The Alpine Xanadu (33 page)

“She has.” I was trying to see if Dippy resembled Roger. Except for his round face and his coloring, I couldn’t see much of his father. But those curious eyes were sheer Vida. “Where
is
Tiffany?”

Durwood adjusted his recliner, which seemed to have enough controls for a car. Maybe that was safe for him to drive as long as it didn’t have wheels. “She’s visiting a friend in Skykomish,” he
said, keeping an eye on Dippy. “They may go to Monroe for some event at the fairgrounds this weekend. Her dad’s passing made her a bit gloomy.”

I wondered if Tiff still had Jack’s Rover. That might explain the empty garage. “Has the burial service been set?” I inquired. “We haven’t heard anything since the revised autopsy came in yesterday.”

The Parkers exchanged quick glances. “We’re not sure,” Dot said.

“Heck of a thing,” Durwood declared. “A poison I never knew about. Just as well I unofficially retired. Hard to keep up.”

Dot suddenly swerved to look at me. “Emma! Do you really have to go to the bathroom?”

“I lied,” I admitted. “Working with Vida has made me cunning, too.”

Dot poked me in the arm. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” But she laughed.

I left a couple of minutes later, still amazed at my House & Home editor’s duplicity. I wondered if I should let on that I’d uncovered her deception. But as I pulled into the ski lodge parking lot, I figured she knew. Vida always knew everything.

I got to the ski lodge before Beth Rafferty arrived. The coffee shop was filling up, so I waited for her in the lobby. The urgency in her voice had suggested she might want privacy. Two minutes later she hurried through the front door. Beth looked younger—and prettier—than she had even before the tragic death of her brother, Tim. I guessed that was due to her new beau, the man I’d seen with her at Delia Rafferty’s funeral.

“Thanks for coming,” Beth said as we exchanged a quick hug. “Is the dining room okay with you?”

I assured her it was. Henry’s daughter, Heather Bardeen Bavich, was on hostess duty. She led us to a relatively private table away from the bar. We both declined any beverages except ice water.

“Nobody,” Beth remarked after Heather moved on, “wants a sloshed 911 operator, though I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind having a drink.”

“In days of old, everybody expected a sloshed newspaper editor,” I said, “but times have changed. You look great, Beth. How’s Keith?”

“He’s fine.” She grimaced. “I just hope he doesn’t decide to take a job somewhere else now that the RestHaven project’s finished.”

“Is Nyquist running out of work or doesn’t Keith like small towns?”

“Arnie’s starting an addition to the college dorms next month,” Beth said. “At least the state has a few spare dollars. But Keith doesn’t get along very well with his boss. Nyquist can be a jerk.”

“Yes, he can,” I agreed. “At least Keith seems to like you.”

Beth revealed her dimples in a smile. “I like him. If you and Dodge can find love in middle age, maybe I can, too.”

“We found it a long time ago. I just didn’t know what it was.” I glanced at the menu, wondering if Beth had come to discuss her romance. But I didn’t think so. “You sounded upset on the phone. If you need advice, write to Vida.”

“I’m not that desperate,” Beth said. “You’re right, though.” She paused. “Here comes our blond waitress du jour. Brittany or Brianna?”

“Brandy,” I said out loud, seeing the server’s name tag. “I’ll have the tuna salad on limpa toast.”

Beth quickly scanned the lunch options. “The Reubenssen,” she said, handing the menu to Brandy. “Thanks.” As the young, buxom blonde left us, Beth shook her head. “How does Henry Bardeen find so many of these fair-haired girls whose names begin with B? I’m blond. Maybe I should have tried to get a job here when I got out of high school.”

“You also have a brain.” I shrugged. “I shouldn’t say that. It makes me sound like a snarky aging brunette. You were saying …?”

Beth leaned closer. “You remember that after Tim died, Toni Andreas moved to Alaska. She gave you a carton of Tim’s baseball memorabilia that you turned over to me.”

“Of course,” I said, my mind drifting back a year and a half to Tim’s tragic death. Milo’s former receptionist had been in love with Beth’s brother. The affair had been triggered in part by Tiffany’s shrewish, selfish behavior after she got pregnant. “Tim gave the sports items to Toni because Tiff thought they were junk.”

Beth nodded. “Typical. Unlike the items that were burned in the fire, the ones in the carton had some real value. I checked them out. The Ken Griffey Jr. autographed rookie card is worth at least three hundred and fifty dollars. Alex Rodriguez’s is two hundred and fifty. There’s Randy Johnson, Edgar Martinez, Jay Buhner, and Jamie Moyer, along with some other big names from different teams. I’ve no idea how much it’s all worth, but probably three, four grand.”

I wasn’t surprised. “I recall seeing Edgar’s signed bat. If he isn’t voted into Cooperstown because he was mainly a designated hitter, it’ll be a terrible injustice. What are the sportswriters thinking? His career numbers hitting for average, RBIs, and home runs are—”

Beth held up a hand. “Stop, Emma. You’re getting kind of heated. I’m not a huge baseball fan, but I recognized those players’ names. I never gave the carton to Tiffany. Yes, they belong to her as Tim’s widow. I just couldn’t do it. But at Mom’s funeral, my conscience got the better of me.” Her expression was grim. “The problem is, I can’t find them.”

I didn’t respond right away. Brandy had brought our orders. I waited until she left to ask the obvious: “What do you mean?”

“I had them stored in Mom’s old bedroom closet. I hosted a family gathering after her funeral. Tiffany was there with Jack Blackwell, of course. I wonder if she stole them.”

“Oh, no! Why would she do that?”

“To sell them, I suppose.” Beth paused to eat a bite of corned
beef. “Actually, I see what you mean. Maybe she told Jack about them. I wonder if he realized they might be valuable and took the carton.”

“He’s slippery but not a thief. Any idea who stabbed him?”

“No.” Beth wound some sauerkraut on her fork. “I’ve heard rumors that somebody’s been trying to kill him, though. Has Milo got a suspect?”

“He didn’t believe Jack—until now, I guess.”

Beth chewed and swallowed before responding. “I wish I knew where Tiff and Ashley are. Not that I ever see much of my niece. I babysat her a couple of times when she was still an infant, but since then, the two or three times I’ve gone to the Erikses’ house, either Cookie or Tiff told me Ashley was napping or had a cold. I was hoping they’d bring her to Mom’s funeral, but they left her with Donna Wickstrom.”

I told Beth what the Parkers had said about Tiffany’s visit to a friend in Skykomish. “She’ll be back,” I added. “She has free babysitters with her mother and her grandparents. What I don’t get is why she ever hooked up with Blackwell in the first place. Maybe it seemed like a young widow’s dream at the time, but Jack’s abusive.”

Beth scowled. “So’s Tiff. Did you forget how she treated Tim?”

“But only verbal and emotional abuse, right?”

“I think she got rough sometimes. Tim never admitted it, but he had bruises that he laughed off as weird accidents.”

I recalled rumors. “Do you think she stabbed Jack?”

Beth looked pained. “I wouldn’t put it past her. When did it happen? I thought it was after Tiff took off. Maybe there’s a dark horse lurking somewhere. What did Milo say?”

I shrugged. “My fiancé is still the sheriff. He doesn’t tell me all.”

“Darn,” Beth said with a wry smile. “I figured he’d dump all his work worries on you.”

“Guess again,” I replied.

And with that, we began to speak of other, less annoying things.

The meal was good, but Beth had given me something else to chew on. Tiffany Eriks Rafferty had been seeing Jack Blackwell before Delia Rafferty’s funeral. Maybe she’d already moved in with him. Then her father was killed and Tiff took off not long after that. Jack got stabbed but apparently didn’t think he was seriously injured until the wound became infected. Was there a connection between his stabbing and Tiffany’s erratic behavior? I pondered all these things as I drove down Tonga Road under intermittent sun.

By the time I got back to the office, I was bursting with questions for Vida but thought it best to keep mum about Dippy. She was the only staffer in the newsroom. Mitch had left and Leo was on his ad rounds.

“It seems quite simple to me,” she said after I’d unloaded on her. “I’ll call on Cookie to ask when Tiffany’s coming home so I can use the visit to Skykomish for ‘Scene.’ I didn’t know Tiffany had girlfriends. She was always glued to Tim’s side before they finally married.”

I went into my office, where the phone was ringing. “Get your butt to the courthouse,” Milo said. “We’re filling out the marriage license.”

“Right now?” I gasped.

“You deaf? I’m on my way. Move, woman.”

Mr. Romance hung up on me.

I assumed Vida was talking to Cookie when I left. I was just as glad. I didn’t want to have to explain where I was going. I told Amanda I had an errand to run, knowing she wouldn’t grill me. By the time I walked the two blocks to the courthouse and crossed Front Street, I realized I was shaking. I paused at the bottom of the
stone steps to catch my breath.
Relax
, I told myself.
You’re not going to the guillotine. You’re merely filling out an official form. Just because you’ve never done this before, it shouldn’t scare you. Lots of people do it all the time
.

Like a complete idiot, I couldn’t seem to move. Finally I looked up. Milo was standing at the top of the ten steps. “Do I have to carry you inside, you little twit?” he bellowed.

I squared my shoulders. “No,” I called up to him. I walked purposefully—if unsteadily—up to meet him.

“Damn,” he said, putting his arm around me, “you are so … perverse.” He stopped at the door. “Do you love me or not?”

I craned my neck to look at him. “Of course I do. I love you more than …” I couldn’t get the words out.

He gave me a little shake. “Say it.”

I lowered my eyes and swallowed. “I love you more than I ever loved Tom.” Defiantly, I finally met his hard hazel gaze. “Are you satisfied?”

“You bet.” He leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Let’s do it. I got a waiver on the license. We’re getting married.”

“What?”
I shrieked as he opened the door.

“Pipe down. You want everybody staring at us?”

“No,” I squeaked, aware of a half-dozen people who were doing just that as we moved toward the judge’s chambers. “Who’s marrying us?”

“The new judge, Proxmire. She can squeeze us in just before traffic court. Rosemary Bourgette and the bailiff, Gus Tolberg, are witnesses.”

I started to giggle as we entered the courtroom. I’d only glimpsed the fair-haired Amazonian Diane Proxmire from a distance. She was standing in front of her bench between Rosemary and the always grumpy Gus. Her Honor shook my hand as Milo introduced us. I nodded to Rosemary, who was all genuine smiles. Gus, of
course, looked as if we’d come to be buried, not married. I barely heard the words of the standard civil service, though apparently I made the correct responses. At least Milo didn’t have to kick me into speaking up. It was only when the judge asked if Milo had a ring for the bride that I became fully aware of what was happening. He took my hand and slipped an antique gold band with twin circlets of tiny diamonds onto my finger. We were married. Milo kissed me, more decorously than usual, and said, “Come on, Mrs. Dodge, we have papers to sign. Then I’ve got some news for you.”

As if he hadn’t done that already.

“W
HERE,”
I
ASKED AS WE WENT DOWN THE COURTHOUSE STEPS
, “did you get this beautiful ring?”

“Out of a drawer at my house,” Milo replied, holding my hand. “It belonged to my grandmother. Mulehide didn’t like it. We can replace it.”

“No! I love it! And it fits.”

“I don’t remember much about Grandma Dodge,” Milo said as we crossed the street. “She died when I was about six. But she was little, like you. I thought it might be the right size.” He paused at the corner of Second and Front. “Well? Are you through being terrified?”

I leaned against him. “Yes! I … I’m sort of speechless.”

“Hunh. Like that’d ever happen.” He led me across the street. “I suppose you’ll have to tell Vida. Is she still mad at me?”

“I think so. All three of the people she isn’t speaking to were in the courtroom. She never liked Gus Tolberg anyway.”

“Who does? But he’s a decent bailiff.”

We’d reached the sheriff’s headquarters. “Are you going to tell your staff we got married?”

Milo shook his head. “Not now. I don’t need distractions. We’re back to business. If we weren’t, you’d be going to your own office.”

Lori and Dwight were the only people out front. Beth had returned to her 911 post in the rear of the building. Lori greeted me
with a cheery smile. Dwight looked as if he’d rather eat a bug than say hello—but he did, probably in deference to his boss, who was leading me into his office.

“Okay,” Milo said, sitting at his desk after taking off his hat and jacket. “Let’s start with Blackwell. I can’t figure that guy out. His wound was fairly superficial. According to Doc, a steak or kitchen knife. If it hadn’t gotten infected, it would’ve healed in two, three days. Blackwell claims he doesn’t remember being stabbed. I almost believe him. Which means he must’ve been asleep.” The sheriff had been looking at his notes, but he finally raised his eyes. “He swears he was alone.”

“Tiffany comes to mind. Did she have a key to his house?”

Milo made a face. “Jack doesn’t always lock up at night. He’s so damned arrogant that he figures nobody would dare break in.”

“Typical.” I rested my chin on my hand. “Patti’s a possibility, even if she took him in and got him hospitalized. She loves the guy, so she’d feel remorse. Does this mean you believe the earlier threats were real?”

“Hell, no. This doesn’t prove any of the others.”

“Have you found the weapon?”