Constable Molly Smith Mystery: Winter Of Secrets Part 21

"Just a mother. Leave that, your dad can make it. Come and sit down." Lucky waited until her daughter was seated and sipping coffee. "Whats the problem?"

"Charlie Ba.s.sings in town."

"Oh, no." Lucky put her cup down. "I thought he was in jail."

"Out on parole. For good behavior."

"Are you sure hes back here?"

"I saw him myself." She neglected to mention that his actions toward her could have been interpreted as threatening.

"Does Christa know?"

"Thats why Im here, Mom. Im going to have to tell her, but, frankly, Im afraid to."

Lucky let out a long breath. "She wont take it well. Can you do something about keeping him away from her?"

Smith smiled for the first time since shed seen the b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the street, mocking her. It was unlikely Lucky even noticed that shed referred to the forces of law and order as 'you.

"A condition of parole is that he have no contact with Christa and not come within two hundred meters of her or her place of residence or employment."

"Thats good, isnt it?"

"If he abides by the parole order. But we wont know if he doesnt until he...well...doesnt."

Lucky swirled her mug and glanced into its depths. Sylvester, who loved Lucky above all, put his head onto her lap and whined.

"You couldnt order him out of town?"

"No. This is where he lives, Mom. He probably told them he had a job to come back to. I think he does some odd-job sort of work now and again, when he runs out of beer money."

"Im not going into the store today. Ill come with you to talk to Christa."

Which was what Smith wanted to hear, although she didnt like to admit it. She was a police officer, and good officers rarely took their mother along to break bad news. But Christa wasnt just a citizen, she was Mollys friend. And probably soon to be her ex-friend.

"I dont like to ask you, but, thanks, Mom."

Lucky glanced at her watch. "Not even seven yet. Too early to call on Christa. Around nine would be best. I dont want to phone ahead and tell her Im coming over. Shed worry about what I want to talk about.

"You might as well have some breakfast. Youre looking a bit thin. When did you last eat?"

"Im doing fine, Mom." Smith didnt say that her last meal had been yesterdays breakfast in the car. Seeing Charlie had killed her appet.i.te for spring rolls and yellow curry.

Lucky went to the fridge. Without asking she pulled out sausages and eggs and put a frying pan onto the stove.

"Thought I heard your voice." Andy Smith came into the kitchen. He kissed the top of his daughters head. "Early for a visit, isnt it?"

Lucky explained the situation. Andy said something about rearranging Charlies anatomy before asking, "Is that for me?" He cast an eager eye on the cooking sausages.

Lucky cracked eggs into a bowl. "I could probably be persuaded to give you some."

"I left my car at the bottom of the driveway," Smith said. "Too much snow to try to get up. Ill give you a hand with it after we eat, Dad."

"Always happy to have help. That old s...o...b..owers on its last legs. Well have to get a new one for next year. Ill look for something on sale in the spring."

"You dont usually go into work on Sunday, Dad."

"Itll be busy with Boxing Day sales and Christmas returns. I remember when it was just Boxing Day. Now they call it Boxing Week. Next all of January will be Boxing Month."

Andy finished preparing a second pot of coffee and Lucky served them a hearty breakfast of sausages, scrambled eggs, and piles of toast with homemade raspberry jam. After they ate, Smith and her father struggled into their heaviest winter clothes and went outside. Six inches of snow had fallen in the night, and the morning sky was heavy with the threat of more to come. Andy started up his s...o...b..ower and worked on the driveway while Molly shoveled the front path and cleared a route into the woods at the back of the property for Sylvester. Not even New Year, and the s...o...b..nks along the driveway were almost three feet tall.

Faces glowing with cold and exercise, Andy and his daughter put their equipment into the shed and walked back to the house as Sylvester ran around in circles in the cleared driveway.

"You doing okay, Molly?"

"Yeah, Dad. Im great. Why?"

"Just wondering. Your mother misses you, you know."

She felt a warm, comfortable glow in her chest. That was Andys way of telling her that he was missing her. She reached out and touched his arm as they climbed the steps and stamped their boots free of snow.

Lucky was in the kitchen, reading a political magazine. "Moonlight and I are going to drop in on Christa."

Andy shook his head. "Good luck with that." He kissed his wife, smiled at his daughter, grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and left.

Smith stood on the mat, still wearing coat and boots.

"Before we go," Lucky said. "Tell me about Lorraine."

"Lorraine who?"

"Dont be silly, dear. You know very well who. Whats her involvement with these people staying at Ellies place?"

"Mom, thats an ongoing police investigation. I cant tell you anything."

"Of course you can. I know, for example, that one of those boys didnt die in the car accident. Oh, dont look at me like that. Im not going to tell anyone else. I am concerned about Lorraine. She refuses to let anyone help her, but she needs help nonetheless."

Smith sputtered for a while. She could only wonder at how her mom knew the results of an autopsy that hadnt been released to the public. Somehow Lucky always knew everything that went on in Trafalgar.

"She considers herself to have been in love with Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth. He probably led her to think that she was more than a vacation pick-up."

"I find it hard to believe he could have been attracted to her. He was, what twenty-two, twenty-three? A university student. Lots of money, well traveled, influential parents. Yet he took up with a sixteen-year-old girl whos never been out of these mountains, daughter of the talk of the town."

Smith s.h.i.+fted her feet as she remembered something shed heard someone say about the late Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth. "He was lazy. Liked s.e.x served up like a Big Mac. I doubt there was any need to woo Lorraine."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d." As she pa.s.sed, Lucky slammed the dishwasher door so hard the dishes rattled.

Chapter Eighteen.

Doctor Lees official report was waiting in the in-basket when John Winters opened his e-mail.

He skimmed it quickly. A detailed reading would wait.

Then he leaned back in his chair and swiveled to look past Ray Lopezs desk and out the window. The clouds were weighty and the mountains obscured. Sort of like this case, he thought in a rare moment of fancy. A young woman strolled down the hill, wearing a purple hat topped with three drooping spikes, each of which ended in a yellow pom-pom. That, and her matching yellow mittens, gave the only bit of color outside the window, and he watched the ends of the hat bounce as the woman walked on.

Ewan Williams. His last meal had been a mixed-up concoction of salmon, curried tofu, and hamburger and fries, eaten five to six hours prior to death. No alcohol in his system. Winters made a note to ask the friends if they knew what hed had for lunch. If it had been that strange meal, that would give them some idea of the time of his death. Provided, of course, he hadnt gone out later and had another burger. Because it was mid-winter there was very little insect activity on the body that might help Lee establish time of death. She estimated between twelve to thirty-six hours prior to the body being fished out of the car and the river. Cause of death: hypothermia. A recent blow to the head had done enough damage to cause confusion and unconsciousness, and hed died of the cold. The report backpedaled a bit on the trace evidence found in the boys head: bits of wood, yes, traces of ash on the wood, but not necessary indicating hed been struck by a length of wood. He had a bruised cheekbone and sc.r.a.pes on the right knuckles, but the injuries were partially healed, meaning not fresh enough to have been caused at the time of death. Almost certainly obtained, Winters thought, during the altercation outside the bar on the Sat.u.r.day before he died. Lee found no more recent injuries, just the blow to the back of the head that probably brought him down, leading to his death. It was, therefore, unlikely hed been fighting when he died.

Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth: Death by drowning. Marijuana and alcohol, although not in significant quant.i.ties, consumed some hours before death.

All of which did little to help him with the two major questions: who killed Ewan, and what was Jason doing in the hours before he went into the river, taking his friends dead body with him?

With a reluctant sigh, he looked up a phone number, and dialed.

An answering machine picked it up.

"This is Sergeant John Winters of the Trafalgar City Police," he said, as if she wouldnt know who he was. "Returning Ms. Morgensterns call."

The phone was picked up. "Im here, Sergeant." Her voice was thick with sleep but she soon shook it off. "Thank you for returning my call. People are wondering why the bodies of Jason and Ewan are not being released, even though its been almost a week since the accident, and Jasons parents are here to take him home."

By people Winters knew that Meredith meant she was won dering.

"Im interested in speaking to anyone who saw or spoke with Ewan Williams on the evening of December twenty-third or anytime on the twenty-forth. A picture would help. Do you have one?"

"One of his friends sent me a couple."

So Meredith had been talking to the friends. No one had told him that.

"Are you confirming, Sergeant, the rumors that Ewan Williams was killed prior to the accident on Christmas morning?"

She was uncomfortably well informed about the results of the autopsy. Someone in the morgue had a big mouth. The Gazette had run a story the day following the accident, with a picture of the car being pulled out of the river, and a brief mention that the dead men were university students in Trafalgar on a skiing vacation. Tipped off by her contact, Meredith must have continued digging.

He tried to remind himself that digging was what good reporters did.

Too bad Meredith Morgenstern wasnt a good reporter.

"In order to complete our investigation, we would like to confirm Mr. Williams activities during the time in question. You can run a story repeating the details of the accident and the emphasizing that the police would like the publics help."

"I dont need you to advise me on how to write a story."

"A pleasure talking to you, Ms. Morgenstern."

He hung up as she shouted 'wait.

Hed given her the opening she needed to put what was so far only rumor and unauthorized information into print. He hoped the results would be worth it.

Molly Smith phoned Christa as Lucky drove across the big black bridge into town. She could tell by the m.u.f.fled voice that Christa had been asleep.

"Hey, Chris." Smith tried, and failed, to sound cheerful. "Its me. Mom and I are in town and Mom said shed like to drop in for a visit."

"When?"

"How about now?"

"Now? Im in bed."

"Then get up."

Lucky grabbed the phone and drove with one hand. "Christa, Lucky here."

"Im still in bed, Lucky. Can you come back later?"

"We need to talk. Im parking the car right now. If you look out, youll see us."

"Whats this about?"

"Come down and open the door." Lucky spotted a parking spot, threw the phone into Mollys lap, and did a U turn in the narrow street, forcing a pick-up truck to come to a halt. The driver leaned on the horn. Lucky completed her turn in a stately manner. The pick-up sped past as the driver lifted a finger to them.

"You do know that a U-turn is illegal, Mom? Not to mention dangerous. Suppose that guy hadnt seen you in time to stop?"

Lucky parked with the front tire on the sidewalk. "I calculated precisely how long it would take for him to see me and to bring his vehicle to a complete halt and decided I had sufficient time."

"Yeah, right. Next time, drive around the block, eh? Or Ill give you a ticket myself."

Blinking back sleep, Christa met them at the door. She grunted once in greeting and they climbed the narrow staircase to her second story apartment.

She looked good, although much of the old sparkle was gone from her eyes and she needed to regain some of the weight shed lost in the bout of depression after the attack. Shed required a lot of dentistry, and although her relations.h.i.+p with her father had always been tense and they rarely saw each other, he paid for the work. The new, straighter teeth suited her.

Once they were inside the small living room, she turned to face them, her skin very pale. "Is it my dad, Lucky?" Her eyes filled. "Whats happened?"

"Your fathers fine. Everyones fine. Why dont we have a seat?"

Christa turned to Smith. "Charlie?"

Smith nodded.

"How about a cup of tea?" Lucky said.

"Hes out?"

"Fraid so." Smith said.