Alpine Zen : An Emma Lord Mystery (9780804177481) (24 page)

“Yes, he was kind of flailing away, but he kept on the other side of the desk.” Rosemary leaned her head back against the sofa. “He seemed so nice, so normal. I feel like a fool.”

Milo shrugged. “You're not a mind reader. Did he threaten you?”

Rosemary shut her eyes. “I…I'm not sure. I mean, if I had to testify in court, I couldn't swear to it. But I
felt
threatened—physically.”

“That's enough.” My husband stood up. “I'm going to have Heppner try to locate him. Are you willing to bring charges?”

Rosemary made eye contact again. “Do I have to decide now?”

“No.”

She smiled faintly. “Thanks, Milo.”

“You need time to collect yourself,” he said. “I'm going to
check in with Heppner.” The sheriff ambled off to the garage out of hearing range.

Rosemary gave me a bleak look. “Have you ever dated dumb?”

“Are you kidding?” I shot back. “I lived dumb for thirty years, waiting for Adam's father to marry me. Meanwhile, I failed to notice I was really in love with that big dude with the badge. Try doing dumb for decades. You can't top that.”

“That's…pretty dumb,” Rosemary said, and laughed. “Didn't I say you and Dodge were icons?”

“Icons of dumbness,” I muttered. “It would've helped if Milo had been a little more…aggressive, so to speak. But never mind that. The important thing is that you got enlightened tonight.”

“I'll never hear the end of this from Terri,” Rosemary said. “Maybe I'll spend the night with my folks. Mom and Dad will pitch a fit if they don't find out about this before it leaks all over town.”

The sheriff came back inside and sat down again in the easy chair. “Has Des ever mentioned any family?”

“His parents,” Rosemary responded. “They still live in Montana. He has a brother there, too, and a sister who married and moved to Idaho. I don't think his family is all that close. He's mentioned how much he admires our clan.” She lowered her eyes. “I suppose that's hogwash.”

“We'll check,” Milo said without expression.

“Rosie's staying at her folks tonight,” I put in. “I think that's good.”

Milo nodded. “Sure. I've already got Heppner checking your place, but it's pretty secure. Unless you gave Des the code to get into Parc Pines.”

“No,” she replied. “I hadn't gotten that far with him yet.”

“Just as well,” my husband said. “Finish your drink and I'll take you over to Dick and Mary Jane's. You can come in tomorrow to do whatever paperwork is required.”

Rosemary gulped down the rest of her drink. “Let's go now. If I have any more Scotch, I might pass out. I usually drink wine. You're a generous bartender, Emma.”

We hugged before she left. I stood in the doorway as Milo pulled out of the drive. It felt much cooler outside. I closed the front door and locked it. I had no idea if Des knew where I lived or if it would occur to him that Rosemary might be here. But this was one time when I didn't want to take any chances.

—

“Well?” I said when Milo returned twenty minutes later. “Did you stop in to see the Bourgettes?”

“Yeah,” he replied wearily. “I thought it might help Rosie feel better if I gave Dick and Mary Jane my official version first.”

I put my hands on his shoulders. “You're a good guy, Sheriff.”

He shrugged, putting his hands over mine. “It's part of the job.”

“How did they take it?”

“No muss, no fuss. They're solid people.” He leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “Let's go outside and just sit.”

We did just that for about ten minutes, listening to the welcome wind in the evergreens and watching the sky turn from pale gold to gray as the sun slipped down over our mountain aerie. Finally, after a long silence, I asked the burning question.

“Wes and Des Ellerbee—what does that suggest?”

Milo glanced at me. “Is this a riddle?”

“No, but it can't be a coincidence,” I said. I waited for an answer and didn't get one. “Can it?”

“Damn, but you're persistent,” Milo muttered. “Can't you stash that curiosity of yours for a while and just take it easy?”

“It's not my style,” I asserted. “You should know that by now.”

“I do. Unfortunately.” My husband sighed. “Go get the laptop and do the work. I
can
just sit here. Do you realize I haven't had a real day off for over two weeks?”

Dolt that I was, I hadn't thought about it. I put my hand on Milo's arm. “I'm worse than Tricia. I'm only looking at things from my point of view. Maybe she wasn't interested in your job, but that doesn't make me any less selfish.”

He chuckled. “I've never been sure which is worse. But I'm used to it. You've been that way since I first met you. Face it, you're a real nag when it comes to your job of reporting on my office. But I get it, okay? Now take your hand off my arm before we both do something that might give me a heart attack about now.”

I complied and stood up. “I'll get the laptop and play with that instead. Okay?”

Milo merely nodded. I paused inside to grab a can of Pepsi. Before I got through the kitchen my husband came inside with the cell at his ear. He looked as if he were about to explode. “Yeah, I can hear it now,” he growled. “I'll be there. Follow up on the other crisis. You got that?” He clicked off.

“What's happening?” I asked as I suddenly heard sirens in the distance.

“Heppner went to Ellerbee's house and the place was on fire. He called it in. Engines and medics have been sent from Skykomish and Alpine. I've got to head to the fire site.”

“Why you?” I asked. “Why not a deputy?”

“I had Sam alert Doe,” he replied, his hand on the door to the garage. “It's quicker if I go to the cabin. Damn it, you'd better come with me. I'm not leaving you alone if Ellerbee's on the loose.”

“But he doesn't know where I…”

“Don't argue.
You
don't know what Ellerbee knows. Let's go. The reason I called in Doe is because we've got another problem. Jack Blackwell beat the crap out of Kay Burns. She's in the ER. Move, woman. We're in crisis mode.”

“W
hat,” I asked, “can you do if the cabin's burning down?”

Milo, who was waiting for a van to get out of the way before turning onto Fir, shrugged. “Find out if anyone was inside.”

I shuddered, remembering another fire two years earlier that had burned a local young man to a cinder. “I wonder how it started,” I said. “I hope they can contain it before it gets to the forest.”

My husband didn't comment. He had obviously kicked into full sheriff mode. I felt as if I might as well have been a suitcase he had on the seat next to him. It was only when his cell rang just as we were about to turn onto Highway 2 that he spoke.

“Grab the damned thing out of my shirt and answer it, okay? I've got to focus on cutting into cross-state traffic.”

I plucked the cell out of his shirt pocket. “Emma?” Sam Heppner said at the other end. “Tell Dodge that Doe's at the fire scene. Mullins thinks it'd be better if the boss goes to headquarters. Blackwell's raising hell.”

I told Sam I'd convey the message.

“Shit!” Milo bellowed. “Kay must be filing charges. That horse's ass Blackwell can't post bail because there's no bondsman open.”

I tensed as the sheriff executed a dangerous U-turn just after we'd crossed the bridge over the Skykomish River. Maybe I'd have been safer if I'd stayed home. I could've locked the doors and gotten out my father's gun to defend myself against Des Ellerbee. Worse yet, I'd have to face another encounter with Black Jack. At least he wouldn't dare vilify me in front of Milo. Unless, of course, he'd want to incite the sheriff to violence so he could sue him.

I was still mulling when we pulled up in front of headquarters.

“Stay put,” Milo ordered. “I don't need any more aggravation. Neither do you.” He stalked off to his official lair.

The SUV was parked in its usual spot in front of the entrance. My view inside was limited to what I could see through the glass in the double doors. Though there were windows that ran almost the width of the building, the bottom halves were frosted and at night the shades were drawn from the top. After a couple of minutes, I couldn't see anything except an occasional glimpse of Jack Mullins behind the curving counter. He looked unusually somber.

I was, as usual, curious. I decided I could see more if I got out of the Yukon to peek through the double doors. Approaching cautiously, I didn't dare go farther than halfway under the overhang. I saw part of Blackwell, who was making incisive gestures. He was turned toward someone I presumed was Milo. There was just enough traffic to drown out the voices on the other side of the doors.

Black Jack disappeared from view just as the Whistling Marmot let out across Front Street.
Bewitched
had drawn quite a crowd for a Tuesday night. Maybe the theater's AC was part of the attraction. I moved closer to the Yukon to get out of the way to call Kip.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Did I hear a car horn honk?”

I explained that I was outside of the sheriff's office, waiting to see if Blackwell was going to spend the night in jail.

“No!” Kip exclaimed in an uncharacteristic burst of excitement. “What'd he do? Slug Dodge?”

“Not yet,” I replied before ringing off and ducking out of sight. Fuzzy and Irene Baugh, Harvey and Darlene Adcock, and a half-dozen other people were heading my way. I didn't want to explain why I was standing in the gutter in front of my husband's headquarters. If I weren't the
Advocate
's editor, that tidbit might end up in Vida's “Scene.”

I was still waiting for the passersby to move off when the sheriff strode outside. “What…?” he began, seeing me leaning against the Yukon. “Skip it. Blackwell's locked up, so you can come inside.”

“Is he pitching a fit?” I asked, hurrying to keep up.

“You bet.” Milo opened the door for me. “He asked to call his attorney in Everett. Mullins let him do it. The guy wasn't home.”

Deputy Jack grinned at me. “You'd have liked seeing Blackwell get apoplectic. I honest-to-God thought he'd have a stroke.” The grin faded. “Oh, no! Here comes Patti Marsh.”

Milo, who had been studying some paperwork on the counter, grabbed my arm. “You're deputized. I'm not taking on…”

As Patti made her entrance, the sheriff headed for his office.

“Hey,” Patti called after the sheriff, “come back here, you big jerk! Where's my guy?”

Milo kept going and slammed the door behind him. Worse yet for me, the phone rang and Mullins answered it. I was stuck.

“Hi, Patti,” I said, as if we'd run into each other at the mall. “What's up?”

“My dander,” Patti shot back. “Where's Jack?”

“Mullins?” I responded. “Right here, working the desk.”

She stood toe-to-toe with me. I couldn't move unless I back-flipped over the counter. “You know who I mean!” she yelled. “Where is he?”

As usual, Patti smelled like a distillery. “He's in a cell,” I informed her. “This may shock you, but your guy beats up women. He did it once too often with somebody who had the courage to file charges. Go home, Patti. Your Jack isn't going anywhere until tomorrow.”

Patti's face sagged under heavy makeup. She looked old—and pitiful. But she had pluck. “What're you talking about? Who filed what?”

“Ask Mullins,” I said.

Jack had hung up the phone, but looked at me, not Patti. “No corpse found at the fire scene. I better tell the boss.” He got to his feet and headed for Milo's office.

“What fire?” Patti asked, edging away from me.

“A cabin near Baring,” I replied.

She looked alarmed. “Was my guy there when it happened?”

“No, Patti,” I said. “It has nothing to do with Jack.”

“So who complained about him?”

I glanced at the paperwork on the counter. “Here. It's official. You can see for yourself.”

“Let me get my cheaters,” she murmured, digging into her small sequined shoulder bag. Putting on a pair of bejeweled half-glasses, her lips moved as she read through the document. “Shit! Kay! What's wrong with her? Jack was done with that skank thirty years ago!” She tossed the complaint at the counter. It missed, sailing over the top to land on Lori's desk. “How can she still be causing trouble after so long? Let the past be.” She obviously didn't expect a comment. “Can I see my guy?”

“You'll have to ask Jack. Mullins, I mean. Here he is.”

Patti posed the question. “Why not?” he said to her. “No conjugal visiting, though.” He winked.

Patti preened. “You'd be surprised at what my guy can do, you dumb mick. I call him Mr. Versatility.” She sashayed around the end of the counter and into the hallway that led to the cells. “Hey!” she yelled. “The door's locked!”

“We dumb micks aren't allowed to have a key,” Jack called after her. “You better go home, Patti.”

“Prick,” she muttered, almost running out the door.

Jack sighed. “That's one thing about Patti—she's easily deterred.”

I leaned on the counter. “Dare I ask what's deterring the sheriff from going home? It's going on ten.”

“For one thing,” Jack replied, “there's a jurisdictional problem about who's in charge of the McElroy investigation—SkyCo or the Feds. For all I know, the boss won't find out until tomorrow.”

“Great. Any idea about Ellerbee? Do you know where he is?”

Jack shook his head. “What's with that guy? Is he nuts? Hey, you want to sit down? Take Lori's chair, Emma.”

“Thanks, I will.” I opened the swinging half-door in the counter and parked myself in Lori's place. “Don't ask me about Des. For all I know, he's a privacy freak. Or a phony.”

“Poor Rosie.” Mullins lit a cigarette. “You want one?”

“No, thanks. I've already fallen off the No Smoking Wagon today. Do you know why Blackwell beat up Kay?”

Jack shrugged. “No, but Dodge wonders if it didn't start with the RestHaven mess. He'll probably clue you in when he gets out of here.”

“Surely you jest,” I muttered.

He laughed. “I know the boss well enough to realize he
could stonewall even you. Heck, he's had sixteen years of practice. I've always gotten a kick out of how you two would go round and—” Jack shut up as Milo came out of his office.

“Don't even think about it,” the sheriff growled.

Jack looked bewildered. “What, boss? I'm trying to entertain Mrs. Dodge. Or is she Ms. Lord tonight?”

“She's Mrs. Sleepy,” Milo replied. He took my arm and hoisted me out of the chair. “I'm taking the Little Woman home. Don't screw off, Mullins. We've got a possible creep on the loose.”

“Yes, sir, I'm all over it,” Jack replied.

“You're full of it,” the sheriff muttered as we made our exit.

“If you
ever
call me the Little—” I began.

“Stop. I said that to keep you from one of your chatty farewells. How did you get rid of Patti Marsh?”

“Mullins did that,” I said. “Give him credit. He's no dope. Now please tell me why Blackwell beat up poor Kay and how is she?”

“Doc patched her up and sent her home a few minutes ago,” Milo answered, driving up Third Street. “Jennifer Hood was coming to spend the night with her. Not only is Jennifer a nurse, but I guess Kay and Jennifer are friends off the job. Maybe they bonded because both of them were dumb enough to marry Blackwell. I suppose I should've alerted Gould, but I was afraid he'd show up at headquarters and shoot Black Jack. I'd rather not be around when Dwight finds out what's happened.”

“Gee,” I said, “I got who, what, where, and when, but no why. Well?”

My husband grimaced. “That's because I'm not sure. The only thing Kay and Blackwell agree on is not saying what started the row.”

“That's weird,” I murmured. “Maybe I'll go see Kay tomorrow. It's Wednesday, so I'll have some free time.”

“Kay might not want company,” Milo said, pulling into the garage. “She's going to look kind of gruesome. Besides, it's Gould's turn to be on patrol tomorrow. I'd be surprised if he didn't park his cruiser at her place to make sure Blackwell doesn't show up. The SOB will post bail first thing, even if he has to have Patti do it for him.”

“I hope he gets out before you go to work,” I said after we were inside the house.

“Dubious. I don't think he can get bail before nine.” Milo hooked an arm around my neck. “Promise you won't do anything dumb tomorrow?”

I looked up at him with wide eyes. “Visiting Kay is dumb?”

“It could be.” The hazel eyes were solemn. “I worry about you. The only time I know you're safe is when you're with me.”

I leaned my head against his chest. “I always feel safe with you. I always have.”

“You must have felt safe with Cavanaugh.”

“Safe?” I looked up at my husband again. “How could I feel safe with Tom when I never knew if he'd be there when I woke up?”

“Good point. If I'm not there, you know I've gone fishing.”

I smiled. My mind went back in time to over a decade when I'd compared Tom's and Milo's virtues. I'd given the sheriff an edge for being dependable. But even then I'd shortchanged him—and myself.

—

To my relief, Vida was still back to normal in the morning. Naturally, she was agog about what had happened the previous evening. Just as naturally, her pipelines to Marje and Bill
Blatt, Eleanor Jessup, and whoever she'd pumped on her Presbyterian Telephone Tree had kept her virtually up to speed.

“If you intend to call on Kay Burns,” she said with one eye on Leo, who was filling the pastry tray, “I may go with you. She was going to find a picture with her grandchildren in Leavenworth.”

“Sure,” I replied. “If Blackwell shows up, you can hit him with your hat. What's it made of? I've never seen it before.”

“Cork,” Vida responded. “Meg bought it for me at a rummage sale in Fairhaven, that older section of Bellingham. Isn't it rather ingenious? It's supposed to resemble an eighteenth-century frigate, perhaps one of Captain Cook's ships. Or was it Captain Vancouver?”

“Cork floats,” I said, “so I suppose that's apt. But isn't it…heavy?”

“My, no!” she exclaimed. “Cork's light. That's
why
it floats.”

I nodded. “I don't think I'm awake yet. I need coffee.”

After filling a mug and grabbing a maple bar, I summoned Mitch into my office to bring him up to speed before he left on his morning rounds. He devoured a cinnamon roll and an apple tart while I relayed the evening's events.

“You should've called me,” he said when I finished. “I feel left out.”

“I had no idea what would happen,” I explained. “If Milo hadn't been worried about me being home alone, I wouldn't have been at his office. In fact, I had to wait in the SUV until Blackwell was in a cell. Besides, I don't like calling you out and your leaving Brenda at night.”

“As I mentioned, she's improving,” he murmured, still apparently disappointed over missing a news opportunity. “So nobody knows where this Ellerbee has gone?”

“Maybe he took off for California. Which reminds me,” I
went on, “when you're at the courthouse, check with Dean Ramsey for ideas about dealing with food in hot weather. That's his department as county extension agent. Any news about Blackwell is yours. You know martial arts and I don't.”

Mitch frowned. “We don't run domestic abuse items with names.”

“This involves charges,” I said. “I'm referring to fallout. It wouldn't surprise me if Black Jack threatens to sue the sheriff.”

My reporter still seemed dubious. “Fine, I'll inquire about him.” He rose from the visitor chair and left my office.