Constable Molly Smith Mystery: Winter Of Secrets Part 28

"Didnt laugh."

"No ones going to laugh at you."

"He didnt laugh."

Wendy fumbled in the pocket of her ski pants and pulled out a tissue, tattered and worn from over-use. She blew her nose, but most of the snot ended up on her fingers. She wiped her hand on her right leg. The mucus spread across the thigh of her yellow ski pants.

"Didnt laugh," she repeated. "Said hed give me a quick one."

"Who said?" Smith asked. Although she knew. She sat down again.

"I waited a long time, years, for Ewan to notice me. Ewan-Jason, Jason-Ewan, they were always together. It should have been Ewan-Wendy. Jason was my parents favorite. Jason got everything I wanted. Even Ewan.

"He went away to university and I thought Id lost him. Then Jason made plans for this holiday and I knew itd be my chance." She hiccupped, and pounded her upper chest with her hand. "Oopsie. Here, away from Oakville where wed been kids, Ewan would see that Ive grown up. I look good, dont I?"

"You look very good." And wasnt that a lie. Tears and mucus streaked Wendys face. Her eyes and nose were red and running, make-up either washed off or smeared, hair a tousled mess.

"I bought a bra and pantie set, lavender silk and lace, to wear for Ewan our first time. Someone touched them so I threw them away. I figured it was Lorraine, going through my things, but now I think it was Kathy. Shes a snoop."

"What? Kathy goes though the guests underwear?"

"Sad, eh? The miserable little mouse.

"But Ewan didnt care. He just wanted a screw, a cheap, nasty screw, in the cold and the snow, up against a tree." Wendy was crying so hard, Smith had trouble making out what she was saying.

She leaned closer. The girl smelled of good soap and too much alcohol. "When was that?"

"You think its funny, dont you?"

"No, Wendy, I dont think any of this is funny."

Wendy closed one eye and peered at Smith through the other, trying to focus. "He said he didnt have time to go inside, said he had to meet someone. He wanted to have me up against a tree, so he could meet a cheap s.l.u.t who operates a cash register."

The day hed arranged to meet Marilyn Chow was the day Ewan had died. "Did you do it?" Smith asked.

Wendy covered her face with her hands and sobbed. People were looking at them. A security guard approached. Smith started to stand up.

"No," Wendy said, grabbing Smiths hand, and pulling her back down. "Dont leave me. I would have. Sad, eh?"

Sad? Oh, yes. It was all so sad.

"We went to the back of the B&B, to that patch of woods out of the view of the street. He told me he had to hurry 'cause he was meeting another girl. I didnt want it anymore and pushed him away. He fell down. He was pulling out his c.o.c.k-that takes all their attention, doesnt it-so he didnt have a hand to catch himself with and fell real hard. I ran away."

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "You said you wouldnt tell anyone this, right?"

Smith was pretty sure she hadnt said any such thing. She had to get Wendy into town, to Sergeant Winters. But first, one more question. "Jason?"

"When Ewan didnt come back to the B&B, I figured he was with that s.l.u.t. There was something wrong with him, you know. After...after I left him, I went for a long walk and thought about it, and realized that Ewan had a real problem. He didnt want nice, decent girls. He liked them cheap. So, in a way, it was a complement to me that Ewan didnt want to be with me."

Smith failed to see it that way, but she wasnt going to argue. "Jason?"

"Id lost a glove. Id taken it off to touch Ewans cheek. I wanted some tenderness. Pretty dumb, eh? It was good, leather with a fur lining. On Christmas Eve, while everyone was getting ready for midnight, I went to look for it." Her body shuddered. "I figured the glove would be covered in snow, but thought Id look anyway. The wind had created drifts around the trees where wed been standing and some patches were bare. Instead of my glove, I found him. Ewan. He was lying on the ground, his head and shoulders covered with snow, but his lower body was bare. He was twisted to one side, with his hands still around his c.o.c.k. Protecting his d.a.m.n p.r.i.c.k to the very last. I didnt know what to do. Do you understand? I didnt know what to do!"

"Its okay, calm down." Smith looked around. People were still watching them, but the security guard had disappeared. "I killed him. It was an accident. I didnt even know he was dead."

Wendy didnt know how right she was. What had Doctor Lee concluded? That Ewan had died, not of the injury to the back of his head, but of the cold that killed him while he was unconscious and concussed. If Wendyd gone for help, he probably would have lived.

"I went for a walk, trying to decide what to do. Jason drove by. He picked me up, and could tell something was wrong, so I told him."

She wiped at her face. "He said not to worry, hed take care of it."

"Come on, Im going to get us a ride back to town." Smith pulled on Wendys arm, but the girl resisted.

"Wheres that d.a.m.ned bottle of wine?"

"Wait right here. Im going to get it, okay?"

Swimming against the crowds, Smith took the stairs as fast as she could in her ski boots and burst into the security office. The old guy was typing something into the computer.

"Call the Mounties. I need a car for pick-up, and I need it now."

"Whats up?"

"Then call the TCP, and ask them to contact Sergeant Winters. Tell them Im bringing someone in about the Williams case."

"Why?" His fingers still hovered over the keyboard.

"Will you just do it! I dont have all day here."

He reached for the phone.

"Have one of your people meet me upstairs."

Smith ran out. She pushed her way through the crowd, saying "Excuse me, excuse me," at almost every step. A few people turned to glare, but everyone obliged.

The big old couch in the center of the room was empty. Smith looked around. No sign of Wendy. Thinking Wendy had given up waiting for someone to bring the bottle of wine, Smith ran into the bar. The room was packed, but it was very small, and Wendy wasnt there. She headed for the washrooms.

She glanced at the table in front of the couch as she pa.s.sed. Wendys helmet and jacket were gone.

A female security guard approached her. "Constable, what do you need?"

Smith described Wendy. "Check the washrooms and then every nook and cranny."

"You got it."

Smith crashed back through the crowds and down the stairs. "Ive lost her," she said to the guard in the office. "Did you make that call?"

"On their way."

"Shes got her equipment with her. Contact the lift operators." Smith described Wendy again.

"Lifts are closed."

"As of when?"

He looked at the big round clock on the wall. "Five minutes ago."

"Does that mean that anyone who was on the lift, say six minutes ago, made it to the top?"

"Yup."

"I need to know if that woman got on, and off, a chair."

The radio crackled. No sign of Wendy in any of the bath rooms.

"Ask Fred to meet me here. I want everyone youve got looking for her. This woman is a suspect in a murder investigation."

Fred Stockdale ran into the office. Smith explained the situation and he issued orders quickly and efficiently.

The radio spoke again. "Rick here. On Lift Three. Im pretty sure I saw the woman youre looking for. One of the last to get on."

A big map of the resort filled the back wall of the office. Smith traced the path of Lift Three with her index finger, although she didnt have to. She knew it well. It led to the Double Black Diamonds.

"Im going up," she said.

Chapter Twenty-six.

John Winters wasnt happy to see Lucky Smiths battered Pontiac Firefly parked halfway into the road outside the Glacier Chalet B&B. He wasnt in the mood to put up with Luckys attempts to run interference around the few questions he had for Ellie Carmine. He considered coming back another time, but decided that was the cowards way out, and reluctantly parked behind the old car. How Lucky managed to maneuver that thing down the snowy mountain roads between her home and town he didnt want to speculate.

The door opened as he mounted the porch steps. Ellie Carmine was holding a phone in her hand. "I havent even pressed talk and here you are."

"Pardon?"

"Jeremys upstairs packing," she explained. "When he showed up, straight from the jail I imagine, I told him to clear out. I was afraid hed kick up a fuss, so Ive punched 911 into the phone already. But he didnt say a word and I dont hear the sound of breakage." She stepped aside to invite him in.

As always the hallway was warm with heat from the kitchen and redolent with the odors of fresh baking. Today apple and cinnamon were prominent.

"Im afraid Ive been a coward," Ellie explained.

Winters closed the door against the cold winter air and hid a smile at how he used that word to describe himself just moments ago.

"I expected Jeremy would come here when he was released from jail and didnt want to be on my own, so I called Lucky and asked her to come over. Shes upstairs, standing outside while Jeremy packs up. Sounds like them now."

Footsteps on the stairs and Jeremy, wearing winter coat and heavy scarf, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind him, with a tattered backpack tossed over one shoulder, came into the hall. Lucky followed.

"You didnt have to call the cops, lady," he said. "I wouldnt stay in this dump any longer if you paid me."

"I didnt...." Ellie began.

"But Im glad to see your friend here. Saves me coming down to the station to make a complaint." He gave Ellie a mean smile and turned to Winters. "You see, Sergeant, when a member of the public checks into a fine establishment such as this we have an expectation of privacy."

Winters opened the door. "Good bye."

"Hear me out. Someone is snooping around here. Going through drawers, checking out the contents of pockets, rifling purses. You know-touching things. Now, me, I dont have any secrets." He gave Winters a big wink. "So as long as nothing was being stolen, not my problem. But it is your problem lady, and you can be sure my dadll be mentioning it to the tourism authorities and perhaps the Chamber of Commerce. You might want to have a word with your daughter before youre run out of business. Have a nice day."

He left, dragging his suitcase behind him.

"Charming fellow," Lucky said. "Pay him no mind, Ellie. People like him like to make trouble, but if they cant punch someones face in theyre too lazy to do civilized things such as lay complaints. John, what brings you here?"

"I have a question for Mrs. Carmine."

Ellie Carmine didnt appear to be paying Jeremy Wozenack "no mind." She had gone very pale and her fingers pulled at the ta.s.sels decorating the hem of her Christmas ap.r.o.n. "Ive been wanting to talk to you, Lucky, about...about what he said. But I dont know how." Tears spilled down her face.

A bell rang in the kitchen. "Perfect timing," Lucky announced. "The m.u.f.fins are ready." She took her friends arm and led Ellie into the kitchen. Feeling like an uninvited guest, Winters closed the front door, took off his outerwear and boots, and followed. Dirty bowls and baking implements were on the counter and pot handles stuck out from the mound of fluffy white soap suds in the sink. A broom leaned against one wall.

Lucky was lifting m.u.f.fins out of the baking tin and placing them on a platter. Ellie sat at the table, her shoulders hunched and her head down. One of the red ta.s.sels had come off her ap.r.o.n, and she was weaving it between her fingers.

"Sit," Lucky ordered Winters. Obediently, he sat.

Lucky placed the plate of m.u.f.fins on the table, followed by a mug of coffee. He selected a m.u.f.fin and dropped a pat of b.u.t.ter onto it. It spread across the warm surface like a soft yellow river.

"What he...that Jeremy...said? About Kathy? Ive been wanting to talk to you about it, Lucky, but I just didnt know what to say."

"Well have a nice long chat, later," Lucky said, pus.h.i.+ng the m.u.f.fins toward her friend. "Once weve helped Sergeant Winters with his business and hes on his way."

"Im looking for Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth, but if theres something you need to talk to me about, go ahead."

"Shes not here. Wendy I mean, although Kathy isnt here, either."

"Hes not asking about Kathy," Lucky said.

"Do you know where Wendys gone?" he asked, trying to ignore Lucky.

His cell phone rang.

It was the station, and he listened for only a moment before abandoning his coffee and m.u.f.fin and heading for the door.

The lift ended at two black diamonds and three blues. The skiers whod come up with her cranked their boot buckles down tight, settled goggles over faces, checked the direction of the wind, pointed the tips of their skis downhill and allowed themselves to fall forward. Family groups were slower at getting children off on the gentler runs but soon they too were gone. The sun was almost down leaving streaks of pink between the gray clouds, was.h.i.+ng the snow in a light pink glow.

Wendy stepped out from behind a tree. The top of the hill was empty. Only a smattering of skiers had gotten onto the lift after her and she realized, not much caring, that the ski hills had closed. The lift attendant had his head down, and was writing something in a notebook.