Free The Alpine Decoy by Mary Daheim

lamebrained men?” She whirled around to fix her nephew with a withering stare. “This man was shot. What kind of bullet? What sort of gun? When? Where? Who? The press—and the public—needs to know.”
    “Shit.” Milo removed his feet from the desk. He looked at Doc Dewey. “Do your stuff, Doc. Lois Lane here is about to make us crazy.”
    Vida snorted. Doc Dewey headed for the exit. “Your father wouldn’t have been so negligent,” she called after him. “Doc Dewey Senior was an admirable man.”
    Milo was now standing up. “It’s after nine,” he announced. “I’ll start my questioning in the morning.” With his jaw set, he gazed first at me, then at Vida. “Given the ethnic roots of the victim, we’ll begin with Marilynn Lewis.”
    I had a sudden urge to pour cold coffee over Milo.
      It’s rare that I have a weekend all to myself. News is made seven days a week. If Vida and Carla can’t cover events on Saturdays or Sundays, I take over. On this third weekend of May, the Lutheran church was holding its annual Spring Food and Fun Festival, which required Vida’s attendance. She was also going to Axel Swensen’s funeral in the morning. Carla was scheduled to take pictures of the high school baseball game between Alpine and Sultan. I assignedmyself the task of keeping tabs on Milo Dodge and the murder investigation.
    Figuring that it would take Milo until midmorning to come up with anything substantial, I used the time to clean house. I was vacuuming the living room when I thought I heard the phone ring. I picked up the receiver just before the call was switched over to my answering machine.
    My voice was breathless when I said hello; it didn’t get any better when I heard who was at the other end.
    “Well, hello there, Emma,” said Tom Cavanaugh in his usual mellow tones. “I thought you might be outside working in your yard.”
    “I should be,” I replied, sitting down with a plop on the chair next to my desk. “I’m housecleaning.” I giggled. I could have strangled myself.
    “Adam called this morning,” Tom said. “He may be flying down to the Bay Area for a few days after school gets out.”
    I stopped giggling. I felt my face take on a stern expression. I still wasn’t used to sharing Adam. “That’s up to him. He likes San Francisco.” I knew my voice had turned stiff.
    “Most people do,” Tom said, sounding not quite as casual as usual. “I’ll be able to take some time off to show him around. He’d probably like to stay down at Fisherman’s Wharf again.”
    I bit back the urge to ask why Tom didn’t invite him to bed down in one of what I assumed to be a plethora of spare rooms at the Cavanaugh mansion. Adam had not yet met his half siblings. I figured Tom hadn’t broken the news to them that he had another child.
    “Adam finishes up just before the Memorial Day weekend,” I noted, trying to relax. “I expect you’ll have plenty of leeway before you head up here for the conference at Lake Chelan.”
    “Definitely,” Tom assured me. “I don’t plan on coming until the day before it starts. Are you attending?”
    Hearing the new formal note in his voice, I bristled. “I doubt it. It’s a busy time. Maybe I’ll send Ed Bronsky.”
    The slight pause at the other end evoked a mental picture of Tom on the verge of delivering a flippant barb, but thinkingbetter of it. “Ed could use some helpful hints. Maybe he and I could have a drink together.”
    “How thoughtful.” Now I’d sunk to sarcasm. I literally kicked myself. “I mean, it probably won’t do any good. Ed’s a mess.”
    “Then why are you sending him?” Tom sounded reasonable, but I knew better.
    “It’d make more sense to send Ginny Burmeister,” I replied, and realized that was true.
    “The conference isn’t aimed at underlings, Emma.” Tom also could be stem.
    “Well … I’ve got almost a week to think about it.” I shrugged, obviously for my own sake rather than Tom’s. It was time