Constable Molly Smith Mystery: Winter Of Secrets Part 23

They didnt say much.

A snow plow was coming down the alley, and Lucky pulled over to the side of the street.

Moonlight didnt get out. Lucky reached over and patted her hand.

"That didnt go well," Moonlight said.

"Christas got a right to be worried."

"I dont see Charlie coming after her. He has to know whatll happen if he breaches his parole order. And, even more, whatll happen if he...well, if he attacks her again."

"Unfortunately these men with their obsessions and their power complexes dont always see reason, Moonlight. Is there anything you can do? I mean the police?"

"Probably. This is a small town. A disadvantage when it comes to keeping Charlie away from Christa but an advantage when it comes to keeping an eye on him. Ill give John Winters a call and mention it. This is important to him, Mom. Hes the one who found her, after all. Catch you later."

Moonlight got out of the car and slammed the door. She crossed the street, and gave her mother a wave as she ducked into the alley that led to the back of Alphonses Bakery. It was snowing again; fat flakes fell onto Moonlights golden head.

Children. You never do stop worrying about them. And even about those that arent yours.

Lucky drove up hill to Aspen Street.

Moonlight would not be at all pleased to know her mother was planning to make a call on Lorraine LeBlanc. But Lucky knew Lorraine from the years when the girl had hung out at the youth center where Lucky volunteered. Lorraine hadnt been seen at the center for years, but as far as Lucky was concerned, that was an irrelevant detail.

Parking was difficult on Aspen Street, but making one of her famous U-turns, she found a spot outside a concrete and gla.s.s monstrosity that was the very definition of gentrification.

She locked the car and marched down the sidewalk.

The walk had not been cleared so Lucky made her own path by stepping in half-covered footprints.

She pressed the doorbell. She didnt hear anything in response. It was ten oclock. An unlikely time to find a sixteen-year-old girl awake. Too bad. She was here now.

She looked around. The paint on the door frame was peeling, a section of window set into the door covered with plywood, the cement steps cracked and broken. It was possible the doorbell didnt work. She knocked on the door. That got a response: inside the house a dog barked and something moved. Shed raised her hand to knock again when the door opened. Lorraine was nicely dressed in a long blue sweater over jeans. Gold hoops were through her ears and a gold necklace shone at her throat. She had her hand on the collar of a big mutt. The dog strained at the restraint, but it didnt bark again.

"Yes?"

"Lorraine, Im glad to find you at home. I was pleased to hear Garys back in Trafalgar. Hearing about Gary naturally led me to think about you and I thought Id drop in and see how things are going." Lucky smiled. She never had any qualms about b.u.t.ting in where she might not be wanted. As far as Lucky Smith was concerned, if she wasnt welcome, she soon would be. And if not, there was obviously something wrong and she needed to find out what.

"Thats nice of you, Mrs. Smith."

"Im sorry I havent been in touch before this," Lucky said. "But we do get busy with our own lives dont we? Tea would be nice."

"Tea?"

"Thats if you have time, of course. I wouldnt want to stop you if youre going out." Reverse psychology. Worked every time.

As it did this time.

Lorraine stepped back, releasing the dog. "Sure, I can make tea. Come on in, Mrs. Smith."

Lucky held out her hand to the dog and let it have a good long sniff, knowing that her clothes must be full of the smell of Sylvester. When the dog seemed satisfied, she stepped over the threshold. The house was shabby and desperately in need of paint and a hammer and nails. But it was reasonably clean. She followed Lorraine into the kitchen. The dog followed Lucky.

The dishwasher door was open and the sink was full of white foam from which the handle of a frying pan stuck out.

"I was putting away the dishes," Lorraine said. "Gary says the dishwasher has to be turned on every night before I go to bed whether its full or not. Its a bother, but it makes Gary happy so I do it."

The dog crouched in front of its water bowl and drank with enthusiasm. Contented, it lifted its head and yawned. Water and drool dripped from the big jaws.

"Never mind him, Mrs. Smith. Rex isnt nearly as tough as he looks."

"I guessed that already. He obviously can smell my dog, Sylvester, and thus knows Im a dog friend."

Lorraine opened and closed cupboard doors before saying, "I dont think we have any tea, Mrs. Smith, sorry."

"Not a problem. I had coffee with my daughter earlier. You know my daughter?"

Lorraine leaned against the counter and studied the floor. It wasnt so clean you might want to eat off it, but neither was it providing a breeding ground for toxic mould. "Constable Smith, right?"

"Yes." Uninvited, Lucky took a seat at the kitchen table. "Word around town is that your parents left once Gary came back. If youd like some support, Lorraine, Id like to give it."

"No thanks." Lorraine watched the dog make circles on the floor before finding a spot to settle. "Im good."

"Glad to hear it. My daughter tells me youve made friends with some young people here for a skiing vacation."

Lorraine lifted her eyes. They were very wet. "Thats right. Im sure she told you what happened to...to...my...to Jason." She dropped into a chair and her shoulders shook and the tears began to fall.

Lucky stretched her arm across the small table. She rubbed the back of Lorraines hand with hers until the sobs subsided.

"No one cares. No one. Jason loved me, he really loved me. That rich b.i.t.c.h of a sister of his sticks her nose in the air as if Ive brought in a bad smell, and his father has me thrown out of a restaurant, and his friends laugh when they pa.s.s me in the street. He loved me, but no one understands. He was sharing a house near the university, and I couldnt move in there, so he was going to move out of the house and get us an apartment. It would be easy for me to find a job and Id support us while he finished med school."

Luckys heart almost cracked in two. Better for Lorraine to think that after Jasons death his cold-hearted family shunned her than to be abandoned in Trafalgar, waiting for word as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Which would have happened had Jason lived and gone back to Toronto, laughing all the way at how easy it had been to capture the heart, and the body, of a small-town girl. Whenever he bothered to think of her.

"Forget his family," she said. "Let them take Jason home. Only you know theyre not taking the truth of his life with him." Wasnt that a mouthful of trash?

"Youre right, Mrs. Smith. His family would have fought us all the way, wouldnt they, once Jason and I were properly engaged. I was afraid theyd disinherit him, but Jason said not to worry because he had an inheritance from an aunt that would be enough to at least get us settled into our own apartment. And then I could work and hed stop taking vacations and finish his studies as fast as possible."

Lorraine pulled a tissue, heavily worn with use, out of her pocket and blew her nose. Lucky fished in her bag and found a small package. She pushed it across the table. Lorraine took one and held it to her eyes. "Jasons friends are bad enough, but that Wendy, shes the worst. I know about her. Things Jason told me. She cant afford all the stuff she wants, but she keeps buying them anyway. His dad used to pay her bills, but her mom told him she had to start standing on her own. Once Jason graduated and became a doctor, Id be able to have nice stuff too, like Wendy has." She touched the gold hoop in her right ear.

"Never mind that, Lorraine. Stuff isnt worth all that much, you know."

"Yeah, right. Tell it to people like Alan and Sophie and Jeremy. The only nice one of all of them is Rob. Have you met Rob?"

"Yes, I have."

"I like Rob. Kathy Carmines got the hots for him. Its positively pathetic."

Not for the first time, Lucky wondered at the human capacity for self-deception.

"I wasnt sorry to hear Ewan died, Mrs. Smith." The tears had stopped and Lorraine shredded the tissue in her fingers. "Only that hed taken Jason with him." She gave Lucky a knowing look. "Ewan wasnt a nice man. He had a real problem with women, you know. Id say he hated them and used them for s.e.x in the same way you use a tissue to blow your nose. Something you throw away after." She tossed her own tissue toward the garbage can in the corner. She missed and the dog picked it up.

Young as she was, Lorraine had learned a thing or two in the back alleys.

"Ewan wasnt like Jason. Jason was a one-woman man. Isnt that a great saying, Mrs. Smith? Once Jason found me, he didnt want anyone else. He and Ewan had been best friends since grade school. Jason didnt like the man Ewan had grown up to be, but what could he do? They were best friends forever, right?"

Lucky swallowed a gag.

"Ewan didnt care about women or their feelings. Why he even went after his friends girlfriends. Alan and Ewan almost got into a fight over Sophie before they even got to Trafalgar. Some friends, eh?"

Lorraine stopped talking. She rubbed at her face, as if trying to scrub away the memories. She looked at Lucky. "Despite it all, no matter how much Jason disliked the things Ewan did, they were best friends forever. And they stayed best friends as they marched into the face of death. Id like to find a friend like that. Wouldnt you, Mrs. Smith?"

The romanticism of the very young. Still alive in Lorraine, despite all that the girl had been through. Or perhaps stronger because of it.

Lucky got to her feet. "If you need to talk, Lorraine, any time, please call me." Lucky dug into her bag for her card with her name and contact information at the store. She found a pen and wrote her home number on the back. She pressed the card into Lorraines hand.

John Winters needed to speak to Gary LeBlanc. According to Mrs. James, Jason had been at the LeBlanc house the night before Christmas Eve, where he and Gary had argued. Presumably Gary had found Jason with his sister and thrown the young man out. According to Lorraine, Jason had been at her home around dinnertime the following day, Christmas Eve. Gary said he hadnt been there. Jason left around nine, telling Lorraine he was going back to the B&B to join his friends, and saying hed call her when it was time for her to come over.

Had Gary arrived home as Jason was leaving and been angry at him for being in the house after having been thrown out the day before? If so, that might go a long way toward explaining the situation if it had been Jason whod been killed that night. But it hadnt. Jason had been alive several hours later when his car went into the river. It had been his friend Ewan whod already been dead.

What had Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth done between leaving the house on Aspen Street and failing to make the turn on Elm Street?

Was it possible Gary had followed the yellow SUV and later mistaken Ewan for Jason and killed him without looking into the boys face? Ewan had suffered a blow to the back of the skull. No, the timing of that was off-Ewan had, according to Doctor Lee, died before Christmas Eve night.

But that scenario could have happened the previous night.

He needed to have another chat with Gary LeBlanc.

Hed tried the LeBlanc house after leaving Mrs. James, but no one came to the door and there hadnt been a car in the driveway. When hed visited yesterday with Molly, Gary had been in the house, but thered been no sign of a vehicle. If Gary was just out of jail he might not have a license or a car. Winters punched a search into the vans computer as he drove toward town. He then called Jim Denton on the dispatch desk and requested that officers keep an eye on 484 Aspen Street and let him know if they saw Gary.

Back in his office, he checked the computer. He needed to find someone, anyone, whod seen Ewan Williams after he left his friends around 5:30 on Sunday-Christmas Eve Eve, Mrs. James grandchildren called it. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Ewan had met a girl on the ski hill that day, no one his friends recognized, and ate lunch with her. Hed driven back to town in the yellow SUV with everyone and had gone out, almost immediately. His friends a.s.sumed hed gone to meet the girl. Winters had absolutely no idea of who the ski-girl was. The newspaper story hed planted with Meredith wouldnt be out at least until tomorrow, and with Monday being New Years Eve, anyone who could tell him anything might not even read the paper.

An idea came to him. He turned to his computer, looked up a number and picked up the phone.

Chapter Twenty.

Molly Smith hadnt liked the gleam in her mothers eyes when Lucky dropped her off. But as she couldnt decipher the gleam, and probably didnt want to, she let it go.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment and let herself in. Shed only been gone for a few hours, but the place seemed cold and empty. When ski season was over and she got some time perhaps shed start looking for a way to personalize this place.

She sliced a bagel and popped it into the toaster. While it browned, she went to the front window. The street was quiet, the ski tourists all out for the day. She curled up in the single armchair in her living room.

A very angry bee was trying very hard to get out of a gla.s.s bottle.

Smith blinked. Not a bee, but her phone.

She fumbled in her pocket and dragged it out.

"Sleeping, Molly?" Sergeant Winters.

Oh, no. Shed fallen asleep and missed showing up for her s.h.i.+ft. In a panic she pulled at her sleeve and checked her watch. One oclock: she wasnt due in until three.

"Just resting. Whats up?"

"I know youre on afternoons, but I need you to do something for me earlier. Ive run it past the acting Sergeant and he agrees with the overtime. Before you come in for your s.h.i.+ft, go up to Blue Sky. Wear your uniform, this is official."

Heads turned as Molly Smith walked into the main lounge of the Blue Sky Ski Resort. Too bad, she thought, it was not because of her style or her beauty but because she was dressed in full uniform. As out of place in this room packed with skiers as if shed been wearing a sarong and had a hibiscus tucked behind one ear.

She tried not to grin with embarra.s.sment and made her way to the security office.

"Hey, Constable Molly. Whats up? You look quite formal."

"Im here on business, Fred."

The Chief of Securitys face darkened. "Trouble?"

"Long over. I need to ask your people about something that happened a week ago. Im not a detective, but I guess they sent me 'cause Im known around here. Can I talk to the staff? Its the lodge staff Im most interested in, not the people outside."

"Sure, Molly. Whatever you need. Want to start with me?"

She pulled Ewan Williams picture out of her pocket and handed it across the desk. "This guy was here several times before Christmas. Im particularly interested in December twenty-third. That was a Sunday. Im looking for a woman he had lunch with. Shes dark haired, early twenties, attractive, quite short. She was wearing a white ski suit. Thats all I know."

Fred Stockdale leaned back in his chair. He caressed his beer-belly with one hand, reminding Smith of a pregnant woman in deep contemplation, while the other held the photograph. "Means nothing to me," he said at last. "We get so many of these types in here every day, theyre all a blur to me." He stood up and gave back the picture. "Lets go talk to the staff. If youre lucky someone will remember serving him. A girl might; hes a good looking guy."

She was lucky. The lunch rush was over and the kitchen staff had time to give the picture a good look. "Oh, yes," the young woman who tossed salads said with a happy sigh. "I remember him, all right. Such a doll. With a smile that would melt my grandmothers frozen heart. And shes been dead for ten years." The two women angling to get a look at the picture laughed.

"Not local," one of the boys said, in a tone that explained it all. "Tourist." He wiped his hands on his once-white ap.r.o.n. "Whats he done?"

Reports of Ewan and Jasons deaths had been in the local paper, but no pictures of the dead men.

Smith told the serving line staff she needed to find the woman he might have had lunch with one day. They looked at each other. "I remember him," the salad girl said, "cause he wasnt the only cute one. His friend was quite the dish as well. But I didnt see him with a girl."

"I did," another woman said. She was a good bit older than the others, almost as round as she was tall with hair more gray than blond. Her ap.r.o.n was streaked with grease. "There was this girl from Quebec. She gave me lip because she didnt think the fries had been cooked long enough. Take it or leave it, I said. The lineup was almost to the door and here she was telling me to prepare her fries just so. He," she gestured to the photograph of Ewan, "told her to go back to Quebec if she wasnt happy with B.C. cuisine. She left her tray right there on the counter and stormed off in a huff. She acted like a b.i.t.c.h, but he wasnt any better, I thought. Hed really goaded her."

The salad woman said, "One day, I cant remember exactly when, he bought a ton of food. Wed just started setting up for lunch and were busy with prep, so I didnt have time to watch what he did with it. Looked like he was feeding an army."

All of which was of no help. There was no doubt Ewan and his friends had spent time at the Blue Sky resort. The group made an impression everywhere they went. Not always for the good.

Unfortunately the serving staff couldnt remember Ewan eating lunch with anyone in particular.