Summary
Picturesque Alpine is no longer the brawling logging town of yesteryear. So when a drunken fight at the Icicle Creek Tavern leaves a loner named Alvin De Muth dead, the residents feel as if they've gone back to the Bad Old Days. The inquiry into the incident should be a no-brainer, but since the witnesses were half-tanked at the time, Sheriff Milo Dodge is left with conflicting stories. But soon Emma Lord, editor and publisher of The Alpine Advocate, has an even bigger story to report- a heartbreaking highway accident that leaves two people dead and one on life support. Rumors are flying- Are the two tragedies linked in some inexplicable way? Assisted by that human bulldozer Vida Runkel, the Advocate 's House & Home editor, Emma goes for the gold.
Author Notes
Mary R. Daheim is a reporter and mystery writer. She was born in Seattle, Washington.
Daheim was a newspaper reporter and a public relations consultant before beginning to write. In 1983, she published her first historical romance. Daheim wrote six more books before becoming a mystery writer.
In 1991, Daheim began the Bed & Breakfast series of books. She began a second series, the Alpine series, in 1992.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Excerpts
Chapter One On Tuesday, October 5, Skykomish County Sheriff Milo Dodge arrested Clive Berentsen, forty-one, in connection with the death of Alvin De Muth, thirty-eight. Dodge and Deputy Sam Heppner took Berentsen into custody at eleven-twenty-five pm. The timing was almost perfect, allowing me to include the story for The Alpine Advocate's weekly deadline. "I know KSKY has the news," I said to my production manager, Kip MacDuff, the next morning, "but at least we got it in this week's edition." Kip, who was pouring coffee from the urn behind my new reporter's vacant desk, grinned. "There are some wars you can't win, Emma." "I know that, too." I paused, contemplating our coverage of the homicide down the road. "I suppose Clive Berentsen will plead self- defense. Do you know Clive or Alvin De Muth?" Kip shook his head. "Only by sight. Clive's been a long-haul trucker for years. De Muth has done some work on our trucks, but I hardly ever talked to him. I guess he was the strong, silent type." Kip smiled at me. "I don't hang out at the Icicle Creek Tavern. Never was my style. If I want a beer, I go to Mugs Ahoy or our fridge at home. I'm a respectable married man, remember?" I smiled back at Kip. He'd worked for the Advocate since his high school days, starting out as a carrier and eventually taking over the paper's production. He was now in his early thirties; I'd designated him as my heir apparent if and when I ever retired. "You deserve a raise," I said on impulse. "If we crunch some numbers . . ." "Whoa." Kip held up a hand. "I know the numbers as well as you do. The profit margin is pretty lean. Nobody here expects to get rich." "True enough." I glanced over at my House & Home editor's empty chair. "Where's Vida? It's ten after eight." "She's got the bakery run," Kip replied, heading for the door to our back shop. "She traded with Mitch this morning. He had a problem at home and called to say he might not get here until eight-thirty." Mitch Laskey was my latest hire as the Advocate's sole reporter. "Nothing serious, I hope?" "Ask Vida." He chuckled. "She's the one who knows everything," he added, then disappeared into his high-tech domain. Kip was right. Vida Runkel was the source of all knowledge in Alpine and the rest of Skykomish County. No secret was safe, no slip of the tongue went unnoticed, no vow of secrecy was sacred to my redoubtable House & Home editor. She could be annoying, contrary, and even infuriating. But I'd be lost without her. I owned the Advocate, but Vida held Alpine in her heart--and the palm of her hand. I'd retreated to my cubbyhole office when she burst into the newsroom five minutes later. "No maple bars!" she cried. "No sugar doughnuts! What's going on at the Upper Crust?" I rose from my chair and went to my almost-always-open door. "They can't make everything every day," I pointed out. Vida, who was wearing a toque plastered with artificial autumn leaves, tromped over to the table where the coffee urn was located. "True, but my mouth was set for a maple bar." She began arranging the pastries on a tray. "Cinnamon doughnuts are good, so are the frosted kind, but I prefer raised sugar. Oh, well." She finished her task and snatched up a blueberry Danish. "What's going on with Mitch?" I inquired. "His wife's loom broke," Vida replied en route to her desk. "Brenda has deadlines, too. She's weaving a rug for someone’ Excerpted from The Alpine Uproar by Mary Daheim All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
