The Alpine Yeoman (16 page)

“Grace Grundle with another complaint about her damned cats. She hung up on me. Are you sure you don’t want to sit on my lap?”

I laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s almost time to go home. But for some reason, your latest offer reminds me of when I was dithering about marrying Tom and came to ask for your advice.”

Milo chuckled. “You were afraid he’d make you give up the
Advocate
and move to San Francisco.”

“Right. You suggested I ask if he was willing to move to Alpine—and he was. But before you and I even started talking, I realized I could solve the problem by leaping across your desk and landing in your arms, where I always felt so safe. Why didn’t I do that?”

My husband looked stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” I said sheepishly. “How dumb was that?”

“The
not
leaping part?” He saw me nod. “You were fixated on the guy. Nothing I could ever do—or did—could change that.”

“True,” I admitted. “It took him getting killed to destroy my dream. Or delusion. Even then, I had trouble realizing I’d been a fool. But he was my son’s father, and Adam wanted to see his parents married. Of course he didn’t know Tom was involved with Irish gunrunners. Acknowledging that he was a criminal wasn’t easy, either.”

“Hell, Cavanaugh thought he was shelling out money for a worthy cause,” Milo said. “Misguided, but I figure he needed something all those years to keep from letting his nutty wife make him as crazy as she was. Ah!” he said, standing up. “Here’s Fong, with Blatt right behind him. We’re out of here.”

But we weren’t.

“Sir,” Dustin said, “do you want me to stick around to process the ATV we found out by Anthracite Creek?”

Milo hesitated. “You’re expecting overtime?”

“No,” Dustin replied. “But we’re shorthanded, so I thought if Bill and I had time, we could do it now when it’s quiet.”

“Oh, hell,” the sheriff said. “Mullins is already getting his extra buck-fifty an hour for this evening. I checked it out while I was here, but go ahead, finish the job.” He grabbed my arm and we were finally out the door.

“Tell me about that ATV,” I said after we were in the Yukon. “Between bridge club and the nasty Mr. Moro, I forgot it had been impounded. Did you say it was found by Anthracite Creek? That’s way beyond Alpine Falls and Cass Pond.”

“Some college kids found it.” Milo paused to eyeball an older Chev that had made a California stop at the arterial on the corner of Fourth and Front. “Damned teen drivers. They shouldn’t be out this late, even if it is spring break.”

“Are you going to bust them?”

He shook his head. “If they keep cruising, Blatt can nail them. I’m off the clock. What did you … oh, the ATV. Yeah, it was less than fifty yards off of Highway 2. A road goes off almost across from the Skykomish Ranger Station. You know where it is, right by the landing strip.”

“It’s not really all that far away from where the body was found,” I said as we climbed the steep hill up to Fir. “Do you think the victim could’ve driven it?”

“That should be easy enough to find out after we compare any DNA with the vic’s. I can’t release the body anyway until somebody claims it.” Milo had turned the corner by Edna Mae’s house, which was now dark. He glanced at me. “The scene of your recent bridge bash. I suppose you grilled whichever faculty members were there.”

“I tried,” I said. “It’s not easy because they’re serious about their cards. But I did find out that Erin Johnson’s boyfriend’s name is Rick Morris. Linda Grant condescended to tell me that
much.” Just for the hell of it, I shot Milo a sidelong glance to see how he reacted to her name.

“Interesting,” he said, pulling into the driveway. “If he’s not another high school kid, Erin must’ve talked about him a lot at school. Maybe we should be interviewing more of the faculty instead of the students. But at least we can now check him out at the college. Are you going to get out, or do I have to carry you?”

My dropping of Linda’s name had no apparent effect on Milo. Maybe they’d never been a hot duo. Maybe it was so long ago that he’d forgotten. Maybe I was nuts.

I got out of the SUV and went into the house with my husband. Suddenly my log cabin felt like home again.

M
ILO AND
I
BOTH CRASHED IMMEDIATELY UPON ARRIVAL
. He’d put in over a sixteen-hour day, and I was tapped physically, mentally, and emotionally. I awoke to sunlight seeping through the window shades, the nearby sound of hammering, and the faint smell of bacon. I rolled over to look at the clock. It was 9:08.

I hurtled out of bed, rushing through the hall, the living room, and into the kitchen. Milo was drinking coffee and taking a last bite of toast.

“What’s going on?” I shrieked. “I never heard the alarm go off!”

“I didn’t set it. I’m not going to work until ten.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched. “How do you feel? Besides pissed off, that is.”

“I’m late for work,” I shot back. “I haven’t ever been this late to the office. Why didn’t you get me up?”

“Calm down. I called MacDuff and told him you wouldn’t be in until ten. If you hadn’t been worn out, you wouldn’t have slept this late. Go pull yourself together and relax.” He calmly lighted a cigarette and picked up
The Seattle Times
.

I didn’t have much choice. Twenty minutes later, I’d showered, dressed, and made myself presentable despite the hammering that seemed to be coming through the bathroom wall.
Now that I was almost fully awake, I realized I felt refreshed. Having lived together for less than three months and been married for only two, I still wasn’t used to having someone looking after me. Not that Milo hadn’t tried over the years, but between my fierce streak of independence and my refusal to realize that I needed him as much as he needed me, I’d often balked at his good intentions. Arriving in the kitchen, the first thing I did was to lean down, put my hands on his shoulders, and kiss his forehead.

“Thanks,” I said.

I felt him shrug. “You were one little beat-up kitten last night. Luckily, you only walked into the bedroom wall once.”

“I vaguely remember that,” I said, pouring a cup of coffee. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel hungry. Maybe I was still full from all the bridge mix Edna Mae had served. “Speaking of walls, what’s happening to the ones on the east side of the house?” I asked as I sat down.

Milo put the paper aside. “Hey,” he said, grinning, “you
can
talk when you first get up. You usually cuss and make weird noises.”

“You’re not any better,” I retorted. “Maybe both of us don’t sleep enough during the workweek.”

“Could be.” He looked thoughtful. “Oh—the Bourgettes are starting on that side of the house because you haven’t picked out the new appliances. No rush, but it’ll mean the bedrooms’ wall will have to come down next week. They can do some of the framing first because they want to have all the plumbing done at the same time. Cheaper that way. Want to go on a honeymoon?”

I was taken aback. “I … I suppose I could take some time off. But you’ve got a homicide investigation. That means I’ve got a big story. Could we wait to see how everything unfolds before making plans?”

“I wasn’t thinking of going to Europe,” Milo said. “Maybe up to Vancouver. It’ll only take the Bourgettes two, three days to enclose that part of the house. Think about it. We don’t have to decide right now. You always take forever to make up your mind.”

“Where did you go the first time?”

“A dude ranch in southern Oregon.” Milo chuckled. “It was Mulehide’s idea. She was nuts about horses. Luckily, I knew how to ride, but neither of us had done much of it in a long time. Let’s say it wasn’t the most comfortable honeymoon we could’ve had.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, Milo! I’ve only ridden a horse two or three times in my life, and I was utterly miserable afterward.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “Remember how Fuzzy Baugh got a notion to have a sheriff’s posse ride in the old Loggerama parade and later in the Summer Solstice shindigs? The first time I did that, I ached for three days. Ever since, I take time out to ride one of the Overholt or Dithers horses, just in case Fuzzy has another crazy idea.”

“That reminds me—I should be getting letters today about the mayor’s proposal. You never told me what you thought about how Mitch and I handled it in yesterday’s edition.”

Milo made a face. “I didn’t have time, but you’d already told me what you’d write. I’ll remember to act surprised when I see Fuzzy.”

“He plans to call you and the county commissioners together in the next day or so,” I said.

“Damn. I’ll have to sit down with those two old coots, Engebretsen and Hollenberg. That I can handle, but it also means I’ll have to be almost civil to that asshole Jack Blackwell. He’s not going to like Fuzzy’s plan.”

“You can do it,” I said. “It may take some time, but I really
believe the voters will come around to the idea as long as they can be convinced it’ll save them money.”

“Guess I’d better read what you and Laskey wrote,” Milo said a bit sheepishly. “Are you going to eat something, or should we saddle up, to borrow a phrase from my ill-fated honeymoon days?”

“I’ll grab whatever pastries are at the office,” I replied. “Unless Ed Bronsky’s shown up, there should be some left. By the way, did you clean up the mess my intruder made out in the carport?”

Milo shook his head. “The Bourgettes did that. They thought we must’ve had one hell of a party here last night.”

“Some party,” I muttered, getting up to unplug the coffee-maker. “Let’s ride, cowboy.”

“You might as well ride with me,” Milo said. “No point taking two cars. I’m not putting in more overtime, even if a bomb goes off at the courthouse.” He put his arms around me. “Hey, we’ve never made love in the morning. Want to try that?”

I looked up at him. “With the Bourgettes playing the Anvil Chorus outside of the bedroom? No thanks, big guy. We have to earn a living.”

Milo kissed the top of my head and let me go. “What the hell. It was worth a shot.”

I smiled at him. “By the way, I like being married.”

He smiled back. “So do I. It’s a lot better the second time around. And somehow I can’t picture you riding a horse.”

Amanda’s greeting was friendly, as usual. Kip was in the back shop, and both Leo and Mitch were out on their rounds. Vida, however, looked fit to spit when I entered the newsroom.

“Well? What on earth happened to make you so late?”

Just to remind her that I was the boss, I ignored the question. My priority was getting a cinnamon roll and a mug of coffee before I sat down in her visitor chair.

“Has Mitch checked the sheriff’s log yet?” I asked.

“Probably,” Vida replied, tight-faced. “He was going to interview Fuzzy about reaction to his proposal regarding our government. Well?”

I felt smug, knowing that Vida wouldn’t have been able to coax even a small scrap of information out of Bill Blatt because he’d been on all-night patrol. “I had an intruder,” I said matter-of-factly. “I had to call 911. You should have stayed on the phone with me instead of tending to Cupcake.”

“What?” Vida squawked, sounding like a much larger bird than any canary. “Where was Milo? Out drinking beer with Doc Dewey?”

“My husband was on duty. They’re shorthanded with Sam Heppner taking a few days off. Surely Bill must’ve told you that.”

Vida looked briefly flummoxed. “He did not. I don’t insist on Billy telling me every whim of the other deputies. I only inquire about more pressing matters, given that his superior is so tight-lipped about the public’s need to know.”

I shrugged and stood up. “You’ll see all about it when Mitch gets back with the log. I have work to do.” I stalked off to my office.

And immediately felt ashamed of myself, though I wasn’t sure why. I was fed up with Vida’s negative attitude about Milo. She’d put our long-standing and close friendship to the test. Did she really expect me to choose between her and my husband? There was no one I could ask about changing her mind. Her three daughters were cowed by their mother, and
Buck Bardeen had previously shown that he didn’t dare risk offending her. As long as she would never admit that Roger was a worthless jerk, I was sunk. And so was our friendship.

Over the long years of being a single mother while working in Portland on
The Oregonian
and later when I’d unexpectedly inherited enough money to buy the
Advocate
and a used Jaguar, I’d had little time to make close friendships or long-term romances. The only real friend I’d had in Oregon was one of my co-workers, Mavis Marley Fulkerston. Ironically, her reaction was negative when she found out Milo and I were engaged. But she only knew of the sheriff from the befuddled state of mind I’d been in when I’d broken up with him a decade ago. I’d finally managed to set her straight. Vida was a different matter. Thus, I did what I’ve always done when faced with personal problems. I threw myself into my work. It was my armor against an often hostile world.

And there was plenty to do this Thursday morning, in the wake of Fuzzy’s bombshell. The mail had arrived, with over two dozen letters. Phone messages totaled another fifteen, with at least as many emails. It’d take much of the day to respond. Happily, the first four phone calls turned out to be positive. I was about to dial the fifth number when Mitch showed up, a little after ten-thirty. For once, he didn’t look glum.

“Baugh’s getting some positive feedback,” he informed me. “The only negatives are from Engebretsen and Hollenberg. But you’d expect that, right? Why do they care? They’re both way beyond retirement age. They can bow out in a blaze of glory.”

“Ego,” I said. “They’ve been commissioners since before I came to Alpine. Nothing from Blackwell?”

“Not yet.” Mitch had draped his lanky frame over one of my chairs. “He won’t like it. But how do we handle the log? Mullins told me that one of the calls was from you. Is that why you came in late this morning? Dodge wasn’t there when I
checked in, but Mullins told me he’d pulled night duty. I gather Heppner’s on vacation.”

“It was no big deal,” I said. “A drunk partying with my awful next-door neighbors barged in and I couldn’t get rid of him. Run it like we always do—no name, just an address and the complaint.”