Free The Alpine Pursuit by Mary Daheim Page A

musing manner that was becoming familiar, “you want to cart the corpse to the morgue.” He turned to Milo. “Or does the deceased stay put for a while?”
    Sam was still taking pictures. Milo didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he gave Elvis Sung a thumbs-up gesture. “We’ve seen enough. You finished, Sam?”
    Sam nodded.
    “Go ahead,” Milo said to the medics. “Take him away.”
    “Sure,” Del Amundson, the other EMT, shot back. “Maybe we can pick up a couple of stiffs out on River Road while we’re at it. Somebody just called in to say they thought they saw a car floating in the Sky. If it gets too crowded, we can always dump some of ’em off in a snowbank. They’ll keep.”
    Elvis Sung held up his hands. “Just go. Take our body with you, then check out the river. I’ll meet you at the clinic.”
    “Upstairs or in the basement?” Vic asked as Del rolled a gurney to center stage.
    “Upstairs,” Elvis answered. “I’ll be in the ER, not the morgue. I can’t do anything for Berenger.”
    As the two medics removed the corpse, I looked again for Scott and Tamara. They were nowhere to be seen. I began to suspect that they’d left after the curtain fell. No doubt they had plans of their own for the rest of the night. I couldn’t blame Scott, but it meant we were without a photographer. We couldn’t use any of Sam’s photos—they were too graphic. Nor would he let us borrow county property to take some shots of our own. Maybe someone in the cast had a camera. Vida wasn’t as good as Scott, but she was better than I was. “Remove the lens cap” was about the only instruction I got right, and upon occasion I’d forgotten even that.
    Sam Heppner had gone to help Spence take down names and addresses. In the relative quiet behind the curtain I could hear the anxious buzz of conversation in the auditorium. I hoped the three hundred–plus attendees could be dispatched quickly. Nobody wanted to spend the night snowed in on campus.
    The body was taken away, a pathetic bundle moving at what struck me as unseemly speed through the backstage area and out through a rear exit. As the door remained open for a few seconds, I could see the snow coming down, driven by a howling north wind. I began to wonder if I’d be stuck at the college.
    Milo had cut Dustin from the herd, telling him to join the other cast and crew members. “You’re a witness, Dustman,” the sheriff said with a grimace. “For now, you’re one of them, not one of us. Sorry.”
    Dustin, however, understood. He headed for the workshop, where the double doors now stood open. I trailed along, watching Dustin sit down on a stool between Destiny Parsons and Reverend Poole. Some of the twenty or so people who waited on the law’s whim seemed to have recovered their nerve. Others, like Rita, Nat, Destiny, and Jim, still appeared visibly shaken. Thyra Rasmussen refused a folding chair. She leaned on her canes and glared at Milo. Dodo was now asleep under the vet’s stool.
    “Emma, Vida,” Milo said, “you’re out of here. Roger’s folks can stay because he’s a minor.” Forestalling any lip from either of us, he made a sharp gesture with his thumb. “Beat it. Now.”
    Vida wasn’t going quietly. “Amy and Ted can go home. I’ll stay with Roger.”
    But the sheriff was firm. Vida was out; the Hibberts were in. In her splayfooted manner, my House & Home editor stomped angrily to join me by the exit. We left just as Sam Heppner returned from the auditorium. Spence wasn’t with him, no doubt already hightailing it to the radio station to make the deadline for his midnight newscast.
    “Really!” Vida exclaimed as we got outside. “How dare Milo behave in such a high-handed fashion?”
    “He’s conducting a possible murder investigation,” I said loudly, my voice being swallowed up in the swirling snow and wind. “Damn it, this is bad! Did you bring your car?”
    “Yes!” Vida shouted back at me as she held on to her