The Alpine Uproar Read Online Free

the aisle. “What did they do, fire all the waitresses?”
    “They’re busy,” I said. “It’s almost noon.”
    The sheriff exhaled smoke and looked grumpy. “So why’s everybody here early?”
    “It’s five to twelve,” I said. “It’s Wednesday. They probably want to finish in time to get their copy of the
Advocate
.”
    “Bullshit.” He leaned back in the booth. “Oh, God, here comes Delphine Corson.”
    “So?”
    “She called this morning to ask me not to …” He stoppedas Delphine reached our booth. “Hi,” he said halfheartedly. “What’s up?”
    Our local florist was inching toward sixty, but she’d done a good job of keeping her looks. Delphine’s short ash-blond hair was cut in a style that accentuated her high cheekbones and azure-blue eyes. “I was hoping to buy you lunch,” she said to the sheriff after giving me a quick if not sincere smile. “I see you’re already booked.”
    Milo’s gaze was steady. “Oh? You should’ve called first.” He gestured at me. “I picked this one up on the sidewalk.”
    Delphine’s smile became a smirk. “No kidding. Seriously, we have to talk,” she said. “Are you free this evening? I’ll treat you to dinner.”
    “The ante’s going up,” Milo remarked. “I’ll have to check my social calendar. It’s pretty damned crowded these days.”
    “Come on, Dodge,” Delphine said, leaning a hand on the back of his booth. “Have you tried the Sailfish Grill in Monroe? It’s really good.”
    “I’ll call you,” Milo said.
    Delphine had stopped smiling. “When?”
    “This afternoon.” His gaze remained steady. “Okay?”
    “Sure.”
    Looking far from convinced, Delphine turned around and headed back toward the front of the restaurant.
    “Goddamnit,” he muttered, “that new waitress—Lisa or Liza or whoever—was coming our way but gave up when she saw Delphine in the way. Now she’s disappeared.” He tapped ash onto the Formica tabletop, then swept it into his hand and dumped it on the floor. There was no ashtray because we were sitting in the No Smoking section. The sheriff didn’t uphold laws that inconvenienced him.
    “Take it easy,” I said. “The waitress—whose name is Liz, bythe way—is coming from the other direction. She’s lean and mean, recently arrived from Idaho.”
    For once, the sheriff altered his usual order of a cheeseburger, fries, and a green salad. “Bacon burger, fries, and that new fruit cup.”
    “We’re out of the fruit cup,” Liz replied, and added archly, “thanks to you.”
    “What the hell does that mean?” Milo demanded.
    “I heard you arrested the guy who drives the truck that brings the canned fruit here,” Liz said, her thin lips barely moving. “So what do you want instead?”
    “The salad, blue cheese.” Disgruntled, Milo stubbed out his cigarette and tossed the butt into his empty coffee mug. “Did you run out of coffee, too?”
    “Not yet.” Liz glared at him and snatched up the mug before turning to me. “The beef’s rare today.”
    “Oh.” I smiled feebly. “Good. Then I’ll have the dip with fries and a salad exactly like the sheriff’s.”
    Without another word, Liz stalked off.
    Milo began his customary ritual of rearranging the salt and pepper shakers. “You had a run-in with her already?”
    “Last week. I ordered the beef dip rare and it was well done, so I—politely—inquired if any of it was rare. Liz informed me that the only thing rare she’d found around Alpine was real men.”
    “She’d better watch her mouth,” Milo said, craning his neck. “Where the hell is the coffee?”
    “Don’t have a heart attack,” I cautioned. “Your gallbladder episode last winter scared everybody. Anyway,” I went on, “when I was here last week I wanted to ask Liz some questions, since she was obviously new in town. I didn’t because she wasn’t very friendly and I was annoyed. Bad start. I had Vidainterrogate her the next day. Liz moved here from Idaho