The Alpine Xanadu

by Mary Daheim

  Milo lifted one broad shoulder. “Maybe she’ll stop doing it after another night or so. I called Doc this morning and she’s going to see him at eleven. Tanya likes Doc. She can do that on her own. I don’t know if he can help, but I want his opinion. Hell, he’s known her since the day she was born. He delivered her, one of his first babies.” He polished off the cupcake and gave me a close look. “Are you okay?”

  “Just worried.” I reached out to touch his hand. “I feel worthless. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Yeah,” he said, a faint spark in his eyes, “but not here. This place is small and so cluttered we’d probably have to ask Vida to untangle us.”

  I laughed—which felt good. “You can’t bring Tanya with you every day. She stayed alone before.”

  Milo nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping for. But she can’t just sit on her ass. There’s plenty for her to do around the house. The first time, she mostly watched TV all day.”

  “Hey,” I said, feeling almost human, “Mitch is going back to collect Brenda tomorrow. Maybe she and Tanya can watch each other. He’s already said he can’t leave her alone.”

  “Shit.” Milo shook his head. “What’s wrong with all these people? It’s getting to the point that Crazy Eights Neffel seems normal. I hardly noticed on my way here that he was wearing an Uncle Sam outfit and saluting the Sears catalog office.”

  “Maybe that’s where he got the Uncle Sam outfit.”

  Milo grinned and squeezed my hand. “God, Emma, what would I do without you? I feel better already. Will you marry me?”

  “I already told you I would. Did you forget?”

  “No.” He turned serious, but he kept hold of my hand. “I mean right away. If we file the application today, we can get married Monday or Tuesday. At least that’ll keep Mulehide from insisting we’re not serious.”

  “Tuesday’s pub day,” I said.

  “So? It’ll only take about ten minutes.”

  I hesitated. “Sure. We could honeymoon in the back shop.”

  “That sounds about right. I’m glad you’re not very romantic.”

  “Neither are you, big guy. Romance is highly overrated, as I found out to my sorrow.”

  He let go of my hand and got to his feet. “May I kiss the bride?”

  I giggled. “Yes.” I got to my feet and fell into his arms. He kissed me, a long, lingering kiss that made me feel a little weak in the knees.

  “Wow,” he said softly, finally letting me go and picking up his hat. “I’m coming home tonight if I have to get Crazy Eights to sit with Tanya.”

  “Play it by ear,” I urged him.

  He opened the door. “I’ll get somebody to give me a break for a couple of hours. See you later, Emma.”

  He grabbed another cupcake, nodded to Vida, and departed. I was about to see if there were any croissants left, but Vida rocketed out of her chair, heading toward me like a running back sniffing the end zone.

  “Well? What was that all about? And my, but you look much improved. You should, however, put on some lipstick. You’re very pale.”

  “Would you mind if I get something to eat? Then I’ll unload, okay?”

  Vida stalked me over to the pastry tray. Luckily, one croissant remained. I filled my coffee mug while she nudged me out of the way. “Those are very tasty,” Vida remarked. “I don’t suppose it’d hurt my diet if I sampled the petit fours. They are, after all, petite.”

  “Go for it,” I said.

  She took the last two and followed me back to my office. After a bite of croissant, I gave her the brief version of Tanya’s emotional status. As expected, Vida had little sympathy.

  “No spunk,” she declared. “Tricia probably had some very modern and very silly theories about child rearing. I can’t imagine that her philandering second husband was an adequate stepfather. I know Milo wasn’t around his children as much as he might’ve been, but that was because of his job. Goodness, you couldn’t expect him to keep going to Bellevue! All those people and traffic would’ve made him very grumpy. Why, even Bellingham is getting too big. It’s hard to find a parking place, especially in the section they call Fairfield or Fairfax or—”

  “Fairhaven,” I put in. “It’s a nice historic part of town, though.”

  “No more so than Alpine,” Vida asserted. “I was in Pioneer Square once in Seattle. Why do they call it that? The pioneers arrived forty years before it was built.”

  “The first mill was there,” I explained. “The logs were sent down what was called Skid Row to—”

  “Oh, twaddle! We had a first mill and we had logs. So what? But to get back to Tanya, she’s clearly mental. She needs to go back to work.”

  “I don’t think she can do that right now. As I told you, Doc’s going to talk to her this morning.”

  “I hold Gerry in high regard, but he is, after all, a man.” She paused. “I’ll pay Tanya a call to see for myself what’s going on with her.”

  That struck me as a good idea for more than one reason. “Do it. I’d like to get your reaction. If you go today, would you mind seeing her around six-thirty?”

  Vida looked shocked. “Are you crazy, too? I have to be at KSKY for my program. I can drop by afterwards, say around seven-thirty.”

  “That’s fine,” I said hastily. “Milo is going to … um …” I winced.

  Vida heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re both very lonesome. Really, I had so hoped that once you got engaged, you’d act like adults. I’m beginning to think neither of you went through adolescence. My memory must be hazy. I could’ve sworn Milo did. He seemed normal—if extremely gawky—back then.”

  I changed the subject, if only to remind my House & Home editor that I was the boss. “Are you caught up on everything?”

  “Of course, except trying to make sense of Clarence Munn’s ramblings. Maybe we should hold off on those for now. I confess, I was stumped over the letter from the wife who was put off by her husband’s reading matter. I assume she meant magazines like Playboy.”

  “Probably. Didn’t they make her feel inadequate?”

  “Yes. But the response didn’t get into this issue even though the letter was written at least a week ago. Then I got another one from her yesterday saying not to bother. They’d taken care of the problem. I assume they cancelled his subscription. Naturally, I’ve been trying to figure out who she is. Not that I’d pry, but it’s always easier to respond if you know the person. It was an Alpine postmark,” Vida added, as if that would identify the writer. Of course, it often did.

  “Shall we pull your answer?”

  “Well … maybe. Though my advice might serve wives in similar situations. I said she should worry less about her husband’s reading material and concentrate more on her personal grooming while making sure that he knew she loved him. I added that flattery was always a woman’s best secret weapon, men being so vain and full of themselves.”

  “Your call about running it,” I said.

  Vida nodded. “When are you and Milo getting married?”

  Even Vida couldn’t listen at my office door keyhole. It was in the doorknob. Nobody’s hearing was that acute. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “You have a license application. You were glum earlier, but you had on lipstick. To convince Tricia you’re serious, marry and be done with it. Do it before deadline so I can put it on my page.”

  I gaped at Vida. “You are amazing. But don’t tell anybody. Who’s the local justice of the peace since Harold Krogstad retired? I don’t know enough about Diane Proxmire’s full range of duties. In fact, I don’t know her at all.”

  “Don’t you remember my story on Simon and Cecelia Doukas last year? They went to China after his semiretirement. He was sick of divorce cases and got a J.P. license to deal with happy couples for a change.”

  “Simon Doukas?” I exclaimed. “I haven’t spoken to him in fifteen years! I sure don’t want him marrying us. He’ll ask Milo if he wants to take th
is trollop as his lawful wedded wife.”

  “No, he won’t,” Vida said. “If he did, Milo would have to hit him. That would spoil everything.”

  “Let’s hope Judge Proxmire can do it.” I meant it. Just looking at Simon would make me want to hit him first.

  “She probably can. If not, you could go to Sultan or Monroe. Unless it’s pub day, of course.” She rose from the chair. “Now don’t forget my program tonight. I’m hosting Jennifer Hood from RestHaven. We’ll discuss their volunteer program. I’m sure Roger’s name will come up. I asked Rosalie Reed first, but she demurred. So busy, she said. My show is after hours. Dr. Reed has a great deal to learn about life in Alpine. I understand she’s from the Bellevue area, too.”

  With that parting sally, Vida left. Only later would I remember a passing remark she’d made that would help finger a killer.

  FIFTEEN

  THE REST OF THE MORNING MOVED ALONG BRISKLY. FUZZY called to tell me that several of our fine citizens agreed with my editorial. I told him I was pleased, but didn’t add that I’d gotten two letters, three phone calls, and four emails from irate readers stating they didn’t want any taxes or levies or bond issues that would cost them money. Two called me an idiot, three said I was stupid, and one addressed me as Erma.

  Mitch handed in his storm article before lunch. Except for the power outage, a minor washout on Highway 187 near the ranger station, and Carroll Creek sweeping away a chicken coop, there were no injuries or loss of life, not even for the chickens. They’d flown the coop years ago.

  “By the way,” I asked Mitch after telling him his copy looked fine, “was Deputy Gould back on the job today?”

  “I didn’t see him,” Mitch replied. “And I didn’t ask.” He looked sheepish. “Now that I know about you and the sheriff, I assumed you’d hear that sort of thing before I did.”

  “Guess again,” I said. “Milo and I try to keep our jobs separate.”

  “Smart,” Mitch said.

  I smiled halfheartedly before going back to my office. If it hadn’t been for Kay’s concern about Dwight, I wouldn’t have been curious. I dialed the sheriff’s office. Lori Cobb answered.

  “Dwight is back,” she said. “Do you want to talk to him?”

  “No,” I replied. “I’d heard somebody say he might be sick.” A small fib, but I couldn’t reveal my source.

  “He’s fine,” Lori said. “For Dwight. He’s not here right now, though. He took a call about something on Second Hill.”

  I thanked her and hung up. I assumed Milo would be lunching with Tanya to hear how her appointment with Doc Dewey had turned out. I realized it was ten after twelve. The newsroom was empty. I contemplated getting a sandwich from Pie-in-the-Sky, but the croissants had spoiled my appetite. Maybe I could use the time to research other forms of local government. Or go back through old copies of the Advocate to find articles about Sheriff Moroni closing dens of iniquity. I was still mulling when Kip came in from the back shop.

  “Don’t get mad at me,” he began, “but I turned on KSKY to see if the weather was really going to clear up. Chili and I want to drive over to Leavenworth for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “How could I ban KSKY when I have to listen to Vida’s show?”

  Kip nodded. “Required by all Alpiners. Anyway, a patient got loose at RestHaven a little while ago. Spence had it on the noon news.”

  “Got loose? You mean somebody from the psych ward?”

  “Yeah, no name, but it’s a man, fifty-six years old, and he could be dangerous. Description is five-eleven, a hundred and sixty pounds, balding, with gray hair and matching goatee. He’s wearing regular clothes, probably dark slacks, corduroy jacket, and maybe a baseball cap.”

  “Great,” I said, having scribbled down the description. “I assume Spence has confirmed this? If we put it on our site, I don’t want to alarm the public unnecessarily.”

  “He did the broadcast,” Kip said. “He sounded grim.”

  “Okay, I trust him, but I’ll call first. Are you going to lunch?”

  Kip said he’d wait until after one. He often did. His wife made him a big breakfast every morning. She was a far better mate than I was to Milo when it came to feeding him in the morning. At seven a.m., my future husband could go out in the backyard and graze, for all I cared. I called Spence to request confirmation of the escapee.

  “You heard it?” he asked in less than his usual mellow style.

  “Kip did.” I repeated what I’d been told. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “Why do you want to know? We can’t release a name.”

  “Hey, I just wondered. You don’t have to get snarky.”

  “You’ve got everything you need. Got to run.” He hung up on me. I might as well have been talking to the sheriff. Which made me wonder if Milo knew about the RestHaven breakout. Maybe not, if he was lunching with Tanya. I called his office and this time Doe Jamison answered.

  “The boss is at the ski lodge coffee shop with his daughter,” Doe said. “Jack Mullins and Dustin Fong are on patrol. Dodge doesn’t need to know until he gets back.”

  “How’s it going with Tanya on the premises?” I asked.

  “It’s okay,” Doe replied. “Her dad put her to work this morning checking out license plates. She seems sort of sad, but otherwise it’s not a problem. Bill Blatt’s been helping her.”

  “Say,” I said suddenly, “I just realized Mitch didn’t come back with the Eriks autopsy report. Is it in yet?”

  “Not until this afternoon,” Doe said.

  I thanked her and disconnected. After typing up my notes, I took the online version to Kip. “Spence verified it,” I told him, “so it’s a go. He sounded odd. Maybe he’s coming down with something.”

  “It’s still February,” Kip said. “Cold and flu season.”

  “True.” I took the long way to my office and looked outside. The clouds had lifted and a weak sun shone on Front Street. Good weather for the escapee. Not so good for everyone else if he was dangerous.

  Vida returned just before one. “Well now!” she exclaimed, smoothing the pheasant feather on her hat. “I hear there’s a crazy person on the loose. Who’s in charge of security at RestHaven?”

  “I’d have to look it up. Why don’t you ask Roger?”

  “He isn’t back from Bellingham,” Vida replied, removing her coat. “Davin wants him to stay another night. The dorm students often entertain. Some wholesome fun will show Roger that college isn’t all work and no play. If it’s nice, perhaps they can have a wienie roast outside.”

  I couldn’t look at Vida and keep a straight face. Visions of beer kegs or worse danced in my head. There were times when Vida’s ability to deceive herself stretched my credulity.

  When the rest of my staff had returned to the office ten minutes later, I brought them up to speed on what little we knew about the escapee. Mitch was the point man.

  “Talk to Kay Burns and keep tabs on the sheriff’s office,” I said. Hearing the phones ringing on all three lines, I told Amanda we’d get calls from panicky residents, especially older people and parents of young children. Updates would be posted when we learned anything new.

  “All this patient privacy,” Vida fumed after Mitch and Amanda left us. “It’s absurd. How can we cover news without names?”

  “We have to, unless Milo can pry more out of them.”

  Vida harrumphed and stalked to her desk. I assumed she was still mad at the sheriff. She hadn’t asked about witnessing our marriage with whatever J.P. I could find who wasn’t Simon Doukas.

  Back in my office, I wondered if I’d overburdened Mitch. He’d be leaving for Pittsburgh in less than twenty-four hours. If there was more breaking news, including the revised autopsy report, he might feel rushed. But he was touchy about my interference. Reminding myself I was his editor and not his handmaiden, I called the one RestHaven employee I’d gotten to know best—Jennifer Hood, R.
N. She owed me for being discreet about the Tiffany sighting in Kay Burns’s office.

  My call was transferred to the medical rehab unit. Jennifer answered on the third ring. “I just got back from making rounds,” she said breathlessly. “Are you inquiring about a patient?”

  “Yes, but not one of yours,” I admitted. “We need to know everything we can about the psych ward patient who left the premises. Our nervous readers are calling for updates.”

  Jennifer didn’t respond right away. “I don’t know much about him,” she finally said. “I’ve seen him only once, when he had a sinus infection and I was the only nurse available. He was calm but suspicious, probably because he didn’t know me.”

  “What’s his condition?”

  Another pause. “I can’t tell you. Maybe you can guess.”

  I reflected on her earlier words. “Suspicion indicates paranoia.”

  “It could. I will say,” she continued speaking more quickly, “that he seems very intelligent. I’d guess him to be some kind of professional. He certainly has never done any hard labor.”

  “Is he really dangerous?”

  “Maybe. I’m sure Dr. Woo approved the announcement.”

  “The announcement?” I repeated in surprise.

  “Yes,” Jennifer said. “Isn’t that what it’s called when a statement is given to the media?”

  “This part of the media had to hear it over the radio,” I retorted. “Did Kay Burns release it?”

  “I suppose,” Jennifer replied. “That’d be her job, right?”

  “Yes,” I said in disgust. “By the way, who heads up security?”

  “That position hasn’t been filled. They’ve been interviewing, but the two most qualified candidates decided they wanted to move to a more metropolitan area. Dr. Farrell has assumed the role until an applicant is found to fill the job. Some people don’t want to live in a small town. It was like that in Dunsmuir.” Jennifer sounded as if she was trying to appease me.

  “True. I’m sorry to press you, but it’s my job.”

  “I know,” Jennifer said. “I wish I could be more help.”