma. I can't imagine Vida running into any trouble she couldn't handle.”

I smiled faintly. I couldn't imagine it, either. But as indomitable as she might be, Vida was still human.

—

Milo wasn't home yet when I pulled into the garage. I put dinner together before going outside to sit in the backyard. Like it or not, my husband was going to eat a salad for dinner. I'd bought cooked prawns, so he couldn't gripe about trying to find the “frigging microscopic shrimp” I'd used the last time I'd made a seafood salad. My husband insisted he used bigger bait with periwinkles when he went trout fishing. I'd told him if that was true, he should catch bigger trout.

I heard more sirens in the distance just as Milo arrived shortly after five. “Are you fleeing another wreck?” I inquired as he collapsed into the patio chair next to me and took off his regulation hat.

“No,” he replied, looking hot and tired. “That's for those idiot kids. Bunky Smythe and one of the rangers from Skykomish
found them on a logging road near Anthracite Creek. Their car broke down last night, so they slept in it. Then Jeb and Josie thought they must be near the highway so they tried to hike out, but he fell and may've broken his ankle. They're all being checked out at the hospital. Dumb kids.”

“I assume the parents have been notified?” I asked.

Milo nodded. “The ones Heppner could track down. Damn, what's wrong with people these days? What's the point of having cells if they don't keep them charged? They didn't even have a compass. Jeb and Josie were walking the wrong way. They were only a couple of hundred yards from Highway 2 and almost right across from the Skykomish Ranger Station.”

I put my hand on Milo's shoulder. “Maybe they'll give up the dump-site search now. That should please you.”

“I should be so lucky.” He looked at me, evincing surprise. “You stayed put. Are you sick?”

I briefly recounted my afternoon, including my conversation with Buck. “Let me make our drinks,” I said when I finished. “I assume you want to change clothes.”

“Yeah. But I want to sit for a minute. I've been driving all over logging roads most of the afternoon. I stayed closer to town. Sam and I didn't think the kids would go too far away.”

“What were they looking for? Another corpse?”

“They'd stopped at the Icicle Creek mini-mart,” Milo replied. “The kid who works there told them about your hermit pal. The Sultan gang decided they should try to find him. I wish they had. You thought up a scheme to lure Laurentis into town?”

“No,” I confessed. “This weather affects my brain.”

“Give it a shot. I left a note at the office for Doe to run a background check on him. She's intrigued by the guy. His back-to-nature thing appeals to her.” Milo stretched and yawned before he stood up. “I'd better change before I nod off.”

I followed him into the house. “I'll make the drinks now,” I said, a bit too cheerfully.

My husband turned in the kitchen doorway to look at me. “Don't tell me Vida showed up and brought you one of her ptomaine casseroles.”

“Let's call it a change of pace.” I smiled angelically.

“Oh God.” Milo continued on his way.

The phone rang just as I was putting ice cubes in the glasses. Racing out to the living room, I heard Amy's anguished voice on the other end when I picked up. “Is Milo there?” she asked. I could hear Dippy screaming in the background. When Amy spoke again, it was to her husband. “Ted! Get him out of the sink!”