The Alpine Xanadu

by Mary Daheim

  Shortly before eight, Vida called. “You must be as flabbergasted as I was,” she said. “I wanted Effie to elaborate after the show, but she felt she’d already had her say. Such a box of bees!”

  “Did you light up KSKY’s three phone lines?”

  “I have no idea. I left right away. I do not enjoy Bree Kendall’s company any more than you do. She’s working full-time there, which I didn’t know. I wondered why I hadn’t seen her lately at the hospital reception desk. I shall take Spencer to task for not telling me.”

  “Where was Mr. Radio?”

  “According to Bree, he had a previous engagement he couldn’t cancel,” Vida said in an indignant tone. “I’m quite vexed with him.”

  “I thought maybe he had the flu.”

  “Apparently not. I must call Harvey Adcock. He’s the new president of the school board. Are you alone?”

  “Yes,” I said, and told Vida that Val Marsden thought he’d spotted the escapee in his backyard. “Jack Mullins stopped by to make sure I was okay. Did you know your nephew Bill’s staying with Tanya?”

  “What?” Vida screeched.

  I heard a sound outside. “I’ll let you sort that one out. I think Mullins may be back. Bye, Vida.”

  I hung up but took the phone with me to the kitchen door. It swung open before I could get past the sink.

  Milo walked in, took off his hat, and let out a weary sigh. “Jesus, I’m beat. I’ve got to make this quick. How about if I bring Tanya over here tonight? I can’t leave either of you alone, and Bill’s been on the job for over twenty-four hours. The poor guy’s probably about to pass out.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I take it you’ll stay here, too?”

  “Hell, yes, but don’t expect any thrills and excitement. I might pass out before Bill does.”

  I smiled. “I won’t. I want to crash, too. Is the nut still loose?”

  Milo put his hat back on. “Yeah. I figure he headed for the woods. No reports of a hitchhiker out on Highway 2 or anybody picking him up. The state patrol expanded the bulletin to Snohomish, King, and Chelan counties. We did find out that the guy’s last known address was in Issaquah. Maybe he thought he could hike through the mountains and end up on I-90 close to his old home on the Eastside. Hell, if he lived in Issaquah, maybe he’ll surface at Mulehide’s house in Bellevue and end up as husband number three.” Shaking his head, he turned to the door. “See you in an hour or so. Stay safe until I get back.”

  After I heard him test the knob outside to make sure the door was locked, I went into Adam’s room, which was crowded with my old bed and some of Milo’s belongings. The twin bed was made up and accessible. I was in the living room when Julie called back. The snowmobiler had a simple fracture in his right arm and multiple bruises but was stable. I passed the information on to Kip, who wondered if we should put the story online, given that the injured man wasn’t local. I’d had my own qualms but felt that our already nervous populace would wonder what the emergency vehicles had been doing on the Icicle Creek Road. They might fret that the escapee was in their midst. Kip agreed that was sufficient reason to go online. Thus are great news decisions made in small towns.

  Just before nine I realized Milo probably hadn’t eaten dinner. I had chicken breasts, hamburger, and the leftover crab in the freezer. Fifteen minutes later the sheriff and his daughter arrived. Tanya looked more chipper than her father. I assumed Bill hadn’t passed out on her. In fact, she informed me, Vida’s nephew had taken her to dinner at the ski lodge. Milo, however, hadn’t eaten since lunch. He told me to fix whatever was easiest and poured himself a drink.

  “You want one?” he asked as an afterthought.

  I told him I did, having passed on liquor earlier. The hamburger was enough for a steak-sized serving, so I defrosted it and started frying potatoes in chopped onion. Tanya had gone into the living room and turned on the TV while her father sank into a kitchen chair. He was not in a talkative mood. In fact, he didn’t speak until after the hamburger was frying and some canned peas were starting to boil.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  I turned the peas down to a simmer and looked at him. “For what?”

  “For not asking a lot of dumb questions like you usually do.”

  I picked up my drink and sat down. “You’re tired. So am I.”

  He put his hand on my arm. “How’d I get so lucky?”

  “You earned it after fifteen years. You’re a very patient man.”

  He shrugged. “Not always, but I was when it came to you. You’re the most contrary woman I ever met.”

  “I prefer perverse.”

  “That works, too.” He squeezed my arm before lighting a cigarette and offering me one. I took it. “You heard about Gould?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. Is it really true?”

  Milo laughed. “Dwight has no imagination. He couldn’t make that up. The call he answered was from Kay’s place. She’s buying Denise Petersen’s former town house on Second Hill. Kay claimed someone tried to break in. One thing led to another, and … yeah, it is hard to believe. His cruiser was in her garage. From what I remember, Kay can’t survive long without a man. Widowhood doesn’t suit her.”

  I laughed, too. “So what will you do about Dwight going AWOL?”

  “I’ll dock his pay for the time off. It’s so damned funny that I can’t get too pissed. Besides, he’s right—I did the same thing with you. I probably should’ve docked my own pay, but I never thought about it.”

  “Too late now,” I said, getting up to turn the hamburger and potatoes. “By the way, Julie Canby says Blackwell’s conscious.”

  “Shit. I should … to hell with it. He may be awake, but he’s not lucid. He stabbed me in the back often enough. Now it really happened to him.”

  “You look smug.”

  “I am. You look like you want to ask me a question. Don’t. I have no idea who stabbed him. If I did, I’d shake his—or her—hand.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” I said, getting up. “You go by the book.”

  “So I do. Dinner ready?”

  “Yes,” I said, and proceeded to dish it up. “Go ahead and eat in peace. I’m going to talk to Tanya.”

  The sheriff’s daughter was watching CSI, which seemed appropriate. I asked if I could get her some wine or another kind of beverage. She said no, muted the TV, and asked how her dad was doing. I told her he was eating and would probably survive.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

  I sat down on the arm of the sofa. “No. Why would I be?”

  “Well …” She frowned, and when she spoke again, it was almost in a whisper. “I didn’t think much about you as a couple when I was here the first time. Maybe, like Mom, I didn’t take your … relationship seriously. I never really got to know you, not even when you and Dad were dating years ago. He’s changed. I noticed that when he stayed with me while I was recovering. But it didn’t sink in until tonight, when he told me we were coming here. What he said was he had to go home. I don’t think he realized how he put it. Then it hit me on the way here. You make him happy. I don’t remember Dad being happy since I was a little kid.”

  “Oh,” I said, touching her arm, “that makes me want to cry!”

  “Me too,” she said, sniffling to prove it. “But I’m not helping.”

  I smiled. “Let’s put it this way. Your father and I haven’t had a lot of time together since we got engaged. But we’re not a young couple just starting out. We’ve been friends for going on sixteen years and lovers off and on for over half that time. We’ve always had other responsibilities. The difference now is we face them together. Your dad already has had to put up with my brother causing a problem, but we worked through it. The main thing for you is to deal with your crisis and heal. I’ll do what I can to help both of you. When it comes to coping with adversity, we’re seasoned veterans. We may bitch, we may bend, but we don’t break.”

  Tanya put her hand over mine but didn’t say anything. The
twin tears that trickled down her cheeks were thanks enough. Except for the rare occasions when I’d seen Milo’s children on their visits to Alpine, I’d never thought much about his role as a father. To me, he was always the sheriff, my friend, and my lover. Now I was seeing him in a role he’d assumed long before we met. Maybe I wouldn’t turn into an evil stepmother. I might even become a good wife.

  Milo and I both slept like bricks that night. Tanya apparently was nightmare-free. She had gone to bed after we did, having stayed up to watch Jay Leno. The sheriff got up at his usual time while I dozed until a few minutes after seven. He was in the kitchen when I stumbled into the bathroom. After I finished showering, I couldn’t find my hair dryer. Tanya’s door was closed, so I assumed she hadn’t gotten up yet. I found Milo dishing up ham and eggs.

  “Did you use my hair dryer?” I asked.

  He scowled at me. “I dry my hair with a towel.”

  “I can’t find it,” I said.

  He sat down. “Oh—I forgot. It’s in the carport.”

  “The carport?” I yipped. “What the hell is it doing there?”

  “You don’t own a blowtorch,” he said complacently as he buttered the toast. “It dropped to thirty-one last night. I thought maybe the pipes had frozen. Turns out they were okay.”

  “You were going to use my hair dryer to …” Of course he was. I supposed it made sense in some weird male way. I went out to the carport and found the hair dryer on top of the woodpile.

  “Jerk,” I said, brushing by him on the way back to the bathroom.

  He was gone by the time I was dressed and back in the kitchen. Tanya was still sleeping. I ate cornflakes and drank some coffee—which tasted like sawmill sludge. Was Milo’s mere presence near a coffeemaker sufficient to turn my good brew into whatever they drank at his office?

  I was going to pour the rest of it down the sink when I saw a note he’d left under my flour canister. My irritation fled as I picked up the small sheet of notepaper, which read: “Your coffee tastes like you made it in the bathtub.” I ripped up the note and threw it in the garbage. And realized I’d been so tired that I’d forgotten to make a fresh pot before I fell into bed. Sure enough, the pot was almost dry. I unplugged it and headed for work. Tanya was on her own.

  Amanda, Mitch, and Kip had already arrived. Leo had the bakery run. “Anything new?” I asked, sounding more like a cub reporter than the editor and publisher. In my usual perverse way, I hadn’t turned on KSKY for Spence’s morning update.

  “Nut’s still loose,” Kip said. “I suppose Dodge told you that.”

  I didn’t comment. “Any word on Blackwell?”

  My three staffers stared at me blankly. “Okay,” I said, “I’m out of the loop this morning. I’m still reeling from Vida’s show last night.” I turned to Mitch, aware of the flight bag sitting by his desk. “You’ll have to talk to Karl Freeman this morning. He’ll probably give you a ‘no comment,’ but we’ve got to have something.”

  “Shouldn’t Vida handle that?” Mitch asked.

  He had a point. Vida, after all, had known the principal since he’d arrived in Alpine, shortly before I had. “You’re right. That story shouldn’t have broken on her program, but that isn’t her fault. You can check on Blackwell. He regained consciousness last night, but wait until the sheriff talks to him.”

  Mitch looked puzzled. “Hasn’t Dodge done that already?”

  “No. He wanted to wait until he had a good night’s sleep. Blackwell, I mean.” That wasn’t what I meant, but it sounded better. “He might’ve been incoherent last night.” This time I did mean Jack, although it could have gone either way by ten-thirty, when Milo was reduced to muttering something that sounded like “good night.”

  Luckily, Vida entered in a flurry of sparkling rhinestone snowflakes on a black cloche. “My phone never stopped ringing last night! Everyone from Harvey Adcock to Grace Grundle. Grace, of course, thought kiddy porn was actually kitty porn and had something to do with her cats! She wanted to know if there were lewd pictures of Tiddlywinks or Crosspatch or whichever other wretched felines she keeps in her menagerie.”

  “Poor Grace,” Amanda murmured, trying not to giggle.

  “What,” I inquired, “is Harvey going to do with the school board?”

  “He’s calling a closed emergency meeting tonight,” Vida replied.

  “I assumed he would,” I said, seeing Leo make his entrance. “Did Harvey have any idea about what was going on at the high school?”

  “If he did, he wouldn’t admit it,” Vida said, unwinding a long angora scarf from around her neck. I wondered if she’d had it made out of one of Grace’s cats. “The only thing of interest he told me was that Effie Trews would be on hand. And Karl Freeman, of course. We should put that online,” she added, looking at Kip.

  “Got it,” Kip said, his gaze straying to Leo and the bakery box.

  “Porn City,” Leo said. “I tried to find some indecent pastries, but the closest I could come was cinnamon twists.”

  “Leo!” Vida cried. “Don’t make things worse!”

  I heard my phone ring. “Amanda,” I said, heading for the coffee table, “can you get that and put it on hold? I need real coffee.”

  Leo was setting out the pastries. I grabbed a cinnamon twist, filled my mug, and hurried to grab my phone before sitting down.

  “Guess I beat you again,” Spence said, sounding slightly apologetic. “Hey, I had no idea what Vida was doing. Forget I complained about her program getting bland.”

  “You’d better treat her like an empress,” I declared. “Where were you last night? She’s not happy with your absence.”

  “Damn. Trust me, I had a crisis of my own. I do have a life.”

  “Want to tell me about it? It could be news. You owe us.”

  “No, I don’t. Advantage, Advocate. Vida’s probably hightailing it up to Alpine High. When did I ever pry into your private life?”

  “How about when Milo broke your nose for defending my honor?”

  “That was different. I thought Dodge was interested in other things about you than your honor. Macho mistake, okay? Let’s drop it.”

  Spence sounded unusually grim. I saw I had another call waiting. “Just make sure you grovel when you talk to Vida. I’ve got breaking news. Ha-ha.” I hung up on him.

  I’d lied, of course, but when I picked up the other call, the urgency in Beth Rafferty’s voice got my attention.

  “Emma,” she said, speaking rapidly, “I can’t stay on the line very long in case I get a 911 call, but can we meet for lunch at the ski lodge?”

  “Yes, sure. Noon?”

  “A little after. Evan Singer is filling in for me. See you there.”

  Vida was also tied up on the phone, but growing impatient, tapping her pencil on the desk until it finally broke. “Such ninnies!” she declared when I went for a coffee refill just after nine. “Most of these callers aren’t high school parents, they’re voyeurs. They ask such prurient questions.”

  “Are you going to arrive unannounced at the high school?” I asked.

  Vida stared at me over the rims of her big glasses before pushing them back up on her nose. “Certainly. A surprise attack is always best.”

  Leo looked up from his monitor. “Why not a blare of trumpets, Duchess? That might get the attention of the kids who’re ogling porn.”

  Vida sniffed disdainfully as she wound the angora scarf around her neck. “I would certainly like to find out where this filth is coming from. Has either of you heard anything but vague rumors?”

  Leo and I both looked blank, though he did respond. “I haven’t even heard the rumors. First you have to define what porn is.”

  “It’s repellent,” Vida asserted, putting on her coat. “I shall return.” She swept out of the newsroom.

  “Maybe I should start calling her General MacArthur,” Leo murmured. “Why are we assuming the purveyor is local?”

  “Good question,” I said, sitting on the edge of
his desk. “Effie thought it had shown up before Christmas. Some families go out of town for Thanksgiving to visit other relatives. Maybe somebody brought it back with them. A half dozen photos could be considered an epidemic.”

  “True enough,” Leo conceded, lighting a cigarette.

  Amanda called my name. “Emma, Donna Wickstrom on line one.”

  Hurrying back to my office, I’d realized I’d forgotten that Craig Laurentis was supposed to be sending her a new painting. I eagerly picked up the receiver. “Hi, Donna. Have you got the new masterpiece?”

  “Not yet,” Donna said. “Next week, maybe. But Craig did contact me. He found the man who escaped from RestHaven. He insisted I tell you, rather than calling the sheriff.”

  “Where is he? The escapee, I mean.”

  “He’s off that old abandoned road on Tonga Ridge near Carroll Creek. I couldn’t get Craig to give me an exact location. He identifies things by trees and rocks and … anyway, it doesn’t matter in terms of finding him fast. He’s dead.”

  SEVENTEEN

  DONNA COULDN’T TELL ME ANYTHING FURTHER. SHE WAS IN full swing with the day care, and a toddler named Wisteria had fallen off a footstool and landed on another kid named Joe. Or Jo. I didn’t get a chance to ask that, either. And while Craig might trust me but not the sheriff or any other representative of a government agency, I did. I dialed Milo at once.

  “The jerk’s dead?” my beloved barked at me. “Great. ‘Somewhere near the end of the abandoned road by Carroll Creek’ doesn’t pinpoint where he is. There are two of those roads in that area.”

  “I’m just the messenger. He’s not going to get any deader. Will you notify RestHaven?”

  “I’ll let Heppner do it. He’s got no tact. It’ll serve them right for letting the guy get out in the first place. And just when I was going to pay a call on Blackwell.”

  “Hey,” I said. “I left Tanya still sleeping. Should I check on her?”

  “I already talked to her,” Milo said impatiently. “She’s fine. Bill’s got the day off after serving two shifts. Later on he’s taking her for a ride. Leavenworth, maybe, or Lake Chelan. Hang up, Emma.”