The Alpine Vengeance: An Emma Lord Mystery (19 page)

“It’s your friend and neighbor, Vida Runkel, here with Strom and Cole Petersen in a lively discussion of family ties. Indeed, they don’t always seem to bind in the way we’d want them to, but they still remain
strong
.” The last word was spoken emphatically, as if in warning to her squabbling guests. “Now I’d like to move on to what you two have in the way of future plans. Until your grandfather, Marvin Petersen, retired, there had always been a Petersen at the Bank of Alpine. Is it possible that either of you is interested in moving back here and taking
up on what I can only call the Petersen dynasty’s banking responsibility?”

“Not a chance,” Cole responded. “I like what I do at Microsoft. I’m no genius when it comes to technology, but I like marketing the company’s products because I believe in them. The travel I get to do is great, seeing all those cool places around the world and how other people live. I just got back from Bangkok, and before that, Beijing and Hong Kong. I couldn’t do that here.”

“No, I suppose you couldn’t,” Vida said in a voice that indicated she wondered why Cole would want to go to anywhere else in the world besides Alpine. “What about you, Strom?”

“I haven’t given it much thought,” he replied disinterestedly.

“I understand.” Vida sounded sympathetic. “You’re going through the grieving process. It’s never wise to make big decisions at such a time. I assume you’ll both be staying on for the private memorial service at the mausoleum.”

“Maybe,” Strom hedged.

“Probably,” Cole said.

“When is your mother, JoAnne, due to arrive in town?” Vida asked.

There was yet another pause. “I don’t know,” Strom finally admitted. “Maybe over the weekend. I’ll call her tomorrow and find out.”

“I already talked to her,” Cole said. “She’s not coming until Monday morning.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Strom shot back.

“I didn’t have a chance,” Cole retorted. “She phoned me just before I headed here.”

“So now you both know. That’s so comforting,” Vida said. “At this point, I’d like to hear your Christmas plans as a family. Do you …” Pause. “… mind if we move on, as I see our time
is running out.” Milo and I exchanged looks as Vida switched gears, no doubt due to angry glares from one or both Petersens. “Is there anything else either of you would like to say about being part of a family that has done so much for Alpine over the past eighty years?”

“We had some good times growing up here,” Cole said, almost as if he meant it. “It’s always cool to hook up with old buddies.”

“The town’s changed,” Strom said. “I think the college has helped move Alpine into the twentieth century.”

“You mean the twenty-first,” Vida corrected.

“Actually, I didn’t,” Strom said.

If Vida had gasped, it was inaudible, but she recovered quickly. “Any last words for our loyal listeners?”

“You mean,” Cole inquired, “from my dad?”

“Well … yes, of course. That’d be lovely.”

“He told me the weekend before he died he didn’t kill Aunt Linda.”

Instead of the usual farewell from Vida, there was only a sharp intake of breath, followed by the door closing on her cupboard.

F
OR CHRISSAKES
!” M
ILO EXPLODED
. “Where did
that
come from?”
I was stunned, too. “I’ve no idea.”

The sheriff had bolted out of the easy chair, swearing a blue streak. “Now I’ve got to talk to those two sonsuvbitches before they leave town. Call the station. Tell them … tell
Vida
to keep them on hold until I get there.”

“But even she can’t—”

“She sure as hell can,” Milo said, grabbing his jacket. “Do it!” He was out the door before I could say another word.

I knew KSKY’s number by heart. I punched it in, thankful that I didn’t misdial. A young man answered. “Is Mrs. Runkel still there?” I asked, and added quickly, “along with the Petersens?”

“The guys are headed for the door,” the young man replied. “Mrs. Runkel’s still here.”

“Tell them to stay put,” I said. “This is Emma Lord, from the newspaper. The sheriff is on his way to talk to all of them.” That was a stretch, but I didn’t want to single out Strom and
Cole. Maybe they’d think that some FCC rule had been violated. “If you let them leave, your ass is grass,” I added, and hung up.

Making sure everything was turned off in the kitchen, I gathered up my coat and purse. The sheriff wasn’t leaving me out of this confrontation. I, too, was a victim of the letter writing. It also occurred to me as I backed out of the driveway that Vida had come close to breaching our agreement that she would never break any kind of news on her radio program before the
Advocate
had the story. I’d already been a bit miffed when she’d teetered on the brink by asking the Petersens if either of them intended to work for the Bank of Alpine. But it was the last part of the interview that made me angry. She couldn’t have known what Cole would say, but the entire segment had been newsworthy. Both of us should’ve guessed that from the start, or so I told myself as I drove through the cold, hard rain that pelted my windshield.

I figured I was less than five minutes behind the sheriff. Turning off the Burl Creek Road, I saw his Grand Cherokee parked at an angle blocking the exit of Vida’s Buick and three other cars on the narrow gravel track that led to the radio station. I had to stop my Honda on the verge, almost halfway into the encroaching underbrush, and get out on the passenger side.

Trudging through the small parking lot with my vision impaired by the freezing rain, I realized that Milo was in the doorway, his back turned to me, and his long arms spread out to prevent the brothers from leaving the studio. The Petersens’ combined ages might total the sheriff’s, and Strom’s husky frame hadn’t yet turned to fat, but when duty called, Milo exuded authority and strength.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” he said sharply. “Get back inside. Or should I cuff you right now?”

“Hey, man,” Cole said, “we haven’t done anything.”

“It’s not ‘man,’ sonny,” Milo informed the younger Petersen, “it’s ‘sir.’ Move it.”

The brothers moved. Backwards. Milo was about to shut the door when I called to him. “Not so fast. Do you want me to drown out here in the rain?”

“Oh, shit!” he said under his breath. But he waited. “I should’ve guessed you couldn’t stay put and clean your damned oven.”

Vida was standing by the desk that served as most of the station’s receiving area. I could see into the studio through a big window. A young Asian man was at the controls, flipping switches or whatever radio engineers did when there was no live broadcasting.

“This,” Vida declared, arms folded across her impressive bosom, “is a pretty kettle of fish. May I ask why you’re here?” She suddenly saw me behind Milo. “Emma! What is this?”

“Can it, Vida,” Milo said, keeping his eyes on Strom and Cole. “We can talk here or we can go to headquarters. Your choice.”

“Hey,” Cole said, “I don’t get it. Really. What’s wrong? All we did was a radio show. Whatever happened to free speech?”

“That’s what we’re going to talk about,” the sheriff replied, pausing to take in the confined quarters. “I need some answers to some simple questions. Dare I trust you two to come to my office or do I need to call for backup?”

“What kind of questions?” Strom asked, his face turning red.

“I’ll explain that when we get to headquarters.” Milo was keeping his temper under control, but I could tell it wasn’t easy. “I want to show you something, but what I’ve got is at my office. Well?”

The brothers reluctantly looked at each other. “This is stupid,”
Strom declared. “But we’ll play along. There better be a big payoff. I planned to drive back to Seattle tonight.”

“You still can,” Milo said. “Here’s what we’ll do. Emma, you go first to clear the way to the road. I’ll go next. Then …” He stopped, gazing at the Petersens. “Did you come together or did you each bring your own car?”

“I got my Jeep,” Cole said.

“Mine’s the Lexus.” Strom seemed embarrassed by the status symbol. Or maybe he was still angry.

I left before the rest of the cavalcade got organized. As it turned out, Milo followed me, the brothers followed the sheriff, and Vida took up the rear. I wondered what the poor kid in the booth was thinking. If he had any sense, he’d contact Spence as soon as we left. Selfishly, I hoped he was slow on the uptake. I had my own rear end to cover. As soon as I pulled up in front of the sheriff’s headquarters, I called Kip.

“Emma!” he said when he heard my voice. “What do we do about Vida’s show?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” I said, and briefly explained what was going on. “Anybody who’s still semiconscious in town probably knows what happened, even if they somehow missed the program. Just get a brief summary online for now. I may have more later. Don’t mention that the brothers are being questioned. And for God’s sake, make sure you get Cole’s version of what Larry told him exactly right. But no direct quotes from either of them.”

“Will do.” Kip hung up just as Milo pulled in next to me, got out of the Cherokee, and went inside.

I managed to follow him in time to grab the swinging door before it shut in my face. Brushing wet hair off my forehead, I staggered to the counter, where Jack Mullins was regarding the sheriff and me with a wry expression. “Splish-splash, you were taking a bath, along about a—”

“Shut the hell up, Mullins,” Milo growled. “I’ve got camp followers. Anybody else around here besides you?”

Jack shook his head. “Just Evan Singer doing the 911 thing in his hidey-hole. Quiet so far until you two showed up.” He glanced at the entrance, espying the Petersens and Vida. “Oh, jeez!” Jack cried. “I forgot about her show tonight! I keep thinking it’s still on Wednesdays.”

“With any luck, the rest of Alpine did, too,” Milo muttered as the rest of our not-so-festive party tromped into the sheriff’s domain.

“Really, Milo,” Vida began, “you must tell these boys—”

“Not now,” he interrupted, before softening his tone. “For once, just be quiet. Please.” The sheriff beckoned to Strom and Cole. “We’re going into my office.” Before opening up the swinging half-door, he shot hard looks at Vida and me. “You’ll get your turn later. No arguments.”

“Well!” Vida exclaimed as the Petersens were ushered into Milo’s inner sanctum. “Doesn’t that beat all! Was I or was I not on the program with those boys?”

I grudgingly had to defend the sheriff. “This is police business, Vida. You know exactly what Milo is doing. All he wants to know is if Strom and Cole have any knowledge about the letters.”

“The letters?” Jack said. “You mean the ones Dodge got from the nutcase? What happened?”

Vida took umbrage. “You didn’t listen to my program?”

“Hey,” Jack said, backing away even though the counter separated him from my House & Home editor. “I’m on the job. I have to man the phones and keep track of the patrol deputies.”

The explanation was reasonable, but Vida knew better. “You forgot.”

Jack’s impish face grew sheepish. “I did. My brain hadn’t gotten the message. Sorry, Vida. You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
The phone rang. “But I
am
on the job,” he added, picking up the receiver.

“It’s been an entire month,” Vida muttered. “People simply don’t pay attention. Tsk, tsk.”

I put a finger to my lips and gestured discreetly at Jack, who was obviously speaking not to someone reporting a prowler or a runaway teenager, but to his wife, Nina. “No kidding! But, Sweet Lips, I’m
working
. I can’t be … hey, that was the World Series … How could I watch Monday Night Football here this week? I wasn’t on duty … Who said that about JoAnne? … No kidding. Hey, Love Muffin, got to go. The sheriff’s on the prowl. I’ll tell you when I get home, Kitty Cat.” He put the phone down. “That was my Lawful Dreaded Wife telling me about your shocker of a show, Mrs. R. So that’s what this Petersen thing is all about?”

“Yes.” Vida looked severe. “I must say first that you shouldn’t malign Nina in front of others. You know perfectly well she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Jack didn’t back down. “Aside from the chicken pox and getting shot in the groin by an irate husband back in 1988?”

“You’re impossible,” Vida declared. “What did Nina say about JoAnne? I assume she meant JoAnne Petersen.”

“Debra Barton heard from JoAnne, who said she’s coming to town tomorrow. The Bartons and the Petersens used to be kind of tight.”

“So they were,” Vida conceded. “Odd that JoAnne should change her plans from what she told her son earlier. Why such urgency?”

Jack held up his hands as if to defend himself. “Don’t ask me. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

Vida grew thoughtful. “JoAnne has visited the Bartons a few times since she moved. She still has some of her family here, not to mention friends. She golfed, you know.”

“Oh.” Jack glanced at the closed door to his boss’s office. “I don’t hear any screaming. Dodge must not have gotten out the thumbscrews yet. I still say those letters he got were from a head case.”

“I got one, too,” I said. “I brought it to him this morning.”

Jack grinned. “I heard you brought the boss more than a letter.”

I ignored Vida’s stare and gave Jack a disgusted look. “You people should spend more time catching bad guys than speculating about what goes on behind closed doors. Which, I must admit, is what I’m wondering about right now.”

I’d hardly gotten the words out of my mouth when the door opened. Strom and Cole emerged first, looking no worse for wear. In fact, they both seemed in much better humor.

“Okay,” Milo said, pausing in the doorway to light a cigarette. “You’re on, Lois Lane and Brenda Starr.” He waved the hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette at the entrance. “Looks like you’ve got competition. Here comes Fleetwood.”

“Why not?” I mumbled, watching Spence stride through the door managing to look as if he’d just stepped out of Brooks Brothers. Even his perfectly styled graying black hair wasn’t damp. Maybe he was encased in some invisible weather-proofing.

“Good evening, all,” he said in his Mr. Radio voice. “Vida, my dear, the phones are ringing everywhere. You’ve done it again.” He beamed and she preened. Then he turned to the Petersen brothers and put out his hand. “My pleasure and gratitude, gentlemen. I’m delighted to meet two young men who can light up the airwaves with such candor and lack of self-consciousness. Very rare.”