"No," Beth replied, "but Tiff did. Twice. The first time was at night. He scared her half to death."

The vacant rental was only two doors down from my own house. But my log cabin was set back from the street, a good twenty yards deeper than the other homes facing Fir. My view of the area was also blocked by the trees and bushes that grew around the cul-de-sac.

"I've never seen Old Nick," I said. "Do you think he's dangerous?"

Beth glanced at her console. "We've gotten a couple of calls about him in the past few weeks. He's been sighted off Fir Street, toward First Hill."

"But did he do anything except prowl around?"

Beth made a face. "To be honest, no. One call was from Grace Grundle. You know how she is-always so afraid somebody's going to hurt one of her cats. The other was from a teenage girl who was babysitting. We sent one of the deputies-Dwight Gould, I think-to check out the place, but the nut-Old Nick?-was gone by the time Dwight got there."

"Milo knows that Old Nick has been hanging out by your brother's house?"

Beth nodded. "I told him when I found out that Tim had been-" She clenched her fists and clamped her lips shut.

"They'll check it out," I said to ease the awkward moment. "How's Tiffany?"

Maybe I imagined it, but Beth's expression changed ever so slightly. She seemed to freeze, as if the mention of her sister-in-law's name annoyed her.

"Tiff's okay," Beth said tersely.

"And the baby?"

"Fine." Beth picked up her bottled water and took a sip. The sheriff's headquarters wasn't air-conditioned, but a huge fan had been installed behind Beth's chair. "Her folks are taking her to their place as soon as Doc signs the release form."

"I've never known the Eriks family very well," I said. "They live in the Icicle Creek development, right?"

Beth nodded again. "A couple of blocks from where Dodge lives. Wayne and Cookie Eriks are on the edge of the development, near Railroad Avenue."

The less attractive homes in the neighborhood were closer to the railroad and farther from the golf course. Not that any of the houses were upscale. The development was strictly middle-cla.s.s modest.

The console lit up. Beth's "911" was calmly professional. "Please speak more slowly," she said after a pause. "How old? Three months? Turn the baby upside down. . . . Yes, do it now. . . . Hold him firmly. . . . Good. . . . No, I wouldn't try to give him vitamins anymore, either. . . . It wouldn't hurt to check with Dr. Sung. You're sure that Emerson is all right? . . . Yes, I hear him crying. He sounds angry. That's what I'd expect. . . . Of course. You're welcome." She shook her head and spoke to me. "Another kidlet who hates liquid vitamins. They refuse to swallow, then choke and start turning blue. Mom panics. She can't imagine that an infant could have such definite dislikes and opinions."

"Or be so ornery," I said with a little smile. "They're born with personality traits. My son was always strong-minded, especially when it was something he didn't like. I swear he had his first tantrum when he was a day old."

Beth looked wistful. "I've never had kids. When I give advice like I did just now, it's because of my emergency training. If I can, I try to resolve crises before anybody else has to be summoned."

"You deserve a hero medal," I said.

She turned grim. "I wish I could've been one last night for Tim."

"Do you know who called in the fire?"

"I was off duty, of course," Beth replied, "but Evan Singer was here. He told me it was Edna Mae Dalrymple. She was up late reading a book they'd just gotten in at the library. She wanted to finish it in one sitting because there were several patrons waiting to read it."

Edna Mae was Alpine's head librarian. She lived on the corner of Fifth and Fir, across from the Rafferty house. Perhaps she'd been in the group of onlookers on the other side of the street. Edna Mae is a nervous, rather timid creature, but conscientious. I'd mention her name in my story.

"Are you staying on all day?" I inquired.

"I might as well," Beth said wearily. "There's nothing much I can do until Tim's body is sent back to Driggers Funeral Home. Evan fills in some evenings, but he's got plenty on his plate managing the Whistling Marmot Movie Theatre. I'll see my mother at the nursing home after work. Frankly, she won't understand. Half the time she doesn't know who I am. Her personality's changed, too. The irony is that I hardly recognize her. Or at least not as the person who was my mother."

"Did Tim visit her often?"

"No." She held her head with one hand and looked away. "He said there wasn't any point. That's not true, really. A couple of times, I took her there to dinner. Mom had no idea where she was or who she was with. I might as well have taken her to Old Mill Park." Beth's voice broke. "d.a.m.n it, Emma, I wish Tim and I'd been closer these past couple of years. I feel as if I've lost my entire family."

I was aware that there'd been friction between brother and sister, dating back to their father's death. It was a sore subject-and not just with Beth, but in a different, horrible way-with me. I didn't want to think about that now. Nor, I was sure, did Beth.

But she had to. "You'll soon have a new niece or nephew," I said, trying to find a bright spot.

Beth, whose eyes glittered with unshed tears, gave me a cynical look. "I doubt that I'll see much of the baby. Tiffany isn't exactly the sensitive, thoughtful type."

The console's light went on again. Beth composed herself immediately. I hesitated. The call could mean news. But I sensed that Beth wanted to return to her professional world of woe and stop thinking about her own. I didn't blame her. With a little wave, I left.

VIDA WAS HUNGRY. She returned to the office just in time to catch me going out the front door on my way to the Burger Barn. "I'll go with you," she declared. "The Parkers didn't serve so much as a cookie, let alone a Chinese chicken salad."

"So how are they otherwise?" I asked as we crossed Front Street under a bright, hot sun.

"Upset, but managing," Vida replied. She pointed to one of the concrete planters where petunias, lobelias, and alyssums were drooping sadly. "Honestly, can't Fuzzy Baugh see to it that these flowers get watered in this weather? He is the most useless creature we've ever had for a mayor."

Fuzzy was the only mayor I'd known since I arrived in Alpine. He was a good politician, oozing native Southern charm. But his administrative skills were lacking. Still, he was better than the county commissioners. At least Mayor Baugh wasn't senile.

It was almost twelve-thirty, the Burger Barn's busiest time. Vida and I had to wait five minutes before we were seated in a booth. Ordinarily, Vida would've insisted on one that was by a window, but because her hunger seemed even stronger than her curiosity, she sacrificed a view of pa.s.sersby.

"Well now," she said after we'd given our order to a plump blond waitress named Courtney, who immediately brought our beverages. "That's better. I can speak freely. Did you realize that Maud Dodd and her grandchildren were standing behind us? Maud is such a gossip!"

"Really."

"Yes," Vida said, her eyes darting around the area at the other customers. "Of course, she's known Dot and Durwood for years, too. I wouldn't want to mention them where she might overhear."

"Naturally." I waited while Vida laced her iced tea with sugar.

"The Parkers had only gotten the news about the cause of Tim's death a few minutes before I got there," Vida explained. "At first, Durwood just sat there in his recliner, not speaking. Dot was in tears. I did my best to comfort them, but you can imagine the shock."

"They were fond of their grandson-in-law?"

"I shouldn't go so far as to say that," Vida responded, her gray eyes ever watchful. "They're fond of Tiffany. Frankly, I always thought they favored Laura over Charlotte."

"Huh?"

Vida waved a hand. "Cookie Parker Eriks is actually named Charlotte. They've called her Cookie forever. Laura is their older daughter. She married Demetrius-Deeky-Kristopolous, some distant relative of the Doukas family. Laura and Deeky live in Bremerton. They have two grown children, somewhat older than Tiffany. Frankly, LaLa and Cookie have never gotten along."

"LaLa?"

"Laura. That's her nickname."

"Ah." I think I understood the family tree, but I hoped Vida wouldn't make me take a quiz after lunch. I had, however, lost the main thread of our conversation. "So . . . ?"

Vida quickly saw my confusion. "My point is that Dot and Durwood not only favored LaLa over Cookie, but LaLa's children over Tiffany. Personally, I suspect that if LaLa's children had been raised in Alpine and not over on the Kitsap Peninsula in Bremerton, Dot and Durwood would have discovered that they were no better than Tiffany. All those sailors, you know. In Bremerton."

Bremerton was a naval shipyard, but I still didn't quite understand what Vida was trying to say. "LaLa's children are both girls?"

Vida shook her head. "No. She and Deeky have one of each. I'm not saying that their children got into serious trouble. I'm sure I would've heard about that. I merely mean that their grandparents always saw them when they were on their best behavior. Of course, Bremerton is by far a larger town than Alpine. So much more temptation."

"I see," I said, and thought that at least I got the gist of Vida's meaning. "Was Tiffany a wild teenager? The first time I met her, I think she was out of high school."

Vida gazed up at the ceiling where tired fans did their best to dispel the hot and greasy air. "Yes. Tiffany would've been twenty, twenty-one back then. That was just a year or two before she started dating Tim. My, they were together for a long time, even if they didn't marry until recently." She paused as Courtney brought us our meals. I'd ordered my usual burger basket; Vida had requested the chicken version. She ate two fries before she spoke again. "As I recall, Tiffany wasn't a troublesome teen. She dated a number of boys and was a cheerleader at the high school. Tim was probably a senior when she was a freshman. He was on the football and baseball teams, though he wasn't one of our outstanding athletes."

I managed not to smile. To my knowledge, Alpine hadn't turned out anyone with great athletic ability in the past fifty years.

"Tim went to Western Washington University in Bellingham for a year or two, but dropped out," Vida continued, adding more salt to her fries. "He never had goals. He isn't-pardon me-wasn't stupid, simply average and unmotivated. Tiffany strikes me as quite empty-headed."

"Yes," I agreed. "She's vapid."

Vida munched on her chicken and nodded. "Apt. Cookie and LaLa are both reasonably intelligent, I suppose, but to be fair, Durwood was a very good pharmacist even if he is a terrible driver, and Dot kept the books when they owned the drugstore. Perhaps the brains just petered out over time."

"Tiffany is an only child?" I remarked. "I thought there was a brother."

"There was," Vida replied. "Ringo. He died in a rafting accident on the Snake River several years ago." She peered at me closely. "Don't you remember? It was after you moved here."

I pushed at my memory. "Yes, I do now. But I hadn't been here long, and I didn't know the Raffertys. What was his real first name?"

"Ringo." Vida picked up an onion ring that she'd ordered on the side. "Cookie was a big fan of the Beatles." Lest she think I was about to criticize the plethora of family nicknames, Vida narrowed her eyes at me. "Gus Eriks-Tiffany's other grandfather, now deceased-had a sister-in-law who loved the Ink Spots."

"And?" I waited for Vida to gobble up her onion ring.

"She called their son Ink Spot. Inky, for short." She bit off another piece of chicken and bun. "I don't think she realized that the Ink Spots were black. That was before television."

"Oh," I said.

"Anyway," Vida went on after she finished chewing, "after I'd been there a few minutes, the Parkers settled down."

That was more than I could do after the laborious-and weird-family tree I'd just been climbing. "I a.s.sume they can't guess how the fire started."

"Certainly not," Vida retorted. "d.i.c.k Bourgette doesn't build shoddy homes. Dot and Durwood knew of no complaints about faulty wiring or chimney flaws or anything of the sort. The fire must have been set deliberately, as I'm sure Milo would agree."

We both paused to wave at Stella Magruder, who was hurrying past to the pickup counter. No doubt she was taking lunch back to her beauty parlor down the street. I'd scheduled a Thursday appointment with her to cut my shrublike brown hair. "Did they mention Old Nick?" I inquired of Vida.

She looked owlish. "No. What about him?"

I related my conversation with Beth Rafferty. Vida was intrigued. "I had no idea Nick was lurking around that vacant house off the cul-de-sac. How could you not have known, Emma?"

I shrugged. "It's not on my usual route. I take Fourth, not Fifth, or go over to Alpine Way in the opposite direction."

"Hmm." She turned thoughtful. "Milo will have to hunt him down. I can't imagine why Old Nick has shown up in town after so many years."

"What do you know about him?" I asked with another wave for Stella, who was still hurrying but now held two white paper bags bearing the eatery's red barn logo.

"Let me think." Vita ate more fries before continuing. "Goodness, it must be close to thirty years ago. I didn't actually see him, but Harvey Adc.o.c.k told me that this disreputable-looking creature had come into his store and bought an axe and a hammer and-I forget what else. He had a long gray beard and barely spoke. And he paid for everything in change. At first, Harvey thought he was crippled because he walked with such difficulty. But it turned out he was carrying all those coins in the pockets of his overalls."

"When did you see him?"

"Much later-a year or more," Vida replied. "He was going through the bins in back of the Grocery Basket. I saw him once or twice after that, always foraging. And then he simply disappeared. It's probably been over ten years since the last sighting. What's odd is that he never seemed to stay in town for more than a few hours. I can't imagine him holing up in a vacant house."

"He may be sick," I suggested.

"Perhaps."

I finished my burger. "Say, why did the Parkers stand you up last night for the interview? Did they forget?"

Vida suddenly looked uneasy. Her gaze, which had never ceased scouring the restaurant to keep tabs on the other customers, now became fixed on her almost empty plate. "That was rather odd. Dot apologized, but she didn't explain."

"Maybe she was embarra.s.sed. Because they did forget," I added.

Vida looked me in the eye. "I don't think so. I can't help but wonder if they aren't hiding something."

I made a face. "Like what?"

She sighed. "That's what bothers me."

Vida looked more than bothered. She looked worried.

Her reaction made me worry, too.

FOUR.

I DIDN'T KNOW the Parkers nearly as well as Vida did. Durwood had retired and sold the pharmacy shortly before I moved to Alpine. Except for Durwood's ghastly driving record, they were highly respectable-and among the few to whom Vida granted grudging approval. If the Parkers had evaded the question of their whereabouts the previous evening, Vida and I could only surmise that they had to attend to personal problems.

"Family matters," she guessed. "But what? Really, Dot and Durwood are decent people. I'd hate to think-" She stopped, shaking her head.

"Think what?" I asked, glancing at my bill.

"I don't know," Vida admitted. She opened her coin purse, where she kept bills as well as change. "Cookie and Wayne Eriks are a trifle old for midlife crises. Still, you can never be sure. Tim and Tiffany are-were-technically newlyweds, though that doesn't really count since they lived together for so long." She counted out seventy-five cents for a tip. "Goodness, I'd like to know why Tim was killed."

I had put a dollar on the table. "You don't care for Milo's burglary theory?"

Vida squinted at me through her big gla.s.ses. "It does sound glib, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," I allowed. And then I did something I rarely do in front of Vida. "d.a.m.n!" I swore.

"Emma!" Vida had been sliding out of the booth. She stopped abruptly on the edge, steadying herself by gripping the Formica-topped table. "Are you hurt?"