Part 20 (1/2)
”How the h.e.l.l do I know?” Milo retorted. ”You're doing that speculating thing again. That doesn't work in law enforcement.”
If I wasn't going to rat out Wayne Eriks, I certainly wouldn't betray Beth Rafferty. ”Trust me,” I said in my most earnest voice. ”Something strange was going on between Tim and Tiffany. How does her alibi hold up for the time of Tim's death?”
”Christ.” The sheriff sounded as if he'd like to take a twenty-pound test line and strangle me with it. ”She says she went to the employee break room about that time and ate her dinner.”
”Witnesses?”
”Buzzy O'Toole saw her leave the check stand and come back an hour later,” Milo said in a beleaguered tone. ”He was filling in as the night manager.”
Jake's brother wasn't the most reliable man in town. His own business ventures had failed. Buzzy was able to cope as the Grocery Basket's produce manager only because Jake and Betsy watched him like a pair of hawks. ”Tiffany ate alone?”
”Yeah. They only have three checkers at night and one of them spends most of the time restocking or facing out the shelves or whatever they call it. They close at one in the morning and reopen at six. Don't you read your own ads?”
If one more idiot asked me that question, I was going to explode. ”I know their hours,” I snapped. ”They wouldn't stay open that long if Safeway hadn't forced them into it. Stick to the issue at hand. I'm serious.”
”What you're telling me,” Milo said in a condescending tone, ”is that you think Tiffany killed Tim and set their house on fire, right?”
The sheriff had backed me into a corner. That brought out the contrariness in my nature. ”Yes, I'm saying that's possible.”
”You don't really believe that.”
”I believe stranger things have happened,” I declared, growing more contrary by the moment. ”Tiffany doesn't act like a bereaved widow. She's still going to have a baby, she gets the insurance money for the house, she's being spoiled to pieces by her mother, and all of the nursery items she's bought were kept at the Erikses' house. Maybe Tim was just a sperm donor, and after that, he'd outlived his usefulness.”
”Whoa.” Milo sounded taken aback. ”What'd Tiffany ever do to you? You really have it in for her.”
”No, I don't,” I a.s.serted. ”I'm hearing things-in confidence. Good journalists never betray their sources. Won't you take my word for it?”
”You've got some bug up your a.s.s,” Milo said, but his tone was thoughtful. ”Are you okay? You sound like you're sick.”
”It's the heat,” I said, which was partly true. ”I get depressed when we don't get rain.”
”Who doesn't?” Milo responded. ”I mean, if you're a real native.”
”Our roots need watering, just like the trees. Will you really talk to Wayne?”
”Oh-sure, why not? He lives just down the street. I'll drop by this afternoon.”
”Good.” I smiled in an evil manner, wis.h.i.+ng I could see Wayne's face when the sheriff dropped by. A little intimidation-real or imaginary-might make the creep talk.
I was driving the car around from the back of the newspaper office when I spotted Vida coming out of the hobby shop across Fourth. She was carrying a huge box.
”Vida!” I called. ”What's that?”
She could barely see over the box. ”Meet me at home. I'm parked right there.” She nodded at her Buick Regal, which was pulled in at the curb a few yards away on Front Street.
Why not? I drove straight to her house. Vida arrived a couple of minutes later, empty-handed.
”I left the Destroyer in the car,” she explained. ”It's an incentive present for Roger.”
”What kind of incentive?” I asked as we headed for her front door.
”To study hard fall quarter,” she replied. ”And to reward him, too, for his efforts in trying to find Old Nick. My, but it's warm.” She brushed at the damp gray curls under her green straw hat's brim.
”Dare I ask what kind of Destroyer you bought him?”
Vida opened the front door. ”It's put out by Lego-over three thousand pieces. Rather pricey. It has something to do with Star Wars. He's very fond of the films.”
She left the front door open. The house felt stuffy despite the big fan that she'd left turned on in the living room. ”I didn't know Roger liked Star Wars,” I remarked.
”Oh, very much,” Vida replied, removing the sun hat. ”I believe that's how he first got interested in becoming an actor. Not that I've seen the movies, but I understand they've been very popular. Let's sit for a minute before we go.”
”Go? Where are we going?”
”To visit Delia Rafferty,” Vida said, collapsing into an easy chair. ”Actually, you don't have to go if you don't want to. I wouldn't blame you. It's rather depressing at the nursing home. So many addled old people. Of course, most of them were addled long before they went into the home, but it still makes conversation very difficult.”
Coming from Vida, that translated as not being able to get satisfactory gossip. ”Why are you going to see her? Didn't you speak to her at the funeral reception?”
”Yes, but I came away perturbed,” Vida said. ”I felt there was something odd about Delia. I can't explain it, but as if she wanted to talk to me.”
”She mentioned your hat,” I noted, omitting the part about Delia also referring to Vida's size.
”Yes, yes,” Vida said impatiently. ”It was how she looked at me. Searching, perhaps. Or beseeching-that's a better word. It's bothered me ever since. By the way,” she continued with an inquisitive stare, ”did you ever hear back from Rolf?”
”No,” I said. ”I told you he had to go to Spokane.” I hadn't yet sat down, and now I felt as if I should keep on my feet, perhaps to elude Vida's perceptive eyes.
Vida sighed. ”I'm still not sure about him.”
”You hardly know Rolf,” I challenged.
”I know enough to know I'm not sure.” She shrugged. ”You never mentioned your weekend once after he made the original call. I think you forgot. Perhaps on purpose. You don't want to get in too deep. That's wise, of course.”
I should have known Vida would see through me. ”It's not quite like that,” I argued. ”I got so caught up in the Rafferty case that everything went out of my head.”
”Then Rolf wasn't lodged there very solidly in the first place. I'm the last person to give such advice, I suppose, but I do think you should occasionally consider how closely wedded you are to your career. I've been fortunate in that Buck has his own interests and keeps busy when I'm not available. But at our age, that's different. I'm not urging you to become besotted. On the other hand, you need some time for yourself as a woman. You have no family close by. You have very few friends. I think you're lonely, Emma. You don't think about it because you make sure your brain is otherwise occupied. That's too bad.” Vida stood up. ”Come, we must go.”
I had been standing a few feet away from her, ostensibly to take in the benefit of the fan's cooling breeze. But her presence in the easy chair had reminded me of a teacher lecturing a dull-witted student. Maybe that's what I was.
”You're my friend,” I a.s.serted. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was quite dumbfounded.
”Of course.” She put the straw hat back on her head. ”I wouldn't speak so frankly if I weren't.”
I lingered in the living room as Vida collected her purse and got out her car keys. ”I'm not sure I want to go with you,” I said. ”Nursing homes are so bleak.”
Vida peered at me through her big gla.s.ses. ”They're also air-conditioned.”
”Oh.” I decided to join her.
THE LUTHERANS HAD done their best to make the facility homelike. Three years ago, they had bought the small block across Seventh to build a nursing and hospice addition. The fact that the other side of the block was on the service road in back of the cemetery had struck some people as morbid and others as practical.
Delia Rafferty lived on the first floor, officially called the a.s.sisted-living residence. The top three stories were individual apartments, added over the years as the retirement population grew. According to Vida, they were very nice units, complete with kitchenettes. She had said at one point that she might consider moving there someday-if the facility were run by Presbyterians.