Part 28 (1/2)

”Did Cookie even taste that tea I made for her?” she demanded when we got outside. ”Don't tell me. Honestly, those Eriks women have no s.p.u.n.k!”

”Tiffany has her own brand of s.p.u.n.k,” I noted. ”She takes very good care of Tiffany.”

”Not so,” Vida huffed. ”If she did, she wouldn't be lying around like a heroine in some tragic Italian opera. Exercise. Work. Wholesome food. Mental stimulation. That's what she needs, for herself and for the poor baby. Well?”

Vida had stopped by her Buick, which was parked in front of my Honda.

”You want to talk here?” I asked, surprised.

”Of course not. Shall we go to my house? It's only a block from the nursing home. I could use a cup of tea myself.”

”Hot tea?”

”Yes.” Vida nodded. The baby birds bounced. ”Hot beverages are actually supposed to be good for you in this weather.”

We both drove to Vida's, where she made tea and offered soothing noises to her canary, Cupcake. She insisted that even he hated the heat.

For the next twenty minutes, I updated Vida about everything I knew, including the encounter with Craig Laurentis.

”Fascinating,” she declared. ”That's very clever of you, Emma, to figure out that Old Nick is this painter person. I should have thought of that myself, especially when some of the search party members found brushes and other indications of an artist. Really, I feel quite dense.”

”You shouldn't,” I said. ”It wouldn't have occurred to me if I hadn't seen one of his pictures at Donna's gallery and fallen in love with it.”

”Do you think he's crazy?” she asked, putting more sugar into her English bone china teacup.

”I doubt it,” I replied. ”Eccentric maybe. He was very helpful.”

”You should go home and rest.” She glanced at her watch. ”It's after three. I must head for the nursing home. I'd like to be back here around four. Buck and I are driving down to Sultan for dinner. He likes to eat early, you know.”

I was aware that Buck Bardeen preferred to keep to a strict schedule, no doubt a habit from his career in the military. I took a final sip of tea and stood up. I was getting stiffer by the minute.

”You really should have let Doc Dewey take a look at you,” Vida said with a frown.

”Doc's busy enough,” I replied. ”It's all superficial. I can take care of my wounds when I get home. I don't plan on doing anything for the rest of the day except lie on the sofa and read or watch TV.”

”Yes.” Vida made a face. ”But don't stay there forever like Tiffany.”

”No. I-” Something popped into my head. ”Cookie's lying. Or else Wayne is.”

”What?” Vida wore her most owlish expression.

”Cookie told me that Wayne was home all of Monday night,” I replied.

”Yes, yes, his alibi,” Vida broke in. ”Weak, of course. Spouses tend to do that sort of thing for each other.”

”But she went on to say that they hadn't been out in the evening for several days,” I explained. ”Yet Wayne claimed to have gone up to check that power pole or whatever it was Sunday night when he-allegedly-spotted Old Nick by the football field.”

”Ah!” Vida looked as if she'd discovered the secret of the universe. ”Most intriguing. Cookie may have forgotten he'd gone out Sunday-or else he didn't and she's lying her head off. Surely Milo can get her to break down. Cookie's not a strong person.”

”She doesn't seem to be,” I said in a thoughtful voice.

Vida c.o.c.ked her head at me. ”Are you suggesting that Cookie may be the one who went to Tim and Tiffany's?”

I sighed. ”I'm not sure what I'm saying. Wayne's the one with the burns. Maybe,” I said slowly, ”we don't know exactly who's strong and who's weak.”

”Yes,” Vida agreed. ”That's a fair question, isn't it?”

THE AIR WAS very still and very muggy, with gathering clouds over Mount Baldy. We seemed to be in for a thunder-and-lightning storm. That was bad news. While it might signal a break in the weather, lightning could start forest fires anywhere in the Cascades.

I opened both the front and back doors, but latched the screens. The windows were already open. After taking care of my skinned knees and putting on fresh bandages, I changed into an old cotton s.h.i.+ft. Propped up on the sofa, I wrote a quick e-mail to Adam, telling him that in case he hadn't already heard, Toni was on her way to Fairbanks Monday. Fortunately for him, the city was a long, long way from St. Mary's Igloo.

As soon as I shut down the laptop, my eyes shut down, too. The events of the past week, as well as the weather, had sapped my energy. I fell asleep, the second time in the last few days that I'd taken a nap. That was a record. I don't think I'd taken two naps in two years until this August. Maybe I was simply getting older.

It was the clap of thunder that woke me up. I was disoriented at first, thinking it must be morning. It was quite dark, which further confused me because my watch said it was five minutes to seven. Dawn or dusk, the sky should be light at that time of day during summer.

Sliding off the sofa, I walked-stiffly-to the open front door. No rain fell, but twin jagged bolts of lightning flashed vertically across the sky. It was still Sunday. The storm had begun.

Despite the muggy atmosphere, I was starving. I went into the kitchen and turned on the light. Occasionally I tease Milo about subsisting on TV dinners, but in fact, I always kept two or three in the freezer. As I put a turkey entree into the microwave, the phone rang.

It was Vida. ”I just got back from Sultan,” she announced. ”A good thing, too. The storm hit just as we drove past Skykomish. I had to get Cupcake covered early in this dark weather. How are you feeling?”

I told her I'd slept for almost three hours, but I'd survive.

”Of course you will,” she a.s.serted. ”You're not a nincomp.o.o.p like some of the women around here. By the way, that pathetic Delia took my hat-again.”

”You mean the one with the bird's nest?”

”Of course. It was a great favorite of mine. I bought it years ago on sale in Seattle. I almost didn't give it to her, but she's so pitiful that I felt I had to. Maybe I can get Margaret Peterson or Beth to return it to me. I don't care about the other one, but this was a one-of-a-kind model, sixty percent off.”

I didn't doubt that the hat was unique. ”Delia must have liked the birds,” I said.

”She adored them,” Vida replied wryly. ”Unfortunately. Next time I visit, perhaps I'll take her a stuffed animal. I certainly won't wear a hat.”

”Excuse me, Vida,” I said, ”but my microwave timer just went off.”

”That's fine. I'm going to observe the storm. Summer lightning is very spectacular, if dangerous.”

I devoured my prepared dinner in front of the TV, watching Sunday night baseball. The thunder and lightning continued, sometimes sounding very close, occasionally in the distance. The lights and the TV flickered a few times. Periodically, I limped to the front window to watch the show. The storm was all over the sky, probably stretching the length of the central Cascades.

The game ended, but I stayed tuned for ESPN's Baseball Tonight. The sportscasters were doing a National League roundup when I heard sirens. I turned the volume down and tried to judge where the sound was coming from. Not in my direction, I decided. Perhaps whichever emergency vehicles were involved had headed for Highway 2.

But the sirens stopped after about three minutes. Whatever was happening had occurred in town. Then I heard more sirens. Again, they quit after a very short time. I considered turning on KSKY, but decided I couldn't stand being scooped twice in one day by Spencer Fleetwood and his breaking news. For all I knew, there might have been a false alarm or a minor medical crisis. I'd had enough drama for what should have been a quiet Sunday.

I turned my attention back to ESPN. They cut to a commercial just as the phone rang again. I hit the mute b.u.t.ton and picked up the receiver.

”Emma!” Vida shrieked. ”Have you heard? The nursing home's on fire!”