The Alpine Xanadu

by Mary Daheim

  I stood up, trying to smile. “Thanks, Durwood, but no. Some other time. I can see myself out.”

  “Come again,” he called. “You can meet Ashley. She’s a cutie-pie.”

  Feeling numb, I drove to the sheriff’s office. The clouds seemed darker. The sun had disappeared somewhere over the Valley of the Sky. I saw the Yukon in its usual place. Dwight Gould was still on duty.

  “What now?” he asked. “Isn’t this a Saturday?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, leaning on the counter. “Where’s Milo?”

  “He went to the Burger Barn. Leave him alone. He’s got Beth Rafferty with him.”

  “Beth?” I said stupidly. “You mean Tiffany?”

  Dwight scowled. “Did I say Tiffany?”

  “Is she here?”

  He shook his head. “Mel Eriks took her home.”

  “I’ll wait.” I parked myself in a chair near the door. Dwight went back to whatever he’d been doing before my arrival.

  For the next fifteen minutes, phones rang, people came in to report incidents that might or might not make the daily log, and a tourist with a ferret on a leash asked for directions to Snoqualmie Falls. Dwight told him he was on the wrong highway—he had to go south eighty miles and take I-90. “Damned Californians,” he muttered, not looking at me. Why he thought the guy was from California, I didn’t know. It was as good a guess as any.

  Milo finally showed up—without Beth Rafferty. “What are you doing here?” he asked in less-than-husbandly fashion.

  “I heard you were seeing another woman,” I snapped. “I want a divorce.” I ignored Dwight’s stare and headed for the sheriff’s office.

  By the time we both sat down, Milo seemed to decompress. “I had to talk to Beth to find out what she knew about Tiff and this frigging Eriks mess. It appears you stayed out of trouble. I’m amazed.”

  I got up and closed the door. “I did and I didn’t. Before I unload, tell me what happened with Tiff.”

  Milo leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “Oh, God! It was a freaking zoo. Why do people keep secrets? And on my watch.”

  “You couldn’t help it if you didn’t know about it,” I said.

  Milo regarded me with curiosity. “You know?”

  “Yes, Cookie came to call. But I had no idea, either. I was shocked.”

  “I wondered where she went,” he remarked. “I should’ve guessed. I’d forgotten how you propped her up when I busted Wayne. That family is about as screwed up as any bunch I’ve ever run into.”

  “You didn’t arrest Tiff, though. Why not?”

  Milo shrugged. “Self-defense. I brought her down here to see if she’d be more coherent outside the house. That place is contaminated. At least I gave her time to collect whatever brains she has. She said Durwood tried to save Wayne. Or do you know about that, too?”

  I hesitated. “You mean by trying to start his heart?”

  “Right. CPR didn’t do it. What I don’t get is …” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Emma, you can’t lie to me. You never could. What the hell are you not telling me?”

  If I’d flunked lying to Milo when we were friends and even lovers, I couldn’t do it now that we were married. But I felt miserable. I wasn’t certain I could translate what I thought Durwood had meant.

  “After Cookie left, I went to see the Parkers,” I said. I paused again, trying to recall what Durwood had told me, word for word. “Does that sound like a murder confession?” I asked when I’d concluded my recital.

  “Shit,” Milo muttered, holding his head. “Is the old coot addled?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  Neither of us spoke for what seemed like a long time. It was the sheriff who broke the silence. “This reminds me of what happened years ago when Cody Graff was poisoned. The wrong person doing the right thing. Or is it the other way around?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  He turned in his chair, staring at his wall map of SkyCo. “I could get a warrant,” he said, “but any evidence is probably gone. Interrogating Durwood is another matter. He’d play the senile card.” Milo laughed and looked at me. “Hell, he could prove it by pointing out all the times I had to bust him for driving his car through store windows and over Fuzzy’s petunia planters on Front Street.”

  I smiled, surprising myself. “I’d hate to see anybody try to depose Tiff—or Cookie.”

  Milo had sobered. “I don’t like it, though.”

  I understood. “You’ve already considered the alternative. It sounds impossible.” I played my own hole card. “Think of all the paperwork.”

  “Emma,” he said, “that’s a cheap shot. But I like it.”

  I left Milo to do whatever he had to do regarding the Eriks-Rafferty case. It didn’t make me feel any better to learn from him that Beth had never suspected her sister-in-law had been a victim of molestation. Having taken calls of such nature over the years, Beth was more angry than guilt-ridden. Tim had never had a chance to convey his knowledge to his sister before he was killed. The circumstances of his death only made Beth more upset about the tragedies the two families had shared.

  If Milo had work to do, so did I, and it wasn’t for the Advocate. I couldn’t ask Kip to put anything online until the sheriff made an official announcement. Getting in my Honda, I drove up to Second Hill and the town house where Kay Burns lived. The trio of homes were on the southeastern edge of the forest, under the shadow of Spark Plug Mountain. To the north, Mount Baldy and Windy Mountain were obscured by clouds. As I got out of the car, I could barely see the Tye River before it joined the Skykomish just above the turnoff to Alpine.

  Kay came to the door wearing overalls and a kerchief tied around her head. Obviously, she’d been cleaning. “Emma?” she said, as surprised as Dot Parker had been when I’d called at her house. “Come in. I’m getting this place in order. The previous owner was no housekeeper.”

  “Denise Petersen also had a big dog,” I said, stepping inside. “It actually belonged to her ex.”

  “So I was told,” Kay said, indicating a sleek dark green sofa where I should sit. “Why do I think this isn’t a social call?”

  “Because I’m a professional snoop. I want your opinion.”

  Kay sat down in a matching armchair. “Is this a poll?”

  “In a way. What do you think of Jack’s claims that someone’s trying to kill him?”

  Kay looked pained. “I only heard vague rumors until Jack came into my office the day before the grand opening. Typical Jack—all bravado, as if nothing had ever happened between us.” Her hand touched her jaw as if she could still feel a blow from decades past. “Dr. Woo insisted I look at Jack’s speech. It needed only minor tweaking. Jack’s smart. Then, to gain my sympathy, he mentioned his close calls. My first reaction was that he thought I might be responsible. But I don’t really think he did. I commiserated briefly and that was that.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “I don’t know. Jack’s lucky somebody didn’t do him in a long time ago. Frankly, I wondered about Dwight. But why wait this long? It didn’t make sense.” Suddenly she flushed. “I do have a confession to make. I went through Dr. Woo’s files during the open house.”

  I knew I looked startled. “The patient files? Why?”

  Kay shook her head. “A ruse. I wanted to see the staff files. I knew Jack had been married to a girl from Dunsmuir before marrying me. Yes, it was Jennifer Hood. She’d had to list the marriage in her personnel file. If anybody has a grudge against Jack, I’m guessing it’s Jennifer.”

  “I wondered, too,” I said. “I did my own digging. Jack’s complaints didn’t start until after everyone was in place at RestHaven. That’s why I was surprised when I thought it was only patient files that were rifled.”

  Kay shrugged. “That’s what I wanted people to think. I suppose you’re going to rat me out to Dodge.”

  “Why? You’re an employee. You have a right to see the files.”

  “No, I
don’t. Nobody does without permission from Dr. Woo. He’s extremely strict about confidentiality for patients and staff. It’s a mania with him.” Kay’s shoulders slumped. “I violated an internal rule.”

  “That’s none of the sheriff’s business. He and I and everyone else dealing with RestHaven have been frustrated by the insistence on privacy. It’s like a fiefdom. Milo wasn’t happy with Dr. Woo about the so-called break-in and told him so.”

  Kay smiled. “Good for him. Don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I like my job. Woo’s a fine practitioner and administrator. But he does have his quirks.”

  “Corner office mentality,” I murmured, getting up. “I feel kind of dumb coming here and asking you these questions. But I want to make sure the sheriff hasn’t …” I couldn’t find the right words.

  Kay had also gotten to her feet. “Let his feelings about Jack get in the way? Easy to do. What I wonder is if Jennifer still loves the jerk.”

  “You mean enough to sleep with him?”

  Kay shrugged. “That’s one way to put it. What’s the quote—‘I kissed thee ere I killed thee’?”

  “Othello,” I said.

  Kay smiled. “Yes. I was Desdemona in a reading we did in our high school English class. Cal Vickers was Othello and Warren Wells was Iago. Not exactly type-casting.”

  I smiled back. “Maybe your English teacher had a sense of humor.”

  “Not really,” Kay said. “It was Vida Runkel’s future sister-in-law, Miss Hinshaw, who later became Mary Lou Blatt. Very strong-minded and opinionated, with a tongue that could cut steel.”

  I didn’t comment that Vida and Mary Lou had a lot in common. That was probably why they couldn’t stand each other. I put my hand on the doorknob. “By the way,” I said, “I saw Dwight earlier. He’s on duty today at the desk.”

  “Oh?” She looked intrigued. “Maybe I should call to say hi.”

  “Good idea,” I said, and left Kay to her cleaning duties.

  It was raining when I got home at three o’clock. I checked my voicemail, but Jennifer hadn’t called me. Ben, however, had left a message.

  “Hey, Sluggly,” he said, “you should have the annulment stuff by now. Maybe Dodge took a look at it and fled the county. Don’t call me—I’m off on the mission circuit for evening Masses. Go with God.”

  I hadn’t checked the mailbox. Sure enough, there was a huge packet stuffed inside. It was addressed to Milo in care of me, but of course I’d let him open it. Maybe not today, though. We’d both been through enough already.

  The phone rang as I put the mail on the coffee table. “Can you keep your mouth shut?” Spencer Fleetwood asked.

  “About what?”

  “Rosalie—and me,” he said, sounding subdued. “Hear me out. I met her at a PBS fund-raiser just after her husband had to be institutionalized. She impressed me in a lot of ways. I decided that maybe she could help me out of my funk over losing the love of my life. I’d never seen a shrink before. In the process, she became the new love of my life. But she had a husband. You know how that goes when it comes to the case of the crazy spouse. Maybe now, down the road, we have a real future. But in the meantime, I’d appreciate your discretion. And that of your favorite bear.”

  “I’m shaking my head,” I admitted. “Not a negative response. Naturally, Milo and I wondered. Don’t worry, Spence. We can both keep a secret.”

  “Good. Then I won’t worry about him making some crack and having to break his nose.”

  “Will you tell Vida?”

  I heard him heave a sigh. “Hell, I won’t have to. She probably already knows. Doesn’t she always?”

  I agreed, and we rang off on a conciliatory note.

  Along about four-thirty, I wondered if Milo seriously planned on going out to dinner at Le Gourmand. More to the point, I doubted we could get a reservation at this late date. The restaurant drew diners from all over the region, especially on weekends. I had chicken breasts, more hamburger and tiger prawns in the freezer. We wouldn’t starve. Maybe Tanya would be back with us. Feeling unsettled, I resumed cleaning out not only Adam’s closet, but two of his bureau drawers.

  It was almost six when Milo arrived, looking weary. “Sit,” I said, pushing him to the easy chair. “Let me get you a drink.”

  “Make it a stiff one,” he said, handing me his wet jacket. “God, Emma, sometimes I hate my job.”

  “What else happened?” I asked.

  “Just get the drinks,” he said, collapsing in the chair.

  I pulled the chicken from the freezer and got out more ice. Obviously, we were going to eat chez Dodge.

  After making drinks, I sat on the floor next to the easy chair. “Tell your wife all about it,” I said, looking up at Milo.

  He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Mel burned all the photos they could find, but we confiscated Wayne’s computer. He’d used a program that allegedly wipes stuff out, but it’s still there. It just takes some guru to find it, and we will. Even if he’s dead, he may have had customers outside the area. At least he can’t peddle that junk anymore to high school kids or anybody else in SkyCo.”

  “You might have gotten on top of that sooner if Freeman hadn’t put the lid on things at the high school.”

  “That’s the trouble,” Milo said, lighting cigarettes for both of us and handing me mine. “All this damned secrecy—Cookie and Tiff, Freeman, Woo. Sure, I respect people’s right of privacy, but it impedes justice and causes bad things to happen. Damn it, I’m still not sure what to do about Durwood. Am I getting soft?”

  “You’ve had to face this sort of impossible situation before,” I pointed out. “Did you lose any sleep over it?”

  “It was different back then. The guilty parties were on their way out. Durwood’s in good shape for his age. Physically, anyway.”

  “That’s my point. Deep down, do you feel he should be punished?”

  “Hell, no.” Milo sipped his drink and looked thoughtful. “I publicly stated it was a possible homicide. If I retract that statement, how do I look? Like a dope? How does that make the SnoCo lab guys look?”

  “Confused. I’m confused. Maybe Wayne was almost dead after Tiff jabbed him. Maybe Durwood was confused. Have Tiff make a formal statement about why she stabbed her dad in the first place. Eventually the whole town is going to find out what happened to her.”

  Milo frowned at me. “How?”

  I rested my arm on his leg and smiled. “Vida. How else? You let her broadcast that on her program and she may start speaking to you again.”

  “Is that good news or bad news?”

  I punched him. Gently. “You know what it is. And it is news.”

  “For you, too,” he murmured.

  I grimaced. “I’m dumping this one on Mitch. I might let Vida and Spence scoop me. We can do a follow-up series on child molestation.”

  Milo held out his glass. “How about a refill?”

  I polished off the rest of my bourbon. “Why not? The chicken’s not thawed yet.”

  Milo followed me out to the kitchen. “I forgot to tell you Dwight got a tip today about Blackwell’s stabbing.”

  “Oh?” My back was turned as I added more ice to our glasses. “What was it?”

  “Not for publication. Yet.” His gaze was steely. “That nurse at RestHaven, Jennifer Hood. You won’t believe this, but Dwight told me she was Blackwell’s first wife. Maybe she really did make those other so-called threats on his life. It galls me to think I might have to bust her. I wonder if she was afraid the S.O.B. would make trouble for …” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Emma, you little twit! How’d you figure out that one?”

  I fell against him and he put his arms around me. “You told me not to get into trouble, so I didn’t. I just worked on some research.”

  I felt him groan. “I’m glad I married you. You’re too dangerous to be let loose on your own.”

  I looked up into his eyes. “Are you sure we’re married? You said you got a waiver, but I thought bo
th parties had to sign the application.”

  “Right. You signed it.”

  “When?”

  He chuckled. “When you thought you were signing the quote for Melville. You never looked at the thing. You were still half asleep.”

  I tried to pull away, but he held me fast. “You tricked me?”

  He shrugged. “I lost you once. I wanted to make damned sure it wouldn’t happen again. Are you sorry?”

  I put my arms around his neck. “No. But it must be the only time you didn’t go by the book, Sheriff.”

  “That’s because I wanted to write my own book. You realize you’re stuck here with me in Alpine for the rest of your life?”

  A flood of memories came back to me, almost as if they were reflected in Milo’s intense hazel eyes: my first day on the job, with Vida overwhelming me with names and places as foreign as if I’d landed in Outer Mongolia; the little town’s cluster of nondescript commercial buildings and mostly modest houses clinging to the craggy terrain of Tonga Ridge; the smallness of it all, the relative isolation, the thick forest encroaching on a tiny patch of civilization. I’d spent my life in cities. I’d come face-to-face with culture shock. All I’d had was a college-bound son, a used Jaguar, and a will to strike out on my own. I hadn’t thought about spending the rest of my life in Alpine. Getting from one deadline to the next and putting out a decent newspaper were my only goals. I never guessed that when I stumbled into the sheriff’s office on a warm August afternoon, I’d met my future. I’d had no dream of finding my own little Eden, my snowcapped paradise, my Xanadu in the Valley of the Sky.

  I looked up at Milo. “Maybe this is where I was always headed, even when I wasn’t sure where I was going. I might belong here after all.”

  He nodded. “We both do. It’s home, Mrs. Dodge.”

  I smiled. “And now it’s our home.”

  To Tim Raetzloff, the leader of the Alpine Conservancy,

  and to all the Alpine Advocates who have revived

  a town that I thought was lost forever.