Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 01 - Quiet Anchorage by Ed Lynskey Page A

telephoned the funeral home on the outskirts of Quiet Anchorage. The unctuous director said he’d take care of everything for “an affordable fee”. She approved of the amount and gave him her credit card number, and she called Dwight. He said the prison visiting hours ran from one to three in the afternoon, and they hung up. Alma suggested they bring Megan a few creature comforts from her apartment.
    They traipsed out to the sedan, squirmed into their seats to buckle up, and rode all of a half-block down the street. The gravel lot they entered surrounded Megan’s apartment building, a tan brick edifice with small windows. Struggling to duck under her lap-and-shoulder harness, Isabel swore that next time she’d just walk the short distance.
    When an older lady in a blue aloha dress materialized from a side door, Isabel arched her eyebrow looking at Alma, and they suppressed their smiles. Phyllis Garner, Quiet Anchorage’s closest thing to a town eccentric, relished the attention it earned her.
    A waving hand shot up, and Phyllis hollered over to them, “How are you ladies doing?”
    “Hallo, Phyllis,” said Alma.
    “Sheriff Fox ain’t worth a pig’s curly tail, is he?” said Phyllis, approaching them. “Early this morning a posse of his deputies stormed into Megan’s apartment. They never spotted me watching them because I’m too cunning for them.”
    Alma turned to Isabel. “Does Dwight know the rambunctious deputies served this search warrant? We haven’t heard anything.”
    “We’ll know after seeing him in a few minutes,” replied Isabel.
    “While we slept, Sheriff Fox ordered his deputies into Megan’s place.” Alma scowled her displeasure. “Isabel, he keeps beating us.”
    “The deputies left empty-handed since the only damning evidence is what Sheriff Fox pulls out of the air,” said Isabel.
    Phyllis led them into the apartment building’s musty hallway and removing their sunglasses made it easier to see. Alma turned the doorknob, eased in Apartment 13-B’s door, and their eyes grew big as Mason jar lids. Megan’s papers and folders lay strewn over the fern green carpet. Phyllis righted the spilled chairs while Isabel went around and switched off the overhead lights and table lamps.
    “Executing a search warrant now seems to make it permissible to destroy personal property.” Alma’s hip gave the apartment door an angry bump to shut. “The expensive swag lamp we gave Megan for Christmas is broken beyond repair.”
    “The deputies took what they sought, left, and didn’t bother to lock up,” said Isabel.
    “We’ll clean and straighten up for Megan,” said Alma.
    “No, leave it for now,” said Isabel. “Dwight can meet us at Sheriff Fox’s office, and we’ll ask about this.”
    An intrigued Phyllis offered her watchdog skills. “Meantime I’ll stay and keep out an eagle eye.”
    “I’ll give you my cell phone number to call me the minute you spot more trouble,” said Isabel.
    “Go take care of your business,” said Phyllis. “I’m all over this.”

Chapter 14
     
    “Sheriff Fox!”
    Recognizing the querulous shout, Sheriff Fox groaned. Alma and Isabel had stormed inside the station house, but he had little chance to gird himself. A split second before Alma bulled through his office doorway, he sat up, looking alert and authoritative, at his desk.
    “Ladies, may I help you?” he asked.
    “We’ve got issues.”
    Isabel cringed at Alma who’d come fit to fight the devil. After taking the furthest chair, she gave Alma a nod to sit by her, but Alma remained standing.
    “Sheriff Fox, you’ve gone too far,” said Isabel.
    “Your deputies trashed Megan’s apartment,” said Alma.
    “Sorry, but I direct a squad of deputies, not custodians,” said Sheriff Fox.
    Alma gestured at Isabel. “Better try raising Dwight again and tell him we’re at Sheriff Fox’s office.”
    “Ladies, please.” He shrugged at them. “There, there. Is all this fuss and bother with