The Alpine Uproar Part 10

"I'm not the one covering the story," I said. "Grill Mitch Laskey."

"But," Darlene persevered, "you must know something."

"Nothing you won't read in the paper or hear over KSKY," I replied.

Janet, who was Darlene's partner, waved the hand that wasn't holding her cards. "Skip the stiff. Are you going to bid or what?"

"Oh!" Darlene ran a nervous hand through her graying blond hair. "Yes, yes, I am. One diamond."

"One spade," Rosemary said.

Janet smirked. "Two hearts."

I grimaced at my meager six points. "Pa.s.s. Sorry, Rosemary."

My partner nodded once, her expression as inscrutable as if she'd been studying the accused in the witness chair.

"Oh, dear!" Fl.u.s.tered, Darlene sipped more wine. "Pa.s.s."

Janet made a face but didn't chide Darlene for not bidding again. I led a low spade into dummy, and Rosemary took the trick with a king. Janet trumped Rosemary's ace of spades and went on to three hearts.

"Good thing you didn't go to game," Janet remarked to Darlene.

"What?" Darlene seemed lost in reverie. Or Chardonnay. "Yes, yes, it was. We'd have gone set." She turned to me. "I thought Al De Muth had a son. Doesn't he live around here?"

"A son?" I was surprised. "n.o.body's mentioned any family."

Janet had all but pounced onto the table, staring at Darlene. "Where'd you hear De Muth had a kid? We need to know in case the burial is from our funeral home."

Darlene looked defensive. "My husband told me a young man came into the hardware store a couple of times with Alvin De Muth. Harvey a.s.sumed they were father and son."

I watched Rosemary's reaction. There wasn't any, just the same impenetrable expression she'd worn during the bidding. "Well?" I finally said to her. "That's not privileged information."

"I don't know anything about it," Rosemary replied. "Honest."

I believed her. "Then De Muth doesn't have any ties to Alpine?"

Rosemary shrugged. "Not that I know of. He's lived here for several years. His address is on the Burl Creek Road not far from the fish hatchery."

Janet nodded. "I know where he lives. Lived, I mean. It's an A-frame somebody put up years ago as a summer home but never used."

"Could be," Rosemary allowed. "All I know is the address."

"Maybe his son lives there, too," Darlene said.

Janet nodded. "Al and I will check it out. They won't keep De Muth on ice forever in Everett. If there's an heir, he can pay for the funeral."

I cut the cards for Darlene. My mind wasn't on the hand I was dealt. Instead, I was wondering if Milo had searched the dead man's home and if he'd found any sign of kinfolk. De Muth was described as a loner, but I hoped someone, somewhere was sorry he was gone.

WE Pa.s.sED THE REST OF THE EVENING WITHOUT FURTHER REFERENCE to the ICT tragedy. The others had contagious giggle fits and misplayed their cards, and by ten o'clock Edna Mae couldn't tell a heart from a diamond or a club from a spade. Never a wine lover, I sipped slowly on a single gla.s.s of Riesling. When we parted company a little after ten-thirty, I seemed to be the only one who was sober. "It's a good thing I don't have to drive," Janet called out as I left. "I'm too drunk to walk."

When I got home, I called Milo. "What's this about De Muth's son?" I asked after a grumpy h.e.l.lo from his end of the line.

"Son? What son?" he retorted.

"Darlene Adc.o.c.k says De Muth had a son. Harvey's seen them together at the store."

"That's the first I've heard of it," the sheriff replied testily. "How did Harvey figure that? Did they wear matching outfits and name tags?"

"Harvey gathered it was De Muth's son," I said.

"Harvey's woolgathering. It sounds like something from one of your wine-guzzling bridge gang. Why don't I post a deputy outside of whichever member's holding the event and arrest them all for DUI?"

"Go ahead," I said. "Maybe that'll teach Dixie Ridley not to trump my trick when she's my partner."

"I should arrest Rip," Milo said, referring to Dixie's husband, the high school football coach. "Last week he couldn't count past eleven and got penalized in the last thirty seconds for having too many players on the field. That's why the Buckers lost to Arlington."

"Speaking of arrests, how's the prisoner?"

"Still feeling sorry for himself for being an a.s.shole." Milo's sigh was audible. "Jeez, what a waste! Clive's as much a victim as De Muth."

"That's an odd thing for you to say."

"You're right. Forget I said it."

"Could Clive claim it was self-defense?"

"He probably will," Milo replied. "That could get him off the hook. I'm going to have to send him to Everett. With only a half-dozen cells and not enough staff, I can't keep him here if his court date is set more than a month from now. I've already released the other three drunks we picked up over the weekend, and Fred Engelman will be checking in tomorrow night for his usual weekend stay."

Given that the sheriff's tone had mellowed, I ventured to ask him about De Muth's A-frame. "Did he live there alone?"

"Far as I can tell. Not much of a place-just some old furniture, a new TV, and a lot of junk food. No sign of a woman. Nothing to suggest alcohol abuse, only some beer in the fridge. No sign of drugs, either. No criminal record. He slept, he ate, he went to work. He was a good mechanic. From what we've learned, no son, no family ties. De Muth moved here four, five years ago. We're doing a t.i.tle search for ownership of the A-frame. n.o.body I know of has lived there in recent years except him. The place may've been abandoned. It happens."

"And I hear the witness statements are all over the map."

"You expected something else from a bunch of boozers and losers?"

"They weren't all losers, really," I pointed out. "Have you heard from Jica Weaver?"

"Who? Oh-Clive's girlfriend. Yeah, she came by to see Clive this evening, but I'd left for the day. She's a s.p.a.ce case, according to Sam Heppner, but he did say she was fairly easy on the eyes and what he described as 'refined,' which to Sam means she didn't cuss him out or take a whiz in the reception area."

"Sam has a way with words." Suddenly I realized how tired I was. It had been a long day. I slumped back onto the sofa. "I suppose Harvey made a mistake. Or Darlene misunderstood. Sometimes she's a bit scatterbrained."

"If there is somebody out there," Milo said, "they'd claim the body if they knew De Muth is dead. The leeches always crawl out of the woodwork if they think they can get a couple of bucks off a dead relative."

"True." I hesitated. "Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? The Grocery Basket has a special on Dungeness crab. Which reminds me, anything new on Mike O'Toole?"

"He's still alive," Milo said. "That's a start. Sure, buy a crab for each of us. I haven't had any in a long time."

Had any what? went through my mind. "Good. Six o'clock. Hey, did Mike drive that grocery truck very often?"

"No," Milo replied. "If they needed to make a special run, Buzzy usually did it. I imagine he's kicking himself six ways to Sunday now. Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d. See you tomorrow."

ON THE DAY AFTER A BRIDGE CLUB GET-TOGETHER, VIDA ALWAYS marches straight into my office before she even takes off her coat, let alone her hat. On this foggy Friday morning, the hat was an amber satin toque with an artificial topaz clasp and three pheasant feathers. I'd never seen it before and thought it would have looked perfect on Queen Mary of Teck.

"My daughter Amy found it for me on eBay," Vida explained, stroking the feathers. "You'd be amazed at the bargains you can find on that site. Amy says she seldom leaves home to shop anymore. I don't condone not buying from local merchants, but these days it's difficult making ends meet. She paid just six dollars for this hat. It does have a certain drama to it, don't you think?"

"Definitely," I agreed. "It's too bad Buck Bardeen doesn't look like King George the Fifth."

"Buck is much too tall and broad," Vida conceded, speaking of her longtime companion. "Still, Buck is a retired military man and King George was in the Royal Navy. Then again, Buck is alive and George isn't. How was the visit to the tavern?"

I recounted what I could remember. "More muddle," I concluded. "At least I refreshed my mind about the crime scene."

"Disappointing." Vida shook her head; the feathers swayed. "Was bridge club any better?"

"Not really," I admitted. "Rosemary Bourgette was there, which meant we couldn't really get into the case since she'll be prosecuting it. Darlene Adc.o.c.k mentioned that Harvey thought De Muth had a son, but Milo hasn't found any relatives."

"Curious." Vida fingered her chin. "Well now. What next?"

"That's up to Mitch," I said. "Was Roger helpful with regard to Mike O'Toole?"

Vida sighed. "Roger and Mike weren't chums. It was very difficult to get anything out of Roger. He can be terribly discreet."

Glum, sullen, ornery, and uncooperative were some of the words I'd have used. "So you didn't learn anything?"

"I can't learn what Roger doesn't know," Vida retorted a bit indignantly. "Roger referred to Mike as ... undependable. That's not the right word, but I think that's what he meant."

Pot, meet kettle, I thought. "He didn't say in what way?"

"No. Though he did mention going to Mike's vigil. I offered to go with him but he was meeting some of his chums." Vida scrunched up her fist and pressed it against her chin. "I intended to go anyway, but Amy seemed a bit down so I stayed to cheer her."

I feigned interest. "Oh? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps menopause. And Roger, who has so much on his mind lately. This is a hard time for young people. He'd still like to become an actor. Or a musician. If only Amy and Ted could afford to send him to a school specializing in the arts. I've offered to help pay his way, but it would mean Roger leaving Alpine. That upsets me."

I refrained from saying that I'd help pack his bags and even drive the kid at least as far as the state line. But although Vida is quick to criticize just about anyone else including G.o.d, she wears blinders when it comes to her grandson. I've often wondered if she'd be more realistic if her other two daughters and their families lived closer.

After she went into the newsroom, my phone rang.

"I overslept," the female voice on the other end said. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Sorry."

"Is this ...?" I stopped as the phone clicked off and I realized the caller was Amanda Hanson. Our new hire was off to a bad start. It was ten past eight. I'd expected her to show up much sooner, if only to let me show her how to make the coffee.

Instead, I did it myself. Kip, Leo, and Mitch all watched me with caffeine-deprived faces. "What happened to Ginny's sub?" Mitch asked.

"She overslept," I replied, moving out of the way as Kip set the Upper Crust's pastries onto the tray. "Or so she claims."

"Dock her," Leo said. "Make sure she understands this isn't the post office. We can't have slackers around here."

I glanced at Leo, who was looking unusually grim. He sounded that way, too. "Are you feeling okay?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, his tone softening. "Why wouldn't I?"

I shrugged. "So much flu and colds going around lately. I thought maybe you'd caught a bug, too."

Leo offered me an imitation of his off-center grin. "I'm too ornery to get sick."

"Good," I said, keeping my voice light.

Kip tossed the lavender bakery bag into a wastebasket. "Want me to break in Amanda? I know Ginny's routine pretty well."

"Thanks," I said, "but send her in to see me before you start, okay?"

Kip saluted. "Will do."

Vida had been on the phone. When she hung up, she looked exasperated. "I just called the hospital to see how Ginny and the baby are doing. They plan to send her home this afternoon. Doesn't that beat all? What's wrong with doctors these days? I was in the hospital for over a week after I had each of my daughters. Dr. Sung must've made that decision. Doc Dewey wouldn't have time for such silly notions."

"It's standard," I said. "And it's stupid. My money's on Ginny. If she carries on the way she did before she had the baby, she can probably coax Dr. Sung into another twenty-four hours if only to spare Rick having to deal with her complaints."

"I hope so." Vida stood up. "I'll help you show Amanda the ropes, Kip. You shouldn't take on the entire responsibility."

"Sure," Kip agreed. He knew as well as I did that Vida's curiosity was greater than her desire to a.s.sist him. By the time she finished grilling Amanda, our House & Home editor would know everything about the newcomer including when she'd started teething as a baby. She'd also retain every detail, a talent that served her well in the newspaper business, allowing her the luxury of never having to take notes.

A half-hour later, Amanda Hanson entered my cubbyhole. She was pretty, despite the pug nose, short neck, and overly plucked eyebrows. In her three-inch brown platform shoes, she gave the impression of being tall, although she probably carried an extra ten pounds. Stella had highlighted Amanda's short dark hair. She looked professional in a long-sleeved brown sweater and camel-colored slacks. Her only jewelry was a small gold leaf-shaped pendant, a plain gold wedding band, and what might have been diamond studs in her pierced ears. She stood between my visitors' chairs and gave me what I perceived was a challenging look.

"I'll be on time Monday," she said.

"Good." I smiled. "Have a seat. Kip and Vida will be helping you get started, but I wanted to get acquainted first. I know you've been in Alpine for a few years, so you know something about the Advocate's schedule and content."

"Yes." She sat. "It's the only paper we get. Walt and I watch the rest of the news on TV."

I nodded. "Many locals do that. How do you like living here?"

"I don't." She didn't change her expression. "Walt has to go where the state sends him."

I was beginning to feel defensive. "I'd never lived in a small town until I moved here," I said. "Where had you been before Alpine?"

"Outside of Spokane," Amanda replied. "Not that I'd call Spokane a big city. It's more like the Midwest."

"Were you raised in the Midwest?"

Amanda nodded. "Milwaukee."

"And Walt?"

"Walt what?"

"Is he from Milwaukee?"