The Alpine Xanadu (29 page)

“My, my,” Vida said, coming up behind Tanya and giving her a start, “look who’s here! How nice.” She patted the young woman’s shoulder and sat down beside her. “You’re doing research. Oh!” she gasped, pointing to the two-column photo of the late sheriff, “there’s that idiot in his first election after being appointed to replace Seth Meyers. We thought Eeeny was an improvement! Seth shot himself, you know.”

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “I never heard of him.”

“Really, Emma, you should’ve done more history homework.”

Tanya appeared to be trying not to smile.

“When I went to work in Portland,” I said, “I never researched the Oregon Territory’s history. Knowing about Lewis and Clark was enough.”

“That’s different,” Vida declared. “The Oregon Territory was so big. Why, it included what would become Alpine.”

Amanda was heading our way. “Mrs. Runkel,” she said, “Spencer Fleetwood’s been trying to reach you. I was in the restroom when you arrived.”

“Oh, yes,” Vida said. “He called on my cell, but I didn’t want to interrupt my visit with Dot Parker.” She turned away, but I stopped her.

“Wait,” I practically shouted. “Let me talk to him first.”

Vida peered at me. “Why? The call’s for me.”

“Please,” I said. “Then I’ll have Amanda transfer him.”

“Bother,” Vida muttered, but trudged off to her desk.

“I changed my mind,” I said, after Amanda put Spence on my line. “I was wrong, okay? But I’m still mad.”

“I thought you might, so I haven’t notified her sponsors. I expected she might put up a fight.”

“She doesn’t know about my threat. Can you keep your mellifluous mouth shut for once?”

“For the sake of media peace, I’ll try,” Spence conceded. “You are often a very difficult woman. It’s a wonder Dodge hasn’t strangled you. If nothing else, he’s indulgent.”

“He’s not unethical—like you,” I said, and rang off.

Tanya was looking bemused. “I had no idea about how a newspaper operates. Is this typical?”

“Yes. No. It depends.” I ran my fingers through my unruly hair, which should have been cut back in January. “Let’s see if there’s anything else in this bunch of issues. Then we’ll move into the rest of the sixties.”

The only other item of interest was Marius’s editorial applauding Moroni’s rout of his opponent, a long-gone Gustavson whose first name I didn’t recognize. Back in the newsroom Vida was explaining to Spence that Edna Mae couldn’t sub because she’d come down with the flu, but Effie Trews, the high school librarian, would take her place. That was fitting, given that Effie was retiring at the end of the school year.

By the time Tanya and I got to 1963 without finding any vice-related stories, it was after four. She was looking bored, a feeling I shared. “Let’s quit,” I said. “These headlines are blurring.”

“I’ll go to Dad’s office,” she said. “You must have work to do.”

“We’re on hold with the RestHaven breakout and the Eriks autopsy. I’m not inspired to start my next editorial.” I saw Mitch coming toward us. “Maybe we’ve got some news. I’ll introduce my reporter.”

“I met him this morning,” Tanya said. “Hi, Mitch.”

“Hi. Are you here to replace me?” His expression was wry.

“No,” she replied. “But it’s kind of interesting.”

“It can be,” Mitch allowed. He looked at me. “Here’s the autopsy report. It’s a shocker. You better see it before I put a summary online.”

I almost blew it by saying I already knew the final result, but I caught myself in time. “Wow. Make a copy for me, please?”

“Sure.” The grimace stayed in place. “They can’t find Gould.”

Tanya and I both looked startled. “What do you mean, they can’t find him?” I asked.

Mitch held up his hands in a helpless gesture. “He never came back from Second Hill. They can’t reach him. No sign of his cruiser, either. Now the searchers are looking for him, too, but Dodge …” He paused to glance at Tanya as if in apology. “Dodge is keeping a lid on this one for now, but Fong told me it was okay to tell you. Maybe the RestHaven escapee got to him. That’d be a hell of a thing, wouldn’t it?”

All I could do was nod in agreement. And wonder if Alpine was in the grip of a psychotic plague.

T
ANYA SPOKE FIRST. “SOMETHING’S HAPPENED TO
D
AD’S DEPUTY
?”

Mitch grimaced. “I don’t know, but Gould’s reliable. Journalists think the worst because it makes bigger headlines.” He shrugged.

I was about to suggest that maybe Dwight had caught the rampant flu bug, but it wouldn’t explain what had happened to his cruiser.

Tanya stood up. “Is Dad back at his office?” she asked Mitch.

“I didn’t see him,” Mitch said. “I talked to Fong.”

“Maybe I should go down there,” she said, looking at me. “Do you think I’d cause more harm than good?”

“No,” I said, “but can you wait? I’ll walk partway with you. I want to stop by Parker’s Pharmacy, but I have to go over the autopsy report.”

“Sure. I’ll put these old issues back and talk to Mrs. Runkel.”

I thanked her and began scanning the report while Mitch stood by. “It’s a poisoning first for me,” I said. “Condense it and put it online.”

My reporter went off while I grabbed my purse and jacket. When I got to Vida’s desk, Tanya was being subjected to an account of Roger’s renewed interest in higher education. I interrupted before my House & Home editor could start in on a fantasy about
her grandson sitting around a campfire singing “The Whiffenpoof Song” while sipping hot cocoa.

“Speaking of Roger,” I said to Vida in my most chipper voice, “Holly Gross has left town. If you want details, call Rosemary Bourgette.” Ignoring her aghast expression, I beckoned to Tanya to follow me out of the newsroom. I could hear Vida’s squawks all the way out the door.

“What was that about?” Tanya inquired.

I asked if her father had told her about Roger’s unfortunate saga. He had, but only the original version dating back to the trailer park incident. “Have him fill you in,” I said as we crossed Fourth and passed the hobby and toy shop. “Now I have to buy toothpaste and shampoo.” I didn’t add that except for his shaving gear, the sheriff hadn’t brought his own toiletries and I was running low on supplies.

Waving Tanya off, I almost collided with the pharmacy’s original owner, Durwood Parker. At least he was walking and not driving a car.

“Emma dear!” he exclaimed, his round pink face showing genuine pleasure. “I haven’t seen you in some time. Congratulations on your engagement to Sheriff Dodge.” He paused, tugging his kidskin gloves and grappling with the shopping bag that had been jostled in our near collision. “You two make a fine-looking couple. I don’t suppose you might sweet-talk him into letting me have my driver’s license back, would you?”

I feigned regret. “Probably not. He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. You are, after all, an institution around here.”

Durwood grimaced. “Sometimes I’ve felt that Milo thought I should be
in
an institution. But even when he had to arrest me, he was always kind about it. Speaking of institutions, I understand there’s a madman on the loose. I hope he doesn’t harm himself or anyone else. In fact, I’d better head home. I don’t like leaving Dot alone with … without me.” He gestured at a bicycle secured to a
small rack by the hobby shop. “That’s what I’m driving these days. Take care, Emma.”

I thought it best not to wait to see if Milo was right about Durwood not riding a bike any better than he drove a car. But I did wonder why he’d stumbled over his words about Dot. I was even more curious why he had Pampers in his shopping bag. I’d noticed they were a toddler size.

Going into the pharmacy, I was disappointed to see that neither of the current owners, Garth or Tara Wesley, was on the premises. I’d intended to ask them about Durwood’s purchase. I didn’t know the young man who was behind the counter. He looked like a college student. I got what I needed and left, but noticed Milo’s Yukon now in its usual spot. I decided to pay the sheriff an official visit.

Dustin, Lori, Tanya, and Beth Rafferty, the 911 operator and Tim’s sister, stood at attention as Milo held court. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if somebody stabbed Blackwell,” he bellowed, ignoring my arrival. “The priority is Gould. The nut job is secondary. You all got that?”

They nodded, including Tanya. Beth was holding her earpiece in place. Maybe she was afraid Milo’s voice had shaken it loose. Lori seemed dazed, and even Dustin wasn’t quite his usual stolid self. The sheriff wheeled around and headed for his office.

“Hi,” I said to nobody in particular. “I guess I won’t bother your boss right now. Dare I ask what happened to Blackwell?”

Dustin rallied first. “It’s weird. You know about Patti Marsh’s accident, right?” He saw me nod. “She didn’t have to stay in the hospital, so she went home. Last night Blackwell came to see her. He was sick, so Patti thought he had the flu and told him she’d take care of him. By this afternoon he was delirious, so she called Doc Dewey and said that if she could manage it, she’d put him in her car to bring him to the clinic. Doc told her he’d have an ambulance sent, but no siren, because it might scare people who
thought it had to do with the RestHaven escapee. They got to the hospital an hour ago and it turned out Jack had been stabbed. The wound festered because he hadn’t had it treated. Strange, huh?”

By the time Dustin finished, I’d leaned both elbows on the counter. “He didn’t stab himself to file another complaint?”

“In the back?” Dustin said. “That’d be hard to do.”

“Did he say who did it?” I asked.

The deputy shook his head. “He’s still out of it. He never mentioned it to Patti. She didn’t find out until Doc checked Jack.”

“Has your boss any ideas or is he too upset about Dwight to care?”

Before Dustin could answer, Beth Rafferty spoke up. “It’d be a help if somebody could find Tiff. I’ve taken half a dozen calls from fools who think they’ve spotted my lamebrained sister-in-law. They were all duds. What’s wrong with people?”

“Good question,” I murmured before gesturing at Milo’s closed door. “Dare I?”

“I wouldn’t,” Beth said, heading back to her 911 inner sanctum.

“He’s pretty grumpy,” Lori murmured.

“I think he’s on the phone,” Dustin said in his usual polite manner.

“Do it,” Tanya said, much to my surprise.

I smiled at her and opened the swinging door in the counter. “I will.” Marching to the door, I didn’t bother to knock.

Milo was hanging up the phone. “Beat it, Emma.”

I closed the door behind me. “I will not. This is my business, too.” I plopped down in a chair and set my drugstore purchases on the floor. “Mitch is on overload because he’s leaving for Pittsburgh tomorrow. I need some updates before I go home.”

“Jesus.” Milo put a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know any more than what you probably heard from that bunch out front. No sign of Gould, no sign of the lunatic, no idea how Blackwell got
stabbed. That’s it. Go ahead, tell your readers the sheriff is baffled. I don’t give a damn.”

“Yes, you do.”

Milo’s hazel eyes finally met mine. He leaned back in the chair and sighed. “I was on the phone with Doc. Blackwell’s wound isn’t deep, but the dumb shit didn’t have it checked and it got infected. He’ll be fine.”

“Is he lucid?”

“Was he ever?”

“He’s always been lucid—for an asshole.”

I could always tell when the sheriff relaxed even slightly. “It’s Dwight that worries me,” he said. “You know him—dependable as snow on Baldy. It’s possible that he went after somebody on one of the old logging roads and had a wreck. The state patrol is bringing a helicopter to look for him and the nut. He doesn’t answer from the cruiser or his cell.” Milo glanced at his watch. “They should be overhead just after five.”

“Maybe I should stick around,” I said. “I mean, at my office.”

The sheriff shrugged. “You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

I stood up. “Then I’ll go away and stop bothering you.”

Milo was staring at his wall map of Skykomish County as if he were trying to figure out where Dwight might be found. “Okay,” he said.

I picked up the Parker’s Pharmacy bag and left, closing the door behind me. “I survived,” I announced, going through the reception area. “There were no injuries.”

I headed back to my office. I’d gone only about ten feet when a SkyCo cruiser pulled up. I gasped when Dwight Gould got out. He saw me, mumbled something, and walked calmly into headquarters. I froze in place, wondering if I should go back to see what kind of welcome he’d get. Deciding that was the worst idea I’d had since I’d let Ed Bronsky talk me into editing his autobiography, I kept on going to the
Advocate
.

It was ten to five when I reached the newsroom. Amanda was on the phone, Leo was coming from the back shop, and Mitch was at his desk. Vida was putting on her coat.

“I didn’t realize you’d gone shopping,” she said, looking at my Parker’s Pharmacy bag. “I’m leaving a bit early so I can prepare for the interview with Effie Trews. I haven’t chatted with her in some time.”

“Fine,” I said. “The prodigal deputy has returned.”

Vida’s jaw dropped, Mitch looked up from his monitor, and Leo stopped in mid-step before reaching his desk. They all responded in some way, but it was my House & Home editor’s voice that dominated. “Where on earth has that ninny been?” she shrieked.

I admitted I didn’t know. “He arrived in his cruiser and in uniform. I decided to skip the fireworks. The sheriff was already steamed.” I held up a hand to ward off a barrage from Vida. “Meanwhile, somebody stabbed Blackwell in the back. He’s in the hospital.”

More shrieks ensued from Vida, along with shocked expressions from my staff, which now included Kip and Amanda. I waited for everybody to shut up, though Vida was dialing her phone. “I should’ve known that Marje called me about something other than my eye exam reminder. She’s still at the clinic. It doesn’t close.… Marje, dear, I’m so sorry I was on the other line when …”

I backed away in order to be heard. “Mitch, go home. You’ve got to get ready for your trip. Leo, Amanda, feel free to do whatever, including leave for the day.” I turned to Kip. “I’m not sure what we can put online, but we should do something.”