The Alpine Traitor (26 page)

Vida didn’t respond but shook her head and bit her lip. We went back to the car. My cell phone rang before I could turn on the ignition.

“We nailed ’em,” Milo announced in triumph. “The state patrol stopped both cars just north of the King-Snohomish county line.”

“Them being…who?” I asked as Vida leaned close to me in an attempt to hear what was being said at the other end of the line.

“Platte, Sophia Cavanaugh, and the phony Graham, the other Volos,” the sheriff answered.

I was torn between relief and worry. “What about Kelsey and the real Graham?”

“No sign of them,” Milo said. “I’m heading to Everett, where this bunch will be booked. I’ll argue jurisdiction later. I’m beat.”

“But I want to know where—” I stopped as Milo ended the call. “Damn!” I breathed, turning to Vida. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “I must admit, I don’t understand what’s going on. Is Milo charging all three of them with murder?”

“For all I know, they’ve been arrested for shoplifting.” I drummed my nails on the steering wheel. “We might as well go home. Kelsey and Graham can’t be in danger if the rest of them are under arrest.”

“You don’t believe that,” Vida said.

“No.” I stared through the windshield. “I’m still worried. If they had car trouble and left the rental here, I could understand that. But it’s that other car that bothers me. Who could it belong to? Were Kelsey and Graham meeting someone?”

Before Vida could respond, I dialed the ski lodge. It wasn’t quite one o’clock. Carlos was probably still on duty.

He picked up on the first ring. “Have you seen Kelsey Platte and her brother since we talked?” I asked.

“No,” Carlos answered. “Everything here’s quiet.”

“Could you do me a favor? Would you see if Kelsey’s belongings are still in the suite?”

“Well…okay. I’ll send somebody up to look and call you back,” Carlos said.

“No,” I replied. “I’ll stay on the line. I have to know now.”

“I’ll put you on hold,” he said.

Vida frowned at me. “You’re assuming Kelsey didn’t get her belongings from the lodge?”

“I think she intended to, but something scared her away,” I said. “Carlos never saw her or Graham. Of course, he might have been busy and missed them, but somebody would’ve noticed. Kelsey didn’t have her key card, so she’d have had to ask to be let in because she wouldn’t risk running into the rest of that crew.”

“True.” Vida adjusted her raffia fedora, which had slipped down over her right eye. “Where were those other wretched people going?”

“The airport?” I suggested as a click on the line indicated Carlos had taken me off of hold.

“Jerry—one of our bellboys—just called from the Queen Margrethe Suite to say that there were some things still there, mostly women’s clothes,” Carlos said. “No purse, though, nothing of importance, such as airline tickets or valuables.”

“That figures. Thanks, Carlos. I’m sorry to be a pest.”

“No problem. I hope everything turns out okay.”

“So do I.” I rang off.

I relayed what Carlos had just told me. Vida made a face. “The others must have taken anything useful, perhaps to impersonate Kelsey. They seem very good at being other people.”

I turned the ignition key. “I surrender. Let’s go home. Tomorrow is another day.”

“It’s already tomorrow,” Vida reminded me.

“So it is.” I started the car and drove a few yards up the narrow road to find a place where I could turn around. The verge widened close to the old railroad spur, so I angled the Honda onto a patch of gravel and was about to reverse when something caught my eye.

“Did you see that?” I asked Vida. “Some kind of flash?”

“Lightning?” she replied. “I don’t hear any thunder.”

“No, it was more like a…a light that went on and off.” I hesitated, peering into the darkness. “It seemed to come from that old caboose.”

“Teenagers,” Vida said in disapproval. “I’m told they party there. It’s a wonder they haven’t burned it to the ground.”

We sat in silence for at least a minute but saw nothing except the outline of the caboose and the trees that lined the old track. “Whatever it was, it’s gone,” I said, putting the car into reverse and keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror.

“A reflection from your headlights, perhaps,” Vida said. “It’s a good thing there’s no traffic on this road, especially so late at—” She stopped. “I see someone by the caboose.”

I braked and looked straight ahead. A lone figure was moving purposefully toward us. “Who is it? Gus Lundquist?”

“No,” Vida said, peering through the windshield. “Too tall. Gus is short and stocky. There’s someone with him, I think.”

Vida was right. I saw two more figures behind the man who was heading our way. I held my breath as he moved within thirty-odd feet of my car. The tall man was walking faster with a familiar gait. He waved. I gasped in shock. “Tom!”

Vida gave a start. “What?”

I felt light-headed, as if I were in a dream. I closed my eyes, wondering if I might be losing my mind. Then I heard a voice call out: “Mom! It’s me, Adam.”

I
was
dreaming. I had to be. I started to shake from head to toe. Vida put a firm hand on my arm. “Stop. Open your door.”

I couldn’t. I was frozen, utterly helpless. The door wasn’t locked. Adam opened it for me.

“Mom,” he said, bending down to look at me, “are you okay?”

I must have been holding my breath because I let out a huge sigh that was accompanied by a little wail of release from my shocked state. “Oh, Adam!” I gasped. “I don’t believe it!”

“Didn’t you get my e-mail?” he asked.

I was beginning to focus, just like a real person. “E-mail? No.”

“I sent it from Sea-Tac after we landed around nine o’clock,” he said. “I didn’t bring my laptop, so I had to use a computer at the airport.” He paused. “You look pale. Are you sick?”

“No. No.” I shook my head several times. “Just…shocked.” I finally looked beyond him to the two other figures. Kelsey and Graham seemed uneasy, standing awkwardly while they observed the unexpected family reunion. “I’m utterly flabbergasted,” I said. “Is that Ford over there your rental?”

“Right.” Adam grinned at Vida. “Hi, Mrs. Runkel. I like your hat.”

Even Vida was speechless.

“Come to the house,” I said to Adam. “You can explain everything there, and for God’s sake, bring Kelsey and Graham with you. I’m so rattled I don’t know if I can drive.”

“You don’t always drive so well when you’re not rattled,” Adam said and straightened up before turning to his half brother and half sister. “Let’s go, guys. Maybe we can cadge some food from Mom.”

I waited until Adam got into the Ford and the two Cavanaughs reached the Chrysler. “I’ll let them lead the way,” I told Vida. “I need a minute or two for collecting my wits.”

“Yes.” Vida still seemed nonplussed. “My, my.”

“Should I drop you off at your place?” I asked as Adam drove off.

“Don’t you dare,” she retorted. “My, my.”

Neither of us spoke again during the short drive back to my house. After I pulled into the carport, I had enough presence of mind to call Milo before I went inside. He didn’t pick up, presumably because he was busy with the perps in Everett. I left a message about finding Kelsey and Graham, then dialed his office, where Sam Heppner answered.

“Kids these days” was all he said when I relayed the news.

My son and the Cavanaughs were on the front porch. “I can’t find my key,” Adam said, a backpack slung over his shoulder. “I could’ve sworn I still had it with me.”

“You’ve probably lost it—as usual,” I said, opening the front door.

As soon as we were inside, I grabbed Adam and hugged him tight. “You’ve got some explaining to do. Start now.”

“We’re hungry,” he said after I released him. “We’ll forage first.”

Kelsey and Graham, who hadn’t said a word, followed Adam into the kitchen like a couple of lost lambs.
Babes in the woods,
I thought,
poor babes in the woods.

“I’ll make tea,” Vida said. “You sit. You’re still very washed out.”

I didn’t argue. I needed a few minutes alone. As soon as she went into the kitchen, I opened my laptop to see how I could’ve missed Adam’s e-mail. A new message appeared on the screen: “Postmaster—delayed delivery.” It happened sometimes, for reasons known only to God and Bill Gates, though not necessarily in that order. Sure enough, Adam’s message appeared.

Arrived at Sea-Tac, coming to Alpine tonight, will give you details when I see you. Love and prayers, Adam, The Wandering Priest.

Vida came back from the kitchen. “Kelsey and Graham seem like decent children,” she murmured. “Polite. Respectful. Though Kelsey’s a bit vague, don’t you think?”

“I already mentioned that,” I said in a low voice and tapped my temple. “She’s got some problems, but she’s not stupid.”

Vida sat down next to me on the sofa. “How on earth did Adam get involved? Had you any idea he was coming to Alpine?”

I turned the laptop so that Vida could read my son’s message. “This would’ve been the first I knew about it—
if
it had come through immediately. Maybe there was a snag because Adam had to send it from a computer at the airport. I’d checked my e-mail around midnight. The only personal note came from Ben.” I stared at the screen after Vida finished reading what my son had sent. “Ben mentioned something about Adam ‘under the circumstances.’ I thought he meant the usual trials and tribulations of being a priest in a remote mission parish. Maybe Ben knew more than he let on.”

“Ask Adam,” Vida said as my son came into the living room carrying a sandwich and a peach.

He sat down in the armchair by the hearth. “Kelsey and Graham are eating in the kitchen. They feel like intruders.”

“They’re not,” I said. “They’re family.”

Adam chuckled. “That concept is eluding them. Anyway, they’re going to stay at the ski lodge. Graham checked with the sheriff’s office and found out about the arrests.”

“Fine.” I couldn’t cope with anything other than Adam’s presence. “Please, tell me why you came here. I’m not quite over the shock.”

Adam sighed. “You may not like it.”

“There isn’t much I’ve liked for the past week,” I said. “What’s one more horror story?”

My son swallowed a bite of sandwich. “It’s not exactly a horror, but it might upset you. I’ll cut to the chase. My dad wanted to leave me his newspaper empire.”

I almost bolted off the sofa.
“What?”

“My goodness!” Vida exclaimed softly as the teakettle sang in the kitchen. “Excuse me. I must take care of that. Can you speak louder, Adam? Or do I call you ‘Father’?”

He shrugged. “Take your pick.”

Vida hurried out of the living room. Adam kept his voice down, despite her request. “While I was still in the seminary, Dad came to visit me in St. Paul. You may remember that. He was making a new will before you two got married. He’d leave all his real estate to Kelsey and Graham, along with a hefty trust fund for each of them. To make up for being an absent father during my first twenty years, he intended to bequeath the newspaper chain to me. But he wanted to make sure I’d be okay with my inheritance. He worried that if I learned I was potentially rich, I might chuck the priesthood. Frankly, I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of eventually being rich, but that seemed far into the future, so I told him if that was what he wanted, I wouldn’t stop him. If nothing else, I could sell it off and use the money for charity. I did ask why he wasn’t leaving it all to you. Dad said he’d thought about that but felt you wouldn’t want the responsibility.” Adam paused to take a bite of peach.

“I’m stunned,” I said as Vida came out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea.

She scowled at Adam. “I only heard snatches of what you told your mother. How can your congregation hear your sermons if you don’t speak up?”

“The churches where I say Mass are only slightly bigger than a phone booth,” Adam replied. “In fact, some of them aren’t even churches. And believe me, Mrs. Runkel, my homilies are usually cures for insomnia.”

“Dear me,” Vida said, sitting back down, “I’m glad Pastor Purebeck at First Presbyterian is livelier. Though when he talks about sin, I’d appreciate it if he named names. How does one know whom to avoid? After all, sex offenders must register. Why not other kinds of sinners?”

“Uh…” Adam was obviously trying to figure out if Vida was serious. “Love the sinner, hate the sin,” he finally said. “I’m telling Mom about Dad’s intentions in the new will he was making.”

“Yes, yes,” Vida said impatiently. “I heard some of that. By the way,” she added, turning to me, “the Cavanaugh children just left through the back door. They’re exhausted.”

“Who isn’t?” I muttered, though I seemed to have acquired a shot of adrenaline since Adam’s arrival. “I’d hoped they’d stay here,” I added, despite realizing it wouldn’t be practical in my little log house. I turned back to my son. “So what happened to the new will?”

His expression was ironic. “It was made but disappeared. The secretary at the San Francisco law firm remembered drawing it up for Dad to sign, but there’s no record that he ever did. Then, a month or so after Dad died, his lawyer was murdered.”

“Mr. Vitani,” I said. “I wondered about that. So the old will was the one submitted to probate?”

“That was all they could do,” Adam replied. “To be honest, I didn’t follow through. I was getting ready to be ordained, and all my mental processes were focused on that. When I finally thought about the will, a few months after I became a priest, I figured there were legal hoops to jump through. By the time I got around to calling the law office, I found out that Dad’s estate had been wrapped up and his other two kids had inherited everything. They also told me that Mr. Vitani was deceased. The way they said it made me suspicious, so I checked the San Francisco newspapers and learned he’d been shot. A random killing, apparently, so I didn’t try to connect the dots. I figured Dad had changed his mind, which was why I didn’t mention it to you.”

“I can guess why Vitani was shot,” I said. “When I heard he’d been killed, I wondered if your dad might have left
me
the newspapers. It never crossed my mind that he’d leave them to you, but I’m glad he did.” I smiled fondly at my son. “So you decided to rescue your mother?”