The Alpine Kindred (26 page)

“Then how did the rumors get started?” I asked.

Maylene shook her head. “Who knows? People in this town love gossip.”

“Was it something to do with sugar cubes?” I gave Maylene an ironic smile.

“Oh, that!” Maylene curled her lip. “Dumb. But typical. Einar thought he was God's gift to women. I was as surprised as anybody when he dropped that sugar cube down my front. Think about it, Emma,” she went on earnestly. “I could have gone one of two ways. I could have been outraged, and yelled 'sexual harassment.' That would have created a big stink, which I definitely don't need when I'm trying to get on full-time at the college. So I played it cool, and laughed it off. I suppose I thought I could win some points with Einar.”

Maylene was making sense. “What about the people who said they'd seen his car parked outside your house when Ron wasn't around?”

“Who said that?” Maylene's eyes sparked with anger.

It had been Ryan Talliaferro, and I was reluctant to mention his name. Indeed, he had been repeating what someone else had told him. “I heard it secondhand,” I admitted. “But my source was quoting at least two other people.”

The anger turned to gravity. “Einar did come by once, to ask about Diane Henderson, the head librarian. He'd heard that she was doing something strange with the budget. I don't think it was true, Diane's not like that, but I hadn't worked at the library long enough to know. Einar considered himself the expert trustee on money matters.”

“Did he make a pass?”

“Ohhh …” Maylene ran an agitated hand through her curls. “I think it was on his mind. He kept stringing out the visit, asking unnecessary questions. But finally the phone rang, and he left.”

Maylene was still making sense. I had only one question left. “What about Ron's discrepancies in the log?”

“That's bilge,” Maylene asserted. “The log's a joke. Ron can't keep track of every minute he's on the job. He writes down what he did and where he did it, and the general time, but he's not exactly precise. If he were, he'd spend half his working life figuring it all out. That's not what the log's for in the first place. It's to show what problems he's run into and what he's done about them and any unusual occurrences.”

“There weren't any that Monday night?”

Maylene shook her head. “Not that he knew of. He opened the door for Einar, then he went to check out the rest of the building. Then he …” Maylene blanched. “That's the part he didn't originally tell the Sheriff. He was scared.”

I leaned forward on the couch. “Why was that?”

“Ron went back via the RUB dining room. He thought he heard someone leaving. When he didn't see Einar, he went into the kitchen. That's when he found him. Ron rolled Einar over and saw the knife. He pulled it out, because he wasn't sure Einar was dead. When he realized he was beyond help, Ron panicked and ran out of the building. He washed up over at one of the dorms, where the toilet was plugged. The whole thing scared the hell out of him, and he didn't tell Milo.”

“That was a mistake,” I said, with a shake of my head.

“Of course it was! I told him so when he came home.” Maylene looked angry, as if she were reliving the encounter with Ron.

“So Ron actually ditched the knife?”

“Ditched it?” Maylene frowned. “He couldn't remember exactly what he did with it. I think he tried to wipe off his prints, and then put it somewhere. Ron's kind of … what's the word? Erratic, maybe? He panicked when he
found Einar with the knife stuck in him, then after he got out of the RUB, he had time to calm down before the Sheriff came looking for him. I guess he held up pretty well during the rest of the night, even when Milo or whoever questioned him. But when he got home, he fell apart all over again.”

I recalled talking to Ron later that morning. Admittedly, he hadn't seemed like himself. “Can you think of anything else that would support your husband's story?”

Maylene drew back in the rocker. “Why? Are you starting a campaign for him at the paper?”

“No. But I need background,” I explained. “I want to be fair to Ron. In fact, I won't print most of what you just told me. Not now. It will all come out in the trial.”

“Trial!” Maylene jumped to her feet and began pacing. “There shouldn't be a trial! Why do Ron and the kids and me have to go through all this when he's innocent?” She stopped abruptly and whirled on me. “Know what? When this mess is over, we're moving. I'm not from here, I'm from Monroe. I've never liked Alpine that much, especially after the logging business went down the toilet. I told Ron we ought to settle in Marysville. That's where my folks ended up, after they sold the family home. Maybe Ron and I could get on at the college in Everett.”

Marysville, like Snohomish, was another burgeoning town filled with commuters. I couldn't blame Maylene for wanting to escape Alpine. I felt particularly sorry for the Bjornson children, who, as teenagers, were no doubt suffering at the hands of their peer group.

I started to head back into town a few minutes later, leaving an angry and desolate Maylene on the front porch. Briefly, I thought of stopping at the college. I'd been wondering all along why Nat Cardenas was still on campus when Einar's body was found. The Administration Building had been dark that night, so he wasn't in his
office. But many people had been around at seven-thirty. It wasn't really strange that the president should be one of them. Maybe Cardenas had been about to leave when he saw the emergency vehicles. I kept driving.

Lunch was a burger and fries from the Burger Barn. Vida, who had been gone when I left to see Maylene, joined me with her carrot and celery sticks. If she was annoyed because I hadn't waited until she could accompany me to the Bjornsons', she didn't show it. Her proprietary air didn't extend to days when we had a deadline to meet.

“That's rather odd,” she said. “I don't know Maylene very well, but she doesn't strike me as a liar. Of course I expect any woman would lie to protect her husband from the gallows.”

I opened my mouth to agree when an idea struck. “Vida,” I said, trying not to get too excited, “wouldn't a man lie to protect his wife?”

Vida knew exactly what I was thinking. “If Maylene killed Einar, certainly Ron would want to shield her.”

“The library was open that night until eight,” I pointed out. “Maylene works on Mondays. What if she was still there, what if Einar asked to meet her at the RUB? What if he made advances, and she tried to ward him off with the knife?”

Vida twirled a celery stick. “Defending her virtue. Why not say so?”

“Because the lecher was Einar Rasmussen Jr.” I liked my own reasoning. “The courts are still wishy-washy about a woman's rights when it comes to defending herself. Maylene was afraid she wouldn't be believed, especially with those rumors afoot. And Einar was a trustee, a big gun in the community. She'd never get hired full-time if she killed Einar, self-defense or not. Ron would probably get the sack, too. In fact, I imagine he'll be fired anyway.”

“Hmm.” Vida's mouth worked as she thought through our little scenario. “Ron lets Einar in. Maylene may have already alerted him about the assignation. He lurks in the background. But Einar pounces, and Maylene has to act quickly. By the time Ron arrives, Maylene has stabbed Einar. Next, they try to cover her crime.”

It made sense. At least for thirty seconds. “Why? Why there, why in the RUB, when Einar knew that Carla was on the way to take pictures? Carla was a few minutes late. What if she'd been on time? And why would Maylene agree to meet Einar in the first place?”

“To seek a full-time position?” Vida suggested. “We don't know what Einar may have told her.”

I chucked the Burger Barn containers and napkin into my wastebasket. “I don't know. It sounded good at first, but now it doesn't make much sense.”

“But it's not impossible,” Vida said, getting up from my visitor's chair. “We'll discuss it later. I'm off now to see Marlys. And Davin. My section is all locked up.”

“You're going to Einar's house now?” I said in surprise. “Can't you wait until I can go with you?”

“Not and make deadline,” Vida declared. “This time I won't be denied.” She hesitated at the door. “You
are
tied up this afternoon, aren't you?”

I was, at least for most of the afternoon. But Vida wasn't going to one-up me. “I can spare an hour,” I said. “Let's go.”

Vida did her best to hide her disappointment.

I
N THE MIDDAY
sun that filtered through the vine maples and evergreens, the Rasmussen house should have looked even more attractive. Instead, the shafts of light created eerie shadows on the cedar roof and long arched windows. Maybe my imagination was playing tricks on me, but I sensed something sinister about the house. Maybe it was Einar Jr., haunting his handiwork until his killer was brought to justice.

Vida had tried to ensure her entry by stopping at the Upper Crust Bakery to buy a peach pie. Once again, Deirdre came to the door. She didn't look quite as careworn as before, but she definitely wasn't pleased to see us.

“Look, Mrs. Runkel,” she said, directing her words at Vida, “Mother isn't seeing anybody. I don't mean to be rude, but—”

“You're not rude, you're merely good-hearted,” Vida said cheerfully, and barged right inside, nearly knocking Deirdre off balance. “I'll take this out to the kitchen; I know where it is. My, my, what a lovely carpet.”

I couldn't help but follow, and Deirdre no longer barred my way. “Vida is very determined,” I said. “She's extremely strict about duty calls.”

“She could have written a note,” Deirdre said in a sulky voice as we trekked through the living room and dining room to reach the kitchen.

Vida had placed the pie on the dark granite countertop. “Peach,” she said with a bright smile. “I considered apple, but everyone does apple. I thought peach would be a special treat. Now, where is Davin? I do so want to meet him now that you two have been reunited.”

Deirdre slumped against the refrigerator. “Who told you?” she asked in a faint voice.

“Why, your grandmother, who else?” Vida's eyes had grown very wide behind the orange-framed glasses.

“Grandmama!” Deirdre sounded aghast, then rallied. “Okay, why not? I'll go get him.”

“She wants to appease us,” Vida whispered after Deirdre had left the kitchen. “As long as Marlys and Beau are under wraps, she'll offer Davin as her sacrifice.”

“To be honest, it's Beau I'd like to see,” I said. “At least I got a glimpse of Marlys at the cemetery.”

“True. I wouldn't mind seeing Beau myself.” Vida nudged me as we heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.

Deirdre entered the kitchen with the young man we'd seen through the window on our previous visit. His long, fair hair was now tied back in a pony tail, and he was wearing a flannel shirt over his T-shirt. I saw no resemblance to Deirdre in Davin's angular features and slight build. I assumed he took after his father, Mr. Jerk-off.

Deirdre, however, was giving her ex no credit of any kind. “This is my son, Davin,” she said, apparently unwilling to mention the boy's last name.

Davin put out a long, thin hand, but to my amazement, Vida enfolded him in a suffocating embrace. “Davin! How wonderful to finally meet you! Your dear great-grandmother has often sung your praises to me!”

Neither Vida nor Davin could see the surprise that registered on my face and Deirdre's. I knew Vida was lying; Deirdre may have guessed as much.

Davin looked goggle-eyed as Vida released him. She stood there examining him, hands on hips, one foot firmly planted, the other resting on the heel of her sensible shoe. “Did you enjoy staying with your great-grandparents? They live in such a lovely old house in Snohomish.”

Davin glanced uncertainly at his mother. “I … it was okay. I had my own room.”

“Yes, so many bedrooms,” Vida rattled on, “even a ballroom on the third floor. Axe you very crowded here?”

“We're fine,” Deirdre interrupted. “This house has three bedrooms.”

“How nice,” Vida enthused, then moved closer to Davin. “That was very naughty of you not to tell your poor mother that you'd gone to live with great-grandma and great-grandpa. I hope you two have everything sorted out by now. Your grandfather should have told your mother where you were. I'm sure his intentions were the best, but I couldn't see what harm it would do to let her in on your whereabouts and not worry her to death.”

I had seldom heard Vida spin such a tale, especially one based on guesswork and conjecture. But Davin seemed taken in, and Deirdre was beginning to look somewhat credulous. I, however, felt lost in Vida's maze of supposition.

“I think Dad was afraid I'd interfere,” Deirdre said, moving to stand by her son. “Maybe I would have. But only because I wanted the best for Davin.”

“Mothers are like that,” Vida said, oozing empathy. “We always want to keep our chicks under our own wings. How long were you gone, Davin? Before you joined your great-grandparents, that is.”

“Um …” Davin scratched behind his ear. “Four weeks? Something like that. It wasn't all that bad, at least not after the first few days.”

“But so beneficial.” Vida was nodding wisely. “Your
grandfather knew what was best for you. Under the circumstances.”

Davin also nodded. “Gramps said it ran in the family. Both sides, for me.”

“It can be hereditary. Your grandfather was very smart to notice your propensities.” Vida patted the boy's shoulder; Davin flinched only slightly. “Now, you must follow up. That's terribly important, I'm told.”

“I know,” Davin replied. “I should have gone to a meeting last night, but I was still kind of upset.”

“Understandable, but all the more reason to attend,” Vida said. “Now we must go.” She beamed at both Davin and Deirdre, then started out of the kitchen. “Oh!” she exclaimed, turning around in the doorway that led into the dining room. “I meant to ask—were you here or with your great-grandparents when you learned the dreadful news about your grandfather?”

Davin exchanged a swift look with Deirdre. “I was still in Snohomish. I moved in with Mom after the funeral.”

“So thoughtful,” Vida murmured.