The Alpine Journey (Emma Lord Mysteries)
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A JOURNEY OF TERROR
Murder is news--even when editor-publisher Emma Lord is away from The Alpine Advocate. A picturesque Oregon seashore village may not be Emma's traditional beat, but when a sensational headline-grabbing murder occurs, she's on the case.
It all begins as sexy Audrey Imhoff emerges from her nightly nude dip in the Pacific--and a killer makes it her last. A week later Audrey's husband disappears, and the couple's three adolescent children seem strangely relieved by his absence.
What's the story behind all this bizarre behavior? Emma Lord will find out-- or die trying. . . .
word in edgewise. Evie simply tires me out.” I couldn’t imagine such a thing. But of course I didn’t say so, and thanked my lucky stars that my encounters with Evelyn Gustavson Runkel had been few and brief. “Did Gordon tell you what had happened to Audrey when you finally called?” “No. He’d already disappeared. I spoke first to Derek, who is—what? nineteen, twenty?—and somewhat surly.” Vida’s mouth turned down in disapproval. “I got very little information from him, but Stacie was more
said, steering the conversation around to what I hoped might be a less volatile topic. Bill again assumed his professional air. “It baffled me at first. Death resulted from a severe blow to the head, causing extensive damage to the lining of the brain. I won’t go into the details, but there were three such blows in all, which indicates that they were dealt in rage. It’s very likely that the first one didn’t kill the victim, but we can’t be sure. Our next problem was to identify the weapon.”
to keep the car on the road. But the moisture on the asphalt sent me into a skid—and a ditch. Vaguely, I could hear brakes squeal, car doors slam, and someone shouting. With enormous effort, I flexed my feet, my legs, my hands, my arms. They were all still attached and seemed to be in working order. Next, I turned my head, first to the right, then to the left. The car was on its side. All I could see through the front window was underbrush and leaves and wisps of fog. It dawned on me that the
headed. However did you manage to walk so far?” “It’s only about five blocks,” I said dryly. “Short ones. Besides, I think the exercise loosened me up.” “Foolish,” Vida remarked as the waitress brought my order and offered another menu. “No, no, I’ll have only hot tea. And a green salad, with ranch dressing. Ah … what type of soup do you have today? No, not soup—a turkey sandwich. That sounds very nice. On white. Do skimp on the mayonnaise. I’m watching my figure.” Vida always was, and it
paranoid and thought Gordon was getting suspicious. Do you still have that note?” I inquired, recalling that Vida had pocketed it. “Well … yes.” She seemed a trifle sheepish. “I’ll hand it over, if necessary. But I believe the police can figure it out. They must have looked into Audrey’s bank accounts. Where else could she get that hundred thousand dollars? It couldn’t all have come from those silly old men. And how did Marlin support himself? Not that he lives a lavish lifestyle, but he must