The Alpine Winter Page 5

  “Here,” Jim said, reaching into his other shirt pocket and pulling out a card. “That’s my business information. I’m a private pilot. I run my own operation.”

  “I’m a mechanical designer,” Melody said. “I take calls on Jim’s phone when he’s away.”

  I scooted out of the booth and thanked the McKays. By the time I got back to Ben, he was halfway through his pancakes. There was no food on my placemat. “Did you eat mine, too?” I asked.

  “I sent it back. You hate cold food.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Pry anything out of your witnesses?”

  “Not much more than I already knew. It’s weird, though.”

  “How so?”

  I told Ben about Roy Everson showing us the bones the little boys had dug up. “Their parents were geocachers, too, but not locals.”

  “Sounds like you’re on the case,” Ben said before stuffing more pancakes into his mouth.

  “I don’t know if it’s a case,” I said as Terri arrived with my order.

  She nimbly set everything down, including my apple juice. “I had them start a new order.” She turned to my brother. “I think you’re going to clean your plate, Father.”

  “I have to,” he said. “Emma won’t feed me. She thinks I took a vow of starvation.”

  Terri giggled as if she thought Ben was a real wit. I thought he was a real twit.

  “Stop looking like Mrs. Diffelhoffer in third grade at Latona Grade School,” Ben said after Terri had gone.

  “I didn’t have Mrs. Diffelhoffer,” I said. “They only sent the bad kids to her third-grade class. I had Miss Swift.”

  “Miss Swift was a dish,” he declared.

  “She was nice. It’s now John Stanford International School and only bright kids can go there. You wouldn’t get through the front door.”

  “Neither would you. You’ve got egg yolk on your sweater.”

  “Oh!” I dabbed my napkin in my water glass and rubbed at the spillage. We reminisced about school days for the rest of the meal. When we got to my car, Ben said he’d been invited by the Shaws, the Bartons, and the Daleys for drinks and would see me at dinnertime.

  “Swell,” I said, turning onto Alpine Way. “You’ll be trashed by the time you get to my house. Some example for your nephew.”

  “I have to keep the folks happy in Den’s absence. In a couple of days you’ll be tired of having me around.”

  “Not likely, but,” I said, turning onto Cedar, “I’m not sure how long Adam’s staying. He never plans his personal life more than an hour ahead. I’m still waiting for him to change his mind and join the circus.”

  “If he sticks around, maybe we can team up and go searching for more bodies. Or at least more body parts. Is this a big story?”

  I pulled into the church parking lot. “I doubt there’s much to Roy’s bones. They may not be human. The Eversons have tried to foist off everything from a barn owl to a mountain goat as Mama’s spare parts. They’ve got a serious fixation. The cave thing is different.” I stopped by the rectory entrance. “I hope Dwight’s going by the book with that body. Maybe I’ll drive down to the sheriff’s office to see what he’s doing.”

  Ben laughed. “What will you do there? Sit in Dodge’s chair and pretend you’re in his lap? You really are still fifteen years old.”

  “Get out,” I said. “I mean it. Now you are fraying my nerves.”

  Ben sobered immediately. “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Being with you brings out my brotherly instincts. It’s as if we both forget I’m a priest. But I answer to God, not anyone else. And I have to tell you, I believe you’re about to go off the rails. You’ve got some deep thinking to do. You may have figured out what you want to do with your body, but you’ve got a soul to save. If you lose that, you won’t find it in the sheriff’s bed or the Advocate’s lost-and-found ads.”

  Ben got out of the car and slammed the door. I watched him stride up the rectory steps. The drizzle was turning into heavy rain, but Ben hadn’t bothered putting up his jacket hood. It wasn’t his wrath that upset me as much as it was that little voice inside asking if he was right. It took me a while to realize that it was my conscience.

  Dwight Gould hadn’t returned from Mount Sawyer. A glum Sam Heppner was behind the curved counter in the sheriff’s office. He didn’t seem very glad to see me. Sam was a confirmed bachelor who never seemed glad to see any woman invade his domain.

  “Don’t ask and I won’t tell,” Sam said, looking down his buzzard beak of a nose at me. “If I didn’t hate being around my sister and her family so much, I’d have told Dwight to go screw himself and stayed in Sultan. If that stiff’s decomposed already, what’s the rush?”

  “Dwight’s in charge,” I reminded him. “Besides, he could hardly leave a corpse for other people to find. When do you expect him back?”

  San shrugged. “It’ll take time. That trail zigzags all over. It’ll be a bitch getting the corpse out. An ambulance can’t go far, so they’ll have to carry it to the road. The only option is a chopper to airlift it. You ever hiked up there? It’s not far from your place, being part of Tonga Ridge.”

  “I haven’t done much hiking since I was a kid,” I admitted.

  “City girl,” Sam muttered. He thought even less of cities than he did of women. “At least you’re not fat, so you don’t need the exercise.”

  That was probably as close to a compliment as I’d ever get from Sam. I obviously wasn’t going to get any news out of him, either. I asked if he’d have Dwight call me and then I went home.

  Adam arrived a little before five o’clock. He looked tired, unshaven, and so much like Tom that it still startled me. My genetic contributions were the brown eyes and his hair—not as dark as his father’s. For the first time since he’d become an adult, I saw him without having my heart ache for Tom.

  “Mom,” Adam said after we hugged, “you look beat. How come?”

  I couldn’t admit the reason, so I waffled. “It’s the busiest time of year.” I tried to smile. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “You might try a little harder to look like it,” he said, grinning. “Hey—where’s that disgrace to the clergy, Uncle Ben?”

  “He’s visiting parishioners.” I stared at the backpack he’d slung down on the floor. “Is that your only luggage?”

  “I travel light,” he said, echoing Ben. “What time do we eat?”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  Adam shed the two-hundred-dollar parka I’d bought him at REI a couple of years earlier. “Didn’t Uncle Ben let you know when I was coming? I texted him as soon as I got off the plane around two.”

  I kept my voice light. “He’s glad-handing St. Mildred’s donors.”

  “Guess I’d better text him again,” Adam said, taking out his cell. “You should get one of these, Mom. It’d make life easier for us both.”

  “I have one,” I admitted, relating how I’d left Ben’s birthday present at the office. “I will learn how to use it. Kip MacDuff’s a good teacher, as long as he takes it slow. Do you want something to eat now?”

  “No. I need a shower. No shave. It’s warmer with a beard.” He fingered what looked like a two-day growth. “What do you think?”

  To my horror, I turned away and burst into tears.

  “Mom!” Adam put his arms around me as I bent over by the sofa. “What’s the matter? Did Dad have a beard I never saw?”

  I couldn’t tell my son the truth. When Milo decked Fleetwood and Mullins for tasteless comments about the two of us, Sheriff Go-by-the-Book Dodge suspended his deputy—and himself. During those two days, he hadn’t bothered to shave. After the standoff in Bellevue and his brief return to Alpine, he still hadn’t shaved, toying with the idea of growing a beard—unless I didn’t like the idea. At that point, I wouldn’t have cared if Milo had grown tusks. Since I hadn’t seen him for almost three weeks, I didn’t know if he still had the beard. I was furious with my brother for lecturing me, hating myself for feeling guilt
y, knowing I was ruining everything, even Christmas.

  As my son stared in bewilderment, I got myself under control. “The last month has been rugged,” I said. “I caused a death.”

  Adam was startled. Maybe he thought I was crazy. But his next words reassured me. “Did you lose your driver’s license afterwards?”

  I managed a faint smile. “No. It was accidental, not involving a vehicle. It was also self-defense. I’ll tell you about it later. In fact, I only glossed over it yesterday with Ben. It’s complicated. Can you get me some Kleenex from the bathroom?”

  Adam started for the hall. “Life in Alpine is more exciting than small-town stereotypes. Maybe your crusading journalism stirs the pot.”

  When he returned, I was sitting up, focused on dinner. “I sure hope you can wait until everything’s hot.”

  “I’m okay,” Adam said, though he seemed thinner than when I’d last seen him in the summer. At six-two, he was as tall as Tom, but at least twenty pounds lighter. “I’ll pick at the turkey while you cook.”

  I stood up. “Let’s. You can tell me about life in the frozen North.”

  When I took the turkey out of the fridge, Adam helped himself to a beer. “It’s routine, but ‘routine’ is different,” he said, leaning on the back of a kitchen chair. “At best, the road to the village is accessible six months of the year. Otherwise, I have to fly, but I can’t do that when there’s no ice runway available. There are times like the day before yesterday when that’s not doable. Did I leave out fog? It’s a problem, too.”

  I stepped aside so Adam could pluck off a chunk of white meat. “I honestly can’t imagine what it must be like. That’s why I keep putting off visiting you. If I see how you live firsthand, I’ll worry even more.”

  “Let’s talk the upside,” Adam said, after eating the turkey in one bite. “The people are amazing. Not to mention the stark beauty of the surroundings. That’s a spiritual experience all by itself.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe this is you—who spent a year at the U. of Hawaii worrying about your tan and forgetting to attend class.”

  “Hey,” Adam said, yanking off a crisp piece of drumstick skin, “I still wouldn’t mind doing that beach thing. Maybe I’ll get sent to Tahiti.”

  “How long do you think you’ll stay in St. Mary’s Igloo?” I asked, seeing lights glow just beyond the carport. “I think Uncle Ben is here. Why don’t you open the front door for him?”

  Adam frowned at me. “He can’t find the back door?”

  “Probably not,” I said. “He’s getting senile.”

  As my son headed out of the kitchen, I finished putting the cut-up turkey parts into the oven while girding myself for what might be an uneasy confrontation with Ben. I was about to slide the dressing into the oven when I realized that whoever was at the door wasn’t Ben.

  “Mom,” Adam called. “The sheriff’s here.”

  I almost dropped the stuffing. “Okay,” I croaked. “Hold on.”

  I knew I looked like a wreck. I felt like one, too. I dithered, at a loss for how to handle the situation. I heard Milo say something—about the weather? Alaska? Fishing? My ears seemed plugged. Finally, I went into the living room.

  Milo was still by the door. He looked a bit discomfited, too, but hid it better than I did. He’d shaved off the beard. I was glad, lest my son connect the dots. Adam was by the sofa, seemingly at ease. He spoke first. “I was going to ask the sheriff if he wanted to have dinner with us.”

  “Oh …,” I started to say before Milo interrupted.

  “I can’t,” he said, moving closer. At six-five, he loomed over me by more than a foot. “We’ve got a body up on Sawyer. Dwight’s bringing it down,” Milo went on, near enough for me to see the longing in his hazel eyes. “Sam said you stopped by. He filled me in on the Laskey kid’s escape. I figure Mitch can’t cover the story. Are you doing it?”

  “I’ll have to,” I said, wishing he wouldn’t stand so close that I could hear his heart beating. Or maybe it was mine. “No word on Troy?”

  “No. If he’s smart, he headed to Seattle.” Milo sucked in his breath. “I better go. The body’s due at the hospital morgue.”

  I nodded dumbly. Milo started for the door. “Wait,” I called after him. “Adam—can you put the stuffing in the oven on the upper rack? I have to ask the sheriff a couple of questions.”

  “Sure,” my son said, and headed to the kitchen.

  I practically shoved Milo through the door. “Oh, God,” I said as soon as we were out of the house, “I’m a mess!”

  He looked over his shoulder before putting his arm around me. “You look frazzled as hell. Did you set fire to the turkey?”

  “No. Do you really have to work? Are you back for good? Is everything all right?”

  “Hey!” He chuckled and pulled me closer. “Yes, I have to work. I hope I’m back for good, but who knows with those idiots in Bellevue. As for being all right, I was until I saw Adam. I didn’t notice a strange car in your driveway, so I thought you were alone. Where’s the other priest?”

  “Not here yet. Adam parked on the verge. Oh, Milo, I’m so …” I felt on the edge of more tears, but controlled myself. I pressed my face against his chest and soaked up the warmth of his body next to mine.

  “You feel like you’ve shrunk,” he said. “Have you been sick?”

  “Just upset.” I looked up at him. “Adam doesn’t know about us.”

  He touched my cheek. “I wondered. What about Ben?”

  “He gave me a bad time. We have to talk. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” I raised my face for his kiss, but saw headlights approaching my house. “Damn! Here’s Ben!”

  Milo swore under his breath and let me go. “I have to move the Cherokee.” He swore some more as he strode away to his vehicle.

  I went back to the front porch. Apparently Ben had seen the Cherokee’s lights before he made the full turn into the driveway. He backed up just enough to get out of the way. I waited in the doorway, realizing that I was cold. And wet. From behind, I heard Adam’s voice.

  “You okay, Mom?”

  “Yes. Ben’s here,” I said, surprised that I sounded normal.

  “Great!” Adam had come up behind me. “I haven’t seen him for … I can’t remember when.”

  Instead of watching my brother pull in, I kept my eyes glued to Milo’s car as it disappeared down Fir. It was dark, of course, and I could see no farther than past the Marsdens’ house next door. Moments later Ben got out of his rental car and walked over to greet us.

  The two men wrapped each other in a bear hug. Ben had changed into respectable clothes—a dark blazer, navy turtleneck sweater, and dark slacks. After we went inside, he seemed to avoid my gaze. Deciding that a woman’s place was in the kitchen, I finished readying dinner. I felt as if I were seeking a safe haven from the men in my family. After Adam and Ben had finished their greetings, my son came to the doorway. “Can you get Uncle Ben a Scotch-rocks and grab me another beer?”

  “Is he still sober?” I inquired disdainfully.

  “Pretty much,” Adam said. “You should make yourself a drink.”

  I set a kettle of gravy on the stove. “Good idea. The serving wench will join you as soon as she puts the green beans on the burner.”

  Unfazed by my sarcasm, Adam returned to the living room. When I arrived with the beverages, Ben seemed in a jovial mood. He was in the easy chair; Adam was on the sofa. I sat next to my son, by the phone. Uncle and nephew were talking about their priestly experiences, some funny, some sad. Not having any of my own, I kept my mouth shut, offering an occasional shake of my head or a tight little smile. I felt as if I might as well not be there.

  Dinner was ready at six-thirty. Ben deferred to Adam to say grace. He made short work of it. We’d barely said “Amen” when the phone rang.

  I stood up. “Sorry. I better take that. The corpse, you know.”

  Ben seemed indifferent. Adam, having been raised by a mother who freque
ntly interrupted meals, helping with homework, and even stern maternal lectures to keep up with her own vocation, kept on eating.

  “The dead guy—think it’s a guy—is here at the morgue,” Milo said. “Doc Dewey’s on his way. Do you want to escape the holy terrors?”

  My conscience won. “We’re eating. Later, after Doc’s done, okay? I gather it can’t be Myrtle Everson.”

  “What?”

  The sheriff sounded puzzled and I realized he didn’t know about Roy’s latest find. “Roy has some new relics. They’re awaiting your okay to send them to Everett.”

  “Oh, shit! Why don’t they give it up? It’s been twenty years.”

  “Sixteen, according to Vida.”

  “Fine. She’s probably right. The old girl’s disappearance has haunted me since I’ve been sheriff. Want me to call with Doc’s results?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Will do.” Milo rang off.

  Ben looked up from dishing up more beans. “Breaking news?”

  “The body on Mount Sawyer has come to town,” I said.

  “What body?” Adam asked.

  I summed up the story in brief, breaking-news style. “I may have to go to the hospital after dinner. I don’t want to call Mitch unless I have to and Vida won’t be back at work until the day after tomorrow.”

  Ben eyed me suspiciously. “Isn’t your deadline Tuesday?”

  “We have an online edition,” I informed him. “I’m not completely in the dark ages of technology.”

  “You should’ve told me,” Ben said. “I might check it out.”

  Adam chimed in. “I didn’t know, either. When did you start that?”

  I glared at them. “I told both of you when we did it a couple of months ago. Kip manages the site.”

  “Hunh,” said Adam.

  “Hmm,” said Ben.

  They returned to their more congenial tales of tending their flocks. I retreated into my own little world, just to make sure I still existed. After dinner, we opened presents. I had been fairly lavish, especially with Adam. Somehow I’d managed to come up with enough money to fulfill almost all of his requests, including three sets of dual-layer underwear, waterproof boots, an insulated bomber hat, and a new hooded jacket for above-freezing temperatures. I gave Ben a forest green pullover and a brown cardigan as well as some books, one of which was On the Banks of Monks Pond, containing the correspondence between Trappist monk Thomas Merton and poet Jonathan Greene. His present to me was the usual hundred-dollar Nordstrom gift card.