Alpine Advocate: An Emma Lord Mystery
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The debut of the Emma Lord murder mystery series.
After a year as publisher-editor of the Alpine Advocate, Emma Lord feels fine about her move to this small town in the foothills of Washington's Cascade Mountains. What she really needs for her paper, though, is a big story. And she gets it--when handsome Mark Doukas, grandson of rich, old Neeny Doukas is murdered. Emma discovers that trying to get straight answers out of Neeny and his thin-lipped son is like poking a nest of sleeping rattlesnakes. What begins with an innocent story about the murdered man, ends with Emma conducting the most interesting, and probably the last, interview of her career from the wrong end of a .38....
Vida snorted and flapped the dishrag at me. “Don’t act like an adolescent idiot, Emma. Tom Cavanaugh looks enough like Adam to be his father.” She gave me her gimlet eye, then, to my surprise, turned away so abruptly that she almost knocked an empty wine bottle off the butcher block. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.” I decided to leave it that way. For the moment. But something she had just said bothered me, and it had nothing to do with Tom Cavanaugh. Unfortunately, I was too tired to
removing our plates and bringing more coffee. Tom waited until she was done before he spoke again. “As for your driver, he had a grudge. But why wait all these years?” “I know. It doesn’t make sense. All the same, I’d like to find out when Gibb Frazier was up at the mineshaft. It had to be after he got back from Monroe, which would have been mid-afternoon.” “Have you asked him?” “He’s been in Snohomish the past couple of days. Milo was going to talk to him when he got back. Today, I suppose.”
right.” “Of course it’s somebody, you ninny,” said Vida in annoyance. She had scrambled up from the log, damp earth clinging to her black skirt. “It’s Hector Ramirez. Get Dr. Starr to dig out his dental charts.” Milo shot Vida a baleful look but didn’t argue. “You three head out of here. There’ll be all hell to pay when Neeny comes along and sees what’s happening.” Vida glanced at me. “Do you have everything? I got some pictures. I had a couple of shots left over from the funeral.” I winced a
Yet I knew she and Neeny were probably already on the road to the airport. The phone rang and I started to answer it, then stopped. It might be Milo, inquiring after Chris. No doubt he’d been sighted by the locals. I decided to let the machine take the call. Whoever it was would assume I was out to dinner. The thought triggered some nagging idea, but it fluttered away before I could grasp it. “Mrs. Lord,” Chris began, pacing the length of the hearth in long, uncertain strides, “is that really
years later, Oscar Nyquist was offering Dances with Wolves. It, too, was popular, though some of the old-timers ventured that Kevin Costner couldn’t hold a candle to William S. Hart. The hardware and sporting goods store, which was divided into two separate sections, smelled of sawdust and paint thinner. Harvey Adcock was a pixie of a man, no taller than I am, with pointed ears and a balding head and quicksilver movements. He was behind the counter of flooring samples, waiting on, of all people,