Read Online Alpine Zen : An Emma Lord Mystery (9780804177481) by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Daheim
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Vida paused for breath.
“You left out Ren Rawlings,” I gently reproached her.
Vida scowled. “I was saving her for last. She’s definitely unhinged. I’m not surprised her mother was a hippie. Though with that old postcard, I did think back to who might’ve been considered a hippie in Alpine thirty or more years ago. Frankly, there weren’t many. People here have too much good sense.”
“But there were
some
hippies?” I prodded.
Vida made a dismissive gesture. “Pretend types, really. The young following a fad they saw on TV. There was the drama group that tried to put together a performance, but burned down the Little Theatre instead. They scurried away in disgrace. That was just before the environmentalists began to make a fuss, but they came from out of town.”
I pointed out that Ren’s mother might’ve been among them. Vida allowed for the possibility. “Most of those people cameto protest and then moved on,” she explained. “If Kassia Arthur had stayed here, I’d have heard about it.”
That was indisputable. Vida knew everybody who had spent more than a week in Alpine. I was surprised she wasn’t on a first-name basis with all the college students. Of course, 80 percent of them were from Skykomish County, so she had a good start.
“So why,” I inquired, “do you think Ren’s unhinged?”
Vida adjusted her glasses. “ ‘Unfocused’ may be a kinder description, though she is very skittish. It’s difficult to get direct answers. I asked four times if she knew what her mother looked like, before she finally admitted she had no idea. There were some sketches, but only of vague landscapes. I suggested the poems might include personal, even physical allusions. That made Ren think. A pity she didn’t bring them with her. I wrote down phrases she remembered.” Vida paused, rummaging in her purse. She rarely took notes. Her memory was phenomenal, with more room than a computer chip. She removed a wrinkled Venison Inn napkin, which I assumed was the only thing she had for jotting down Ren’s recollections. “Hair,” Vida began. “Quote, ‘raven wing strands.’ I should add that the strands were on a man’s bare thigh.” She quoted again. “ ‘Cerulean reflected back at me, pure as the heaven that’—whatever. Kassia’s eyes, perhaps. There was also an alabaster mention, which might have been her skin.”
“Ren’s fair-haired and blue-eyed,” I said, “but her skin isn’t pale.”
“All that California sun.” Vida made a face. “Impossible to tell what kind of complexion people from there really have. Imagine living every day with heat and no rain.”
My expression was sardonic. “I don’t have to imagine it right now.”
Vida bridled. “You know what I mean. This weather won’t last.”
It was pointless to argue. “Did Ren say anything else of interest?”
“Only that she knew her mother was murdered,” Vida responded. “I pressed her as to why she was so sure, but she had nothing to support her suspicions. She simply
felt
it. Whatever
that
means.” Vida ruefully shook her head, the gray curls bobbing under the sponges.
I stood up. “I forgot to ask—did you see Amanda and Walt’s baby?”
“Yes, but she was asleep in the nursery,” Vida replied. “Still a bit red in the face, spiky dark hair, very difficult to tell much about features. Like most new parents, Amanda insists she and Walt can discern resemblances going back three generations on both sides. Ridiculous.”
I smiled and went back to my office. Maybe Milo had returned from the dump site. It dawned on me that Vida hadn’t asked where I’d gone. The omission was unlike her. On the other hand, if she’d just gotten back from her hospital tour, she wouldn’t know I’d ever left. I was on my way to update her, but she was on the phone.
“Yes, yes,” she practically shouted, “I’ll be right there.” Replacing the receiver, she stood up. “My sister-in-law, Ella, has fallen. A
“You left out Ren Rawlings,” I gently reproached her.
Vida scowled. “I was saving her for last. She’s definitely unhinged. I’m not surprised her mother was a hippie. Though with that old postcard, I did think back to who might’ve been considered a hippie in Alpine thirty or more years ago. Frankly, there weren’t many. People here have too much good sense.”
“But there were
some
hippies?” I prodded.
Vida made a dismissive gesture. “Pretend types, really. The young following a fad they saw on TV. There was the drama group that tried to put together a performance, but burned down the Little Theatre instead. They scurried away in disgrace. That was just before the environmentalists began to make a fuss, but they came from out of town.”
I pointed out that Ren’s mother might’ve been among them. Vida allowed for the possibility. “Most of those people cameto protest and then moved on,” she explained. “If Kassia Arthur had stayed here, I’d have heard about it.”
That was indisputable. Vida knew everybody who had spent more than a week in Alpine. I was surprised she wasn’t on a first-name basis with all the college students. Of course, 80 percent of them were from Skykomish County, so she had a good start.
“So why,” I inquired, “do you think Ren’s unhinged?”
Vida adjusted her glasses. “ ‘Unfocused’ may be a kinder description, though she is very skittish. It’s difficult to get direct answers. I asked four times if she knew what her mother looked like, before she finally admitted she had no idea. There were some sketches, but only of vague landscapes. I suggested the poems might include personal, even physical allusions. That made Ren think. A pity she didn’t bring them with her. I wrote down phrases she remembered.” Vida paused, rummaging in her purse. She rarely took notes. Her memory was phenomenal, with more room than a computer chip. She removed a wrinkled Venison Inn napkin, which I assumed was the only thing she had for jotting down Ren’s recollections. “Hair,” Vida began. “Quote, ‘raven wing strands.’ I should add that the strands were on a man’s bare thigh.” She quoted again. “ ‘Cerulean reflected back at me, pure as the heaven that’—whatever. Kassia’s eyes, perhaps. There was also an alabaster mention, which might have been her skin.”
“Ren’s fair-haired and blue-eyed,” I said, “but her skin isn’t pale.”
“All that California sun.” Vida made a face. “Impossible to tell what kind of complexion people from there really have. Imagine living every day with heat and no rain.”
My expression was sardonic. “I don’t have to imagine it right now.”
Vida bridled. “You know what I mean. This weather won’t last.”
It was pointless to argue. “Did Ren say anything else of interest?”
“Only that she knew her mother was murdered,” Vida responded. “I pressed her as to why she was so sure, but she had nothing to support her suspicions. She simply
felt
it. Whatever
that
means.” Vida ruefully shook her head, the gray curls bobbing under the sponges.
I stood up. “I forgot to ask—did you see Amanda and Walt’s baby?”
“Yes, but she was asleep in the nursery,” Vida replied. “Still a bit red in the face, spiky dark hair, very difficult to tell much about features. Like most new parents, Amanda insists she and Walt can discern resemblances going back three generations on both sides. Ridiculous.”
I smiled and went back to my office. Maybe Milo had returned from the dump site. It dawned on me that Vida hadn’t asked where I’d gone. The omission was unlike her. On the other hand, if she’d just gotten back from her hospital tour, she wouldn’t know I’d ever left. I was on my way to update her, but she was on the phone.
“Yes, yes,” she practically shouted, “I’ll be right there.” Replacing the receiver, she stood up. “My sister-in-law, Ella, has fallen. A
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