Part 21 (2/2)

”Not a lot,” I admitted. ”They're virtual strangers.” I paused, my head still resting against Milo's chest. Last January it had been the sheriff who had given me-and everyone else who knew him-a dreadful scare with what had finally been diagnosed not as a series of heart attacks, as we'd all feared, but as gallstones. Now it was Leo. Life's uncertainties were taking a toll on me. ”I'm helpless, incapable of changing the world around me. I feel remiss, almost as if I purposely neglected Tom's kids. Crazy, huh?”

”No crazier than a lot of stuff,” Milo said, clumsily patting my back before he let go of me. ”We should check in, see if there's any news.”

”There won't be this soon,” I said. ”Do you know how long Leo's been in surgery?”

Milo glanced at his watch. ”Twenty, thirty minutes. I got here from home right after the ambulance pulled in. Jack Mullins and Dustin Fong were on duty, so they went to the ski lodge. They're still there, processing the scene.”

”Vida,” I blurted. ”I must call her.”

”Oh, h.e.l.l!” Milo exclaimed. ”Do you really want her roaring around here like a wounded elephant?”

I looked up at the sheriff. ”Better than having her roaring at me for the next few days if I don't tell her. After all, Leo is her coworker. Despite their bickering, I think they actually like each other.”

Heading for the hospital door, Milo shrugged. ”Your call.”

”Literally,” I said and took out my cell phone. ”I'll do it here. Sometimes they won't let you use a cell inside the hospital because of all the sensitive equipment.”

The sheriff loped back inside while I dialed Vida's number. Her line was busy, so I left a message telling her to call me as soon as possible. I've never felt right about delivering bad news to a machine instead of a person.

My next call was to Kip. I told him to wait a bit to run anything but the bare facts. We should have more news after Leo came out of surgery.

”How long?” The usually unflappable Kip sounded anxious.

”I've no idea,” I told him.

Milo was pacing in the waiting room. The only other people in the area-except for the surly Bree Kendall behind the counter-were a young woman I didn't recognize and her two-year-old boy, who had a runny nose and was coughing his head off.

I joined the sheriff by the tropical fish tank and reduced my voice to a whisper. ”Did you ask Bree how long it might be before we have any news?”

”She doesn't know,” Milo replied, not bothering to speak any more quietly than he usually did. ”Does anybody who works in a hospital ever know anything?”

I glanced at Bree, who was turned away from us. Then I glanced at the fish tank, noticing that a neon tetra was floating upside down. I hoped it wasn't an omen. ”Not very often,” I finally said, having to raise my voice to be heard over the coughing kid.

”I can't stick around here,” Milo declared, frowning in Bree's direction. ”I'm going up to the lodge. Where's Vida? She lives only five blocks from here. Or didn't you call her?”

”Yes, I did,” I replied. ”Her line was busy. She usually spends the hour or two after her show talking to people who call to offer ideas or criticism, or want their five minutes of fame in an interview.”

Before Milo could respond, his cell phone rang. He took it out of his s.h.i.+rt pocket. ”Dodge,” he said.

Bree had finally turned around. ”Would you please take your cell outside? We don't permit them inside the hospital.”

Milo lifted his chin above the phone and glowered at her. ”I don't see any fancy equipment in here except you. Keep it down or the cell you're talking about'll be the one I put you in.” He spoke again to his caller. ”Go ahead, Dustman. I'm about to arrest somebody for interfering with a law enforcement officer.”

I discreetly looked in Bree's direction. Her fair skin had turned pink, and her piercing blue eyes were narrowed. But she kept her mouth shut. Unfortunately, the toddler with the cough began to hack his way into a hysterical crying jag. His mother tried to soothe him, but he wouldn't, maybe couldn't, stop.

”s.h.i.+t!” Milo bellowed and headed for the exit. ”I can't hear a...”

I followed him outside, although I moved far enough away so as not to appear to be eavesdropping. I was, of course. I couldn't help it unless I went across the street. From Milo's end of the conversation, I surmised that Dustin and Jack had finished up at the ski lodge.

However, I was only half-right. After clicking off his phone, the sheriff waved at me. ”I'm heading out. Jack's still at the lodge, but Dustin got called in on a possible break-in by Ca.s.s Pond. My car's around front by the Clemans Building.”

”Hey,” I yelled, ”can I tag along?”

”What for?” Milo called back.

”What do you think? It's my job.”

For once, Milo didn't argue. ”Okay. You can't do anything around here except worry yourself into a knot. It's better to keep busy.”

I went off in the opposite direction to my Honda. I followed Milo's Grand Cherokee after catching up with him at the arterial on Alpine Way. He turned left, and so did I, making a right onto Tonga Road, which led to the lodge. Twilight was settling in over the mountains, and lights were on in some of the rooms, as well as the lobby and the parking lot.

The first thing I saw was Leo's Toyota Celica hitched up to Cal Vickers's tow truck. Cal, who owns the local Texaco station, was at the wheel, carefully hauling the car over the lot's speed b.u.mps. I waved to him as he pa.s.sed by. Pulling into a vacant s.p.a.ce not far from where Leo's car had been parked, I spotted Jack Mullins talking to Heather Bardeen Bavich. Milo had parked in the loading zone and was coming toward his deputy and Heather.

Seeing the crime scene tape already stretched over a large swath of the parking lot and into the trees beyond, I suddenly realized that I hadn't asked Curtis to take a picture. In fact, I hadn't thought about Curtis at all.

Hurriedly, I called Kip. ”The news is better about Leo,” I said. ”His surgery is being performed by Doc Dewey and a world-cla.s.s surgeon from New York. I don't know when he'll be out of the OR, but I'm at the ski lodge now with the sheriff. If I asked Curtis to take a picture, would we have any room for it?”

”Oh, boy!” Kip sounded frazzled. ”I mean, that's great about Leo-if it all turns out okay. But a photo? I honestly don't know where I'd put it. I a.s.sume you want at least two columns. Is it worth pulling anything we've already got?”

”I a.s.sume you mean Fuzzy's wood carving,” I said, gazing around the lot to consider possible angles. ”I wouldn't mind dumping that until next week, but a photo of Jack Mullins scratching his a.s.s in front of a bunch of parked cars maybe isn't worth the trouble. I'll call Curtis now and get him up here. We can always run it next week.”

Kip agreed that was the best way to handle the late-breaking news. I clicked off and went over to where Milo was crouching on the ground. There was no chalk outline where Leo had fallen, but marks had been made by the deputies to show the position of his body. A dark, still-wet patch of blood on the pavement provided a grim reminder of the shooting. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them, I forced myself to look away.

The sheriff stood up. ”Walsh's car was parked in this third spot from the end of the row,” he explained. ”The shooter probably stood behind those trees.” Milo pointed to the second-growth Douglas fir and western cedar that surrounded the ski lodge complex. ”The two end slots in this row were empty, according to the valet who heard the shots and found Leo.”

”Who's the kid and where is he now?” I asked, nodding at Jack and Heather as they walked toward us.

”Andy,” Milo replied. ”Andy Andersen, a college kid. His dad, Kent, works in the Sears catalog office. He's inside, recovering from what happened.”

I looked at Heather. ”Is your dad here?”

”Yes,” she answered, looking rather pale. ”He got here a few minutes ago. He's trying to rea.s.sure our guests that this kind of thing has never happened here before. Naturally, some of them are thinking about checking out.”

”Can't blame them,” Jack Mullins said in his usual flippant style. ”First the Tall Timber Motel, now the ski lodge. Makes Alpine look like Destination Death.”

Heather shot Jack a dirty look. ”That's not funny.”

”h.e.l.l, no,” Jack retorted. ”Even less funny to the dead guy at the motel and poor Walsh fighting for his life. Loosen up, Heather. Life's just a bunch of c.r.a.p. Worse, if you're married to my wife.”

Heather appeared shocked but didn't respond. Milo and I were used to Jack's caustic remarks about Nina Mullins, who had always struck me as a kind and pleasant woman. Either she was a saint or she had a sense of humor that put her husband's comments in perspective.

I turned my attention to Milo. ”Has that area in the trees been searched?”

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