by Mary Daheim
Out in the hall, I could hear the rattle of trays. “It sounds like they’re getting ready to serve lunch. I’d better get out of the way.” As I stood up, I smiled at Amy. “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable at home. Ted will take very good care of you.”
“He’ll have to go back to work,” Amy said. “I’ll be all alone.”
“Then you can sleep in peace,” I pointed out. “Hospitals really aren’t conducive to quiet nights.”
Amy just shrugged. I blew both patients a kiss and left.
Walking down the hill, I wondered why Vida had lied about where she was going when the Buick went out of control. She might dance around the truth, but usually she had a valid reason. I hoped she had one now.
* * *
—
Before I left the hospital, I’d called Milo on my cell to ask if he’d like to have lunch with me. He couldn’t. It was Bill Blatt’s birthday and he was taking his deputy to lunch at the ski lodge. Rebuffed, I decided to order takeout from the Venison Inn. I’d use the lunch hour to bear down on what we’d run in the special edition. I already had the Hollenbergs’ trip to Norway and Dick and Mary Jane Bourgette’s Vatican visit on the list. Then I remembered that their daughters, Rosemary and Terri, had gone on a Caribbean cruise in the fall. Rosemary was the Skykomish County prosecuting attorney, and Terri worked as a hostess and bookkeeper at their brothers’ fifties-style diner, The Heartbreak Hotel. I also recalled that Superior Court judge Diane Proxmire had spent two weeks in Greece. Maybe I had enough to fill the special edition. I just hoped that all the travelers had taken some decent photos. Except for the Nyquists, the era of fuzzy Polaroids was coming to a close.
Half an hour later, I was finishing my rare beef dip, fries, and salad when I saw Grace Grundle weave her way through the empty newsroom. The old girl had an inner-ear problem that made her look as if she’d had a few too many, but Vida swore that the retired schoolteacher had never touched liquor in her life.
“I’m so glad you’re in your office, Emma,” she declared, wobbling a bit as she parked her plump self into a visitor chair. “I was afraid you might be out to lunch.”
“No rest for the wicked,” I said with a smile. “We’re planning a special edition on vacations that Alpiners have taken this past year so that we can include advertisers who specialize in travel items. We’ll also include those who have trips planned for this year. Have you thought about going anywhere in the near future?”
Grace looked faintly shocked by the question. “My, no! I couldn’t leave my kitties by themselves. I haven’t been anywhere since my late husband died. Even when he was alive, the one big trip we took was to visit our relatives in Kansas.”
The Grundles had been childless, so I’d always assumed the kitties made up for the lack of kiddies. “Milo and I have been thinking about a Canadian trip. We’d like to see the eastern part of Canada.”
“It’s a very large country,” Grace noted. “My students were always amazed to learn that it’s much bigger than the United States. But not as large a population, of course.” There was a note of pride in her voice, though her expression quickly changed to a frown. “So surprising that many of them couldn’t find Canada on a map. Why, we’re so close to it here in Alpine!”
“True,” I said, wondering when Grace would get to the point. If there was a point. Just to move her on to another subject, I asked if she knew that Vida was in the hospital.
Grace’s response was indignant. “That’s why I stopped by. She shouldn’t be driving at her age. I admit to being a few years older than Vida, but I knew enough to give up my car when I turned eighty-two a couple of years ago. I live close enough to everything that I can walk. Of course, the snow was off-putting. I almost ran out of food for my kitties. I’ll stop at the pet store today. I came downtown to buy a new photo album at Buddy and Roseanna Bayard’s studio, but they were out of the kind I like. Fortunately, they can order a special one for me.” She grimaced. “That awful man from the disreputable motel was there asking Buddy to take pictures of the motel to use for postcard advertisements. Such a shoddy place, though of course I’ve never been inside.”
“He stays in business.” It was the only thing I could think of to say. My brain seemed to have gone dead.
“Milo should shut him down,” Grace declared. “Surely Mr. Pace must violate several hospitality codes.”
“That’s up to the county health department,” I said. “The sheriff’s office has been called a few times about problem guests, but that happens even in the best motels.”
Grace glanced at her gold Gruen watch, which was probably even older than Vida’s Bulova. “It’s almost one. I should be on my way.” She pushed back the chair and held on to the desk as she got to her feet. “I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Pace to have killed that poor young woman. You must tell Milo not to let him leave town.”
“I don’t think Will ever does,” I said. “I’ve never known him to go on a trip. I suppose he doesn’t trust anyone to take over his business.”
Having gotten upright, Grace moved to the door. “Well, he is now. He wanted those postcards to take with him because this weekend he’s leaving for Mexico. Goodbye, Emma, do take care.”
Grace wobbled away.
I glanced at my watch. It was ten after one. Milo should be finished with Bill’s birthday celebration. Maybe I was overreacting, but I felt that my husband might be interested in Will Pace’s travel plans. I put my notes on the special edition in order and went to see the sheriff.
* * *
—
Lori was on the phone and Consi was accepting payment for a speeding ticket from a young man I didn’t recognize. Their boss’s door was open, so I kept on going.
Milo looked up from something he’d been reading. “What now?” he asked in less-than-husbandly fashion.
I sat down before I spoke. “Your favorite innkeeper is going to Mexico.”
“My…?” The sheriff frowned. “You mean…Will Pace?”
“Yes. Grace Grundle just told me he’s leaving this weekend.”
Milo sighed. “Since when is poor old Grace a reliable source?”
“When she heard him say so to the Bayards. He had them making up some postcards of his motel, presumably for advertising purposes.”
Leaning back in his chair, Milo picked up a ballpoint pen and clicked it several times. “I’ll call Buddy to find out if Pace told him or Roseanna about the so-called trip. Maybe I should send a deputy to the motel to find out if it’s true. Jamison’s on patrol. She can handle him.” He put down the pen and reached for the phone.
I stood up. “Will you be home at the regular time tonight?”
Milo grimaced. “I don’t know. It depends on when Jason Campbell gets here. He’s supposed to arrive around two, but his flight may not be on time. Why don’t we eat out?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “Good luck with the interview.” I blew Milo a kiss and left him to deal with his visitor from Oakland.
When I got back to the office, Alison was on the phone and Leo was the only staffer in the newsroom. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. Ed Bronsky was stuffed into a visitor chair. He saw me before I could scurry down the hall and try to sneak into my cubbyhole.
“Emma!” Ed exclaimed. “Tell this stubborn Irishman why you couldn’t use a freelance ad guy to take the burden off him so that he doesn’t have to hustle all the time. I know he’s been talking about retirement. He can ease his way out with some help, right?”
“Actually,” I said, “now that Mrs. Walsh is working here, their plans have changed.”
Ed’s furry eyebrows shot up. “Mrs. Walsh? What do you mean? I thought she was in California.”
I gave him a disappointed look. “Don’t you ever read the Advocate, Ed? Liza is our new House & Home editor.”
Ed ran a beefy hand over h
is bald spot. “Well…sure, right, but that’s not the point. I’m talking about adding to the bottom line. What’s wrong with some extra help making money for the paper?”
“Nothing,” I assured him, “but we’re doing okay. As you know, Vida has semiretired and Liza’s taken her place. We compensate Vida for her advice column, ‘Scene,’ and an occasional old-timers piece, but that’s it for extra expenses. I didn’t realize you wanted to work again.”
“I don’t,” Ed replied. “I mean, I’m not the one to do the job I’m proposing. Joey dropped out of the community college, so Shirley and I thought he might like to get a taste of reality by having a job. The newspaper seemed like a good way to give Joey an idea about real work.”
I noticed that Leo had turned away. It was hard for either of us to keep a straight face. “I thought Joey had a job,” I said.
Ed scowled and waved a pudgy hand. “I don’t want him taking a mindless job like slinging Big Macs or pushing a broom at Harvey’s Hardware. Joey needs a challenge.”
Like getting up in the morning? But I didn’t say so out loud. “I’m sorry, Ed. We’re at full speed.” I went on, my worst self coming to the fore, “Why not check with Spencer Fleetwood? He often hires college kids.”
Ed’s squinty eyes widened slightly. “Hey, that’s a great idea! I’ll head right out to KSKY.” He hoisted his considerable weight out of the chair. “That reminds me,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket, “I need to get gas. Gee, I left my wallet at home. Either of you got a spare twenty?”
My purse was in the cubbyhole, so I shook my head. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I had a twenty. But Leo took out two tens and handed them to Ed. “That should cover it,” my current ad manager said.
“Right,” Ed agreed. “I’ll pay you back, of course.” He bustled off through the newsroom.
Leo and I looked at each other. We knew we’d see Ed again—that was unavoidable—but he wouldn’t have the twenty bucks.
Back at my desk, I pondered Ed’s slothfulness. Shirley was supposed to be substituting at the public and parish grade schools, which I suppose was how they survived. None of the Bronskys were starving to death. They’d finally gotten their money from RestHaven’s purchase of Casa de Bronska for its mental health facilities. That had been over a year ago, but I suspected they’d already blown most of the windfall.
My mind was wandering. I forced myself to focus on story assignments for the special edition. Mitch and I could handle most of it, but Liza would take on the retirees. I might let Alison try her hand at writing a story. She could do something about college students planning to travel abroad. If any of them at SkyCo CC were that adventurous.
I considered checking in with Vida to ask if Ted had taken Amy home. But even as I stared at the phone, I remembered the old man who had stumbled in the hospital hallway. John Smith, visiting his wife, Mary Smith. I had one of my rare reporter’s hunches. Maybe they really weren’t John and Mary Smith. Julie Canby had probably finished her shift, so she should be at home or helping her husband, Spike, run the Icicle Creek Tavern. I tried the tavern first. Julie answered on the third ring.
“Are you busy?” I asked after introducing myself.
“Not really,” Julie answered. “Only the serious drinkers are here in the middle of the afternoon. I’m in the kitchen making the edibles for tonight. If you have a question for me, I can guess what it is. The Smiths?”
“If I had a prize to give away,” I said with a laugh, “you’d win it. Yes, I am suspicious. Are they aging celebrities who are hiding out in Alpine from their fans?”
“No, nothing that exciting.” Julie paused. “But he’s very protective of their privacy. The wife has suffered a stroke—she’d already had two mild ones—so if she recovers, she may need physical therapy. But when she was admitted, her husband told Doc Dewey that they knew how Vida often put patients’ names into her ‘Scene’ column to wish them a speedy recovery. He convinced Doc that they should use assumed names. It seemed harmless enough, so that’s what they did. Besides, they don’t actually live in Alpine. Vida might not even know who they are.”
“Where do they live?” I asked.
“Somewhere near Baring,” Julie replied. “I think Constance Peterson said it was a log cabin.”
An alarm went off in my head. “What are their real names?”
“Waldo and Julia Danforth. Does that mean anything to you?”
“No. Not really.” But I knew it meant something to Vida or she wouldn’t have passed out after she heard Waldo Danforth’s name. I thanked Julie and rang off.
A glance at my calendar gave me a start. I’d forgotten my bridge club date and that Fleetwood was having Leo interview Liza in Vida’s programming slot. None of my bridge cronies would miss the show, but they were in for a surprise. I did wonder how Spence would handle his star’s absence. Maybe he’d already announced the programming change.
I called Milo to tell him that if he was going to be late, we couldn’t eat out. There wouldn’t be time to get back before the program came on. The sheriff was on the phone, according to Lori. And no, his visitor hadn’t shown up yet. Jason Campbell had called from Sea-Tac to say his flight had been delayed out of the Bay Area. Lori promised to relay my message.
I spent the rest of the workday going over notes that some of our travelers had made about their trips. I tackled Violet Hollenberg’s first, just to get it out of the way. Unfortunately, she had written it in longhand. “Spidery” was the kindliest description of her handwriting. Violet might not be much of a talker, but she did go on when she wrote. Nor did she stop when she finished recounting their Leavenworth adventure. One of their children had taken a cruise the past year. I only got as far as where someone “threw up in his lunch”—and after a few puzzled moments realized that she meant the person “drew up in his launch.” I quit reading, noticed it was almost five, and called it a day.
Instead of taking my usual route home, I drove along Front Street to see if I could tell whether Jason Campbell had finally shown up. Apparently he had. A new silver Infiniti with a rental sticker on the windshield was parked outside. Milo would be late for dinner. I decided I should meet Rachel’s ex-boyfriend. Luckily, Lori was just pulling out, so I slowed down and waved at her. Whoever was behind me honked twice. I didn’t recognize the pickup truck or the driver, so I ignored him.
Only Consi was still in the front office. “I’m waiting for Mullins to relieve me,” she said. “He’s late.” The new deputy oozed disapproval.
“Jack’s dependable,” I responded. “He may not be able to find a parking place. I lucked out and got Lori’s.”
“Jack can park out back,” Consi said. “That’s what I did the other day when the spaces out front were full up. Have you come to see the sheriff? He’s interviewing Jason Campbell, who only got here about five minutes ago. Dodge was getting impatient.”
I’d noted that Milo’s door was closed. “Yes,” I said. “I know. His aunt, Jean Campbell, came to see me today. She wanted me to meet him, so the sheriff told me I could join them.” It was a lie, but journalists have to resort to desperate tactics. Before Consi could say anything, I’d already opened the gate in the counter and was moving past her. My hand was on the doorknob when I heard her say, “I don’t know if you should…” By then, I was inside Milo’s office and was closing the door.
Milo looked startled, if not annoyed. He spoke first to Jason. “Meet my wife, Emma. She owns the local weekly newspaper.”
Jason stood up and we shook hands. “Are you here to write a story about me?” His brown eyes were wary.
“No,” I replied, sitting down in the other visitor chair. “I’m here to learn more about Rachel Douglas. My reporter Mitch Laskey and I have been covering the story of her murder.”
Shaking his head, Jason also sat down. “I still can’t believe it. Why would anyone do that to Rac
hel? It had to be a head case.”
Milo leaned back in his chair. “I told Jason we’re not ruling it out. Will Pace isn’t the kind of motel owner who’s fussy about his guests. And yes, he’s apparently already left town.”
I stared at my husband. “Who’s running the motel?”
“Fred Engelman,” Milo replied. “He’s been out of work since Blackwell fired him after he did some freelance tree-poaching and tried to make Jack pony up. Fred sold the timber to someone in Ferndale.”
Jason kept looking from one of us to the other. “I didn’t know logging was so controversial except with environmentalists.”
“It is in a town that was founded on logging,” Milo said. “During the eighties, those environmentalists almost put Alpine out of business. But the state came to the rescue by building a community college.” He glanced at me. “Emma moved here while we were still in a slump.”
Jason smiled at me. “I noticed the sign for the timber company. At least one mill has survived. You were very brave to move to Alpine.”
I shrugged. “I figured I’d live here until I retired and sold the paper, then move back to my native Seattle. Obviously, my plans changed.”
“It seems like a nice little town,” Jason said. “It looks pretty in the winter. The only snow I’ve ever seen is when I skied up at Tahoe.”
Milo was shifting around in his chair, an indication that he was growing impatient with the chitchat. “Speaking of weather,” he said to Jason, “I don’t want to keep you here in case it starts to snow again. We’ve already had a few accidents here in town and out on the highway.”
Jason nodded. “I was thinking about staying over to visit my Campbell relatives, but maybe I should make that a quick drop-in and hit the road. I felt I owed it to Rachel to tell you anything that might help you find whoever did such a terrible thing. Being adopted—I suppose it was natural that she’d want to know who her real parents were.”