Part 3 (1/2)
”No,” Beth replied, ”but Tiff did. Twice. The first time was at night. He scared her half to death.”
The vacant rental was only two doors down from my own house. But my log cabin was set back from the street, a good twenty yards deeper than the other homes facing Fir. My view of the area was also blocked by the trees and bushes that grew around the cul-de-sac.
”I've never seen Old Nick,” I said. ”Do you think he's dangerous?”
Beth glanced at her console. ”We've gotten a couple of calls about him in the past few weeks. He's been sighted off Fir Street, toward First Hill.”
”But did he do anything except prowl around?”
Beth made a face. ”To be honest, no. One call was from Grace Grundle. You know how she is-always so afraid somebody's going to hurt one of her cats. The other was from a teenage girl who was babysitting. We sent one of the deputies-Dwight Gould, I think-to check out the place, but the nut-Old Nick?-was gone by the time Dwight got there.”
”Milo knows that Old Nick has been hanging out by your brother's house?”
Beth nodded. ”I told him when I found out that Tim had been-” She clenched her fists and clamped her lips shut.
”They'll check it out,” I said to ease the awkward moment. ”How's Tiffany?”
Maybe I imagined it, but Beth's expression changed ever so slightly. She seemed to freeze, as if the mention of her sister-in-law's name annoyed her.
”Tiff's okay,” Beth said tersely.
”And the baby?”
”Fine.” Beth picked up her bottled water and took a sip. The sheriff's headquarters wasn't air-conditioned, but a huge fan had been installed behind Beth's chair. ”Her folks are taking her to their place as soon as Doc signs the release form.”
”I've never known the Eriks family very well,” I said. ”They live in the Icicle Creek development, right?”
Beth nodded again. ”A couple of blocks from where Dodge lives. Wayne and Cookie Eriks are on the edge of the development, near Railroad Avenue.”
The less attractive homes in the neighborhood were closer to the railroad and farther from the golf course. Not that any of the houses were upscale. The development was strictly middle-cla.s.s modest.
The console lit up. Beth's ”911” was calmly professional. ”Please speak more slowly,” she said after a pause. ”How old? Three months? Turn the baby upside down. . . . Yes, do it now. . . . Hold him firmly. . . . Good. . . . No, I wouldn't try to give him vitamins anymore, either. . . . It wouldn't hurt to check with Dr. Sung. You're sure that Emerson is all right? . . . Yes, I hear him crying. He sounds angry. That's what I'd expect. . . . Of course. You're welcome.” She shook her head and spoke to me. ”Another kidlet who hates liquid vitamins. They refuse to swallow, then choke and start turning blue. Mom panics. She can't imagine that an infant could have such definite dislikes and opinions.”
”Or be so ornery,” I said with a little smile. ”They're born with personality traits. My son was always strong-minded, especially when it was something he didn't like. I swear he had his first tantrum when he was a day old.”
Beth looked wistful. ”I've never had kids. When I give advice like I did just now, it's because of my emergency training. If I can, I try to resolve crises before anybody else has to be summoned.”
”You deserve a hero medal,” I said.
She turned grim. ”I wish I could've been one last night for Tim.”
”Do you know who called in the fire?”
”I was off duty, of course,” Beth replied, ”but Evan Singer was here. He told me it was Edna Mae Dalrymple. She was up late reading a book they'd just gotten in at the library. She wanted to finish it in one sitting because there were several patrons waiting to read it.”
Edna Mae was Alpine's head librarian. She lived on the corner of Fifth and Fir, across from the Rafferty house. Perhaps she'd been in the group of onlookers on the other side of the street. Edna Mae is a nervous, rather timid creature, but conscientious. I'd mention her name in my story.
”Are you staying on all day?” I inquired.
”I might as well,” Beth said wearily. ”There's nothing much I can do until Tim's body is sent back to Driggers Funeral Home. Evan fills in some evenings, but he's got plenty on his plate managing the Whistling Marmot Movie Theatre. I'll see my mother at the nursing home after work. Frankly, she won't understand. Half the time she doesn't know who I am. Her personality's changed, too. The irony is that I hardly recognize her. Or at least not as the person who was my mother.”
”Did Tim visit her often?”
”No.” She held her head with one hand and looked away. ”He said there wasn't any point. That's not true, really. A couple of times, I took her there to dinner. Mom had no idea where she was or who she was with. I might as well have taken her to Old Mill Park.” Beth's voice broke. ”d.a.m.n it, Emma, I wish Tim and I'd been closer these past couple of years. I feel as if I've lost my entire family.”
I was aware that there'd been friction between brother and sister, dating back to their father's death. It was a sore subject-and not just with Beth, but in a different, horrible way-with me. I didn't want to think about that now. Nor, I was sure, did Beth.
But she had to. ”You'll soon have a new niece or nephew,” I said, trying to find a bright spot.
Beth, whose eyes glittered with unshed tears, gave me a cynical look. ”I doubt that I'll see much of the baby. Tiffany isn't exactly the sensitive, thoughtful type.”
The console's light went on again. Beth composed herself immediately. I hesitated. The call could mean news. But I sensed that Beth wanted to return to her professional world of woe and stop thinking about her own. I didn't blame her. With a little wave, I left.
VIDA WAS HUNGRY. She returned to the office just in time to catch me going out the front door on my way to the Burger Barn. ”I'll go with you,” she declared. ”The Parkers didn't serve so much as a cookie, let alone a Chinese chicken salad.”
”So how are they otherwise?” I asked as we crossed Front Street under a bright, hot sun.
”Upset, but managing,” Vida replied. She pointed to one of the concrete planters where petunias, lobelias, and alyssums were drooping sadly. ”Honestly, can't Fuzzy Baugh see to it that these flowers get watered in this weather? He is the most useless creature we've ever had for a mayor.”
Fuzzy was the only mayor I'd known since I arrived in Alpine. He was a good politician, oozing native Southern charm. But his administrative skills were lacking. Still, he was better than the county commissioners. At least Mayor Baugh wasn't senile.
It was almost twelve-thirty, the Burger Barn's busiest time. Vida and I had to wait five minutes before we were seated in a booth. Ordinarily, Vida would've insisted on one that was by a window, but because her hunger seemed even stronger than her curiosity, she sacrificed a view of pa.s.sersby.
”Well now,” she said after we'd given our order to a plump blond waitress named Courtney, who immediately brought our beverages. ”That's better. I can speak freely. Did you realize that Maud Dodd and her grandchildren were standing behind us? Maud is such a gossip!”
”Really.”
”Yes,” Vida said, her eyes darting around the area at the other customers. ”Of course, she's known Dot and Durwood for years, too. I wouldn't want to mention them where she might overhear.”
”Naturally.” I waited while Vida laced her iced tea with sugar.
”The Parkers had only gotten the news about the cause of Tim's death a few minutes before I got there,” Vida explained. ”At first, Durwood just sat there in his recliner, not speaking. Dot was in tears. I did my best to comfort them, but you can imagine the shock.”
”They were fond of their grandson-in-law?”
”I shouldn't go so far as to say that,” Vida responded, her gray eyes ever watchful. ”They're fond of Tiffany. Frankly, I always thought they favored Laura over Charlotte.”
”Huh?”
Vida waved a hand. ”Cookie Parker Eriks is actually named Charlotte. They've called her Cookie forever. Laura is their older daughter. She married Demetrius-Deeky-Kristopolous, some distant relative of the Doukas family. Laura and Deeky live in Bremerton. They have two grown children, somewhat older than Tiffany. Frankly, LaLa and Cookie have never gotten along.”
”LaLa?”
”Laura. That's her nickname.”
”Ah.” I think I understood the family tree, but I hoped Vida wouldn't make me take a quiz after lunch. I had, however, lost the main thread of our conversation. ”So . . . ?”