The Alpine Uproar

by Mary Daheim

“Okay,” I said. “Tell me exactly what you saw of the tavern fight.”

  Amanda eyed me with suspicion. “Why? I already did.”

  “No,” I replied, “you passed it off as if someone hadn’t died before your very eyes. That’s not a very credible response.”

  “Sorry, but that’s the truth. Neither Walt nor I saw the actual blow. Any of the blows, for that matter. We just heard raised voices and some noise. Those two big hulks—the Peabody guys?—blocked our view.”

  I had to take Amanda at her word. “Okay,” I said, noting her hostile stare. “We’re going to press so we have to make sure we’ve got everything right. Mitch and Vida have gone to see the sheriff. I’m going, too. This is the kind of story that has to be absolutely accurate.”

  “Good luck.” Amanda turned back to her computer.

  When I reached the sheriff’s office, Vida was talking to Lori Cobb. Bill Blatt was nowhere in sight; nor was Mitch. Vida saw me step through the door. “Billy’s on patrol,” she announced. “Milo isn’t here, either. We’ve come on a fool’s errand.”

  “Where’s Mitch?” I asked.

  “Talking to Clive,” she replied. “I’ll join him to make the trip here worth my while.” Since Vida’s back was turned on Lori, I assumed she couldn’t see the younger woman shake her head and roll her eyes.

  But nothing escapes my House & Home editor. Whirling around so fast that I thought the pigeons would fly off of her hat, Vida wagged a finger at Lori. “That attitude shows very poor manners, young lady. Your grandparents wouldn’t be proud of you.”

  Lori’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Runkel. I goof off sometimes because … well, because working in law enforcement can be a total downer.”

  “Living can be, as you put it, a downer as well.” Vida’s expression didn’t soften. “Acting silly and poking fun at others never solves problems, it only creates more.”

  Lori hung her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Very well,” Vida murmured. “When will the sheriff be back?”

  “I’m not sure,” Lori admitted. “He didn’t say.”

  Vida harrumphed. “Milo shouldn’t do that. Was he called out?”

  Lori shook her head. “No. He took off about twenty minutes ago in his Grand Cherokee. He did mention a donkey.”

  “A donkey?” Vida scowled. “The Overholts’ donkey, perhaps. Unless the Dithers sisters have added a donkey to their stable of horses. How very odd. We must check this out.” She paused. “I’ll join Mr. Laskey and Mr. Berentsen.”

  Lori meekly returned to her desk. “How,” she asked after Vida was out of earshot, “did Mrs. Runkel see me when I was behind her?”

  “She has eyes in the back of her head,” I responded, only half joking. “Maybe she caught your reflection in the window glass. Mrs. Runkel seems to be off her feed lately. Something’s bothering her. I was surprised when she reprimanded you. Or maybe I should say I was surprised at the way she did it. She’s usually more subtle.”

  “Flu, maybe,” Lori said.

  “Maybe.” But I didn’t think so. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time that Vida had been sick. I often wondered if she scared the germs away by sheer force of will. “If Milo’s gone, I’ve wasted my time.”

  “Did he know you were coming?” Lori asked.

  “No. I’m supposed to meet with him later, though.” I rested my elbow on the counter. “Is Clive the only prisoner?”

  Lori nodded. “It’s been a quiet week. Of course it’s only Tuesday.”

  “Nothing new in the log since this morning?”

  “No.”

  Dustin Fong entered from the hallway. As usual, he greeted me with a polite, almost deferential smile. “I see Clive has company. Or,” he went on, lowering his voice and moving to the work area inside the counter, “is Mrs. Runkel here about her grandson?”

  I stared at Dustin. “Her grandson? Roger?”

  Dustin looked embarrassed. “It hasn’t been logged yet.”

  “‘It’?” I said, noticing that Lori also seemed surprised.

  The deputy moved close. “Dwight Gould charged him with a DUI about an hour ago. He was driving erratically along River Road.”

  All my favorite fantasies about Roger in handcuffs and leg irons deserted me. “He’s not in jail, is he?”

  “Oh, no,” Dustin replied. “It’s his first real ticket. He got off with warnings the other times.”

  I realized warnings were never officially logged, but the DUI would be made public. “How many other times?”

  Dustin grimaced. “I’d have to check.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “I wonder if his grandmother knows.”

  Dustin thought not. “Unless Roger or his parents told Mrs. Runkel, she’d have no way of finding out so fast. Bill Blatt issued one of the warnings. I guess he really lectured Roger, but it didn’t do much good. Being a family matter, Bill kept it to himself.”

  “Bad idea,” I murmured. If Vida was already suffering from some sort of stress, Roger’s escapade would only make things worse. “When will Bill get back?”

  “A little after four unless there’s a problem,” Dustin said. “He’s patrolling Highway 2. Dwight’s got in-town duty this afternoon.”

  It was a little after three, an hour before Vida’s nephew would return to headquarters. “It might be best if Billy—I mean, Bill—tells Mrs. Runkel about Roger. She’s going to have a fit.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Dustin said, looking sympathetic. “She dotes on that guy. My grandmother is like that.” He smiled. “As far as she’s concerned, I’m perfect. She’s very traditional when it comes to Chinese ideas and attitudes, so all of us grandchildren respect her as an elder. I hope Roger appreciates—and respects—his grandma.”

  “Me, too,” I mumbled, and realized that both Dustin and Lori were eyeing me with curiosity. “Sorry. I was wondering if Bill gets back after Vida leaves, could you ask him to stop by the office before five?”

  “Sure,” Lori said. “I shouldn’t say so, but this serves Roger right.”

  I stared at Lori. “Why is that?”

  She looked toward the hallway, no doubt to make sure Vida wasn’t there. “I’m older than Roger, but when we were in grade school he was a troublemaker from the start. He was always big for his age, so he’d bully and pick fights with the other kids. Roger always insisted it wasn’t his fault, the other kids started it. My mom told me Mrs. Hibbert was in the principal’s office so often that the school board should hire her.”

  “That must’ve been just before or after I moved here,” I said. “Did Amy Hibbert’s meetings with the principal do any good?”

  “I don’t know,” Lori said. “I went on to high school, but I heard when Roger was in fifth grade, some older kids beat him up. Roger had been especially mean to one of the little girls in his class. Her big brother and his pals wanted to teach him a lesson.”

  “Whose sister was it?”

  “I don’t remember.” Lori smiled sheepishly. “When you’re in high school, it’s your whole world. You don’t pay attention to grade school kids anymore.”

  “True.” I glanced at my watch. “I’d better dash. Vida and Mitch must be having quite a talk with Clive Berentsen.”

  Lori nodded. “His girlfriend, too. She’s kind of strange, but nice.”

  I was surprised. “Jica Weaver’s here?”

  Dustin was smiling. “She’s been here for over an hour. It’s a good thing we don’t enforce the visitation rules.”

  “What are they doing in there,” I asked, “having a picnic?”

  “In a way,” Lori said. “Ms. Weaver brought a gift basket from Port Chatham in Everett. It’s crammed with really good seafood and a bunch of other yummy stuff.”

  “Gee,” I said, “set up a buffet. Clive may be willing to share.”

  “He probably is,” Lori said. “Should I ask him?”

  “No thanks,” I said. “Tell the sheriff I’ll meet him after five.”


  The rain was coming down much heavier, but at least there was no wind. I’d considered walking to the chop shop to collect my car, but maybe I’d have to hitch a ride. Back at the office, Amanda glanced up to actually acknowledge my entrance. “A Mr. Fisher called,” she informed me. “He says if he doesn’t hear from you by midnight in his time zone, he’ll commit suicide.”

  “It’s after midnight where he is,” I said, “so he’s dead by now.”

  Amanda looked surprised, possibly even shocked. “He’s not local?”

  “Not exactly,” I said.

  “He sounds … interesting.” Amanda sounded as if she were purring. “He must’ve really pissed you off.”

  “He often does,” I snarled, and fled the front office.

  Leo and Kip were coming out of the back shop. “Are we set,” Kip asked, “or are we waiting on whatever Leo told me you were trying to find out about the ICT story?”

  “We’re waiting.” I turned to Leo. “The ads are ready?”

  “We just finished,” he replied. “We picked up an extra twenty inches from out-of-town advertisers who want to be on our Internet site and in this week’s paper.”

  I beamed at both Leo and Kip. “Excellent! Nice job, guys.”

  “Give the credit to Kip,” Leo said. “Anything new on Berentsen?”

  “Only if you like smoked salmon and Dungeness crab,” I snapped.

  Leo looked bemused. “Just another day at the jail?”

  “Jica Weaver brought Clive a Port Chatham gift basket,” I said, trying to find my better nature. “I didn’t see her or Clive, but we’ve got another problem. Vida doesn’t know it, but Roger got a DUI this afternoon. It hasn’t been logged yet, so we don’t have to put it in this week’s edition. When Vida finds out, you can guess her reaction.”

  Kip was taken aback. “Wow! If she’s at the sheriff’s office, how come she doesn’t know?”

  “Because she was in Clive’s cell with Mitch and Jica enjoying smoked oysters and kippered salmon and God-knows-what-else. Vida wouldn’t dream of asking us not to run the item,” I went on, collecting my wits, if not my less fractious persona. “But she’s going to be horribly embarrassed. I don’t feel sorry for Roger, but I sympathize with Vida.”

  “Hey,” Leo said, patting my arm. “It serves the kid right. What the hell was he doing in the middle of the day under the influence?”

  “Driving along River Road,” I said, noting the gleam in Leo’s eye. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I’m thinking a couple of things,” Leo replied. “He got sauced at the ICT or he bought beer at the Icicle Creek mini-mart. He’s drinking age, but his mental age is about six.”

  Kip shook his head. “Dumb. If he bought a six-pack, what did he do? Sit by the river and drink the whole thing? Not,” he added quickly, “that I haven’t done some crazy stuff in my time, but Roger’s a little old for that, at least during the day. Was he alone?”

  I admitted I didn’t know. “Dustin told me about the incident, but it was Dwight who nailed Roger and he wasn’t at the office.”

  Leo went to his desk. “Thank God I wasn’t around that much before my kids achieved real adulthood. It’s a wonder they ever did. I set a crappy example.”

  “Being a parent is scary stuff,” Kip said as he started for the back shop. “Let me know if we’ve got …”

  He stopped as Mitch entered the newsroom. “For what it’s worth,” my reporter said, looking thwarted, “Clive isn’t sure he connected with De Muth’s skull. He says he must have or De Muth wouldn’t have dropped like a load of bricks. Your call, Ms. Publisher.”

  “So it is.” My aching back was more painful. I realized that I hadn’t taken a pain pill since breakfast. That was a sign that I was healing, but I didn’t need any more distractions so close to deadline. “Okay,” I finally said as I burrowed for the small pill box in my purse, “nothing has changed. Clive’s sticking to his statement. Unless we hear anything new or different between now and actual press time, it’s status quo for this week’s edition.”

  “Got it,” Kip said.

  Mitch nodded. “Hard news, straight facts.”

  “Right,” I said, pouring water from the dispenser. “Accident, self-defense, whatever it was, we don’t speculate.”

  “It may never go to trial,” Mitch said. “Clive’s attorney will plea-bargain. Believe me, I’ve covered enough homicides in Detroit to know that you’d be surprised—and incredulous—at how little punishment is meted out for crime involving a fatality.”

  I swallowed a Demerol and a methocarbamol. Kip had returned to the back shop, and Leo was on his cell phone. “I can imagine,” I said. “The jails there must be filled to capacity. I’m not singling out Detroit. Most big cities and states have a problem with …” I stopped. “Where’s Vida?”

  Mitch sat down at his desk. “She was still gabbing with Jica Weaver. Clive’s girlfriend was about to take off for Snohomish.”

  “Oh.” I realized that this was the first encounter between the two women. It might take awhile for Vida to learn Jica’s life story. “By the way,” I said, “did you hear anything about the sheriff and a jackass?”

  Mitch chuckled. “Is this a joke or do I say ‘which jackass’?”

  “That’s why Milo wasn’t at the office,” I explained. “You’ll get used to stories around here involving wild-and not-so-wild life.”

  “I hope I can tell the difference,” Mitch remarked. “If there is one.”

  “A fine line sometimes,” I said before going into my cubbyhole.

  I spent the next few minutes checking for late news that might have a connection or an impact on Alpine and Skykomish County. Nothing in the past three hours was newsworthy, but I always made sure we weren’t overlooking a local angle to a regional or even national story.

  By four-thirty, Vida still hadn’t returned. She had submitted all of her copy, so there was no pressing need for her presence. I assumed that Bill Blatt had showed up before she’d finished interrogating Jica Weaver. Maybe it was just as well that Vida didn’t come back to the office. She’d be in a very bad mood.

  At five o’clock there was still no sign of her. I became anxious. I was to meet Milo in a few minutes, but reluctant to leave until I’d heard from my House & Home editor. I dialed the sheriff office’s number. A breathless Lori Cobb answered.

  “I was just leaving,” she said. “Are you calling for the sheriff?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I wondered if Mrs. Runkel had left yet.”

  “Oh, yes,” Lori replied. “She’s been gone for over an hour.”

  I was surprised. “She has? Is Dodge there?”

  “He never came back from wherever he went,” Lori said. “Sam Heppner’s in charge right now. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “No, that’s okay. Thanks, Lori.” I hung up.

  Leo poked his head in the doorway. “Closing time, boss. Another day, another dime.”

  “Hooray.” I made an attempt to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “You didn’t hear from Vida, did you?”

  “No.” Leo frowned. “That’s odd. Even if she found out about Roger, she’d call to let us know she wasn’t coming back here today. Maybe she’s at his house talking to him and his parents.”

  I considered the idea. “It makes sense. Vida would never desert Roger in his time of need.”

  “You got that right.” Leo raised a hand and said good night.

  I glanced out into the newsroom. Mitch was also leaving, calling to Leo to wait up. I drew back, not wanting to interfere with male bonding. It wasn’t until they were gone that I realized I didn’t have a ride to Bert’s chop shop. Hurrying into the front office, I caught Amanda just as she was leaving.

  “Any chance you could give me a lift so I can collect my car?” I asked, wishing like hell that I didn’t have to beg a favor from the not-so-friendly hired help.

  “Sorry,” Amanda said. “I’m meeting someone on the other side of t
own. I’m already late.” She opened the door but didn’t move. “I forgot—there’s a message for you from Mrs. Runkel. It’s there by the computer.” She continued on her way.

  I leaned over the counter and snatched up the phone memo. “Mrs. R.” it read. “Won’t be back this afternoon. Crisis has arisen.”

  The call had come in at three-forty. I silently cursed Amanda and headed for the back shop. Kip was my last hope.

  “I know you’re up to your ears,” I said, “but I’m marooned. My car’s supposed to be ready, it’s raining really hard, and I have to meet the sheriff at five-fifteen.”

  “Hang on,” Kip said, focused on the screen that showed the editorial page layout. Surreptitiously, I checked my watch. It was five after five. Maybe, I thought, I should call Milo and tell him I’d be late.

  “Got it.” Kip grinned at me. “I wanted to make sure Mrs. Dodd’s senior citizen column didn’t have any R-rated typos. Sure, I can run you over to Bert’s. Maybe I’ll stop on the way back and pick up my dinner at the Burger Barn.”

  Kip was putting on his jacket when my cell phone rang. As usual, it took a few seconds to dig the thing out of my big purse. The voice on the other end sounded upset. “Emma? This is Amy Hibbert. Do you know where my mother is? She’s not picking up her cell or her home phone. I can’t find her. Is she okay?”

  TWENTY

  I WAS ALARMED. “NO. I THOUGHT MAYBE SHE WAS AT YOUR house.”

  “I haven’t heard from Mama since this morning,” Amy said. “We’ve had a … well, sort of a problem, and I really need to get hold of her. What time did she leave work?”

  “Vida,” I said for the benefit of Kip who was giving me a curious look, “was at the sheriff’s office the last time I saw her.” I managed to keep my voice calm, even casual. “She was sitting in on an interview with Clive Berentsen. I left before she did. I haven’t seen her since, though she called around a quarter to four to say she wouldn’t be back at work today.” I phrased my response to give Amy the impression I didn’t know anything about Roger’s problem. The whole mess must be humiliating for the family.

  “It’s not like Mama,” Amy said. “I’m worried.”