Mary Daheim - The Alpine Betrayal

THE ALPINE ADVOCATE
THE ALPINE CHRISTMAS
THE ALPINE DECOY
THE ALPINE ESCAPE
THE ALPINE FURY
THE ALPINE GAMBLE

Mary Daheim is a Seattle native who started writing at the age of eight. The Alpine Betrayal is the second novel in her Emma Lord mystery seriesthe direct sequel to The Alpine Advocate. The author is married to David Daheim, a professor of cinema, literature, and English at Shoreline Community College. The Daheims have three daughters: Barbara, Katherine, and Magdalen. Mary Daheim is a member of the Authors Guild and Mystery Writers of America.

I WOULDN T SET foot in Mugs Ahoy unless it was a matter of life and death. But finding my so-called advertising manager, Ed Bronsky, came close.

Ed is not given to hanging out in bars. Strong drink has a way of cheering him upand Ed prefers walking on the gloomy side of life. But I knew he had to clear an ad for Mugs Ahoys promotional tie-in with Alpines Loggerama Days. Deadline was upon us, and so were the media representatives from the new Safeway that was opening west of the shopping mall. Ed had stood up the reps, and as editor and publisher of The Alpine Advocate, I had a right to be annoyed. I left the Safeway people in the capable hands of our office manager, Ginny Burmeister, while I ran the full block up to Pine Street to haul Ed back to the newspaper.

If they ever sweep the floor at Mugs Ahoy, theyll probably find a couple of patrons who have been lying there since the first Loggerama in 1946. The tavern is littered with bottle caps, peanut shells, cigarette butts, and crumpled napkins. At high noon on a summer day, the place is mercifully dark. No wonder the dart board with the curling edges looks otherwise unused; between the murky light and the bleary eyes, I doubt that most patrons can find it.

Ed was at the bar, drinking coffee and exchanging glum comments with the owner, Abe Loomis. A half-dozen other customers were hoisting glasses of beer and watching a soap opera. Their faces looked jaundiced; the air smelled stale. I began to feel as depressed as Ed.

Across the bar, Abe Loomis nudged Ed and nodded at me. Mrs. Lord. The boss. He mouthed the words, and looked as if he were announcing somebodys imminent death.

Ed swiveled his bulk slowly on the stool and peered at me through the gloom. Hi, Emma. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?

Eds about as wide as he is square, but even sitting down hes taller than I am, and he weighs twice as much. As ever, when I upbraid my lugubrious ad manager, I feel like a gnat attacking a hippopotamus. This time around, I also felt a little foolish, since everyone in the tavern had turned curious, if befuddled, eyes away from the TV and onto me. After two years of small-town life, Im getting used to being observed at close quarters.

Ed, I began, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice, the Safeway reps are

Ed didnt exactly spring from the bar stool, but he landed with a thud that made the ancient floorboards creak. Damn, he breathed, brushing crumbs off his plaid sport jacket, I forgot! Sorry, Emma. Ill run right over there. He started to lumber toward the door, but stopped midway and turned back. You dont suppose they want color, do you? He asked the question as if it were immoral. Before I could answer, he waved a pudgy hand at Abe Loomis. Oh, go ahead and check out that ad for Abe, will you? I didnt quite get around to it. Ed Bronsky creaked and squeaked his way out of Mugs Ahoy.

Gingerly, I sat down on the bar stool next to the one Ed had vacated. Okay, Abe, I sighed, let me have a look. Ed wasnt merely lazy, he seemed to have an aversion to selling advertising. If he hadnt been employed long before my tenure as owner of The Advocate, I would have gotten rid of himor so I often told myself. The truth was I didnt have the heart to fire him.

Abe Loomis, a skinny man with deep-set eyes of no particular color, reached under the bar and produced a mock-up, two columns by six inches deep, featuring a busty blonde from Eds clip art files. I winced at the illustration, then tried to concentrate on the copy.

Mugs Ahoy
proudly presents its
First Annual Boom & Bust
Wet T-shirt Contest and Chug-A-Lug Night
In honor of Alpines Loggerama Days
Friday, July 31
Come meet Alpines most up-front females!
Cheer them on with your favorite brew!
Listen up as a titter runs through the crowd!
Make this years Loggerama a week to remember!

Im all for equal rights, though I consider myself more of a humanist than a feminist. However, I am definitely a supporter of good taste. Even though Alpine may not be Seattle, and the First Amendment gives Abe the right to say what he wishes, I had to balk.

Uh, Abe I pointed to the ad, careful not to let it get doused with coffee, beer, or God only knew what other liquid that might be stagnating on the bar at Mugs Ahoy. I think this needs a little work.

Abes eyes seemed to sink even deeper into his skull. Like what? he asked in a surprised voice.

Like shorter, I suggested. Or maybe more informative. Here, lets take out a couple of lines and put in something about the contest itself. I gave Abe what I hoped was an engaging smile. Eligibility, for instance.

You mean measurements? inquired Abe, emptying Eds coffee mug onto what appeared to be the floor.

I tried to avoid gnashing my teeth. I was thinking more of age, maybe geography. You know, if they have to live within the city limits.

Abe furrowed his long forehead at the mock-up. For the next ten minutes, we rewrote the ad. He surrendered the two most offensive lines, while I let the artwork pass. As long as there were wet T-shirts and women willing to fill them, there really wasnt any other way to picture the contest.

It should be a big year for Alpine, he said when wed finally come to an agreement. Especially with Dani Marsh coming back to be Loggerama queen and ride the donkey engine in the parade down Front Street.