The Alpine Uproar (23 page)

Holly Gross was leaning into the beater, yelling at her children. Obviously, she had reversed out of her parking place too fast and hadn’t seen my car. To my further dismay, the rear fender had been damaged, jamming it into the tire on that side. I couldn’t drive my Honda home.

Holly had finally managed to quiet her trio of kids. She whirled around to look at me. “Move your damned car, bitch!” she shouted. “I can’t get out of here.”

Shock wore off quickly and anger took over. “I can’t,” I said, waving in the direction of my rear left tire. “Are you insured?”

Holly stopped by the rear end of her beater. “Shit, you can get somebody to yank that piece of metal out of the tire. Where’s that tall, skinny guy I saw you yakking with?”

“Gone,” I snapped.

“So?” Her sharp chin jutted. “Get him back here. He works for you, doesn’t he?”

“I’m calling the cops,” I said, starting back to the Honda to retrieve my purse.

“Hey! No way!” Holly yelled. “I’ll get a guy from the store to do it.”

I kept going. Holly followed me. Her flimsy cotton jacket
was already soaked, her blond hair was dripping wet, and her eye makeup was streaming down her cheeks. As I fumbled for my cell, she leaned into the car through the open door.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, her tone menacing.

“Get the hell out of my face!” I shouted over the honking of a horn. “We’re both blocking traffic.”

I’d found the cell and was dialing 911 when Holly grabbed my left wrist and gave it a painful twist. “That’s my kids honking!” Her eyes glittered with wrath. “Hang up!”

I swung my right arm and hit her in the head with the cell phone. She let go, reeling slightly. The call went through as I heard Beth Rafferty’s calm voice on the other end.

“Safeway parking lot car wreck and catfight,” I said quickly.

“Emma?” Beth said, recognizing my voice. “Got it. Injuries?”

“Not yet, but likely.” Holly was coming at me again, but I’d moved enough so I could swing a leg and catch her at the knees. She fell forward into my lap. Beth had ended the call. Holly didn’t get up. She was crying and blubbering. I shoved her off my lap. She sank to the ground with a dull thud.

I was able to close the car door and lock myself in. Feeling a trace of pity, I watched Holly stagger to her feet. The horn-honking continued. I couldn’t be sure if it was her kids or an outraged shopper trying to get past our cars. As Holly finally stood up, I saw Dane Pearson, the Safeway manager, hurrying toward us with a couple of other employees and several customers. I rolled my window down halfway.

“What the hell …?” Dane put an arm around the sobbing Holly before looking at me. “Ms. Lord?” he said, incredulous.

“I called the cops,” I said. “Medics, too.”

“Okay.” Dane passed Holly on to a slim young man who
guided her back to the beater. “What happened?” the store manager asked, leaning down next to my car.

“See for yourself.” I gestured behind me at the wreckage.

Dane and the third employee, a middle-aged woman, inspected the damage. Meanwhile, Holly had gotten back into her car with the young man’s help. The gawking customers had sought cover from the downpour in their own vehicles or inside the store. I could hear sirens in the distance.

Dane walked over to me. “Did Holly back into you?”

“Yes.” I took a couple of deep breaths. “She must’ve been going too fast for these conditions. I was barely doing ten miles an hour when she crashed into me.”

“Okay.” He moved to get in front of my Honda, where he waved and shouted to the patrol car that was pulling in. A moment later Dustin Fong headed my way. He spoke briefly to Dane before reaching my Honda. “Are you hurt?” the deputy asked, polite and calm as usual.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I’m kind of shaky, though.”

Dustin looked apologetic. “You’ll have to fill out an accident report. What happened?”

I explained how Holly had backed out too fast and too blindly. “You should make sure her three kids are okay,” I added. “I think she lacks proper maternal instincts.”

He turned to look around. “How many? Holly and two kids are headed this way.”

“Oh, crap!” I cried. “Now what?”

Dustin was up to the challenge. His sturdy six-foot frame blocked the Gross onslaught. Holly had stopped crying, but was shrieking invective over the deputy’s shoulder. Most of it, I gathered, was aimed at me. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was almost five. I decided to call Milo and ask him to pick me up. The Honda would have to be towed.

“Slow down,” the sheriff ordered in that laconic tone I knew so well. “You’re a wreck but you’re safe in a park?”

I kept an eye on the Gross gang as Dustin led them to his patrol car. “Hang on,” I said to Milo before leaning out the window. “Get the toddler, Dustin!” I yelled. “There’s one more kid still in the car.”

Apparently Holly wasn’t counting heads, Dustin hadn’t remembered there were three kids, and Dane was dealing with more gawkers. The medics were just pulling in.

“Okay,” I said into the phone as I slumped in my seat, “if you want to eat crab, you’ll have to collect the cook from Safe-way’s parking lot. Holly Gross backed into me and my car’s not drivable.”

“Shit.” Milo groaned. “Some weekend. Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Have you called Cal Vickers to tow your car away?”

“No. I’ll do that now.” I rolled up my window. “I also have to fill out an accident report.”

“Skip that,” Milo said. “I’ll bring one with me. I should stop by the office anyway. Doe’s going off duty at five and I want to make sure that Bill Blatt is up to speed on everything.”

“I’ll wait inside the store. Dustin’s got all of the Grosses rounded up and they’re getting into his … hold it, he’s coming this way. I’m hanging up.”

“Ms. Lord,” he said as I rolled my window back down. “There’s room in the patrol car for you, too. Do you want to come with us?”

I gaped at the deputy. “Are you kidding? The only way I’d ride with that bunch is if you gave me a weapon. Your boss is picking me up. He’s also bringing along an accident report form.”

Dustin looked as if he was trying not to smile. “That’s good.
We’ll need your side of the story. Ms. Gross insists it was your fault.”

“She would.” I shook my head. “Those poor kids. Are they okay?”

“I think so.” Dustin looked uneasy. “They’ve got a ton of energy. But the medics will check them out. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’d better be,” I said, “or else your boss is going to go hungry. If I suddenly collapse, the sheriff can haul me off to the ER.”

Del Amundson had gotten out of the medic van. Dustin excused himself to meet the medic in front of the patrol car, which, I noticed, was rocking a bit. I could only guess what mayhem the Gross clan would commit before Dustin finished with them.

Dane had disappeared briefly, but I saw him coming over to my Honda. He was carrying four grocery bags, presumably containing Holly’s purchases. “I suppose this will be in the
Advocate,”
he said.

I nodded. “We report all accidents. It’s not your fault, Dane.”

His round, rain-spattered face looked bleak. “I know that, you know that, but Holly says she’s going to sue me for not providing decent lighting in the parking lot. Not to mention,” he went on, juggling the sacks, “it looks to me as if her kids shoplifted a bunch of candy. The bill was on top and I noticed that there weren’t any M&M’s or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. They’ve done it before.” He sighed. “Glad you’re all right, Ms. Lord. I guess I’ll write off the candy as a business expense.” Trying to avoid the ever-growing puddles, he headed for the patrol car, where the Gross children were getting out and being herded to the medic van.

I dialed Cal Vickers’s number. The Texaco service station was by the mall, just a couple of minutes away from Safeway. His son, Chuck, answered and told me he’d come right over.

The patrol car pulled out as soon as the medic van moved out of the way. Dane waved a weary arm at me as he walked by my car and headed back toward the store. The slim young employee returned. He was wearing a rain poncho and carrying a big flashlight. I guessed that he’d been sent to guide traffic around the parking lot’s blocked aisle.

Chuck Vickers and Cal’s towing truck entered and stopped at the far end of the row. I flashed my headlights. He reversed, coming slowly in my direction. A moment later, he approached me.

“Hi,” he said bending down. “Do you want me to take your groceries out first?”

“I’ve only got a couple of items,” I said. “Go ahead, I’ll walk to the store and wait inside for my ride.” I didn’t mention who was picking me up. Tales of Sheriff Dodge coming to the rescue of Publisher Emma are the stuff that rumors are made of.

“No way!” Chuck grinned, looking like a younger, more animated version of his dad. “I’ll take you there before I tow your car. Deal?”

I smiled back. “Sure.” Grabbing my purse and the salads, I checked to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything vital behind. “Let’s go.”

We hurried to the tow truck’s cab. Chuck stayed right behind me, making sure I didn’t break a leg climbing into the passenger seat. “What,” he asked after he got behind the wheel, “about the other car?”

“It belongs to Holly Gross,” I said. “She’s gone off with one of the deputies to fill out an accident report.”

“Holly!” He snickered. “My dad swears she hit on him the last time she got gas at our place. She didn’t have enough money to pay, so she … well, you know. I guess she usually goes to Gas ’n Go at Icicle Creek. Maybe she works off the bill with Mickey Borg.” He grimaced. “Sorry, Ms. Lord. I shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

“It’s fine,” I said as Chuck shifted out of neutral into drive. “I’m no fan of Holly. If she doesn’t get her car towed, Dane will have to do it.”

“Right.” Chuck turned the truck toward the store entrance. “That’s a real bummer about Mike O’Toole. It rocked my world. We went through high school together and you never think somebody your own age is going to die. And then … blam!” He shook his head in disbelief.

“You were friends?”

“We hung out in high school,” Chuck replied. “We were both on the football and basketball teams.” Pulling up in front of the store, he gave me a rueful look. “He was a starter in both. I kept the bench warm. Remember that game five, six years ago against Sultan? We were underdogs, but with seconds to go, Mike intercepted a pass and scored a touchdown. Big upset for the Turks, big win for us Buckers.”

I vaguely recalled the game. A win against any team in any sport was unusual for Alpine High’s athletes. But I hadn’t remembered Mike’s key role in the victory. “He must’ve relished being a hero,” I said.

“Oh, yeah.” Chuck had turned somber as he gazed through rivulets of rain on the windshield. “Before I started at Washington State, I asked him if he’d ever thought about going on to college and playing football. Mike told me he didn’t want to. He was tired of school. He’d always been into cars.” Chuck shrugged. “I figured he’d take those mechanic courses the community
college offers, but he never did. I guess he thought on-the-job training was better.”

“As in being taught by Alvin De Muth?”

“Right. I guess Al was a good mechanic. Nobody in our family ever had him work on a car or truck, because Pop can do it.” Chuck paused and frowned. “Now both Mike and Al are dead. Weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said, and wondered if
weird
was the right word.

F
IVE MINUTES AFTER
C
HUCK
V
ICKERS DROPPED ME OFF
, Milo showed up at the store. “Jeez,” he said, after I got settled into the Grand Cherokee, “I never should’ve stopped by the office. Holly’s a real piece of work. My ears are still ringing from listening to her yell at me. And those kids! It was like a freaking zoo.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” I said. “Did she claim that I was the one who caused the accident?”

“You bet. Then you beat her up.” Milo snickered. “I’ll admit she looked in bad shape. I guess I won’t take you on in a barroom brawl.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m very tame if I don’t get riled up.”

“Right.” He glanced at me and chuckled. “You’re pretty good at wrestling.”

I took a deep breath. “Milo—I know where you’re going. Stop now. I am not in the mood for any more physical exertion this evening.”

He kept his eyes on the road as he turned onto Alpine Way. “Okay.”

I was surprised, having expected him to argue, turn sullen, or be dejected. I quickly changed the subject. “Do you remember Mike O’Toole playing football for the Buckers?”

“Sure. He was pretty good. Rip Ridley told me once that if Mike really worked hard he could make all-conference.” The sheriff made a left onto Fir. “Coach said the kid had good hands when it came to basketball, but he wasn’t very tall and his outside shooting was erratic.” Milo pulled into my driveway. “Is Cal going to fix your car?”

“I hope so,” I replied, collecting my purse and the Safeway bag. “I
think
he can.”

“You may have to take it to Bert Anderson,” Milo said.

I didn’t speak again until we’d gotten out of the Cherokee and were going into my log house. “Maybe I should,” I said.

Taking off his all-weather jacket, Milo looked puzzled. “Should … what?”

“Take the Honda to Bert. I could talk to him about the brawl.”

“Why? Hasn’t Mitch gotten his side of the story? If you want, you can look over the statement he gave us,” the sheriff went on, following me out to the kitchen.

“Oh—I don’t know,” I said, putting the salads in the fridge. “When it comes to a homicide, I always like to get my own slant on things.”

“Oh, God!” Milo laughed, shook his head, and opened the cupboard where I kept the liquor. “Emma Lord, Girl Detective. This one’s a slam dunk. Forget about it.”

“I can’t.” I bit my lip. “I know you’re right, but I’m responsible for every word that goes into the paper. I don’t want to find out after we’ve gone to press that we could be sued because one of us screwed up. Furthermore,” I continued, while Milo got ice cubes out of the freezer compartment, “now that
we’re going online, I don’t have the luxury of waiting six days before I make a fool of myself on the Internet.”