Authors: Mary Daheim
Jack laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t know Dodge had any vanity. That almost makes him human.”
My expression may have conveyed that I was the only one who knew how human Milo really was. I’d seen him at every extreme of human emotions since I first met him on an overly warm day in August 1989. His self-esteem was still at a lower ebb after his wife’s betrayal, though he hid it well. He was a different man back then—much quieter, less vocal, and seemingly laid-back. It took me a long time to figure him out—and when I did, I’d almost lost him. It was only recently that I’d realized he’d known me much better than I’d ever known him.
I changed the subject. “Jack, did you ever get called to any of those domestic disturbances when Vince and Wanda Moro were still married?”
Jack grinned at me. “You doing background on your intruder?”
“I’m doing background on why his ex-stepdaughter ran away,” I replied. “I’d heard Moro had gone back to Wenatchee, but now he’s here. I wonder if he’s been pestering Wanda and maybe Erin.”
“If he has,” Jack said, “we haven’t had any calls lately. Wanda took her previous name back, you know.”
“I gathered that,” I said, frowning at the sheriff’s closed door. “What’s he doing in there?”
Jack looked down at the telephone console. “He’s talking to somebody. Don’t ask me. I wasn’t here when he took off. I don’t even know where he went.”
“Monroe.” It wasn’t a secret mission, since Lori had told
me where he’d gone. “What’s in Monroe besides the correctional facility?”
“Maybe you can wheedle it out of him at home,” Jack said, then held up his hands. “I know, I know. If the boss man doesn’t feel like telling you everything about his job, he won’t. Does that bother you?”
I shook my head. “I’m used to it.”
Jack nodded absently. “As for the Moro dustups, I was only there for one of them. It looked to me as if Wanda had some bruises, but there wasn’t any blood. They’d both calmed down by the time Dwight and I arrived, and it was the usual bullshit. Just a difference of opinions, no harm, no foul. You know how that goes.”
“Sad,” I remarked, looking up as Milo finally appeared.
“You’re on your own, Mullins,” he said. “Don’t screw up.”
Jack feigned innocence. “Gosh, boss, did I ever?”
“How high can I count?” the sheriff murmured before grabbing my arm. “What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken,” I said.
“If it is,” Milo said, looking back over his shoulder at Jack, “the next domestic brawl you’ll get is from our house.”
Once we were in the Yukon, I refrained from asking my husband why he’d gone to Monroe. In fact, we drove up Fourth Street without either of us speaking. I could tell he was preoccupied, but I decided to wait until we were home and he had a drink in hand.
“Well?” he finally said as we turned onto Fir. “How come you’re so quiet? Did you fire Vida?”
“She improved this afternoon,” I replied. “Roger has a job.”
Milo snorted. “The hell he does. What’s he doing? Testing new brews at Mugs Ahoy?”
“I’ll tell you after I’ve foraged for steaks in the freezer. If I get frostbite, you can take me to the ER.”
“Don’t forget the spuds,” he said, pulling into the driveway.
“I won’t. Hey—where’s my car? It’s gone!”
“The Bourgettes had to move it to roll the logs out of the way. It’s parked over at the Marsdens’ house. I told them to take your extra set of keys. I’ll go get it after dinner.”
I glared at Milo instead of getting out of the SUV. “I really would appreciate it if you’d keep me informed about what’s going on around here. Every day seems to bring a new surprise.”
“You’d just fuss even more than you do already. Are you going to sit there and stew or should I go look for those steaks?”
“Ohhh …” I exited from the Yukon and all but ran to the front door.
Naturally, I had trouble with the key.
“Give me that,” Milo said, grabbing my wrist. “How the hell you ever got along without me I’ll never know.”
“Well, I did,” I declared, but I refused to look at him after we entered the house.
My husband kept his mouth shut for once, and ambled off into the hall, presumably to change clothes. I found two rib steaks in the freezer, thawed them in the microwave, and made our drinks. I was peeling potatoes when the sheriff showed up in the kitchen.
“I could’ve made the drinks,” he said, coming up from behind and putting his arms around my waist.
I leaned against him. “You had a long drive. Was traffic a pain?”
“Just the usual morons who don’t know how to drive Highway 2. They haven’t replaced the busted milepost sign yet.
They should put up a skull and crossbones instead. Hey, you found the spuds.”
“They never disappeared,” I said as he let go of me. “Once I finally got you to eat rice, you seemed to like it.”
“It’s okay. Mulehide’s was always soggy, kind of like oatmeal. Yours isn’t. She insisted that’s the way it should be cooked. At one point, she tried to teach us to use chopsticks. Bad idea.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” I said, trying to picture my husband coping with those two slim sticks in his big hands. “Are you going to sit down in the living room now that I’ve got dinner started?”
“Sure,” he replied, swatting my rear as he headed out of the kitchen. “I’m waiting for you to interrogate me.”
I made sure the potatoes had started to boil before I joined him. “Well? Why did you go to Monroe?” I inquired, sitting on the sofa.
Milo had lighted a cigarette and took a puff before replying. “I can’t tell you. I just wanted to get that part out of the way so it didn’t ruin dinner. Now I suppose you don’t want to sit on my lap.”
“Well … it’s not because I’m mad, but I have to keep an eye on dinner.” I checked my watch. “It’s ten to six. Don’t forget, we have to listen to Vida’s show at seven.”
Milo made a face. “Is she interviewing Roger about his new job?”
“No, but she probably will at some point. She’s talking to the high school counselor, Helena Craig. Do you know her? I don’t.”
“I think she’s fairly new,” Milo replied. “You must’ve run something about her in the paper when she got here.”
I thought back to recent faculty assignments. “We did. It’s
her second year. Scott Chamoud wrote a feature on her before he and Tamara moved to Seattle. Helena is from Blaine, up in Whatcom County.”
“Scott was that good-looking dude,” Milo said after sipping from his drink. “I think half the women under sixty had their eye on him. I was always afraid you’d go through some crazy older woman–younger man phase and nail him.”
“Milo! That’s terrible! I had enough trouble fending off the older Leo when he first came to work for me.” I lowered my eyes. “I’ll admit, I had to fight a fantasy now and then about Scott. I was always afraid Janet Driggers would snatch him off the street as he walked by Sky Travel when she was working there instead of at the funeral home.”
The phone rang. I automatically reached for it on the end table, then realized it was the sheriff’s cell.
“Dodge here,” he said.
I got up to start his steak, which he preferred medium-well, while I liked mine rare. The clatter of frying pans drowned out whatever he was saying on the phone. By the time I came back into the living room, he was putting the cell back in his shirt pocket and looked worried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, going over to sit on the easy chair’s arm.
“I’m not sure,” he replied slowly. “That was Mullins. Some woman just showed up at headquarters looking for Heppner. Jack couldn’t help her, so she’s coming over here. Now, what the hell is that all about?”
“I’
D BETTER PUT DINNER ON HOLD,
” I
SAID, GETTING OFF
the easy chair’s arm. “Did Mullins say what this woman wanted?”
“No. She’s fairly young and didn’t give her name.” Milo frowned. “Maybe you should make yourself scarce.”
“You’re expecting her to get violent?”
“I’m expecting her to want the sheriff, not Emma’s husband,” he replied. “Would I sit in with you on an interview for the paper?”
“Good point,” I murmured. “Maybe I should go next door and party with the Nelsons.”
“Funny Emma. Why don’t you go next door to the Marsdens and get your car?”
“Good idea,” I said and went into the kitchen to turn off the stove.
“Quit stalling,” Milo called to me.
“I’m not,” I asserted, racing through the living room to grab my jacket. “Do you want to set the house on fire?”
“That’s already been done.” His expression grew serious. “Be careful. Have you got your cell?”
“No!” I backtracked to snatch up my purse. “I think I liked it better when I was living alone and dangerously,” I muttered as I went through the front door.
I was almost down the drive when I saw a midsized blue sedan approaching slowly. Not wanting to be spotted, I cut across the grass and edged my way to the end of the fence separating my yard from the Marsdens’ property. As the car turned into my driveway, I ducked down to peer through an opening between the cedar fence posts. A woman in a hooded blue jacket that almost matched the car headed for the front door. She seemed anxious, fidgeting with the strap on her shoulder bag. After a few seconds I could see her disappear inside. I supposed the good news was that she hadn’t fallen into Milo’s arms.
Only as I started to walk toward my Honda did I realize I couldn’t park it in the driveway because I’d block the visitor’s exit. I trudged up to the Marsdens’ front door to ask for asylum.
Viv came to let me in. “Emma! What’s going on now at your place? We heard sirens there last night.”
“One of the Nelsons’ guests came calling uninvited,” I said. “I’ll explain after I ask if I can impose on your hospitality. The sheriff is doing business in our living room, and I’ve been exiled.”
Viv looked surprised, but Val, who was sitting in a leather recliner, laughed. “The neighborhood’s more interesting since he moved in. Should we arm ourselves, or is he taking somebody into custody?”
“That was
last
night,” I replied, sitting down next to Viv on the sofa. “This is something else, but don’t ask me what.”
“Can you tell us what happened last night?” Viv asked. “It sounded as if the siren was at your place.”
“It was,” I said. “Unfortunately.” Then I explained about the confrontation I’d had with Vince Moro.
Viv shook her head. “I feel so sorry for you having to put up with those people all these years. No wonder you married the sheriff!”
“Uh … well, that’s not exactly the reason I married him,” I said.
Val chuckled. “Hey, I feel better having him around. But I still can’t get over the body that was found down by the forks. I wonder if the poor guy was killed at the hatchery wetlands. We haven’t heard much more about that. I’ve checked your online site and only saw who he was. Fleetwood hasn’t had anything new, either.”
“You’re fishing,” I said. “You’ll come away skunked. The sheriff is still investigating. Milo has always been very tight-lipped about his job and marriage hasn’t changed him.”
“Sorry,” Val murmured, though he didn’t really look it, since he was smiling. “I guess we feel kind of left out. Some poor guy bleeds all over our property and nobody even knew he was there. I have to wonder what he was doing at the hatchery after dark. Derek Norman worked late that night, until almost ten, and he didn’t see or hear anything.”
“He was inside?” I asked.
“Not the whole time,” Val replied. “He smokes, but he never does it in the lab. He went outside once or twice but didn’t see anyone. Nobody was around when he left, either. Sure, people stop by to look around at the holding ponds, but they don’t do it after dark.”
I considered the time of death based on Neal Doak’s estimate of between two and six
A.M
. “I guess there’s no way to be certain that the victim was actually stabbed at the hatchery site. Whoever attacked him may have done it somewhere else and …” I’d lost the thread of my theory. “I don’t know how to explain any of it. Obviously, Fernandez wasn’t dead when he was bleeding in the wetlands or he wouldn’t have ended up being found by the river.”
“I’m glad it’s no one we know,” Viv said. “Wasn’t he from Wapato?”
I confirmed that was what his driver’s license stated. And, like a dunce, I’d forgotten to ask Milo what, if anything, he’d found out about the abandoned ATV. I’d been too distracted by being irked at my husband on the way home. For all I knew, our resident UFO spotter, Averill Fairbanks, might be right if he told me Fernandez had been killed by purple-clad Martians who’d landed in an ATV from outer space.
“Let me see if Milo’s guest is gone,” I said, going to the window that looked out onto my ever-changing log house. The blue car was still there. “You’re stuck with me,” I said. “Am I interrupting dinner?”
Viv looked at the wall clock with hands shaped like big and small fish. “My casserole needs ten more minutes. Would you like some wine?”
“No thanks,” I responded. “I left my cocktail on the end table. Maybe Milo’s guest is drinking it.”
Viv smiled. “I forgot that you’re not a wine drinker. It didn’t take us long to go through those wonderful bottles that you received from Paris last fall. Val’s allergies to alcohol have diminished over the last year or so. He can now tolerate wine if not the hard stuff. But we felt guilty drinking them. Is your friend still living over there?”
“I’ve no idea,” I said. “I haven’t heard from him in months.” And probably never would, since Milo had told Rolf Fisher that he’d arrest him for harassment if he so much as blinked in my direction. That was fine with me. Rolf had charm and brains, but he was a riddle I’d never been able to solve.
I’d no sooner spoken than I heard a car start up. “I think that’s my cue,” I said.
Val was already out of his chair. “Let me check. It might be one of the Nelson gang stealing your Honda.”
“Val!” Viv cried. “Don’t tease Emma. She has enough problems.”
“All clear,” Val said. “I can only see the Yukon.”
I headed for the door. “That probably means Milo didn’t arrest her. Or else she kidnapped him.”
Val laughed. “She’d have trouble doing that unless she drugged him first. He’s almost as intimidating as my mother-in-law.”