Alpine Zen : An Emma Lord Mystery (9780804177481) Read Free Page A

now. By the way, did you get your retirement-home copy from Maud Dodd to Kip yet?” It was always wise to remind Vida I was the boss. Many of our readers assumed she was in charge and sometimes even I had to remind myself that was not the case.
    “I haven’t had time to organize it,” she replied. “I’ll do that now.” She fanned herself with one hand. “My, but it is a bit warm in here. I wonder if Harvey Adcock has any more big fans at the hardware store?”
    “Call him,” I said, accompanying Vida through the newsroom. “Get two, if he does. The one in my office died this morning.”
    On that note, I headed out into the sunshine. There were a few clouds hanging listlessly above Alpine Baldy and Mount Sawyer. Neither of the five-thousand-foot peaks had much snow left. Beyond the railroad tracks in back of the
Advocate
, I couldn’t see the Skykomish River, but it was running low for this time of year. By the Fourth of July, I probably could wade across it without getting more than my knees wet. Most of the smaller waterfalls along Highway 2 had dried up by mid-May. There hadn’t been enough snowpack to feed the little streams above the Stevens Pass corridor. Back in April, we’d been warned of a possible drought come summer. The words echoed in my ears.
    After passing the hobby shop and Parker’s Pharmacy, I crossed Front Street at the corner of Third. My sunglasses kept sliding down my perspiring nose. I yanked them off as I entered the Burger Barn and collided with a large object that turned out to be my husband.
    “Jeez, Emma, take it easy,” Milo muttered, grabbing my arm to steady me. “I was going to call you after I got back to the office.”
    I realized he was holding a Burger Barn bag in the hand that wasn’t still on my arm. “You haven’t eaten, either?” I asked.
    “No,” he replied, looming over me with his thirteen-inch height advantage. “It’s your fault I didn’t get lunch until now. Come on, let’s sit down. At least they’ve got the ceiling fans going in here.”
    It was easy to find an empty booth since the noon-hour rush was over. Milo took off his regulation hat, which was no longer the high-crowned style that looked as if Smokey Bear should be wearing it. The sheriff had finally replaced those hats with what I could only describe as an Australian type, more conservative and better-looking. Before I could ask why I had caused him to miss lunch, a freckled-faced waitress whose name tag identified her as Kinsey came to take my order of a hamburger, fries, salad, and a large Pepsi. Milo requested coffee.
    “So what egregious thing did I do now?” I inquired as my husband devoured a large chunk of cheeseburger.
    He swallowed the mouthful and added salt to his fries before answering. “Some goofball named Ren came to see me when I was about to come over here. She insisted you told her to ask me about her dead mother. It took half an hour to get anything out of her. By then Roy Everson had showed up from the post office with more bones he insisted belonged to his long-missing mama, Myrtle. Is this some holiday for people who can’t keep track of their old ladies?”
    “I did
not
tell Ren to talk to you. I did not mention your name or your job or…” My shoulders slumped. “Damn, I’m sorry you got stuck with her. Worse yet, she’s not going away, so I’ve assigned her to Vida.”
    “Shit.” Milo’s expression was wry. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sic a space case on me.” He put the hand that wasn’t holding two French fries on mine. “Ren harped on her mother being lured to Alpine by money and then disappearing. Black magic, maybe. Is she crazy or is the weather getting to me?”
    “I’m letting Vida determine that,” I said. “It’ll give her something to do besides mope about Roger’s fate. Ren had wanted to visit Donna Wickstrom’s art gallery, but I told her it wasn’t open until five.”
    The sheriff’s hazel eyes gazed up at the ceiling