Alpine Zen : An Emma Lord Mystery (9780804177481) by Mary Daheim Page A

she’ll still be mad at me,” I protested, rubbing my sore hand. “I don’t want to turn the newsroom into a toxic waste site. When she got mad before, the rest of my staff got upset.”
    The sheriff sat up straight in his chair. When he spoke, he used the voice he reserved for public events and recalcitrant felons. “Your biggest problem is that you never let her know you were in charge. Yes, you told me how she mentored you and eased you into taking over from Vandeventer after he was out the door the minute your check cleared. You’re more like a fourth daughter than a boss. Over the last few months, this has been building with one damned crisis after another. It’s up toyou to sit her down and make her fish or cut bait. Don’t get me mixed up in this. She’s tried to run my job, too. It took me awhile to tell her to butt out, but I did it. Maybe she’s too old to change. If she is…” He shrugged. “Then it’s time for her to retire.”
    I hesitated. “I can’t imagine the paper without her,” I finally said.
    “You can’t seem to get along
with
her. Your call.” He leaned back in his chair. “That’s all I’ll say. If you’re interested in new developments about the stiff, there aren’t any. But I’d like you to look at something.”
    “Okay,” I said, annoyed with myself for dumping on my husband at his workplace. “What have you got for me to see?”
    Milo reached behind him for a plastic evidence bag. “This is from what was left of the guy’s clothes. The only label was on the jeans—Lee’s. The boots were probably Frye’s. Doc can’t tell how long the stiff’s been dead, so I’ll have to ship what’s left of him to Everett.” He paused, putting on a pair of latex gloves before removing the silver belt buckle from the bag. “What do you make of this?”
    “It’s a peace symbol,” I said. “The dead guy might’ve been a hippie.”
    Milo nodded. “The longish hair indicates he may have stuck to his beliefs and the lifestyle.” He chucked the buckle and what was left of the belt into the bag. “Go away. If you don’t, I’ll make you sit on my lap.”
    I stood up and checked my watch. It was almost one-thirty. “The paper’s out by now. You may hear from someone who has information.”
    “Dubious,” he said, removing the gloves. “Let’s eat out tonight.”
    “I could make a shrimp louie,” I offered.
    Milo was back at his computer. “Get real. That’s not dinner.”
    I left. When I walked into the newsroom, I saw Vida’s grim face. She ignored me and I did the same. Surely she couldn’t stay mad at me. Or, I wondered, was she really mad at herself? Worse yet, was there an intangible threat in the overly warm mountain air that was a danger to all of us?

EIGHT
    A fter I sat down at my desk, it dawned on me that I hadn’t checked on Ren Rawlings. I’d intended to call the hospital earlier, but knew neither Doc Dewey nor Elvis Sung would officially release her until around eleven. Then the confrontation with Vida had knocked Ren out of my mind.
    Julie Canby was on duty again. “Ms. Rawlings was discharged shortly before noon,” she informed me. “The second set of lab results didn’t show anything alarming.”
    I supposed that was good news. “How did she seem?” I asked.
    It took a moment before Julie answered the question. “Vague? Uncertain? Maybe a touch of apprehension?”
    “That could be her usual MO,” I said. “Do you know where she’s staying? Ren never told me.”
    “The ski lodge,” Julie replied. “She had to give a local address before she could be released.”
    “Did she say if she was leaving town?”
    “I didn’t have a chance to ask,” Julie said. “They’d brought Hortense Cobb from the ICU and I had to help get her settled.”
    “Okay. I might try to reach Ren later on. Thanks.” I rang off.
    A few minutes later I saw Vida leave, purse in hand. Mitchand Leo were both on the phone, but my ad manager hung up almost as soon