The Alpine Xanadu

by Mary Daheim

“I wasn’t born until just after Carl Clemans closed the original mill,” Vida continued. “Mr. Clemans was an exemplary owner. He ran his business like a gentleman. But some of the owners who followed him in later years were of another sort. So were many of the loggers and mill workers. The Great Depression, you know. Men desperate for work, and not always able to bring their families with them—if they had families. I was a child in those days, but I heard some wild and woolly tales.”

  I could imagine a pint-sized version of Vida, a cowgirl hat or a sombrero on her head, listening at keyholes and outside open windows, soaking up every bit of information that came her way. It was more than likely that she retained all of it to the present day. “I assume you’re referring to liquor and women and maybe other vices?”

  Vida grimaced. “Yes. The worst, however, were the accidents. There was carelessness and a lack of safety precautions. The workers were often risk takers, but the timber industry has always attracted the bold and the reckless. That’s what Clarence alluded to. Even after the war, some of the vices remained—not in the town, but around the edges.”

  “Would this have been while Eeeny Moroni was sheriff?”

  “Eeeny—the old fool—wasn’t sheriff until the fifties, though he’d worked as a deputy after he got out of the army. He erased some of the corruption, which was how he kept getting reelected for thirty-odd years. But according to Clarence, Eeeny turned a blind eye to some illicit doings and was on the take. Has Milo mentioned anything like that to you?”

  “Never,” I replied. “Up until Eeeny got into trouble a year or so after I came to town, Milo always had nothing but respect for his predecessor.”

  Vida nodded. “I was never taken with Eeeny—he was so full of himself—but I didn’t think he was a crook. Clarence feels otherwise. He insists Eeeny took money to ignore a brothel on First Hill. Neeny Doukas, Eeeny’s close friend, was involved, too. There may’ve been gambling at the old Alpine Hotel, and not everything that went on at the ski lodge was above reproach. That would’ve been after my father-in-law passed away, of course. Rufus Runkel wouldn’t have put up with such shenanigans. He virtually saved the town by promoting the new skiing fad early on.”

  “How was all this resolved? I’ve never heard anything about it.”

  “The curtailment of logging put an end to it. I suppose that’s why Milo never knew about it. He didn’t start at the sheriff’s office until after he returned from Vietnam and finished his criminal justice degree.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Somehow it seems so long ago. Is there any point in dredging up all this for an article?”

  Vida’s gray eyes sparked as she stared at me. “If what Clarence has told me is true, the answer is yes. Oh, Eeeny died in prison several years ago, and Neeny is in a nursing home. But it’s the third person who was involved that the public needs to know about.” She took a deep breath. “You haven’t asked the obvious question, Emma.”

  I stared right back, puzzled. “Which is?”

  “Why didn’t the press expose this corruption?” She sat up straight again. “The answer is because the person running the whole sorry show was Marius Vandeventer.”

  I gaped at Vida. “Marius was a crook?”

  She nodded. “He was if I can believe Clarence. I never guessed, not even when I worked for him. That’s why I wonder if Clarence is fanciful. But he insisted it’s true. He is, after all, a fellow Presbyterian.”

  “No wonder Marius was anxious to get out of town,” I murmured. “Oddly enough, Milo and I were just talking about my predecessor. But I still have to ask what good it would do. Marius is dead, too.”

  “You’d prefer that Clarence tell his story to someone else? He and Marius were very close, almost like father and son.”

  “I have to think on it,” I said. “There are descendants to consider, and one of them is a lawyer—Simon Doukas. I don’t want to get sued, especially by that guy. He was the first one in town to call me a whore.”

  “Hypocrite,” Vida murmured. “Wasn’t he having an affair with Heather Bardeen at the time?”

  “Yes. She’s young enough to be his daughter. At least Heather finally settled into married life.”

  “Losing her mother so young sent Heather briefly off the rails,” Vida remarked absently. “Buck is very fond of his niece.” She stood up. “I assume I didn’t miss anything here while I was at RestHaven.”

  “Well …” There was no point in evasion. Bill Blatt would tell his aunt about Holly Gross’s demands. “We had a visitor. Holly came back looking for you. Leo took her to talk to Doe Jamison.”

  Vida’s eyes were liked gooseberries behind her big glasses. “And?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know anything else. We suggested Holly talk to Roger. Maybe that’s what she’s doing now.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Vida declared. “Roger is in Bellingham with Meg. He’s rethinking the resumption of his college education and wanted to spend some time on the Western Washington University campus. His old chum Davin Rhodes is still there, finishing his degree.”

  “That’s … good,” I said.

  “Yes. He’s still considering a career in theater.”

  Of the absurd, I thought. But I smiled as Vida returned to the newsroom. Roger, I assumed, was probably sacked out at Meg’s house—with Diddy or Dippy or whatever the poor tyke was called.

  Leo didn’t return until after four. Vida grilled him about Holly’s visit to the sheriff’s office, but Leo insisted he’d left immediately. I felt his flight was the better part of valor. I did wonder if Roger had taken a paternity test. I also wondered if he cared enough to bother.

  Mitch had gotten word of Patti Marsh’s condition. She had two broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and multiple bruises. Vida was miffed. “What’s wrong with Marje Blatt? She usually keeps her aunt informed. Did Patti accuse Jack of beating her?”

  “No mention of anybody,” Mitch said. “Patti stuck to her story.”

  “She might be telling the truth,” I said. “The sprained ankle could indicate she fell. Had she been drinking?”

  Mitch looked taken aback. “I didn’t ask. That seems like an intrusive question. I thought you wanted to know about her injuries.”

  “I did, but—”

  Vida interrupted me. “See here, Mitch, this isn’t Detroit—thank goodness. This is Alpine, and we take an interest in each other. Some might call it being nosy, but that’s not so. There are people we may not like or admire, but we are interested in their well-being. Have you no curiosity about your fellow human beings?”

  “Only as background for a story,” Mitch replied. “Otherwise, it’s irrelevant. And nosy.”

  Vida rose from her chair, her eyes impaling Mitch across the room. “You’ve been here a very short time. You don’t understand small-town ways. Cities are anonymous and impersonal. My own daughter Beth admits that after almost twenty years in Tacoma she doesn’t know half the people on her block. What does that say about a sense of community? I may despise Patti’s lifestyle, but if she sought my help, I’d be willing to offer it. And I’d be able to help her because I know her.”

  Mitch finally managed to avert his gaze. “Fine. I’m a city guy. The private lives of people I covered wouldn’t be just a drawback—I’d lose objectivity. Besides, city dwellers are jammed into their neighborhoods, crowded on their streets. They need their privacy. I’m trying to adapt, but I’ll be damned if I’ll pry into somebody’s personal life unless it’s pertinent to the story I’m covering. Patti’s not a story, she’s an accident victim.”

  Vida sat down. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But mind your language.” She turned to her keyboard and began typing at warp speed.

  The workday finally ran down. I headed to the Grocery Basket. This week’s ad featured lamb chops on sale at seven bucks a pound. I mulled whether Milo would want two or three. He always griped that they were too small. Wincing, I asked for four. At least they were thick. I was in the produce section checking out
early asparagus when a dark-haired woman I didn’t recognize called my name from two bins away.

  “You don’t know me,” she said, smiling. “Betsy O’Toole told me where to find you. I’m Kay Burns.” She offered her hand. “I wanted to thank you for the fine job you people did on the RestHaven edition.”

  “You’re in P.R.,” I said, returning her firm grip. “Mitch Laskey told me he’d been working with you. I hope all of you are pleased.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk with everybody, but I’m sure they are,” Kay said. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  “Go ahead. If I won’t answer it, don’t be offended.”

  She smiled again. “I understand. I noticed in the paper that you’re engaged to the sheriff. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” I said, wondering how personal this was going to get.

  “You may not know I was married briefly to Dwight Gould,” Kay said, her smile disappearing. “That was before you lived here. Anyway, I felt it would be wrong to move here and not get in touch with him. I called the sheriff’s office today, but the receptionist said Dwight wasn’t in and she wasn’t sure when he’d be back. I tried to reach him at home—he still lives out on Burl Creek Road in the house where we lived together—but he didn’t answer. Then I phoned his sister, Kay—or Kiki, as she’s called—but she … well, she doesn’t like me.” Kay paused and pursed her lips. “She wouldn’t tell me anything. Is Dwight ill?”

  I wouldn’t reveal Dwight’s suspension, so I hedged. “He’s fine as far as I know. He may have gone fishing.”

  Kay looked faintly incredulous. “In this weather? I’m a native. I know when the river’s too high and off-color. Not even Dwight would do that.” She paused again, this time to let a young couple with two children get by us. “This may sound silly, but I’m worried about him. Could you ask the sheriff if he’s all right?”

  “Sure,” I said, “but I’ve seen Dwight recently and he seemed fine.”

  Kay nodded once. “Good. But I’m still concerned. People can have health problems that aren’t caused by disease.”

  “You mean … an accident?”

  She avoided my gaze. “Maybe. I should finish my shopping. It was nice meeting you.” She pushed her grocery cart back toward the tomatoes.

  I got home at five-thirty. It was going on six when the phone rang.

  “I’m stuck,” Milo said, sounding unhappy. “I couldn’t talk Tanya out of staying here at the house, and Mulehide just took off.”

  I didn’t respond right away. “Why don’t you bring her here? If you can spare a lamb chop, I can feed her. You both have to eat.”

  It was his turn not to say anything for a moment. “I’ll see if she can cope with that, okay? I’ll call you back.”

  I stood by the sink, hanging my head and silently cussing. I really didn’t blame Tanya. But I’d waited my entire adult life to be happy with a man I loved, and now it seemed there was one damned obstacle after another. Yes, I’d fouled up my relationship with Milo for years, but at least I’d finally come to my senses. I knew life wasn’t fair, but I felt hexed. I was fifty-two years old. Maybe this was payback for my delusions about Tom and my folly with Rolf. I thought about what Ben would tell me. He’d say it served me right—but I still didn’t deserve it. Life is random, not dictated by God.

  It was ten minutes before Milo called back. “She’ll come. I had to coax her out of the bathroom. At least she didn’t have any pills.”

  “Good,” I said, awash with relief. It was a small victory and eased the lingering guilt I felt for not letting Tanya take refuge at my own house. “I hope she likes asparagus.”

  “See you in a bit. Tanya has to get herself together.”

  “That’s fine. I haven’t started dinner.” I had a sudden thought. “Milo—why don’t you put the house up for sale now?”

  There was a brief silence at the other end. “It needs work. But that’s not your weirdest idea. A For Sale sign in the front yard might be motivation.” He hung up.

  It was going on seven before the sheriff and his daughter arrived. I’d put the potatoes on the stove to boil and had the lamb chops ready to go under the broiler in the oven. I’d steam the asparagus, which would take only a few minutes. I knew Tanya preferred wine, so I got out an unopened bottle of Merlot that I had on hand for my bridge club.

  I stood at the front window watching Tanya come out from around the Yukon’s passenger side. She was wearing a brown hooded car coat and had her head down to avoid the heavy rain. She walked slowly, carefully, as if she thought the ground might swallow her. Milo had loped on ahead, but stopped to go back and take her arm. He looked more like a son helping his mother than a father guiding his daughter. Tanya seemed to have deteriorated since I’d seen her less than three weeks ago.

  I met them at the door. Up close, she appeared more like herself. She was almost pretty, a tall, more angular version of how her mother might have looked as a young woman. Except for the sandy hair, she bore no resemblance to her father. Of the three children, only Brandon took after Milo. He wasn’t as tall or as broad as Milo, and though he had hazel eyes, they didn’t have the intensity of his father’s. The sheriff’s gaze revealed his every emotion—unless he didn’t want a witness or suspect to know what he was thinking. Even I couldn’t read him then.

  Milo leaned down and brushed my lips with a quick kiss. “Tanya says she isn’t hungry. I told her you could change her mind.”

  “I’ll try,” I said, smiling. “Here, Tanya, I’ll help with your coat.”

  Tanya mutely submitted to my assistance. Milo took the coat and hung it next to his. “Lamb chops, right?” he said, to break the silence.

  “Yes.” I turned to Tanya. “Do you like Merlot?”

  She nodded—and finally spoke. “I do. Thanks.”

  “Good,” I said. “Come out to the kitchen and let your dad collapse. He’s had a busy day with his trip over to Everett.”

  “Is that where he went?” she asked, trailing me like a lost waif.

  “He had to get an autopsy report on Wayne Eriks. Do you know the family? Their daughter, Tiffany, is about your age.”

  “Tiffany Eriks.” Tanya studied the wine bottle. “Yes, I think she was in the class ahead of me. She had a brother who was a little older.”

  “He was killed in a rafting accident. Maybe that happened after you moved to Bellevue.”

  Tanya looked mildly surprised. “I guess so. I don’t remember it.”

  I got out a wine goblet and two cocktail glasses. “The corkscrew’s in that drawer to your right. You want to do the honors?”

  “Okay.” She opened the drawer but seemed to have trouble finding the corkscrew. Not that I blamed her. As Milo often pointed out, I’m not organized. I rarely use the corkscrew except when I host bridge club.

  “It’s in there somewhere,” I said.

  Tanya found the damned thing just as I finished pouring her father’s Scotch. To my relief, she deftly removed the cork and managed to pour the wine without spilling it—something I might not have achieved. I made my own drink and lifted my glass to her. “To better days. For all of us. I’m glad you’re here, Tanya.” To my astonishment, I meant it.

  “Thanks,” she said as we clicked glasses. For a second our eyes met. A glint of tears shone in hers. I put my arm around her. Tanya leaned against me, then pulled away with what seemed like reluctance.

  We moved out to the living room. Milo was in the easy chair, looking as if he’d been about to nod off. “The barmaids,” he said, stretching his long arms. “Want me to build a fire?”

  “Sure,” I said, indicating that Tanya should sit on the sofa. I handed him his drink. I realized I hadn’t turned on the broiler or the stove, but it’d take that long for Milo to get the fire going and finish his drink. I sat next to Tanya in my usual spot. “Hey,” I said to Milo’s back as he stuffed newspaper into the grate, “any word from Dwight?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t thi
nk he misses me.”

  “Kay’s trying to find him.”

  The sheriff turned to look at me over his shoulder. “The hell she is,” he said. “How do you know that?”

  I explained about meeting her at the Grocery Basket. “She’s worried about him.”

  Milo finished adding kindling and a couple of cedar logs before setting off the newspaper. “After twenty-five years?” he said, standing up.

  “I remember Dwight,” Tanya said. “Doesn’t he look like a frog?”

  “He’s no prince,” her father said, sitting down. “Why the hell is Kay worried? Something’s up.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but she really seemed concerned.”

  Milo fingered his long chin. “Money? Didn’t you say she’s got a P.R. job at RestHaven? They must pay well.”

  “It was like she thought something had happened to him,” I said.

  The sheriff shook his head. “Nothing ever happens to Dwight. He likes it that way.”

  “Maybe,” I suggested, “she’s heard about the threats to Blackwell’s life and thinks Dwight’s finally getting even.”

  Milo scowled at me. “You’re in fantasyland.”

  I didn’t argue. Instead, I went out to the kitchen to start the chops and the potatoes. I overheard Milo ask Tanya if she was going to look for a job in Alpine. I couldn’t hear her answer, but by the time I returned to the living room, her father was suggesting she check out the community college. “It’s the state, so they may have some money to spare,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I had enough of college life. I wouldn’t want to deal with students.”

  “I suppose you could start doing stuff around the house,” Milo said after a pause. “I’m putting it up for sale soon.”

  “Dad!” Tanya cried. “You can’t do that! It’s home.”

  The sheriff scowled. “Not for me. It hasn’t been your home since 1985. I have to unload the place to help pay for the remodel here. Don’t get excited. The market’s slow right now due to the recession. It could take months. You and Bran and Mike still have stuff downstairs.”

  Tanya looked puzzled. “You mean from when we lived here?”