The Alpine Xanadu Read Online Free PDF Page A

were dead tired.
    Milo hadn’t had time to assemble the new king-sized bed I’d bought during the January sale from Lloyd Campbell’s store. It had been delivered the day before Tanya arrived at his house in the Icicle Creek development. The standard-sized bed I’d bought thirty years ago in Portland wasn’t big enough to accommodate the sheriff. Even when we were a couple almost ten years ago, Milo didn’t stay over that often and neither of us ever complained. But now it was different. He’d be living here all of the time—if he could ever lose his ex and their daughter.
    What was almost as frustrating for the sheriff was that he hadn’t been able to go fishing. Unlike Tricia, who’d balked at his need for solitude to slough off the rigors of his job, I understood. Fishing is part sport and part spiritual experience. Milo had recently told me he often used the time for introspection—something I thought he rarely did. But there were depths to him that I’d never plumbed. The truth was I’d never wanted to, for fear that maybe there weren’t any. Or that if there were, I’d realize how much I’d always lovedhim and give up the dream that had been Tom Cavanaugh and the enigma that had been Rolf Fisher. Emma Lord, Love Dunce—I’d spent thirty years perfecting the role.
    It was still raining Thursday morning. The dark clouds hung over Alpine almost to the tree line at the rear of my house. As a native Pacific Northwesterner, I didn’t mind. Gray, not green, should be Washington’s official color, at least in the western half of the state.
    As I drove down the hill to Front Street, I glanced toward the sheriff’s office. There was no sign of Milo’s Yukon. Maybe he’d stopped at the hospital to see Tanya.
    Amanda had the bakery run that morning. When I arrived she was setting out sugar doughnuts, maple bars, and cinnamon twists. After greeting her, I poured a mug of coffee and grabbed a doughnut. Vida and Leo were both on the phone, Kip apparently was in the back shop, and Mitch arrived just as I started to head for my office.
    “Hey, boss,” Mitch called to me, almost on my heels by the time I reached my desk, “you free for lunch today?”
    “Yes,” I said, wishing I sounded more enthusiastic. I hadn’t given up hope that Milo might be free during the noon hour.
    My reporter tapped his fingers on the door frame. “I’ve got some things I’d like to discuss with you. Not related to work.”
    “Okay,” I said. “Unless things get hectic, that’s fine.”
    Mitch nodded and went to his desk.
    What to do with Brenda?
I thought, sitting down. So many people had mental problems. Was the atmosphere full of emotional-disturbance germs? I’d spent thirty years waiting for Tom’s wife, Sandra, to drive him to divorce or run off with somebody else. She’d once done the latter, but her affair with a much younger man had ended abruptly. Eventually she had died from an overdose of her funny-bunny meds. Tom was finally free to make me his wife, but instead of marrying him, I ended up burying him. Now it wasTanya, and in between, Roy Everson with his Mama fixation and Mitch’s wife, Brenda. I’d never really gotten to know her. Though I blamed myself for lack of trying, she hadn’t seemed very social. Given her recent breakdown, I wondered if she’d brought her mental problems with her from Royal Oak.
    Mitch left at eight-thirty to check the sheriff’s log. I had a ten-thirty interview with Rosalie Reed, so I went over my notes. Dr. Reed was forty-nine, a native of San Rafael, and had gotten her doctorate of psychology from UCLA. Married, one son. She’d moved to the Seattle area in 1997 and set up practice on the Eastside with offices in Bellevue. The glossy photo showed a serious, patrician woman who exuded strength and purpose. She was no beauty, but she had a kind of mystique that I figured men would find attractive. Maybe if I could get her to smile, she’d turn radiant. I resolved not to