Bitter Alpine

by Mary Daheim

  “I was going to Montana,” she replied, “to see the ranch I inherited. I…” She paused, and I heard her cough several times. “Sorry. But I started to feel like crap just after I went past Sultan. I stopped at this motel and hung out in the lobby, hoping I’d feel better. But I didn’t. That’s when I checked in.” Her voice had grown stronger.

  “Okay, Patti, I’ll call the front desk and see if they can help you. I’ll let you know what I find out. Give me the motel’s number.”

  More rustling and a sound like something had fallen on the floor. I hoped it wasn’t Patti.

  “I dropped the phone book,” she said. “Hold on. I need to put on my cheaters.” After what sounded like a lot of fumbling, she gave me the number. I told her I’d call her back.

  “No,” she said in a defiant voice. “I’ll call you in fifteen minutes. I didn’t register under my own name in case Jack bothered to try to find me. I’m in room four-twenty. I’ll hang up now.”

  “How will I know what to tell the front desk…” The line went dead.

  I dialed the motel and someone named Rose answered. I explained that a friend of mine was the guest in room 420 and needed a doctor. Was it possible to send for someone to see her?

  Rose asked if I knew why she needed medical attention. I explained that she’d just gotten out of the hospital here in Alpine and—sticking to Patti’s version—apparently had suffered a relapse from her injuries in a fall. Rose said she’d notify the clinic that the motel used for guests who had health problems. I thanked her and rang off.

  But I felt guilty. I couldn’t say I really liked Patti, but she’d always struck me as pathetic. Dani’s father, movie producer/director Ray Marsh, had left Patti not long after their child was born. That was before my time in Alpine. Everyone assumed he’d dumped her for another woman. Years later when Ray returned to the area to film a movie starring Dani, we learned that he’d left Patti for another man. That didn’t faze most of us, but some Alpiners were—and still are—narrow-minded. Vida was not among them. She might vote for any Republican who could breathe without an oxygen mask, but she was remarkably open-minded in other ways.

  Since Vida was on my mind, I decided to call the hospital and find out if she’d managed to spring herself out of her uncomfortable bed. Unfortunately for her, she was still there.

  “Doc Dewey was most uncooperative,” Vida informed me in a testy voice. “He insisted I can’t go home until tomorrow. Haven’t I always said Gerald’s not as clever as his father, Cecil? Old Doc would know I’m fine.”

  It was pointless to argue with Vida. “You’ll probably be discharged tomorrow. How’s Amy?”

  “Still puny. She can’t make dinner for Ted, so they’re having soup out of a can. Really! The first thing I’ll do when I get home is make them a lovely casserole. I saw a recipe in a magazine last week for one with chicken gizzards, onions, parsley, and…some other things.”

  I was glad Vida couldn’t see my horrified expression, so I changed the subject. “How’s your poor roommate?”

  “She’s finally shut up with the wa-was. I tried to give her some water, but she turned away. That was a couple of hours ago. She’s been asleep ever since. I don’t think she’s had anything to drink or eat since they brought her in here. I must speak to the nurses about that. In fact, here comes Astrid Overholt now. I must hang up. Take care, Emma.”

  The phone rang almost as soon as I put down the receiver. Patti’s voice was much stronger this time around. “The medic’s coming here from the clinic in about half an hour. I hope he’s got a jug of pain meds. In fact, I’d like a jug of something else, but…to hell with it.” She paused, and I wondered if she was holding her head. “I hope nobody’s stolen my car. I had to leave it parked kind of half-assed in front of the motel.”

  “Ask someone at the front desk to put it in a regular guest…” I stopped. “If Jack’s looking for you, you should mention you want it parked behind the building.”

  “You think?” Patti paused again. “Well…maybe I should. Unless he’s not mad anymore.”

  “What if he is? Play it smart, Patti. He put you where you are in the first place. Okay?”

  I heard her sigh. “Okay. I’ll call the desk. Bye.”

  I set the phone down. After talking to Patti, I was getting a headache. But that was a minor problem. If Blackwell had left town to find his girlfriend, Patti might end up with something much worse.

  Chapter 21

  At five o’clock, I started through the newsroom, where the Walshes were arguing over whether they should walk to Pines Villa or take Leo’s car. Leo turned to ask if I intended to drive home. I told him I didn’t because the sheriff thought the Honda couldn’t handle what was now over a foot of snow. The plow had only been able to play catch-up on Front Street and Alpine Way.

  “I’d volunteer Milo to drive you there,” I said, “but he’s probably not going to leave for a while. Blackwell’s causing some problems.”

  “What now?” Leo asked.

  Liza looked bemused. “How can Black Jack screw up the town’s streets?”

  “He can screw up just about everything except running his mill,” I replied. “In fact, Bob Sigurdson’s running it for him. Jack left town.”

  Liza tugged at her husband’s sleeve. “We can walk, Leo. We could stop and eat dinner along the way at the diner.”

  Leo put his arm around her. “I warned you about winter in Alpine. I should’ve bought you a fur coat for Christmas.”

  “It’s not snowing that hard now,” Liza said. “Let’s start hiking and you can tell me why Jack Blackwell’s the town villain. We’ll walk you to the sheriff’s office, Emma. Maybe we can get arrested for bitching about the local weather and one of the deputies will take us home in a squad car.”

  Alison had already made her escape. I assumed she was riding home with her roommate, Lori. The two young women lived in the same complex as the Walshes, and had I known that Leo and Liza would be worrying about driving home, I would have asked Alison if they could ride along. But that was hindsight. Making sure that Kip was also gone, I turned off all the lights and locked the front door behind us. With a fond glance at my snow-covered Honda, I trudged alongside Leo and Liza to cover the short distance between the newspaper and the sheriff’s headquarters.

  “I’ve never been so cold in my life,” Liza declared, glancing at her husband. “You didn’t tell me how wretched the winters are.”

  Leo shrugged. “You knew we had snow here. Some years we haven’t had any. Frankly, I don’t remember it ever being this cold.” He nodded at the temperature sign by City Hall across the street, which showed that it was twenty-five degrees, then looked at me. “Do you recall the temp ever being this low before I came here?”

  I shook my head. “At the worst it hovered around thirty, maybe high twenties. It’d snow for a day or two, the temp would stay around freezing, then it’d warm up and turn to rain or else the clouds would go away and we’d have sun.”

  “That sounds good,” Liza murmured, but she didn’t look as if she believed me.

  Doe Jamison was behind the front desk. Liza hadn’t yet met her, so Leo introduced them. I scooted behind the counter and headed for the sheriff’s office. The door was open. Milo was on the phone. He motioned for me to sit down.

  “Look, LaVerne,” he said, passing a hand over his forehead, “we’re doing all we can by putting out the APB. Nobody’s called to say they’ve seen your daughter-in-law or Mickey….” Milo paused, and I could hear LaVerne screaming at him. I only caught “you big dumb bastard” and “I’ll have your fucking badge!”

  My husband took a deep breath. “You’ll have to ask Blackwell to fire me. If you’d calm down, maybe you could figure out where Sofia is. I’m hanging up now.” Which he did just after I overheard a few more outraged words from LaVerne.

  Milo shook his h
ead. “She hasn’t even gotten around to picking up the little kid from the courthouse. They closed at five. Maybe if she gets her ass over there in a hurry, they’ll let her take home Clodo or whatever the poor little kid’s name is.”

  “Chloe,” I said. “Are you ready to leave? We’re giving the Walshes a ride home. Leo’s car doesn’t handle snow or ice.”

  Milo scanned the notes he’d made on his yellow legal-sized tablet. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  The Walshes were impressed by the Yukon. Neither had ever ridden in one before. My husband told them his SUV could seat eight. “But,” he added, “I never haul more than four perps at a time. Emma doesn’t like the clean-up duty.”

  “Milo!” I exclaimed. “You’ve never asked me to clean the Yukon! You clean it.”

  He glanced at me before pulling out into traffic. “Not always. Sometimes I make my deputies do it.”

  “It’s very comfortable,” Liza said. “Do you ever let Emma drive it?”

  “She can’t,” Milo replied. “It’s partially paid for by the county. I don’t want her using it to run down a pissed-off reader in a crosswalk.”

  Both Walshes laughed, but I kept my mouth shut. At least Milo was being congenial. I’d been afraid he might be in a bad mood after the rigors of his day at work. We were now turning onto Alpine Way. The condos were a few blocks up the hill just this side of Fir, our own street.

  After we dropped off Leo and Liza, I asked Milo if he had any idea where Mickey and Sofia might have gone.

  “How the hell do I know?” he retorted. “Maybe Mickey stole another car.”

  “Has anybody around here reported a stolen car?”

  Milo shook his head. “No such reports this week except for Ralph Gunderson, who called back about ten minutes later to say his wife told him their fourteen-year-old kid took it for a joyride. Ralph’s lucky the kid got it back in one piece, especially with snow on the ground.”

  As we slowed down to approach our driveway, I noticed there was a light on in the Nelson house. I couldn’t see LaVerne’s pickup. The parking area was hidden by the snow-covered trees near the street. My heart went out to little Chloe. I hoped she still wasn’t in the Children’s Protective Services shelter at the courthouse. Even being with her feckless grandmother was better than that.

  Milo headed off to change while I stared into the fridge’s freezer compartment to decide what we should have for dinner. We were getting low on groceries. I hadn’t shopped during the week, but I found a package of halibut cheeks and put them in the microwave to thaw. Fried potatoes, green beans, and what was left of an Upper Crust apple pie would complete the meal.

  Milo entered the kitchen, where he made our drinks. I waited until we were seated in the living room to tell him about Patti’s failed attempt to visit her Montana inheritance.

  My husband held his head. “Damn! Blackwell’s probably looking for her. It’s a good thing she’s using a phony name. Do you think the motel people hid her car?”

  “I don’t know. I gather Jack hasn’t been heard from since he took off?”

  “The only one he’d talk to is Bob Sigurdson if there was a problem that came up at the mill. Blackwell doesn’t exactly have a lot of buddies around here.” Milo paused, rubbing his chin. “I can’t ask Snohomish County to keep an eye on the motel, but I could have Heppner swing by to see if the car’s out of sight.”

  “Couldn’t he go in to find out if Patti’s still there?”

  “You said she’s using a phony name. What is it?”

  I made a face. “She didn’t tell me.”

  Milo heaved a big sigh. “Okay, you call the motel. Describe Patti and ask if she’s still alive.”

  “Okay.” I reached inside the end table to get out the Monroe directory. But after I found the motel’s number, I looked at Milo. “You should be doing this. You’re the sheriff. They may not tell me anything.”

  I could see my husband start to protest, but apparently he thought better of it. “You’re right. What’s the number?”

  I tapped the directory and told him the room number. Just as he was tapping in the digits on his cell, the landline rang. I stood up, grabbed the receiver, and hurried into the kitchen. Vida’s voice resounded in my ear. “I’m not going home until tomorrow. Dr. Sung was very unreasonable. These younger practitioners don’t realize that older people aren’t as feeble as they think.”

  “He probably wants to be sure you can take care of yourself,” I pointed out. “He knows you live alone.”

  “Yes, and I’ve been doing it rather well for thirty years,” Vida huffed. “But I will be released tomorrow at eleven. Ted is picking me up. The first thing I’m going to do is call Nordby Brothers about getting another car, a used one. Maybe another Buick, if they have one on the lot. I think I saw one the last time I drove by.”

  I flinched, but realized it was useless to argue. Vida was actually a good driver. The accident had been an anomaly. “Call me after you get home,” I said. “If it warms up tomorrow and the snow melts, I may be able to come see you.”

  “That would be lovely,” Vida responded. “I should have a decent night here now that I have the room to myself.”

  I was surprised. “What happened to Mrs. Smith?”

  “She died at four o’clock. Just as well. Here comes an orderly to take my tray. I’ll be glad to get home to my own cooking. Good night, Emma.”

  I didn’t know what puzzled me more—Vida’s predilection for what she considered edible food or that Mrs. Smith was dead. She certainly had appeared to be in dire straits, but there was something about the poor old lady that had bothered me. Then I remembered her frail husband. I felt sorry for both of them. Before leaving the kitchen, I said a prayer for both of them.

  But for some weird reason, I couldn’t get her “wa-wa-wa” out of my head. Looking back now, I realized that I should have known.

  * * *

  —

  I’d given Milo Patti’s room number, and after I hung up with Vida, I went over to sit on the arm of the easy chair to listen in on his call. He identified himself as the Skykomish County sheriff but added that this was a personal inquiry, not an official one. He knew the guest in room 420 and was concerned about her health. Had she received medical attention? Rose, the woman I’d spoken to earlier, was apparently off duty, and her replacement didn’t know. She asked if the sheriff wanted to speak to Ms. Hardin.

  I saw Milo’s puzzled expression before he said he did. We waited as the call was put through. But it rang at least eight times before the woman at the desk informed us that Ms. Hardin had either gone out or was asleep. Milo and I exchanged puzzled looks.

  “Okay,” he finally said. “But would you mind checking on her when you get a chance? She just got out of the hospital. You can call me back at this number. Thanks.” Milo pocketed the cell. “What’s with this Ms. Hardin bit?”

  “That’s the name of the Montana town where Patti inherited her money,” I replied, sliding off the easy chair’s arm. “I knew she was using a phony name, but she didn’t tell me what it was.”

  “Great. I wonder if Blackwell found out where she’d gone and hauled her out of the motel. Heppner can check the motel while he’s on patrol this evening, even if it’s out of our jurisdiction. Are we ever going to eat tonight or are you trying to starve me?”

  “Give me five minutes. You haven’t finished your drink.” I headed back to the kitchen. Luckily, the halibut cheeks had been on simmer and hadn’t suffered from my neglect. I melted more butter in the skillet and flipped them over. Milo strolled into the kitchen just as I was making sure the potatoes were browning in the skillet. After I dished up the food, I asked him what was going on with Rachel’s murder investigation.

  “We’re stuck,” my husband admitted. “I still wonder about Will Pace taking off for Mexico. But I can’t see that jerk strangl
ing a guest. It’s not good for an innkeeper’s reputation.”

  “Maybe,” I suggested, “he’s not coming back.”

  Milo pondered while chewing some halibut. “We could try to extradite him. But we have no evidence except as a witness. I did ask Blackwell if he knew Rachel, and he swore he didn’t. I can usually tell when somebody’s lying, but I don’t think he was.”

  “Maybe she knew of Jack, but didn’t actually know him.”

  “Maybe,” my husband said with the lift of an eyebrow, “I almost know what you mean.”

  I decided to drop the subject.

  * * *

  —

  Around eight-thirty, I got a call from the motel. Ms. Hardin had left. No one had seen her go, but the blue Nissan was still parked out front. Someone from the clinic had come by around seven to check on her and found the room empty. She’d paid cash in advance, so they weren’t out any money. Yes, her belongings were gone, too.

  “Blackwell?” Milo asked when I related the message.

  “Probably. Her car was still at the motel.”

  “I’ll ask Sam to swing by there while he’s on patrol. I’ll have him get the Nissan towed back to Patti’s house. The motel people probably won’t be able to tell him any more than they told you, but sometimes a uniform can make a difference.”

  I agreed. But I couldn’t help worrying about Patti.

  * * *

  —

  Sam Heppner never got to the motel that night. Although the snow wasn’t as deep on Highway 2, there was still enough to cause yet another bad accident. A school bus carrying students from a basketball game in Sultan had skidded off the road and hit a guardrail near Baring. No one was seriously injured, but the bus was undrivable. Sam had to direct traffic until it could be towed away. Then he had to deal with the stalled vehicles going both ways. It was almost midnight before the highway was cleared, and by then Sam was officially off duty. Milo had stayed by the phone to keep in contact with his deputy. I was sound asleep by the time he came to bed.