The Alpine Xanadu

by Mary Daheim

  By the time Dustin finished, I’d leaned both elbows on the counter. “He didn’t stab himself to file another complaint?”

  “In the back?” Dustin said. “That’d be hard to do.”

  “Did he say who did it?” I asked.

  The deputy shook his head. “He’s still out of it. He never mentioned it to Patti. She didn’t find out until Doc checked Jack.”

  “Has your boss any ideas or is he too upset about Dwight to care?”

  Before Dustin could answer, Beth Rafferty spoke up. “It’d be a help if somebody could find Tiff. I’ve taken half a dozen calls from fools who think they’ve spotted my lamebrained sister-in-law. They were all duds. What’s wrong with people?”

  “Good question,” I murmured before gesturing at Milo’s closed door. “Dare I?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Beth said, heading back to her 911 inner sanctum.

  “He’s pretty grumpy,” Lori murmured.

  “I think he’s on the phone,” Dustin said in his usual polite manner.

  “Do it,” Tanya said, much to my surprise.

  I smiled at her and opened the swinging door in the counter. “I will.” Marching to the door, I didn’t bother to knock.

  Milo was hanging up the phone. “Beat it, Emma.”

  I closed the door behind me. “I will not. This is my business, too.” I plopped down in a chair and set my drugstore purchases on the floor. “Mitch is on overload because he’s leaving for Pittsburgh tomorrow. I need some updates before I go home.”

  “Jesus.” Milo put a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know any more than what you probably heard from that bunch out front. No sign of Gould, no sign of the lunatic, no idea how Blackwell got stabbed. That’s it. Go ahead, tell your readers the sheriff is baffled. I don’t give a damn.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Milo’s hazel eyes finally met mine. He leaned back in the chair and sighed. “I was on the phone with Doc. Blackwell’s wound isn’t deep, but the dumb shit didn’t have it checked and it got infected. He’ll be fine.”

  “Is he lucid?”

  “Was he ever?”

  “He’s always been lucid—for an asshole.”

  I could always tell when the sheriff relaxed even slightly. “It’s Dwight that worries me,” he said. “You know him—dependable as snow on Baldy. It’s possible that he went after somebody on one of the old logging roads and had a wreck. The state patrol is bringing a helicopter to look for him and the nut. He doesn’t answer from the cruiser or his cell.” Milo glanced at his watch. “They should be overhead just after five.”

  “Maybe I should stick around,” I said. “I mean, at my office.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

  I stood up. “Then I’ll go away and stop bothering you.”

  Milo was staring at his wall map of Skykomish County as if he were trying to figure out where Dwight might be found. “Okay,” he said.

  I picked up the Parker’s Pharmacy bag and left, closing the door behind me. “I survived,” I announced, going through the reception area. “There were no injuries.”

  I headed back to my office. I’d gone only about ten feet when a SkyCo cruiser pulled up. I gasped when Dwight Gould got out. He saw me, mumbled something, and walked calmly into headquarters. I froze in place, wondering if I should go back to see what kind of welcome he’d get. Deciding that was the worst idea I’d had since I’d let Ed Bronsky talk me into editing his autobiography, I kept on going to the Advocate.

  It was ten to five when I reached the newsroom. Amanda was on the phone, Leo was coming from the back shop, and Mitch was at his desk. Vida was putting on her coat.

  “I didn’t realize you’d gone shopping,” she said, looking at my Parker’s Pharmacy bag. “I’m leaving a bit early so I can prepare for the interview with Effie Trews. I haven’t chatted with her in some time.”

  “Fine,” I said. “The prodigal deputy has returned.”

  Vida’s jaw dropped, Mitch looked up from his monitor, and Leo stopped in mid-step before reaching his desk. They all responded in some way, but it was my House & Home editor’s voice that dominated. “Where on earth has that ninny been?” she shrieked.

  I admitted I didn’t know. “He arrived in his cruiser and in uniform. I decided to skip the fireworks. The sheriff was already steamed.” I held up a hand to ward off a barrage from Vida. “Meanwhile, somebody stabbed Blackwell in the back. He’s in the hospital.”

  More shrieks ensued from Vida, along with shocked expressions from my staff, which now included Kip and Amanda. I waited for everybody to shut up, though Vida was dialing her phone. “I should’ve known that Marje called me about something other than my eye exam reminder. She’s still at the clinic. It doesn’t close.… Marje, dear, I’m so sorry I was on the other line when …”

  I backed away in order to be heard. “Mitch, go home. You’ve got to get ready for your trip. Leo, Amanda, feel free to do whatever, including leave for the day.” I turned to Kip. “I’m not sure what we can put online, but we should do something.”

  “Can we say Gould’s safe?” he asked, looking justifiably confused.

  “We never said he wasn’t,” I replied. “That was strictly internal. Milo would explode if we reveal a lost deputy while a head case is loose. As for Jack, let’s wait. He was too loopy to say anything coherent.”

  Kip fingered his bearded chin. “Maybe Jack did have the flu and then Patti stabbed him.”

  “Rethink that one,” I said. “Though with that pair, anything’s possible. We’ll hold off until Doc reports to Milo and we get a formal statement. That could take time if they wait for Jack to make sense.”

  Amanda had already left. Mitch and Leo departed together. Vida had finished her call. “Well! A fine kettle of fish this is! Marje doesn’t know any more than you do, Emma. Now I must dash to prepare for my program.” She picked up her purse, but paused. “Maybe I should first call my nephew Billy.”

  “He may still be in the middle of the Dwight Gould reprisal.”

  “Fiddlesticks. Unless Milo is beating up his entire staff, Billy can still talk to his aunt.”

  Feeling a headache coming on, I got two Excedrin out of my little pill case and grabbed some bottled water from under the coffee table. Kip returned to the back shop; I went into my office. I could still hear Vida talking—and listening. Bill Blatt must be on the other end of the line.

  Three minutes later, she tromped into my office. “If that doesn’t beat all!” she exclaimed, the feather on her hat drooping over her forehead. I felt kind of droopy, too. “You won’t believe this,” she declared, flopping into a chair. “Dwight spent the afternoon with Kay Burns. He said if Milo could take the afternoon off to be with a woman, so could he, especially when he hadn’t seen her in almost thirty years.”

  “D-D-Dwight was in b-b-bed with a w-w-woman?” I sputtered.

  “Kay used to be his wife. I must assume the woman Milo was with was you. Did that happen when I was out of town for Christmas?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “It was after he returned from nursing Tanya back to health. We were engaged. Well, almost engaged. But Dwight hasn’t seen Kay in three decades. I thought she had the flu.”

  “Apparently she recovered,” Vida retorted. “I wonder if Milo will suspend him again. That doesn’t seem right, does it?”

  “I don’t know what’s right anymore,” I admitted. “For all I know, Dwight stabbed Blackwell and then made off with Kay. They were both married to her. If that’s the case, Milo may give Dwight a medal.”

  Vida turned thoughtful. “I don’t suppose I could use that in ‘Scene.’ Delicately phrased, of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  She bolted out of the chair. “I really must run. I’m ill prepared.”

  I was still holding my head after Vida left. It could be a long time before we got official word about Jack. Kip and I might as well go home. I went into the back shop to tell him.
I also related Dwight’s amorous defection. Kip couldn’t stop laughing. I tried to share his mirth, but I was dog-tired. Shortchanged on sleep, putting in a wild workday, and uncertain when I’d see Milo again, I drove home in the same befogged condition in which I’d arrived that morning.

  It wasn’t until I got inside my little log house that I realized I was starving. I hadn’t eaten lunch. I’d also forgotten Vida had said that she was going to see Tanya after her program. I wondered if she still planned to do that, given that they had visited in the office. Searching the freezer, I found some tiger prawns. I thawed them in the microwave and started boiling water for udon noodles. After changing into my bathrobe, I realized the Excedrin was kicking in. I was munching raw carrots when the phone rang. It was my nice neighbor, Viv Marsden. “Emma,” she began, sounding tense, “have you seen anybody near your house?”

  “Like who?” I asked.

  “A man was in our backyard about ten minutes ago when Val took out the garbage. It was already dark, but he seemed to fit the description of that crazy person. He appears to be gone now, but I didn’t see Dodge’s car, so I thought you must be alone. Should we call the sheriff?”

  I almost choked on another carrot. “Yes,” I gulped. “The Nelson house is still vacant on the other side of my place. He might be holed up in there. If it’s him, I mean.”

  “I will,” Viv said. “Make sure your doors are locked.”

  Just what I need, I thought, leaning back on the sofa. Mr. Paranoia showing up would be a fitting end to my day. Or the end of me. I got up to double-check the doors. They were secure, but I still felt nervous. My appetite had dwindled, though I kept eating. I needed my strength in case the latest menace broke a window to gain entry. Maybe I should get out the gun I kept in the closet. I’d never fired the thing and wasn’t sure if I had any bullets. Milo had told me if I ever tried to use it, I’d shoot myself instead.

  I had started for the kitchen with my empty bowl when I heard someone call my name at the carport door. It didn’t sound like Milo. I paused by the sink, wondering if I should grab a knife. But whoever it was knew me. I moved cautiously and looked through the window. Jack Mullins looked back.

  I opened the door. “Where’s Milo?” I asked.

  “Up at the ranger station,” Jack said, taking off his hat and trying to tame his wild red hair. “Some guy in a snowmobile ran out of snow and hit a tree. The poor bastard’s been lying up there since four-thirty. His cell was dead and he’s damned lucky to be alive.”

  “A local?” I asked.

  “No. A local would know better. He’s from Kent. Where’s the nut?”

  “I haven’t seen him. He might be at the Nelson house. It’s been empty since you guys arrested most of the family last December.”

  “I’ll check it out. You got any coffee?”

  “No, but I can make some.”

  Jack shook his head. “Don’t bother. I should get going.”

  “What happened with Dwight? I heard he was with Kay.”

  Jack grinned. “Can you believe it? I can’t. I think he went fishing.”

  “Dwight wouldn’t do that. I mean, not on the job, especially after he’d just been suspended.”

  Jack sighed. “It’s more believable than Dwight making love to his ex-wife. But maybe he’s human after all. Dodge let him off the hook for now, if only because we need everybody aboard until the nut’s found. I wonder if the guy offed himself. I’d better go.”

  “Hey—where’s Tanya? She could come here and stay with me instead of hanging out at headquarters.”

  Jack gave me his puckish grin. “Bill Blatt offered to stay with her at Dodge’s house. Did you know he had a crush on her in high school?”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “He did. And his own romance blew up just a little while ago.”

  “An interesting turn of events,” I remarked.

  Jack put his hat back on. “If Tanya wants a guy who’s steady as a rock, that’s Bill. Keep yourself locked in, Emma.”

  As soon as the deputy left, I looked at the clock on the stove. It was five to seven. I hurried into the living room to turn on the radio. The hour-turn news always came on at five minutes to when it was Vida’s night to howl. I caught all but the introduction—and realized that the voice I heard belonged not to Spence but to Bree Kendall, his part-time on-air person. She led off with the escapee still being at large, followed by the banged-up snowmobiler. I’d call Kip after Vida’s show to have him get an update from the hospital. There was nothing about Blackwell. The rest was a quick take on regional and national news with the weather forecast—partial clouds with a high of forty-six and a low of thirty-five. To my further surprise, Bree began to introduce Vida’s program. I wondered if Spence had fallen victim to the flu. The phone rang and I jumped, but quickly grabbed the receiver.

  “All clear at the Nelsons’ house,” Jack Mullins said. “No sign of anybody trying to get in.”

  I thanked him and rang off just as Vida wound up her usual greeting before talking about the decline of literacy and decrease in readership. “Subjects,” she said, “with which my guest is very familiar. Effie Trews has been the librarian at Alpine High School since 1965 and will be retiring in June. Effie, tell us why reading has declined in the …”

  I drifted while Effie listed dry statistics. Vida pointed out the danger of ignorance and the pleasure of reading. Effie noted that books provided escape from the dreary everyday world. She sounded dreary, too. I missed Edna Mae’s bird-like chatter, even when she got rattled and referred to Charles Dickens as Slim Pickens and Elmore Leonard as Len Elmore. The commercial break was for Alpine Auto Supply and Swanson’s Toyota, both ads taped by Spence. When Vida returned, she asked Effie about the attempt to ban Tom Sawyer from the high school.

  “That,” Effie declared, her voice suddenly springing to life, “was an insult to one of America’s greatest writers and to the intelligence of any age group, including teens. I’m opposed to all forms of censorship. Children grow up faster these days. Parents complain about smut on the Internet. If they really knew what their children read and see, their eyes would pop out. Some call it pornography, but that’s for the courts to decide. If you put a classic such as Tom Sawyer in the same category with what we sometimes find in student lockers, those foolish parents would think twice before making their silly protests.”

  A slight pause ensued. I guessed Vida hadn’t expected such a heated response. “Do you mean there’s pornography at the high school?”

  “I believe I just said that,” Effie huffed. “What I’d like to know is where it’s coming from. From what I’ve seen, it’s local.”

  “You mean,” Vida asked, unable to keep the shock out of her voice, “someone in Alpine is distributing porn?”

  “Yes. I recognized some of the subjects in the photos.”

  “This is quite shocking,” Vida asserted, seemingly having regained her aplomb. “Has it been reported to the authorities?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Effie replied. “But it should be.”

  “I agree,” Vida said. “Is Principal Freeman investigating?”

  “You’d have to ask him. He’s opted for discretion among the faculty. I had no knowledge of this until shortly before Christmas break.”

  I glanced at my watch. Vida was about to close her cupboard. “Effie,” she said, “you’ve not only pointed out the sad state of literacy along with the decline in reading, but revealed an alarming situation within the walls of our beloved high school. Congratulations on your long and tireless service to our youth. I wish you all the best in retirement.”

  “Thank you,” Effie replied. “It has been a joy. For the most part.”

  The door creaked closed, signaling the end of the program. Bree came back on, announcing that following a break for SkyCo’s fine sponsors, the remainder of the hour would include the top ten hits from 1975. My phone was ringing before the first commercial started.

  “Who’s in the mo
st trouble?” Kip asked. “Vida’s not supposed to put real news on the radio. And will Miss Trews be able to work long enough to have a retirement party?”

  “I have to give Vida a pass on this one. She was clearly stunned. As for Effie, I don’t think she’s in as much trouble as Karl Freeman. The school board will pitch a fit. I’ve heard rumors about porn among the students, but Freeman stonewalled Mitch.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Kip said.

  “We’ll sit on this for now,” I told him, but added I’d check on the snowmobiler and get back to him. I immediately called the hospital. Luckily I was transferred to Julie Canby, one of the few nurses I hadn’t antagonized over the years. She gave me the accident victim’s name and verified that he lived in Kent, a Seattle suburb. The snowmobiler was still in the ER but wasn’t seriously injured.

  “Maybe a broken arm,” she said. “Contusions and shock along with one wrecked snowmobile. People should do those things in pairs.”

  “That’s good news,” I responded. “Can we say minor injuries?”

  “Wait until I get official word. I’ll call you back. It shouldn’t take too long before he’s up here in a room.”

  “Okay. By the way, did you know Vida interviewed your uncle Clarence yesterday?”

  “No,” Julie said. “Did he make sense?”

  “He seemed to,” I replied, “at least as long as he kept to the past. Has he ever talked to you about what things were like back then?”

  “Not really,” Julie admitted. “I moved to Maltby when I was twenty and didn’t return until I married Spike. Excuse me, Emma, I’ve got a patient calling me.” She lowered her voice. “It’s Jack Blackwell. He must be conscious.” She rang off, leaving me with some unasked questions.