Read Online The Alpine Scandal by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Daheim
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agreed. “But ‘possible homicide’ is a bit weak.”
“You want headlines? Why don’t you just run a big skull and crossbones on the front page?”
“I like that,” I said.
“You would.”
I ignored the sarcasm. “Estimated time of death?”
“Seven-fifteen, seven-thirty yesterday morning. That’s when Elmer usually went out to the henhouse before he headed for work.”
“Nobody saw or heard anything?”
Milo shot me a dirty look. “We only found out we had a homicide on our hands about five minutes ago. Anyway, you know damned well I wouldn’t tell you any details so soon in the investigation. Go with the facts. You’ve got enough for your front page.”
I feigned typing on the Formica countertop. “‘Sheriff Dodge has no suspects, no motives, no weapon, no understanding of the public’s need to know.’”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Emma.” He sipped more coffee.
I knew that—at least as far as Milo was concerned. There was certainly a big story in the bare bones of the case. If murder wasn’t sensational enough, Elmer Nystrom apparently had been well liked, well known, and well respected. I shut up and resumed eating.
It’s a wonder my lunch stayed down. I’d barely finished when I saw Spencer Fleetwood stroll into the Burger Barn. The sheriff had already gotten his bill and was getting out of the booth when Spence spotted him.
“The lovely Lori told me you were here with the equally lovely Emma,” Spence said to Milo, having the gall to wink at me. “I just got in town about an hour ago. Rey Fernandez told me something was afoot.”
“We’re working on it,” Milo said, putting on his regulation jacket. “We can talk later.” He squeezed past Spence and loped toward the entrance.
“I think,” my nemesis said, “I’ve just been given the brush-off.”
“I do believe you’re right,” I said, digging into my purse for my wallet. I’d get my own bill from our waitress and hightail it out of Spence’s purview.
But Mr. Radio wasn’t going to make it easy for me. He had the nerve to slide into the booth beside me. I was trapped.
“What’s this about Nystrom?” he murmured in that mellifluous voice so familiar to KSKY’s listeners. “Do I sense foul play or a nasty accident with the chickens?”
While I was grateful to Milo for stalling Spence, I knew that the story would break over the radio before we could go to press. Elmer’s death was a matter of public record, as was the medical examiner’s report. But that didn’t mean I had to offer up the facts on one of the Burger Barn’s serviceable white platters.
“Did you have a nice trip?” I inquired in my sweetest tone.
“Very,” Spence replied. “Maui, Kauai. Very nice this time of year.”
“I’ve never been to Hawaii,” I said, trying to avoid looking at Spence’s hawklike profile. Adam had gone to school there for a short time, but his impoverished mother had never made it to the island paradise.
“No? You should go. It’s a great vacation spot.” Spence reached in front of me to remove one of the plastic-covered menus from behind the napkin holder. “Of course, it can get crowded, especially at Kaanapali Beach. I did get in some golf there, though. Wonderful course—Robert Trent Jones design. But Kauai isn’t quite as popular. Next time I’ll try Molokai. It’s getting to be quite a destination place.”
“What’d they do with the lepers?” I asked.
“That’s not worthy of you,” Spence said, glancing at the menu. “Same old, same old.” He sighed. “Really good seafood, too. You ought to treat yourself. I mean it. You can go on and on about how much you like the rain, but you’ve got to admit that gray skies for six months in a row can get you down.”
“No, they don’t.”
Spence chuckled. “You’re a hard case, Emma Lord.” He turned as the waitress, a strawberry blonde named Bunny—or so her name tag stated—came to give me my bill and take Spence’s order.
“You want headlines? Why don’t you just run a big skull and crossbones on the front page?”
“I like that,” I said.
“You would.”
I ignored the sarcasm. “Estimated time of death?”
“Seven-fifteen, seven-thirty yesterday morning. That’s when Elmer usually went out to the henhouse before he headed for work.”
“Nobody saw or heard anything?”
Milo shot me a dirty look. “We only found out we had a homicide on our hands about five minutes ago. Anyway, you know damned well I wouldn’t tell you any details so soon in the investigation. Go with the facts. You’ve got enough for your front page.”
I feigned typing on the Formica countertop. “‘Sheriff Dodge has no suspects, no motives, no weapon, no understanding of the public’s need to know.’”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Emma.” He sipped more coffee.
I knew that—at least as far as Milo was concerned. There was certainly a big story in the bare bones of the case. If murder wasn’t sensational enough, Elmer Nystrom apparently had been well liked, well known, and well respected. I shut up and resumed eating.
It’s a wonder my lunch stayed down. I’d barely finished when I saw Spencer Fleetwood stroll into the Burger Barn. The sheriff had already gotten his bill and was getting out of the booth when Spence spotted him.
“The lovely Lori told me you were here with the equally lovely Emma,” Spence said to Milo, having the gall to wink at me. “I just got in town about an hour ago. Rey Fernandez told me something was afoot.”
“We’re working on it,” Milo said, putting on his regulation jacket. “We can talk later.” He squeezed past Spence and loped toward the entrance.
“I think,” my nemesis said, “I’ve just been given the brush-off.”
“I do believe you’re right,” I said, digging into my purse for my wallet. I’d get my own bill from our waitress and hightail it out of Spence’s purview.
But Mr. Radio wasn’t going to make it easy for me. He had the nerve to slide into the booth beside me. I was trapped.
“What’s this about Nystrom?” he murmured in that mellifluous voice so familiar to KSKY’s listeners. “Do I sense foul play or a nasty accident with the chickens?”
While I was grateful to Milo for stalling Spence, I knew that the story would break over the radio before we could go to press. Elmer’s death was a matter of public record, as was the medical examiner’s report. But that didn’t mean I had to offer up the facts on one of the Burger Barn’s serviceable white platters.
“Did you have a nice trip?” I inquired in my sweetest tone.
“Very,” Spence replied. “Maui, Kauai. Very nice this time of year.”
“I’ve never been to Hawaii,” I said, trying to avoid looking at Spence’s hawklike profile. Adam had gone to school there for a short time, but his impoverished mother had never made it to the island paradise.
“No? You should go. It’s a great vacation spot.” Spence reached in front of me to remove one of the plastic-covered menus from behind the napkin holder. “Of course, it can get crowded, especially at Kaanapali Beach. I did get in some golf there, though. Wonderful course—Robert Trent Jones design. But Kauai isn’t quite as popular. Next time I’ll try Molokai. It’s getting to be quite a destination place.”
“What’d they do with the lepers?” I asked.
“That’s not worthy of you,” Spence said, glancing at the menu. “Same old, same old.” He sighed. “Really good seafood, too. You ought to treat yourself. I mean it. You can go on and on about how much you like the rain, but you’ve got to admit that gray skies for six months in a row can get you down.”
“No, they don’t.”
Spence chuckled. “You’re a hard case, Emma Lord.” He turned as the waitress, a strawberry blonde named Bunny—or so her name tag stated—came to give me my bill and take Spence’s order.
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