Vida always had to see what was going on. I remarked that I had noticed some pedestrians who looked like tourists.

  “Yes,” Vida said. “There were six people I didn’t recognize.” She opened the menu and made a face. “The special is creamed shrimp on a bed of rice. Rather peculiar for lunch, don’t you think? Of course, seafood is rarely fat-making. My diet, you know.”

  I shrugged, accustomed to Vida’s alleged war with her weight. “I’m having the hamburger dip.”

  She set the menu aside. “Oh, I’ll try the special. It comes with one of their nice, plump rolls.” She leaned out into the aisle. “Did you notice if my niece, Nicole, is waiting on tables?”

  Seeing a waitress coming our way, I realized it wasn’t Nicole. In fact, I didn’t recognize the frizzy-haired blonde, whose name tag identified her as Sarah.

  She smiled as she stopped at our table. “Are you ready to order?” she inquired in a small, breathy voice.

  Vida nodded. “How generous is the creamed shrimp?”

  Sarah’s smile disappeared from her overly made-up face. “You mean…the portion?”

  “The amount of shrimp,” Vida replied. “I’m quite fond of shrimp, so I don’t want a skimpy serving.”

  “I’ll make sure there’s plenty,” Sarah said, making a note.

  Vida was still looking at the menu. “I see it comes with potato salad. The last time the mayonnaise dressing was weak—on mayonnaise. Could you bring extra butter pats for the roll? They’re often a bit dry.”

  Sarah nodded. “Is there anything else? A beverage?”

  “Hot tea.” Vida put the menu down and glanced at the sugar and sugar substitutes. “I see only two real sugar packets. I prefer three or four for my tea, if it’s no trouble. Oh—and cream. Real cream.”

  I kept my order simple. “Hamburger dip, medium rare, honey mustard dressing on the salad. And a regular Pepsi, please.”

  “Where,” Vida asked after Sarah scurried off, “did she come from?”

  “College student?” I suggested.

  “Perhaps. Now, whom does she resemble? Think, Emma. She could be related to someone we know.”

  “She probably had parents,” I said.

  Vida gave me her gimlet eye. “You lack curiosity about people. That’s not good for a journalist. Besides, I’d like to put Sarah in my ‘Scene Around’ column. Perhaps I’ll interview her before we leave.”

  “Go for it. By the way,” I went on, not really interested in whether Sarah had recently moved here or had escaped from RestHaven’s psych ward, “I hear the mayor’s ailing.”

  “According to my niece, his wife, Irene, took him to see Doc Dewey,” Vida said, referring to Marje Blatt, who worked as the clinic’s receptionist. Like all of Vida’s relatives, including Marje’s brother, Deputy Bill, she was expected to deliver the latest news to her aunt. “Which reminds me,” she continued, again lowering her voice, “Marje’s mother, Lila, might be qualified to take over my job. She’s only in her early sixties and was editor of the high school newspaper. When Marius Vandeventer owned the Advocate, Lila did a series on well-known Alpine High alums.”

  “I didn’t know there were any,” I said without thinking.

  Vida took umbrage. “What about Bobby Lambrecht? He’s the new president of the Bank of Alpine after being the chief financial officer at the Bank of Washington in Seattle.”

  I confessed to being guilty of omitting Bob. “Sorry. He doesn’t start the job until after Labor Day. I understand they’re moving into their new home over the weekend.”

  Vida beamed. “Yes, they bought the house in The Pines that was on the market for going on a year.”

  I remained quiet as Sarah brought my salad and our beverages. The pause allowed me to change the subject. I told Vida about Blackwell’s self-professed lock on the city manager’s job.

  She sniffed. “We may not have a manager. The issue hasn’t been decided. Jack wants to have it both ways.”

  “Hedging his bets?” I suggested.

  Vida frowned. “Well now…yes. Jack can’t predict which way the wind is blowing. Don’t worry about something that hasn’t happened.”

  But of course I did.

  Chapter 3

  Sarah had declined even a brief interview. The VI was still very busy and she couldn’t spare the time. Vida was miffed. “Really,” she fumed as we returned to the office, “how can a newcomer expect to fit in if she isn’t willing to make herself known?”

  “She is on the job,” I pointed out.

  Vida ignored my remark. The poor girl had no idea it was virtually against the law to deny information to my House & Home editor. It didn’t occur to me that Sarah might have a reason for being discreet.

  After I returned to my office, Leo leaned in the doorway. “Guess what?” he said, looking pleased. “Liza and I are moving over the weekend. An unexpected vacancy came up at Pines Villa.”

  “Unexpected?” I was curious. “Did somebody croak?”

  Leo shook his head. “One of the high school teachers got a better offer from Wenatchee. She gave notice last week.”

  “I imagine Liza’s pleased.”

  “She is.” The lines on his face deepened. “Sure, she’s anxious to sell the house in Santa Maria, but real estate sales slow in August before school starts. On the other hand, she’s glad to move out of my apartment. I’m used to Dolph Terrill, but Liza isn’t. Seeing the owner usually smashed reminds her of me in my bad old days. Last night Dolph fell down the front steps and asked her who the hell had moved the damned things.” He started to leave, but halted for a moment. “Did I hear that Dodge took his own house off the market?”

  I winced. “For now. Bill Blatt’s mother made him move back home, which left Milo’s daughter, Tanya, living alone. Things are sort of up in the air right now.”

  Leo frowned. “You mean the romance is kaput?”

  “No, but Lila Blatt’s making it awkward,” I replied. “She’s a widow who needs a man around, if only to do the heavy lifting. It’s no wonder Bill and his sister have never married. Marje Blatt may not live at home, but Lila makes sure her daughter’s at her beck and call.”

  “Those Blatt women…” Leo paused to make sure our House & Home editor wasn’t within hearing range. “They’re a tough-minded bunch, even if they only married into Vida’s family. I’d hate to…” He stopped again. “Was that a siren close by?”

  I listened, but couldn’t hear anything except what sounded like a truck rumbling out on Front Street. Leo went through the newsroom, calling to Alison. I didn’t hear a response, so he kept going, apparently to look outside. A moment later he hurried back into my line of sight. “It’s Sam Heppner. He pulled his cruiser up by the VI. Shall I check it out?”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said, moving quickly to join him.

  By the time we got outside, Sam had gone into the restaurant. A half dozen people had come together on the sidewalk, including the Presbyterian church’s Pastor McClelland and the Bank of Alpine’s Rick Erlandson.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Rick, the husband of our former receptionist, Ginny.

  “Darned if I know,” he replied. “A robbery, maybe?”

  Leo tried the door, but it was locked. “Weird,” he murmured.

  I moved to the curb, listening for more emergency vehicles, but there were no other sirens. I motioned to Leo that I was going back to the office. He nodded but stayed put.

  Alison was at her post when I returned. “I saw you and Leo take off as I was coming from the rest room,” she said. “What happened out front? I heard a siren.”

  I explained about Deputy Heppner’s arrival at the VI. “For all I know, somebody flew into a rage over the daily special,” I said. “It didn’t appeal to me, but Vida lapped it up.”

  Alison smiled. “She’s in a better mood today. Maybe she’s come to terms with her grandson being in jail. Has she visited him?”

  “No,” I replied, glancing out through the plate-glass door, but seeing no sign of Leo. “Her daughter Amy told me Vida can’t bear to see Roger caged up like an animal and surrounded by real criminals.”

  “As opposed to fake ones?” Alison said with a droll expression.

  “Right.” I shook my head. “Vida still can’t accept that he’s a genuine perp. Dealing drugs was bad enough, but luring young girls into prostitution was reprehensible.” I shut up as Leo came in the door.

  “Weird,” he said, shaking his head. “Heppner finally came out and took off in his cruiser, but didn’t say anything. Typical of Sam. I went inside to ask Sunny Rhodes, who wasn’t sure. Her hostess duties had tapered off, so she’d been getting something to eat. She thought some guy was hassling their new waitress. I asked if he was a drunk in the bar, but Sunny said no.” Leo shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “Sounds weird to me, but Sunny can be kind of vague.”

  “Sarah’s the new waitress,” I said to Alison, waving off Leo’s offer of a cigarette. “She waited on Vida and me today.”

  Leo grinned as he lighted his cigarette and inhaled. “Say, Alison, I caught a glimpse of that hunk you were swooning over. He came out of the bar while I was talking to Sunny.”

  “Oh, shoot!” Alison looked as if she might vault over the desk and fly straight through the front door. “Was he alone?”

  “He was.” Leo paused to take another puff on his cigarette. “But there were three or four pretty girls chasing after him. Maybe that’s why Heppner was called in.” He sauntered off to his desk.

  “Leo!” Alison shrieked—and then stared at me. “Is that true?”

  I laughed. “Relax. You know Leo likes to tease.”

  “What if he’s serious this time? Or is he ever?”

  “Only when he’s selling ad space,” I said. “Oh—that waitress, Sarah, could use your cosmetic talents. She’s just shy of looking like a clown taught her to do her face. It’s a shame, because her features are good.”

  “I’ll have to see for myself,” Alison responded. “Maybe the majorly hot guy will show up there again.”

  “Hey—Mr. Hottie works for Blackwell, so he’s the enemy. Avoid him.” I started to turn away, but stopped. “Unless, of course, you’d like to become a spy.”

  “Do you mean that?” she asked, her blue eyes enormous.

  I considered the question. “Yes, maybe I do.”

  Sometimes I have really bad ideas. I hoped this wasn’t one of them.

  —

  With the long weekend under way, there wasn’t much sleuthing I could offer Alison. In fact, I asked if she still planned to spend the time off with her parents in Everett. But the senior Lindahls were taking advantage of the good weather to go camping by the ocean.

  “I suppose,” she said, looking thoughtful, “I could do a makeover for Lori. But if her boyfriend’s still hanging out, she doesn’t need one. Cole Petersen works for Microsoft and travels all over the world, so how come he spends so much time with Lori in Alpine?” She sighed and then, apparently not expecting an answer, shrugged. “Oh, well.”

  Her regress to gloom goaded me into suggesting she get chummy with Sarah the waitress. I explained how she’d turned down Vida’s offer to write her up as a newcomer feature. “Sarah might respond to someone in her peer group. She could be a college student, so maybe you’ll recognize her.”

  A small spark of interest flashed in Alison’s eyes. “The VI does takeout. I’ll ask Lori if she’d like to have me pick up something for us. And for Cole, if he’s still hanging out.” She paused. “Maybe Cole’s anti-marriage. Lori’s twenty-nine and still single.”

  “So?”

  “Well…” She frowned. “I suppose it makes me feel not so old.”

  There are times when I don’t know what to say. Maybe that’s because I’m so old.

  —

  I spent the rest of the afternoon making sure everything was close to camera-ready since there was only one workday before the paper went to press Tuesday night. Barring breaking news, the big story would be the Labor Day picnic—and the droning speeches. Then there would be the usual vehicular mayhem of a three-day weekend, especially on dangerous Highway 2 and the Stevens Pass corridor. At least the weather was good. That might cut down on the carnage.

  For once, I was the last to leave. Front Street was backed up from Eighth to Alpine Way. That was unusual even at our so-called rush hour. Apparently there were quite a few tourists in town, though I didn’t notice any out-of-state vehicles. Since I usually arrive home first, it’s my task to open the door and a couple of windows. The thermometer by the kitchen door showed a tolerable seventy-five degrees, but it was misleading. The third-growth forest behind our log cabin shields us from the late afternoon sun.

  The phone rang as I came back into the kitchen. I had to hurry into the living room to grab the receiver off the end table before the call trunked over to voice mail.

  “Emma?” said my stepdaughter, Tanya Dodge. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s not home yet,” I replied. “Did you try him at work?”

  “Yes, but Dwight Gould told me he’d just left. That was ten minutes ago. I didn’t try his cell.” She paused. “I hate to bother him, but they let us off work early at the Forest Service. After I came in the house I heard a noise downstairs. Maybe something fell off a shelf, but I didn’t want to go down to check it out.”

  “Did you talk to anyone at headquarters?” I asked, going to the big picture window to see if my husband was in sight. He wasn’t.

  “Lori Cobb, but she was in a rush,” Tanya replied. “I feel dumb. It could be a mouse.”

  “Go ahead and call back—” I stopped, seeing the Yukon turn into the driveway. “Here comes your father. Do you want to hold on?”

  Tanya didn’t answer right away. “What?” she finally said, a bit breathless. “Bill just pulled up. I think he must’ve come on duty at five. I’ll tell him what happened. Thanks, Emma.” She rang off.

  I went into the kitchen to greet my better half. Or louder half, at any rate. Milo was cussing as he came in the door. I leaned against the counter and waited for him to defuse.

  “What?” he barked. “Have you got a problem, too?”

  “No,” I responded calmly. “But I gather you do.”

  “Damned Fred Iverson,” Milo grumbled, taking off his regulation hat, but stopping before he threw it at the dishwasher. “He called right at five to say his new waitress had run off. What the hell am I supposed to do about that? It’s a personnel problem, not a crime.”

  “Did Fred want her reported missing?” I asked in my mildest voice.

  “You got it,” Milo retorted, heading to the living room. “I told him nobody’s officially reported missing until after forty-eight hours have…” He stopped and turned around. “Why are you still in the kitchen?”

  “I can hear you from here,” I declared. “Keep bitching. Consider me another appliance. A cheap one. I don’t use up electricity.”

  “Shit.” Milo tossed his hat aside. “Why do you put up with me?” He loped into the kitchen and took me in his arms.

  I leaned against him. “You need to vent and I’m used to it.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned down to rest his cheek on my head. “Damn, you must be the only woman on the planet who’d put up with me.”

  I moved just enough to look up into his intense hazel eyes. “I hope so. No other woman’s getting you. Now let go, change, get a drink, and then tell me about Fred’s new waitress. Her name’s Sarah, by the way. She served Vida and me today at lunch. Didn’t Heppner tell you about the call he got from the Venison Inn?”

  Milo had released me. “He logged it, but no details. You know Sam never runs at the mouth. You don’t have any weird news, I hope?”

  I shook my head. I wouldn’t bother him about Tanya’s report of a noise downstairs. Deputy Bill was her knight in regulation dun brown. Unlike her mother, the daughter was sympathetic toward law enforcement. Tricia had never appreciated the demands of her ex-husband’s job.

  Milo reappeared five minutes later. “Why don’t we eat out? Even with visitors in town, we shouldn’t have to wait long at the ski lodge.”

  I looked questioningly at my husband, but before I could speak, his cell rang. He yanked it out of his shirt pocket with one hand while the other opened the liquor cupboard. I saw him tense.

  “Okay, Bill,” Milo said in a beleaguered voice, “you know the drill. Call in the emergency crews and stay put. How’s Tanya?”

  I moved closer, but couldn’t hear Bill’s reply. “Right, I’m leaving now.” Milo put the cell back in his pocket. “Hell of a way to start a weekend. Blatt found a stiff in the lower level of my old house. What next? He finds Santa Claus’s corpse in the chimney? I have to go over there.” He started for the kitchen door.

  “Milo!” I yelled. “What about Tanya?”

  “She’s fine,” he replied over his shoulder. “Shocked, but okay.”

  I grabbed him by the back of his cotton shirt. “I’m going, too. Tanya’s my stepdaughter, remember?”

  Briefly, my husband looked conflicted, but finally he shrugged. “Fine. Hold her hand while Bill and I do whatever. You know the drill, you ornery little twerp.”

  I ignored the comment. “What kind of stiff?”

  “The dead kind—female. That’s all I know. Get into the vehicle.”

  I was still fastening my seatbelt as Milo reversed out of the garage, down the drive, and onto Fir Street. “Tanya called to say she heard a noise downstairs,” I said.

  “When?” He hadn’t put the flasher on the Yukon, but he was exceeding the speed limit by at least twenty miles an hour. Luckily, traffic was sparse in our residential part of town.

  “Just before you got home,” I informed him. “But Bill showed up. Tanya talked to Lori. You must’ve already left.”

  “I was probably outside talking to Iverson,” Milo said, turning by the high school to get on County Highway 187, more commonly known as the Icicle Creek Road. “Fred stopped me just as I was coming out of headquarters.” He slowed for the arterial by the cemetery. “The EMTs must be on their way.”