The Alpine Winter

by Mary Daheim

  “You can’t pinpoint time of death?”

  “We can come close, because Pete knows when Gus disappeared. Although the fact that he didn’t notify us at the time really pisses me off.”

  It was pointless to bring up the medal yet. My worst fears about Troy depended on the timing of his previous escape. “He did tell Jack.”

  “Damn!” the sheriff exploded. “Mullins never told me. Do I have to kick his ass again?”

  “Why not? I hear you’ve been in a good mood lately. If you stay that way, nobody will recognize you.”

  “If you don’t lose those priests, I won’t need Mullins to kick around. Hang up before I go down the street and cart you off over my shoulder.”

  “Can’t do that. I have a deadline. Bye, Sheriff.” I clicked off.

  “Well?” Vida was standing in the doorway.

  I relayed what Milo had told me about Gus.

  She shook her head. “He was the baby. Spoiled and not very bright. Polly was a doting mother, especially after she was widowed.”

  Vida’s imposing form almost filled the doorway, but I saw Leo and Ed Bronsky enter the newsroom. “Oh, no,” I murmured, “here’s Ed!”

  Vida turned grim as Ed kept coming toward us after Leo went to his desk. “Well?” she said, not budging, “why are you so overwrought?”

  “Gotta sit,” Ed gasped, trying to figure out how to circumvent his former co-worker. “Come on, Vida, move. I’m weak at the knees.”

  “And the head,” she snapped. “Why are you panting?”

  “I’m hyperventilating,” Ed said, clutching at his throat. “Please.”

  “Oh, very well,” Vida said, heading back into the newsroom.

  Ed collapsed in a visitor’s chair, which creaked in protest. “Written your editorial already?” he asked, still red-faced and short of breath.

  “Yes,” I said. “Why?”

  It took Ed a few moments to compose himself. “Alfred Cobb isn’t in his grave yet and his county commissioner job has already been filled. How unfair is that? It’s not Lori, it’s her dad, Myron. He’s retired, he’s at least seventy. We need fresh blood, someone younger and rarin’ to go, like me. I got ideas!”

  A few stinging retorts came to me, but I stifled them. “It’s official?”

  Ed frowned. “It can’t be, not until the next meeting.” He glanced at my Sky Dairy calendar on the wall. “You still got this year’s up there. When will they meet?”

  “The same night they always do,” I said calmly.

  Ed scratched at his bald spot. “Yeah … well, they keep changing it … Last month, I mean this month, it was the first Monday, right?”

  “Tuesday,” I said.

  “So it’s the …?”

  I gave Ed a chance to redeem himself. He couldn’t. “Tuesday, fourth of January,” I finally revealed.

  “A whole week,” he murmured. His high color had subsided and his breathing had become more regular. “Then you can do it. Twice.”

  “Do what, Ed?”

  He scooted closer to the desk. I winced as the wooden chair legs squeaked again. “A one-two punch. Back-to-back editorials about why Myron Cobb isn’t as qualified as me.”

  “I don’t know that. Given Alf’s inability to focus in recent years, Myron probably helped keep his dad on track with the county agenda.” Seeing Ed about to argue, I went on. “A second editorial would come out after the meeting. Did you forget, Wednesday is our pub day?”

  “Oh.” Ed fell back in the chair. “Well. You know me—always thinking deadline. Always have. And that’s Tuesday.”

  “There’s nothing official about this,” I said. “Until Myron tells me he’s taking his father’s place, I can’t print it. It makes sense for him to fill the vacancy until the election a year from this coming fall.”

  “They could call a special election.”

  “They could, but that costs money, and the county is strapped.”

  Ed grew thoughtful. “Maybe if I talk to the other commissioners, Hollenberg and Engebretsen, they’ll realize Myron isn’t the right pick.”

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  Ed’s eyes widened so I could see them instead of the usual squint in his pudgy face. “You agree to me being the better choice?”

  “I keep an open mind.”

  He bounced in the chair. “How can you—” The chair collapsed. Ed disappeared except for his feet. He let out a series of howls that brought Vida and Leo rushing to my office. I tried not to laugh.

  Arms folded across her jutting bosom, Vida studied Ed’s writhing body. “Oh, settle down!” she admonished. “Do we need an ambulance?”

  Ed moaned something that sounded like “Sure.” Leo sighed and got out his cell, mouthing what looked like “forklift” to me. My current ad manager then turned his back to summon help.

  Vida shook her head. “Oh, stop making so much noise! You broke Emma’s chair.” She reached over him to grasp the back and seat. All four legs must have been under Ed, who was still moaning, “Sure, sure, sure.”

  “At least,” Vida said, “I have another item for ‘Scene.’ ”

  Leo had finished his phone call. Ed had gotten a grip on the desk and was pulling himself up. He’d stopped yelling, but was still gasping. “Don’t … need … ambulance,” he huffed, his chins resting on the top of my desk. “Want … Shirl … Shirley …”

  “Too late to call your wife,” Leo said. “The medics are on their way. We’ll get hold of her once you’re safely out of here.”

  Vida had gone into the newsroom, where she placed the chair pieces by the door to the back shop. Alison was halfway to my cubbyhole, eyes wide. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Ed had an accident,” Leo said. “The ambulance is coming.”

  “Oh!” Alison exclaimed. “I’ll open the door.”

  Ed got to his knees. “I’m fine. Just kind of banged up.”

  “Stay put,” I said. “Let the medics check you over. I’ll get out of the way in case they have to move my desk.” I didn’t want Ed to sue me. Grabbing my purse and jacket, I hoped to avoid the dismal sight of the medics trying to deal with my ex–ad manager.

  “Fool,” Vida said, standing by Mitch’s desk. “What did he want?”

  “Alfred Cobb’s job,” I said under my breath.

  She shook her head. “Heaven help us.”

  I heard the medics arrive. Feeling confident that Vida, Leo, and Alison could handle Ed’s removal, I decided to sneak out the back way. Before I could reach the door, I almost ran into Kip.

  “Where’d those sirens go?” he asked. “They sound really close.”

  “See for yourself. It’s not one of us, it’s Ed.” I kept going.

  Once outside, I contemplated what to do. A replacement chair was necessary, not new but secondhand. The broken one—along with its mate, which was also rickety—was from the Marius Vandeventer era. My first thought was Goodwill, but a freight train had stopped, cutting me off from the store on River Road. My next choice was the antique shop in the Clemans Building. I rarely went there, but I’d seen some chairs in the window recently. I headed along Fourth to Front Street and was at the corner when I saw Milo hurrying toward me.

  “Emma!” he shouted. “Wait up!”

  I stopped. Maybe he had something newsworthy to tell me.

  “Jesus,” he said, grabbing my arm. “What the hell’s going on at your place? I thought maybe you finally had broken your neck.”

  I laughed. “I’m fine. Ed broke my chair and fell on his butt.”

  The sheriff laughed, too. “So you ran away?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t work while they try to wedge him onto a gurney. Besides, I have to buy a new chair. Or two.”

  “I’ve got a couple of old ones in my basement that Mulehide never liked. Want to check them out?”

  “Milo …”

  “Not now,” he said, “but before you throw your money around.” He put his arm around me. “Let’s see if Ed’s still alive
. This could be fun.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be solving cases and arresting perps?”

  “I just did,” he said as we neared the Advocate office. “Remember the three houses in The Pines that had their Christmas presents stolen from under their trees? When I left Overholts’ farm after taking Rudolph into custody, I saw some pieces of gift paper on the side of the road on Fir, and then more and more of them, leading from the high school in a straight line to The Pines. The wraps stopped just past your house. Guess who?”

  “My rotten Nelson neighbor kids?”

  “The younger two. You hoped they’d get busted. So I busted them.” He paused as medic Vic Thorstensen appeared on the sidewalk.

  “Hey, guys, I’m good!” Ed yelled. Only his lower half could be seen as the gurney came through the door. “I’m one tough customer,” he insisted as his head appeared with medic Tony Lynch at the other end.

  “Easy, Ed,” Vic said. “It never hurts to get checked out.”

  Ed turned enough to see Milo and me. “Emma! Where’d you go?”

  “To buy another chair,” I said.

  “Hey, hey,” Ed said as the medics took deep breaths before loading him into the ambulance, “I’ve got some great stuff from the villa in storage. I’ll give you a real deal on some chairs … and a bed. Oof! Careful, fellas,” he said to the medics. “That jarred me.”

  “I’d like to jar Ed,” Milo grumbled. “Why can’t people shut up?”

  “Ed isn’t people,” I murmured. “He’s Ed. Ignore him.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Milo said, making a quick surveillance of Front Street. “Damn! There’s about forty people gawking.”

  “You want to call for crowd control?”

  Milo’s eyes narrowed at the onlookers. “Hell, no,” he said as Ed was loaded into the ambulance. “Let’s give them something to talk about.” He picked me up and carried me into the Advocate. “Hi, Alison. I found this baggage on the street. Where shall I put her?”

  “Uh …” Alison seemed torn between titillation and shock.

  “Never mind,” Milo said. “I’ll put her in her place—her office.” He strode into the newsroom, where Vida, Leo, and Kip were goggle-eyed. The sheriff ignored them and kept going until we reached my cubbyhole. “Dare me to close the door,” he said, his face almost touching mine.

  “No. Please?”

  I felt him shrug before he set me on my feet. “See you later, Emma.” He left the building without another word.

  TEN

  VIDA COULDN’T HAVE MOVED FASTER IF SHE’D BEEN WEARING a jet pack. “That,” she shrieked, “is what I warned you about! How could you? How could Milo? Oooh …” Collapsing in the remaining visitor’s chair, she yanked off her glasses and rubbed her eyes with unbridled fury.

  I took off my jacket and assumed my place behind the desk. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t stop him. Milo is … I mean …” I didn’t know what I meant. I cringed at the noise she was making. “Stop!” I yelled.

  I endured four more squeaks before Vida dropped her hands and gazed at me with bleary eyes. “What would you say if Buck and I acted like that in the middle of Front Street?”

  Did Vida and Buck act like that when they weren’t in the middle of Front Street? “Uh … well … your hat might fall off.”

  “Emma!” Vida seemed to be having trouble putting her glasses back on. Maybe she was thinking about the same thing.

  “Let’s get back to business,” I said. “Milo arrested my neighbor’s kids for those burglaries before Christmas. Damn—I mean, darn. We can’t use their names because they’re juveniles.”

  “They’re juveniles?” Vida said with more than a touch of asperity.

  “Okay,” I said, “why don’t you call the sheriff and get the details? He picked them up this morning. Or this afternoon. Or sometime …”

  She wagged her finger. “You see? Neither of you is focused.”

  “I just found out. It won’t be logged yet, but we can still use it.”

  “Oh … I’ll call Billy. My nephew’s not a disgrace to his uniform.” She rose from her seat with great dignity. “You must get a replacement. These chairs go back to the Depression. They were old long before I went to work for the Advocate.” She made her exit.

  My phone rang. I managed to pick up the receiver without dropping it on the floor.

  “Mom!” Adam cried. “You’re okay?”

  “Of course,” I replied. “Dare I ask why you’re asking?”

  “Uncle Ben and I just got back from lunch. Mimi Barton came along with the rest of her family, so we drove her to and from the rectory,” he continued, referring to the parish secretary. “Betsy O’Toole called to say she’d come out of the bank and there was an ambulance in front of the Advocate. Uncle Ben and I are worried. What happened?”

  I briefly explained Ed’s mini-disaster. “I doubt much is wrong with him since he’s so well padded, but he did seem short of breath and not himself when he came to see me.”

  “Oh,” Adam said. “Ed. So did he fall on top of you?”

  “No,” I replied, puzzled. “I was safely ensconced behind my desk.”

  “Then how come Dodge was carrying you into your office?”

  Oh, double damn! How could I not see this coming? “I felt faint,” I lied. “Ed was outrageous. I got upset and then felt guilty when he broke my chair and I went outside and I got light-headed and … what can I say?”

  “Gosh, Mom, aren’t you used to Ed by now?”

  “I should be,” I admitted. “I think Vida hoped he’d broken his neck. What would you and your uncle like the cook to make for dinner?”

  “Lasagna,” Adam replied promptly. “I haven’t had yours since I was in college.”

  I hadn’t made lasagna since. “Red or white sauce?”

  “The red. Uncle Ben likes it, too. Can you put some Italian sausage in it along with the hamburger?”

  “Well … sure, why not?” I had to stop at the Grocery Basket to get some of the other ingredients anyway. “This is deadline day, so don’t plan on eating until closer to seven than to six, okay?”

  “Will do. We had a big lunch. Can you pick up more dark ale?”

  Alison was at my door, pointing to my phone and mouthing a single word that I realized was “Mitch.”

  “Yes. Got to dash.” I hung up. “Line two?” I asked Alison.

  “Right,” she replied. “I’ve got Rita Patricelli holding on line three.” She practically ran off through the newsroom.

  Rita, I thought, Pete and Gus’s prickly sister, who managed the Chamber of Commerce office. Just what I didn’t need right now. I pressed line two. “Mitch? How are you?”

  “Still alive,” he said in a heavy, weary voice. “Troy’s improving. The antibiotics must be kicking in.”

  “That’s good news,” I said. “It’s not viral, then.”

  “No. Hey, I’m sorry I ran out on you. I couldn’t do much else.”

  “No need to apologize. We’re fine.” I didn’t want to press him about how long he’d be away. “Are you staying at a motel in Monroe?”

  “We did last night,” he said. “I’m not sure what to do now. Brenda’s still in shock. I wonder if she shouldn’t be in the hospital, too.”

  “Valley General is right across from Sky River Medical Center. They’re both off the Highway 2 exchange by the fairgrounds.”

  Mitch didn’t respond at once. “I’m not sure they have the kind of help Brenda needs. But thanks. I appreciate your understanding.”

  “No problem,” I said quickly, if untruthfully. “By the way, when did Troy escape the first time?”

  “Why do you need to know?” my reporter shot back.

  “I just wondered,” I said.

  “Are you doing a big story on this mess?” He sounded angry.

  “No.” I was indignant. “We’re running under two inches.”

  “Why run it at all?”

  “Because SkyCo’s deputies found him,�
� I retorted. “Did you lose your professional ethics between Alpine and Monroe?”

  “Sorry,” he said after another pause, though hostility lingered in his voice. “But this isn’t local news. It’s out of SkyCo’s jurisdiction.”

  “Oh, right. Why don’t we just pretend our deputies never found Troy and he died of exposure on the banks of the Sky or got hit by a train? It’s not their fault he escaped in the first place—or the second place, given his history.”

  Vida had heard me raise my voice and had tromped into my office. Leo was close behind her. I clutched the receiver and waited for Mitch’s response. There wasn’t any. It took a few seconds for me to realize that the line had gone dead. “He hung up on me,” I said.

  Vida gave me a reproachful look. “I can hardly blame him.”

  “He wanted me to ditch the story. What would you have done?”

  “Not shrieked like a fishwife.”

  I appealed to Leo, who was shaking his head. “Mitch was violating ethics. If he’d do that now, what else might he do?”

  My ad manager was standing beside Vida. “Relax, Duchess,” he said in a soothing tone. Then he turned to me. “Both my favorite Alpine ladies are a little strung out. At least Mitch isn’t like his callow and irresponsible predecessor. Did Curtis really confess to shooting me?”

  “He confessed to shooting everybody except Abraham Lincoln,” I said in disgust. “Milo wanted to strangle the little twerp.”

  “Such a disaster,” Vida murmured, looking vaguely contrite after her outburst. “Too many big ideas, so little brain.”

  “A head case,” I said, “as is Brenda. Mitch is having her checked.”

  Vida pursed her lips. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Shock?” I hedged. “Last night at the hospital she was out of it.”

  Vida bridled. “Didn’t I say she wasn’t all there? No powers of recovery. If you raise a criminal, you reap the rewards. Look at Gus, no doubt because Polly made such a fool of him when he …”

  To my astonishment, Vida erupted into tears.

  Leo put his arm around her. “Hey,” he said softly, “easy, now. Want me to take you home and make a pot of tea?”

  “Oh, Leo!” Vida wailed, but she didn’t rebuff his embrace even as she tried to get control of herself.