by Mary Daheim
“None. As I recall, you had some friends in the area that you and she visited occasionally. That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“They’re closer to Startup, where I lived before I bought the condo in town,” Buck said. “Anyway, they spend their winters in Arizona. Vida knows that.”
I decided to be more candid with Buck than I’d been with Marje. The colonel was an honorable military man and not given to gossip. “Vida hasn’t been herself the last few days,” I said, and went on to explain that she’d asked to curtail her contributions to the newspaper. “She didn’t really give me a reason. Then this morning she told me that Amy was being hospitalized. Of course, Vida was upset.”
Buck let out an exasperated sigh. “Amy and Ted are decent people, but they were damned fools when it came to raising Roger. Worse yet, Vida wouldn’t listen to me years ago when I told her to stop spoiling the little bastard.” He sat up even straighter in the chair. “Not in so many words, of course. But she told me it was none of my business. We had a brief falling-out over that, in fact.”
I remembered Vida’s allusion to their quarrel. Although she had never mentioned the cause, I’d guessed it was about Roger. “He’s always been her blind spot.”
“The little punk should’ve joined the Marines when Vida told me he was dithering around about college. College, mind you!” The colonel was turning a bit red in the face. “Roger needed discipline, the old-fashioned kind you get in the service. I told Vida that at the time, but she wouldn’t listen. She claimed he graduated from high school, but I’d bet my last two bits he didn’t. No wonder he ended up in the stockade!”
I managed not to smile at Buck’s military terminology. But he wasn’t finished. “Sorry, Emma, I got carried away. I’m upset about poor Vida. I’ve grown very fond of her over the years. When do you think I could call on her in the hospital? I wouldn’t want to upset her if she didn’t want me to see her when she wasn’t at her best.”
“Tomorrow, maybe,” I replied. “I was going to see her after work, but I changed my mind. She may not be ready to see visitors.”
Buck nodded rather absently. “I’ll wait, too.” He stood up. “Now I’ll go over to Posies Unlimited and have Delphine Corson send a nice bouquet. Roses, at least a couple of dozen. Vida likes roses.”
“She does,” I agreed. “Vida’s lucky to have you in her life.”
“Cuts both ways,” he said before squaring his broad shoulders and turning around to exit my cubbyhole. There was something touching—even brave—about the octogenarian Colonel Bardeen’s military bearing. The urge to salute him returned despite the fact that he couldn’t see me. Instead, I smiled to myself. Buck and Vida were a reminder that love is ageless. The thought didn’t lift my spirits, though I held it close anyway.
But I couldn’t imagine a world without Vida.
Chapter 16
Shortly after four-thirty, I noticed my entire staff was in the newsroom. Alison was dismantling the coffee urn to clean it, and Kip had come from the back shop to ask Mitch a question regarding some copy he’d submitted about road closures. I interrupted to ask if any of them had ever heard of a Piper Erskine from Montana. Everybody looked blank except for Leo.
“You mean the one mentioned in that personals ad?” he responded. “I figured it was a query about a runaway. There was no description given, not even age or sex. The name Piper could go either way.”
“That’s true,” I admitted. “I wonder if we should find out some details. I’ve never heard of Hardin, Montana, so I assume it’s a small town. Maybe we should see if this J. L. Erskine has a phone listing.”
Mitch and Kip both looked puzzled, but it was a bemused Liza who asked why I was so curious.
I confessed that I really didn’t know. “It’s one of those weird things that seems to ring a bell.”
“Reporter’s hunch,” Mitch remarked with what passed for a smile. “Sometimes they actually pay off.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s not the name but the town. When I was growing up, my family took a couple of car trips through Montana. Maybe we went through there and stopped for lunch.”
Noticing that my staff was looking as if the subject was of no interest or that they wished I’d evaporate so they could wind up their duties for the day, I beat a measured retreat.
Once I was back at my desk, I clicked a Montana map onto my computer screen. Hardin was a town of a little over three thousand a few miles south of I-90. There was no reason my family would have left the Interstate to take that route. But I couldn’t think of any other reason why something about the ad had sounded familiar.
I checked my to-do list. Unlike more organized professionals, I had no daily planner, but jotted down reminders on whatever scrap of paper was available. In this case, it was the back of a grocery list from the previous week. As usual, I had trouble deciphering some of the chicken scratches that passed for my handwriting. My phone rang before I could figure out what “nonse slony” meant.
My husband’s voice bellowed in my ear: “I’ll be late. Some damned jackass just reported a car floating in the Sky below where the Tye River comes into it.” He hung up before I could remind him that I had no car, on land or on water.
I practically fell over my own feet rushing out into the newsroom, where only Mitch remained at his desk. “Your boss is without transportation,” I confessed. “Is it possible you could give me a ride home?”
My reporter hesitated only a fraction of a second. No doubt he was considering whether Brenda would worry if he was late arriving at their house. “Sure. It’s stopped snowing, but I chained up this morning. I’m used to snow, though, being from Detroit, otherwise known as the Big Freezer on the Lake. I’m done for the day. Are you ready to roll?”
I told him I’d grab my coat and purse. And then remembered that “nonse slony” translated as “nurse story,” the series I intended to do down the road. Way down, given what was happening now in Alpine.
Two minutes later we were in Mitch’s Ford Taurus where I broached the subject of the floating car. “This may be something to post online and not a full-fledged story,” I said. “It’s not a first that a car landed in the river.”
Mitch nodded. “I covered the previous disaster. That was a grim one. You were there, too. Almost the same time of year, right?”
“Yes. But we didn’t have any snow when it happened.” The tragedy had had an impact on Vida, ironically a good one. The hooker who had given birth to Roger’s baby was one of the two victims. Shared custody was no longer a problem. But not long after that, her grandson had been sent to prison for dealing drugs and procuring teenage hookers. I was momentarily silent, fretting about Vida’s current condition. We were going straight up Fourth Street, which hadn’t been plowed except for the first block off Alpine’s main drag in the downtown area. I wondered if our own street had been cleared.
It hadn’t, but Mitch proved he was a winter weather veteran by plowing through almost to the front door. “I’ll check out the floater as soon as I get home,” he said. “Do you want me to let you know what I find out?”
“Not unless somebody was in it. The river’s running fairly fast, so the car may be halfway to Sultan by now. You may have to call Snohomish County or the state patrol.”
Mitch agreed, and I got out of the Taurus, immediately sinking boot-high into the snow. I went to the front door, rather than taking my usual route of coming into the kitchen via the garage. My cell rang just as I stepped inside.
“Where the hell are you?” Milo demanded. “I’m outside your damned office, but it’s locked up.”
“Mitch brought me home,” I replied. “I just got here. I thought you’d be checking out the car that went into the…” I realized my husband had hung up on me. As I started to close the door, I saw Mitch reverse on Fir Street and stop. The snowplow was grinding its way past our log cabin
.
Ten minutes later, as I was starting to put dinner together, Milo stalked into the kitchen. “Why the hell didn’t you call and let me know you had a ride? Did you think I’d forgotten you’re my wife?”
I glared at him. “Why the hell don’t you prove that I am by kissing me, you big jerk?”
Milo grimaced, took off his regulation hat, and tossed it in the vicinity of the dishwasher. The hazel eyes sparked as he scooped me up, carried me into the living room, through the hall, and into the bedroom.
Half an hour later he rolled over in the king-sized bed and kissed my nose. “Was that proof enough?” he asked.
“Mmmm. Yes. Yes, it was.” I put my arms around his neck and held him close.
* * *
—
We finally sat down to eat dinner a little before seven. I remembered to ask him if he knew what had happened to the car in the river, how it had gotten there in the first place, and had anyone been in it.
“The Mazda was empty when it went in the river and so was the gas tank,” Milo replied. “It was probably pushed into the Sky. The plates revealed it was stolen from outside of a tavern in Shelton.” He paused to take a big bite of T-bone steak and stared at me.
“Mickey O’Neill!” I exclaimed. “He must have swiped the car and then ditched it. So where are Mickey and Sofia?”
“Not in the Skykomish River,” Milo said. “There were no reports of stolen cars in this area for the last four days. My guess is that they’re hiding out somewhere around here. I had Heppner check out the O’Neill place again late this afternoon, but no sign of anyone having been around there.”
“Everybody has to be somewhere,” I murmured. “How many empty houses are there around here? You must have some idea.”
“About thirty, thirty-five,” Milo replied. “Some of them are no more than shacks. My deputies check them out fairly often, especially the ones by the railroad tracks. They’re magnets for bums riding the trains. We hustle them off because they can start fires. That’s especially dangerous in the summer when everything’s so dry. You might remember last August when we had so little rain that two of those shacks burned down. Luckily, they were out toward the end of the Burl Creek Road and got reported before they could set off more than some bushes and a couple of trees.”
I did remember the incidents. We’d run only a couple of inches on page three about the fires. We didn’t include Forest Ranger Bunky Smythe’s mishap when he’d stopped by to check with the firefighters and gotten bit in the rear end by a chipmunk. Bunky had to visit the ER in case his attacker was rabid.
I switched gears, explaining to Milo about the personals ad and asking if he’d ever heard of anyone named Piper Erskine. He chewed more steak and reflected. “There was a Bob Piper in my high school class, but the family moved away not long after we graduated.”
“No help there,” I said. “Somebody around here must know the name. The person who sent in the ad had a reason for thinking he—or she—may’ve lived here. Vida would know, if anybody does. I’ll call the hospital to see how she’s doing.”
It was after seven-thirty before I was able to get through to someone who could give me any information.
“Mrs. Runkel is finally in a room,” Constance Peterson informed me. “She’s listed as stable.”
Constance wasn’t my least favorite of the nurses at the hospital, but she came close. “Were they able to put her in with her daughter, Amy Hibbert? I know she was admitted earlier today.”
“No. Mrs. Hibbert is in another room. Mrs. Runkel is with someone else.”
I wondered if I dared ask who. Probably not. Instead, I posed a different question. “What exactly does ‘stable’ mean?”
“That the patient’s condition hasn’t changed,” Constance replied.
I felt like asking if a patient who was dead on arrival would also be described as “stable,” but refrained. “Is Mrs. Runkel conscious?”
“No. She’s been sedated. Excuse me, a patient is ringing. Check back tomorrow.” Nurse Peterson hung up.
Milo looked up from the spy book he’d been reading. “You got Ruth Sharp at the other end?”
“Not quite that bad,” I replied, recalling one of the most harrowing nights of my life: I’d almost gotten killed by a nut job at the hospital while Nurse Sharp sat on her butt going over charts. “Constance Peterson. She’s an LPN, but another one who thinks she’s working for the CIA. Vida’s listed as stable and has been sedated, which tells me zip.”
“Do you want me to call and tell Nurse Peterson that Vida’s condition is part of an ongoing investigation?”
I shook my head. “She can’t tell me what she doesn’t know. Besides, it’s not true.”
Milo shrugged. “If you say so.” He went back to his spies.
But, I wondered, was it possible that Vida’s wipeout with the Buick had occurred during a personal investigation she was undertaking? Why had she been heading away from Alpine when Amy was being admitted to the hospital? Vida never did anything without a good reason. I just wished I knew what it was.
* * *
—
Thursday morning the first thing I saw on my desk calendar was a note I’d scrawled reminding me of bridge club at Edna Mae Dalrymple’s house. I’d forgotten all about it. Spence had emailed me to say he was having Leo interview Liza on Vida’s program. That was a nice touch on Mr. Radio’s part. I’d listen to the program before heading to the bridge bash at Edna Mae’s, a block away on Fir Street. Of course, the other members would also tune in. Word might not have gotten out that Vida wouldn’t be at the mic.
There had been no new snow during the night and the main streets in the heart of town had been plowed, so I’d driven my Honda to work. At some point during the day I’d go to see Vida. I’d also call to check on her condition, but not until after nine o’clock. I already knew that early morning visitors weren’t welcome.
The coffee urn was still perking when I went into the newsroom. Alison always plugged it in before she even took off her jacket. It dawned on me that I hadn’t seen her in the front office when I arrived.
Leo apparently read my mind. “Liza started the coffee,” he said with a glance at his wife, who was staring at her monitor. “Alison’s late this morning. Maybe her car wouldn’t start. I don’t think she’s fussy enough about upkeep on that Audi. They’re good automobiles, but they still need maintenance.”
Before I could say anything, my phone rang. “Maybe that’s her now.” I scurried into my cubbyhole and snatched up the receiver. It wasn’t Alison, but Lori Cobb, her roommate. As I glanced at the number on the little screen, I saw that Lori was calling not from the sheriff’s office but from the condo she shared with Alison.
“Emma?” She sounded breathless.
“Yes, Lori?” I responded.
“Alison slipped on some ice in the underground parking area. I think she may have broken her wrist. I’m taking her to the ER. I’ll let you know what happens, okay?”
I heard a click. Lori was off and coping.
The rest of my staff was now staring at the urn as if they could will it to finish perking. I decided to make an announcement about our injured receptionist.
“Poor girl!” Liza exclaimed. “I thought I’d be the one to have that happen. I’ve never lived in an icy place. I can move to the front office. Somebody should be there to greet visitors.”
“It’s either you or me,” I said. “I don’t have any appointments this morning, though I plan to see Vida at the hospital later on.”
“I’ll take the front,” Liza insisted. “You’re the boss. How is Vida?”
I recounted what little I knew. Kip shook his head. “I had a bad feeling about her. Where the heck was she going?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Colonel Bardeen came to see me because he thought it was strange.”<
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The urn stopped perking and the red light went on. Leo bowed. “You go first, boss lady.”
I did and realized we had no pastries. Apparently it had been Alison’s turn. Mitch volunteered to head for the Upper Crust.
As he rushed off, Leo chuckled. “Unfair. The skinniest guy eats the most goodies and never gains an ounce.” It was not an uncommon complaint from my ad manager.
The mail arrived shortly before nine-thirty. Liza also brought me a couple of letters for Vida’s advice column. “What do we do with these? Just hold on to them?”
I didn’t know what to say. “Go ahead and read them. If the writer doesn’t sound as if he or she is about to stick his or her head in a gas oven, we can hold off on answers.”
“Sounds good,” Liza agreed, and left the usual stack of automatic recyclables on my desk.
A few minutes after nine, I called the hospital. To my relief, Julie Canby answered. “Emma!” she exclaimed. “How many patients are you checking on? I assume Mrs. Runkel is at the top of your list.”
“You got that right,” I assured her. “How is she?”
“She broke three ribs on her right side,” Julie replied. “The Buick skidded on black ice and crashed into a guardrail. The steering wheel caused the damage, but there’s not much that can be done for broken ribs. They usually heal on their own. Since Mrs. Runkel is older, Doc Dewey insisted she stay in the hospital for a day or two.”
“Did Vida try to talk him out of it?”
“I don’t know.” Julie paused. “I shouldn’t tell you this, Emma, but I trust you. Doc kept her in the ER because he thought she was in shock. Or maybe had had a stroke. He told me that except for a few isolated words, Mrs. Runkel didn’t talk. That struck him as…uncharacteristic.”