Free The Alpine Xanadu by Mary Daheim

her entrance. “Emma! Language, please!”
    “Good morning to you, too,” I retorted. “We have muffins. They’re not fattening.”
    “I’ve already breakfasted,” she said, removing her tweed winter coat before adjusting the
chapeau du jour
, which was a remarkably ugly taupe-and-red striped fedora. Apparently not in a chatty mood, she sat down and began going through her in-basket. The rest of us drifted to our respective desks and got to work, too. I remembered Mayor Baugh was coming at eleven and wondered why. Fuzzy rarely had anything newsworthy to say, though he could run on about trivialities.
    When Mitch returned from his morning rounds, he had the sheriff’s statement. Wayne’s death was being investigated as a possible accident. Milo was hedging his bets. I called him after ten to ask if he knew if Rosemary Bourgette was announcing Holly’s imminent release.
    “I haven’t talked to her yet,” he said. “I had Todd Wilson in here looking at Eriks’s safety equipment. It all looked fine to him. He doubted there were any live wires in the van. His guess is lightning.”
    “Nothing from you about”—I lowered my voice—“foul play?”
    “I don’t have proof it wasn’t a freak thing. I may send the body to Snohomish County to let their fancy equipment have a go. I hate doing it on a weekend. They’ll have a dozen stiffs piled up. We’ll be last in line.”
    “Poor you,” I said, meaning it.
    “I’m used to it.” He hung up on me. Some things never changed.
    I’d just put the phone down when Vida came into my office, looking like a dill pickle. “Well!” she huffed. “The least you could do is let me announce your engagement if you’re planning to get married so soon.”
    I gaped at her but hastily recovered. Of course Vida would hear about Milo picking up the marriage license application. The county auditor was another relative, her late husband’s niece, Eleanor Runkel Jessup. “We’re not,” I said.
    She sat down, still sour. “Why did Milo request the application?”
    I sighed. “He happened to be in the courthouse and …” I paused, wondering if Vida’s tardiness had been caused by a visit to Rosemary Bourgette. “I guess he thought I should know what one looks like. As you may recall, I’ve never been married before.”
    “Then you have no immediate plans?”
    I shook my head, and felt like saying that we didn’t even have sheets. “If we do, I’ll let you know. I’d want you to be a witness.”
    Vida’s face softened. “Would you? That’s very … flattering. But isn’t it time to at least put the engagement in the paper?”
    “Let me check with Milo,” I said. “You know we didn’t want it made public those first few weeks after we’d attracted so much attention by almost getting killed. We were going nuts coping with so much at once.”
    “True. But let me know,” she said, standing up. “It would be lovely to have a photo of you two for my page this week.”
    “Hey,” I said, “how come Dr. Woo wasn’t on after your show?”
    “Oh!” Vida adjusted her glasses. “Spencer told me he felt it would be inappropriate with someone dying so close to the facility. He didn’t want Wayne’s death to detract from the grand opening.”
    I was puzzled. “That doesn’t make sense. Wayne’s still dead.”
    Vida shrugged her broad shoulders. “I gather it was more of aninternal thing. Something about disturbing patients and staff. A distraction, perhaps. You know the Chinese are very superstitious.”
    “Dr. Woo was born in San Francisco,” I pointed out.
    “Oh? Well … family traditions, you know. Very strong among the Chinese. Very admirable, in my opinion.”
    I merely smiled—and called Milo again as soon as she left.
    “What now?” he barked.
    I relayed Vida’s request, including the picture idea.
    “I thought she’d already put it in the paper,” Milo said.
    “No. I told her to wait. Damn it, don’t you