Free Alpine Zen : An Emma Lord Mystery (9780804177481) by Mary Daheim

buried. If we’d left him there we could’ve saved the county some money. Maybe Driggers Mortuary will give us half off because the stiff’s being reburied. You might ask Janet about that tonight. Do it before they all get tanked.”
    “I think I’ll avoid the topic.” I checked my watch. “It’s almost six. I’ll start dinner. Stay outside. The kitchen may get warmer. We’ll eat here.” I carried the rest of my drink and the half-smoked cigarette inside.
    I was only off four minutes in my estimate of prep time. As we ate—and I dueled with the bug life—I asked Milo who was filling in while he took time out for dinner.
    “Gould,” he responded. “He’ll get paid for it.”
    “Say,” I said, “you never told me what went down at RestHaven in the rehab wing. Did you send someone to straighten them out?”
    Milo shook his head. “The combatants had cooled off when my deputies got there. That’s what happened the first time around in May. Iain Farrell’s so damned uptight about patient privacy that he wouldn’t call us if the staff was being held hostage. But the psych ward’s maven, Rosalie Reed, convinced Woo they needed help. Maybe she’s running scared after hernutty husband escaped and ended up dead last winter. Anyway, Farrell’s not in charge of security since they hired a full-timer.”
    My eyes widened. “They did? Nobody told us about it. What’s wrong with Kay Burns? That’s her job as their PR person.”
    He shrugged. “Maybe she and Gould are still getting it on and she’s distracted. They
were
married. I don’t ask my staff about their personal lives, though I’d like to tell Mullins to shut up when he bad-mouths Nina. He knows she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”
    I agreed, but I wanted to stay focused on RestHaven. “Who’s in charge of security? And why hasn’t Spence broadcast it since he’s sleeping with Dr. Reed?”
    “I don’t know,” Milo replied. “Maybe Woo put a lid on his staff. They’ve been operating like the CIA ever since they opened up. The only reason I know about it is because I ran into Sid Almquist this morning at Cal’s Chevron. He started at RestHaven June first. I was happy for the guy. He’s had a rough time.”
    The name rang only a vague bell. “Was he the one who was living with his wife and their new baby under the Icicle Creek Bridge when we were going together the first time around?”
    Milo nodded. “He’d been laid off at the old Cascade & Pacific Mill after that horse’s ass Jack Blackwell bought it out. He and Mary Jean moved to Snohomish, where he worked security for a regional group of banks. The Almquists always wanted to come back here, so he applied for the job and they hired him.”
    “How did that slip under Vida’s radar?” I asked, aghast. “Of course, she hasn’t been herself since Roger went to jail.”
    “At least she’s speaking to me again,” my husband saidafter devouring the last bite of his giant steak. “I guess that’s good news. I’d better go.” He stood up and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “Good luck with the card-playing winos.”
    I’d finished cleaning up from dinner when Vida called. “Honestly,” she said without preamble, “Ella is such a ninny! She fell in Parc Pines’ underground garage as she was about to go to Safeway. She shouldn’t be driving. Why doesn’t Milo pull her license?”
    I sat on the sofa. “He can’t. That decision has to be made by the Department of Motor Vehicles when her current license expires. Ella hasn’t had any accidents or violations, has she?”
    Vida harrumphed. “No. She rarely goes over ten miles an hour and is terrified to leave the residential area. She didn’t break anything, but Doc’s keeping her overnight because her blood pressure is very high. She might still be lying in the garage if Walt Hanson hadn’t pulled in after visiting his wife and baby.”
    “Does Ella know why she fell?” I asked, checking my