It wasn't yet twelve-thirty, so I decided to walk the four blocks to the hospital. Leo was on the second floor. As I got out of the elevator, I steeled myself, not knowing what to expect.

It could've been worse, I suppose, but the IVs and the oxygen mask were enough to unsettle me. Leo was propped up in bed with his eyes closed. The lunch tray sat on a table next to the bed. Since the steel lids were still on all of the items, I gathered that he hadn't tried to eat anything yet.

"Leo?" I said softly, approaching the bed.

He stirred slightly and mumbled something I couldn't catch. His usual leathery skin was pale, and somehow he looked as if he'd already lost weight. I had a sudden urge to cry but stiffened my spine once more and pulled the single visitor's chair closer to the bed. As I sat down, I wondered if Vida had actually spoken to him. If anyone could get a response out of a semiconscious patient, it'd be her.

I sat quietly for five minutes, saying a couple of prayers and wondering if Leo would sense my presence and wake up. Suddenly I was hungry, having skipped both breakfast and lunch. I lifted the lid off one of the smaller bowls: tapioca pudding, lumpy and unappetizing. I continued to sit and stare around the room. The other bed was empty. Disinfectant hung on the air, along with the odor of food that probably smelled better than it tasted.

Five minutes pa.s.sed. Leo was still breathing, but otherwise he showed no sign of life. I supposed I couldn't expect much more. Feeling useless, I got up and went out to see Debbie at the nurses' station.

"I'd like to leave a note for Doc Dewey and Dr. Weinberg," I said.

"Dr. Weinberg was leaving for Portland today," Debbie informed me. "His son lives there. I can give Doc a note, though."

"Oh...I'll tell him myself," I said. "By the way, Leo's asleep and hasn't touched his lunch."

Debbie seemed unmoved by my report. "That's fine. Trays are delivered whether the patients want them or not. Mr. Walsh needs to rest. I'll check on him shortly."

I felt as if I were being dismissed. But as I was about to walk away, she smiled at me. "I know this sounds stupid, but I can't get over the fact that I actually saw the man who was murdered at the motel. And now Mr. Walsh gets shot." The smile had disappeared. "It's horrible, isn't it? I feel spooked. I wonder what happened to his wife."

"His wife?" I echoed. "You mean the bogus Mr. Roth's wife?"

Debbie nodded. "Mrs. Runkel said you met her in your office. I only saw her once, from a distance. Is she still in town?"

"I don't think she ever existed," I said. "That is, there was no Ginger or Josh Roth. That's all in today's Advocate. The dead man's body was never claimed by anyone. His real name was Maxim Volos."

Debbie's round face looked puzzled. "I don't get it. If this Ginger came to see you and I met Josh, what's that all about? I mean, the dark-haired woman I saw may not have been the man's real wife, but she must have known him well enough to be sorry he'd gotten killed."

"She may have left town before-" I stopped. "Did you say a dark-haired woman? I didn't realize you'd seen her."

"From my apartment," Debbie replied. "I looked outside after I got home that day and saw him getting into a car with this woman. I a.s.sumed she must be the wife-or the pretend Ginger."

"You're sure she was dark?"

Debbie's laugh was soft. "Definitely. She had wonderful curly black hair. Of course I didn't see her face."

"Interesting," I murmured. "My Ginger was blond."

Debbie's hazel eyes widened. "Two pretend wives? No wonder he got killed!"

"I think maybe only one," I said. "I also think maybe I've been an idiot."

"What?"

"Never mind," I said, seeing that three of the patients' rooms had their call lights on. "You've got some folks who need help and I have to get to work. I'll explain if and when I figure it all out. Give Leo my love."

I hurried away from the hospital, convinced that Debbie Murchison had seen Sophia Cavanaugh with the dead man. Going down Third Street, I crossed at the corner and headed along Front to the sheriff's office. Milo had just returned from lunch and was standing behind the counter talking to Dwight Gould.

"Care to hear one of my wacky ideas?" I asked.

"Sure don't," the sheriff replied. "I'm on my way to check out those bear cubs."

Exercising my tattered self-restraint, I decided it was best to humor Milo. "Where are the cubs now?" I inquired, leaning against the counter.

"Up by one of the old mine shafts," Milo replied. "That Laurentis guy is trying to coax them to wherever the h.e.l.l he lives. This puts me in a bind because it's illegal to feed wildlife. Still, the cubs need help."

"Curtis should get another picture," I remarked. "Is it okay if he meets you up there?"

"I don't give a d.a.m.n, but Laurentis may not like it," Milo replied. "I've got a sneaking suspicion these cubs aren't the first bears he's taken on. If that's the case, he's asking for trouble, not just for himself but for everybody else, and even the bears. There's an old saying, *A fed bear's a dead bear.'"

"They're d.a.m.ned unpredictable," Dwight Gould put in. "d.a.m.ned near so as humans. That's the problem. Bears get used to being fed, go looking for a meal from some stranger, scare the h.e.l.l out of whoever, and get themselves shot. Just like this mama bear. I blame Gus Lindquist for panicking. Crazy fool. He should've known better."

I understood the problem. "Do you know where Laurentis lives?" I asked.

Milo shook his head; Dwight snorted. "He's not handing out calling cards," the deputy said. "Still, it's got to be around that mine shaft somewhere. I'll bet he's got a gun, too."

Lori Cobb entered the office, apparently returning from her lunch hour. Milo nodded at her. "I'm outta here. I should be back in an hour or so." He came through the swinging gate in the counter and walked right by me.

"Hey!" I called, following him to the double doors. "You're going to hear my wacky idea if I have to get in the Grand Cherokee and go with you."

With an impatient sigh, Milo stopped, one hand on the door. "Make it quick. What is it?"

"I think Sophia Cavanaugh was somehow involved with Maxim Volos." As concisely as I could manage, I told the sheriff what Debbie Murchison had said.

Milo frowned. "She's sure it was Sophia?"

"No," I admitted. "She doesn't even know her, but it was a woman with lots of curly black hair. Who else could it be, at least as far as this case is concerned? It makes sense. I have a feeling Sophia may also have been the blond Ginger who came to see me."

Milo looked skeptical. "You couldn't tell they were the same person?"

"Not at the time," I said. "I mean, this Ginger was probably wearing a wig, had dark sungla.s.ses, and plenty of makeup. It did strike me that she was overdone, like something out of Hollywood."

"Woman's intuition," the sheriff muttered. "Jeez."

"Okay, don't take me seriously," I snapped, "but I'm not seeing you pull any rabbits out of a hat. You'd rather chase a couple of bears around the side of Tonga Ridge."

"I'd rather be fishing," Milo stated. "It's a nice day. The river's clear, running almost green down about a half-mile. I'd like to be able to leave an hour early and head out to try my luck with some rainbows, fish until almost dark while the mist rises out of the meadows."

"Dream on," I retorted, pushing open the other door. "And don't let those bears take a bite out of your b.u.t.t. Not that you couldn't afford to lose it."

I walked swiftly along Front Street to the Advocate office. Ginny, still looking suspicious, handed me my phone messages. "Ed went to lunch with Mr. Wenzel," she explained, "so he may be a little late getting back."

"Surprise." I sighed and went into the empty newsroom and on to my desk. The first message was from Grace Grundle with the notation "Re: kittens." Grace had probably befriended more feline companions to add to her already large menagerie. No doubt she had pictures. Bad ones. I moved on to the next message.

It was from Rolf Fisher. He'd called from the AP office. I a.s.sumed he'd heard about Leo. I hesitated before dialing his number. It'd been five days since I'd had to cancel my weekend with him in Seattle. I hadn't heard a peep from him since. On the other hand, the phone worked both ways. With a resigned sigh, I called him.

"Aren't you going a little too far with this shooting spree to avoid me?" he asked in his ironic tone. "First strangers, now your employees. Who's next? The sheriff?"

"Probably," I replied. "He may be the only person I know who's a bigger jacka.s.s than you are."

"Hmm. Let me think," Rolf said in that musing tone that irked me as often as it amused me. "I'm strangling here on swallowed pride and you're being nasty. It makes a fellow wonder why he bothers."

Maybe he was serious. I could never be sure. "Hey, it's been an awful week. Not only have I temporarily lost an invaluable employee but I seem to be alienating all sorts of people, including my own kin."

"Surely not your priestly brother or your equally priestly son? How can a good Catholic girl manage that? Or is that part of the guilt thing with you people? I only know about my own Jewish guilt. Which, I suppose, is why I called."

"It's these Cavanaughs," I said, ignoring his comments. "They're mixed up in all this, and it's making me crazy."

"More Catholics. Tsk, tsk. You people should really try to get along."

"I'm not sure this bunch is Catholic," I said. "But I'm convinced they're greedy crooks."

"So why can't they also be Catholic?"

"Please. Don't." I paused, frantically scratching my head. "If you were here, I'd tell you all about it." I saw Curtis stroll into the newsroom. "Can I call you back this evening?"

It was Rolf's turn to pause. "Okay," he finally replied. "Make it after eight. I won't be home before that. I'm rekindling an old flame after work."

"It can't take much of a flame if you need only a couple of hours," I shot back.

"That's pleasantly true. Until then." He rang off. I felt like wringing his neck. He hadn't bothered to ask how Leo was getting along. It seemed that Rolf's sole reason for calling was to needle me.

Vida returned just after Curtis left to try for another shot of the bear cubs. "Such a bother!" she exclaimed, tossing the straw hat onto the top of her filing cabinet. "Ella is the fussiest woman I've ever met. *Would you please open the drapes just a tad, Vida dear? No, not that much. No, no-too far shut. I need a teensy bit more light.' *My ficus should be watered, poor thing. Lukewarm from the tap. Not too warm and not too much. Oh, goodness, I think you're drowning it!' *The bed needs changing and I'm so weak. Would you make sure you put on the sheets with the three-hundred-thread-count cotton?' Now who on earth counts the threads in their sheets? You order them from Sears on sale and pick them up at the catalog office a week later. As for drowning her pitiful-looking plant, I was very close to drowning Ella."

"Surely," I said, and not without sympathy, "other family members will rally around her now that she's home."

"They'll have to," Vida said grimly. "I simply cannot devote my life to caring for Ella." She glanced around the newsroom. "Where's Ed? Don't tell me he's out soliciting advertisers."

"I won't tell you that because he isn't," I replied irritably. "He's lunching with Snorty Wenzel. I hope it's some kind of business, because he's been gone for over an hour and a half. Maybe the house sale is actually going through."

Vida sniffed with disdain. "More fools than sense. Moving to Alpine is understandable. Buying Ed's house is not."

"Let's face it," I pointed out. "That house would cost six or seven times as much in California. It can be altered into something tasteful."

Vida looked dubious. I informed her I was going to get fish and chips from the Burger Barn, having struck out with Kelsey-and, in a different way, with Leo.

"Kelsey is mental," Vida declared. "A pity. As for Leo, he was sleeping when I was there, too. Maybe that's all for the best. If he can't smoke in the hospital, he may quit. That would be something good to come out of this nightmare."

"Speaking of which..." I murmured as Ed bustled into the newsroom.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he exclaimed, waving his hand-tooled leather briefcase. "It's a done deal. We sold the house. Woo-woo!"

"Great," I said as Vida glowered at Ed. "Did you get your price?"

Ed had waddled over to Leo's desk. "Almost," he replied, lowering both his voice and his head. "Nothing but the formalities and legal mumbo jumbo now." He opened the briefcase. "The offer and all that is right-" He stopped, removing a take-out menu from Itsa Bitsa Pizza. "That's not it." He stuffed the menu back into the briefcase and took out several other sheets of paper, one at a time. "Got to call Marisa Foxx. She'll know what to do with these hotshot San Francisco attorneys." He picked up the receiver and paused, stubby finger on one of the b.u.t.tons. "You got her number handy?" he asked me.

"Not off the top of my head," I replied. "Try the phone book."

"Oh. Yeah, right."

I left for the Burger Barn. I didn't want to listen to Ed torturing Marisa. When I returned fifteen minutes later, he was on the phone, but he wasn't talking to a lawyer. It was obvious that Shirley was on the other end of the line.

"Furniture and all," Ed was saying. "Gosh, Shirl, where would we put all that stuff in our new place? It's expensive to store it."

I went to Vida's desk. "Did he get hold of Marisa?" I whispered.

Vida shook her head. "She was busy."

Ginny appeared in the newsroom doorway. "Ms. Foxx is on your other line, Ed."

"Hey," he said into the phone, giving Ginny a thumbs-up gesture, "gotta dash. Later, Shirl, okay?"

Cradling my bag of fish and chips, I went to the coffee table to get a couple of napkins. Ed delivered his big news to Marisa. I tried to tune him out as I headed back into my cubbyhole. "Names?" he responded. "Uh...Bowels and somebody-other-else."

I stopped in my tracks.

"Oh," Ed said, "you're right. It's Bowles. Sorry about that. When can we get together?"

I waited by the door of my office, reaching into the Burger Barn bag and taking out a couple of French fries.

"Not until then?" Ed said, disappointed. "It shouldn't take long." He paused; I waited some more. "Okay, Tuesday, ten o'clock. Sounds swell. Bye."

Going back to Leo's desk, I kept my late lunch close to my chest, fearing that Ed might try to steal it. "Bowles, Mercier and...Fitzsimmons?" I said, unsure of the newer senior partner's name.

Ed nodded. "How'd you guess?"

"It isn't a guess," I replied as Vida turned in our direction. "That's the firm that handled Tom's business and personal affairs."

Ed shrugged. "Makes sense. Keeps it all in the family."

"True."

And at last, something else was beginning to make sense, a sense that caused me to lose my appet.i.te all over again.

SEVENTEEN.

CURTIS CAME BACK A LITTLE AFTER THREE, LOOKING DISAPPOINTED. "No luck," he said, and I realized his woeful expression was genuine. "The cubs didn't show, neither did the Bear Whisper guy. Dodge was pretty p.i.s.sed off."

Vida glared at Curtis. "Please! Could you not use such crude language?"