Free The Alpine Fury by Mary Daheim

this time of year?”
    They didn’t, especially not with snow in the forecast. Cross-state travelers were anxious to get as far below the summit as possible, lest they get caught in a storm.
    When the waitress returned with Leo’s second drink, he handed her a five-dollar bill. She started to protest, no doubt to tell Leo it was on the dinner tab, but he gave her hand a quick squeeze.
    “This is a bribe, honey,” Leo said in a low voice. “You know Ms. Lord here?”
    The waitress, whose name was Dina and who was a recent graduate of Alpine High, nodded. I smiled encouragement at Dina. Leo gave her his most conspiratorial look.
    “We want you to do some newspaper sleuthing for us, honey.” He inclined his head in the direction that the unknown man had just gone. “Go roll those big blue eyes at the guy with the briefcase and pretend you’re with the chamber of commerce. Ask where he’s from, why he’s here. You know, all the guff you do so well with the tourist trade.”
    Dina’s big blue eyes got even bigger. I suspected that she was too shy and too new at the job to ask for more than food orders. But she was game. Gulping and nodding, she hurried off to the other side of the dining room.
    Leo complacently savored his fresh drink. “I like giving women a thrill. She probably feels like a spy from World War Two.”
    “She’s probably never heard of World War Two,” Iremarked. “My son thinks the War in Nam is a rock group.”
    Leo seemed amused. But then I’m his employer. “What about Pop? Did he fight in Nam?”
    This was the first time that Leo had ever asked about Adam’s father. He knew Tom Cavanaugh; he had worked for one of Tom’s weeklies in California. He also knew that I knew Tom, since that was where the recommendation had originated. But Leo didn’t know how well I knew Tom. Eventually he would have to find out. But not just yet.
    “No,” I answered, trying to sound natural. “Pop was too old.” And married.
    I was spared further disclosures by Dina’s return. Her fair face was flushed and she was tugging nervously at her blonde pigtail. “He’s from Seattle,” she whispered. “He’s on
business.”
Her breath came in little gasps.
    “Well done.” Leo’s smile didn’t ring quite true. “What kind of business?”
    Dina’s face fell. “I don’t know, sir. He didn’t say.”
    “Where’s he staying?” Leo was clearly making an effort to keep his voice casual.
    Now Dina looked close to tears. “I don’t know that either. And I
did
ask.”
    Leo patted Dina’s arm. “That’s okay. You got the goods, honey. Thanks. How about that T-bone?”
    Finding comfort either in Leo’s manner or the request for something she knew how to do, Dina scurried off to the kitchen. Leo pushed his empty salad plate aside and lighted yet another cigarette.
    “What do you think?” he asked in a musing tone.
    I considered. “He could be a salesman. But he didn’t look like it.”
    “That’s a six-hundred-dollar overcoat,” Leo said. “The briefcase is real leather.”
    “Somebody from the state? A lobbyist, maybe?”
    “That’s possible,” Leo conceded. “But why not say so?”
    I rubbed my chin. “BOW?” Leo wasn’t familiar with the acronym. “The Bank of Washington,” I explained.
    Leo’s eyes glinted. “Let’s say you could bank on it.” He gave me a quick wink. His T-bone and my trout arrived, courtesy of Dina, who was now all shy smiles.
    I didn’t feel like smiling. If the lanky man in the expensive overcoat really was from the Bank of Washington, it looked to me as if this was the end of the Bank of Alpine.

Cha p ter Four
    T HE LATEST EDITION of
The Advocate
had made no more than the usual waves. Clancy Barton of Barton’s Bootery and lone Erdahl of kIds cOrNEr weren’t happy with the City Council’s decision to ban overnight parking at the Alpine Mall. An unidentified woman railed against the Halloween antivandalism editorial, insisting that kids will be kids. I