Constable Molly Smith Mystery: Winter Of Secrets Part 6

Due to the road conditions, Smith was driving a touch under the speed limit. She pressed her foot to the gas.

"You know the saying 'better ten minutes late than forty years early?"

"No."

"It means dont speed. Did you hear what Doctor Lee found in the wound in Williams skull?"

He waited to hear her answer. Shed been chastised before for pretending to have heard something she hadnt.

She hesitated before speaking. "Damage?"

"Damage indeed. Caused by being struck by the proverbial blunt instrument. She also found a few visible wood fragments, perhaps singed, and a fine gray powder that might have been ash. Sh.e.l.l examine the particles under a microscope to be sure, but s.h.i.+rley never guesses unless shes practically positive. Cant imagine what it would be like playing poker with her. All of which suggests he was. .h.i.t by a fireplace poker, and fell into either the fireplace itself, a pile of wood, or perhaps even tipped over the ash bucket. What makes it more interesting is that he lived long enough to go outside and let the cold get him. Or to be taken outside."

Smith turned and gave him a bright smile. "So he was attacked in the B&B?"

"Plenty of fires in town, Molly, and outside of it." Many of the houses dotting the hillsides and bottoms of mountains in the Kootenays were heated by wood stoves, and many that werent, such as his own home, used fireplaces for atmosphere. He remembered Christmas Eve. Eliza, arranging candles, nibbling on canapes with her small white teeth, opening their presents, the light from the fire turning her green eyes the color of dragon fire. Sipping Veuve Cliquot. Later, around the time Santa could be expected to be tossing his big bag down the chimney, rubbing her back as she vomited into the toilet.

"However, as I cant drag Ray and his truck around to every fireplace in the valley, well concentrate on one. So, yes, I need to find out if the Glacier Chalet B&B is missing a fireplace poker, check it out if its not, and see what we can find by sifting through the ashes. Most people keep a bucket for cold ashes and only throw it out when its full. More time has pa.s.sed since Williams death than Id like, but Im sometimes astounded at what Ray can pull out of what looks like a pile of nothing." The Trafalgar City Police was small, boasting twenty sworn officers. When needed, they called on the closest RCMP detachment to do the forensics. He swung the cars computer around and began typing.

"Dont we need a warrant?" Smith asked. "It is a private home."

"Im starting the ITO"-information to obtain a warrant-"now. It wont come though in time, but if I have to I can claim exigent circ.u.mstances. We have to get into that fireplace before evidence can be destroyed, even accidentally." Hed ask the B&B owner if he could have a look at her fireplace. He and about ten of his best friends. And that would get him started. According to Smith, the fireplace was in the common room. A semi-public place in which no one should have any expectation of privacy. If he needed to look further, particularly into Williams room, hed need that warrant.

A police car was sitting outside the Glacier Chalet B&B when they arrived. Dawn Solway got out. Winters and Smith joined her. From the homes surrounding, he could see faces pressed up against windows. He glanced at the house. A sign, topped with a foot of snow, hung out front with all the stamps and official notices indicating that this was a top of the line establishment. It was a big Victorian, as proud and stately as the old Queen herself, in a street of recent tear-downs and gla.s.s and steel and concrete gentrifications. The house was painted cream with dove gray veranda pillars, window and door frames, and gingerbread tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. The front yard was large; several feet of snow covered a carefully tended lawn trimmed with perennial beds, sleeping until the first kiss of spring. A porch, clear of snow, outfitted with a black iron table and chairs, filled the front of the house and ran around each side.

"Molly," he said, looking at the imposing front of the magnificent old house, "youre with me. Dawn, keep busybodies away, and that includes anyone we flush out of the house."

As theyd pa.s.sed into the Trafalgar town limits, Denton called to say that Ray Gavin and his scene-of-the-crime van would be on site in ten minutes. Winters and Gavin went back a long way. Hed known he could count on the Mountie. In the absence of a warrant, the home owner could turn him away on the spot, but he hoped that the proprietor of a Bed and Breakfast, of all respectable places, would allow the police access to the public rooms.

Winters walked up to the front door. The path was neatly shoveled, lined with walls of snow level to his knees. The door opened before he reached the first step. A woman in her late fifties, stout and gray haired, peered out. She spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth.

"I cant imagine what you lot think youre doing parked outside my door as if youre raiding a house of ill repute."

He blinked. He wasnt about to accuse her of operating a cathouse.

"Sorry," the woman said, "Didnt see you there, Moonlight. Are you looking for your mom? Were having tea. Come on in." She held the door open. Winters hadnt even had to produce any I.D., much less a search warrant. They stepped into the B&B.

The entrance hall was small, but keeping with the Victorian theme, decorated in heavy wallpaper, wooden wainscoting, and a period painting of a brooding old man, military uniform, whiskers, and att.i.tude. The scent of household cleaning products, overlaid by something warm and fresh and touched with cinnamon filled the air.

"Moonlight?" A gray head, shot through with threads of fiery red, topping a short, solid, plump frame came out of the kitchen. "Thought I heard your name. h.e.l.lo, dear. John, how nice. Did you have a pleasant Christmas?"

"I did, Lucky. Nothing special. Just a quiet time at home with Eliza, my wife." Winters back was to his constable. Her sigh could have stirred snow on the mountaintops.

Chapter Eight.

Try as she might to be accepting of her childs life choices, and all that garbage, Lucy (Lucky) Casey Smith hated to see her beautiful daughter wearing that hideous uniform, all bulk and intimidation. When Moonlight joined the police, everything changed, even her beautiful name. No longer Moonlight Legloas Smith, a name as soft as b.u.t.ter melting on the tongue, but Constable Molly Smith. Authority and aggression.

John Winters accompanied Moonlight. Lucky and Sergeant Winters had sparred like medieval swordfighters, but for some strange reason shed become rather fond of him. She lifted a hand and checked that her hair was tucked into place.

"Mrs. Eleanor Carmine?" Winters said, the statement sounding like a question.

"Thats me." Ellies voice quavered.

"You dont have to answer their questions," Lucky said, forgetting about trying to look nice for John Winters and worrying about Moonlight. "Not without legal advice."

"What? I dont need a lawyer. I dont know what any of this is about." Ellies voice shook. Understandable, Lucky thought. anyone would be frightened when faced with the full force of the law. Particularly after two of her guests had been killed in a tragic car accident.

"If you wish to consult counsel that is, of course, your right, Mrs. Carmine," Winters said, in a voice as deep and smooth as blackstrap mola.s.ses. "But if you have no reason to do so..."

Lucky tried to catch Moonlights eye, but the girl was looking at everything but her mother.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" Winters asked.

Eleanor Carmine glanced toward Lucky Smith.

"No," Lucky said.

"No," Mrs. Carmine repeated. "My guests have gone out."

"Before we continue with this conversation," Lucky said, "I must insist, Sergeant, you tell me whats going on here."

Moonlight coughed. "Im sorry, Mrs. Smith, but as far as I can see you have no right to insist upon anything. If youre acting as counsel for Mrs. Carmine, please identify yourself. Otherwise." Moonlight coughed again. "This is none of your business, and...well...please be quiet, Mom."

Lucky stared. John Winters was regarding Moonlight with an expression like someone gazing upon a garter snake that had turned into a python. Ellie Carmine rubbed her hands together.

They all turned at the arrival of Ron Gavin and his forensic bag, clomping up the sidewalk. Hed parked his van half into the road, not able to pull to the side because of the snow drifts as high as a mans chest. An RCMP patrol car joined Solways vehicle in was.h.i.+ng the street in red and blue lights.

Curtains moved and doors opened in the neighboring houses. More than a few people came out to their front steps or wandered down to the sidewalk to see what was going on. Solway told them to keep back.

"What on earth is going on here? You need a warrant to bring those people and their equipment in here, Mr. Winters. Do you have one?"

"Mrs. Carmine," Winters said, ignoring Lucky. "Id like your permission to search the fireplace in your common room. Due to the highly volatile nature of the search area, I dont have time to get a warrant. I promise you Im only interested in the fireplace and its immediate surroundings. I wont examine anything outside that area at this time. You are ent.i.tled to refuse us entry. Ill then have to wait for the warrant to arrive, in which time vital evidence might be destroyed. Your decision."

Ellie looked at Lucky again.

What a ridiculous situation. Lucky was here to have tea with a friend and listen while her friend talked out her troubles. She had not planned to engage in a debate over the finer points of the law with the police. Who were, on this occasion, represented by her own daughter.

Moonlight stood slightly behind and to one side of John Winters. She s.h.i.+fted her big black boots, looking at everything but her mother.

"The fireplace is in a common area, open to all your guests, is that correct?" Winters said.

"Yes."

"May we have a look at your fireplace, Mrs. Carmine?"

"I have nothing to hide," she said. "Come on in. You too, Moonlight. And I guess all those other folks behind you."

"Whether or not you have anything to hide," Lucky said, "is completely beside the point. Its a matter of the right to..."

"If youd please step outside, Mrs. Smith," Winters said. "Mrs. Carmine will ensure we dont exceed our legal bounds."

"Ellie," Lucky said. "Id suggest..."

"Mom," Moonlight said keeping her voice down. "Will you get out of here. Sergeant Winters knows the law as well as you do."

Lucky blinked. "I need my coat."

"Get it then," Constable Smith said.

Lucky scurried into the kitchen. She came back, moments later, fastening b.u.t.tons, pulling on gloves, knotting a blue scarf around her neck. She should stand her ground, convince Ellie Carmine, insist that John Winters produce a warrant before searching...the fireplace? What the heck would be the point? Let them have at it.

Besides, it wouldnt look good to be seen having a public confrontation with her daughter. Moonlights face was set in dark, serious lines. The house was over-warm, and snow melted off Moonlights hat and dripped down her collar. She didnt move. Just alternately glared at her mother, and stared off into s.p.a.ce as if wis.h.i.+ng she were somewhere else.

It wasnt easy, Lucky knew, for Moonlight. "Ill be outside if you need me, Ellie," she said.

Winters and the RCMP man pa.s.sed her, and went into the common room.

"Oh, for G.o.ds sake," Winters shouted.

Moonlight ran. Lucky followed her.

John Winters was standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the fireplace on the far wall. The room was beautifully decorated for Christmas with a mixture of old ornaments lovingly preserved and glistening new ones. A miniature Santas village ran across the top of the mantle over the fire, which was now dark and cold. Lucky couldnt see anything wrong.

Winters turned around. His color was high and his arms stiff at his sides.

"Constable Smith," he said, his voice very low. "Is this the fireplace you told me you saw when you were here last?"

"Yes." Moonlights voice broke. Lucky knew her daughter tried to deepen the pitch of her voice, to make herself sound more authoritative, more serious. But it did have a tendency to squeak under stress.

"Outside, now," Winters said, mola.s.ses replaced by pure iron. "Ron, sorry to have dragged you away from home. Mrs. Carmine, Mrs. Smith, I apologize for disturbing you. A misunderstanding. Well get out of your hair."

All the blood had drained from Moonlights face, making the girl almost as pale as the moon on the snowy night shed been named for. She almost ran out of the room. The policemen followed: the Mountie trying to hide a grin, John Winters looking about to bust a gut with suppressed rage.

"That was odd," Ellie said.

"You can say that again," Lucky said, wondering why theyd make such a fuss over a gas fireplace.

Chapter Nine.

She chose deep red polish. In summer she preferred something much lighter, pink and flirty. Winter was for fire and pa.s.sion. The esthetician put the bottle of polish on her tray and ordered Eliza Winters to lift her feet out of the warm water. Taking one soft naked foot in hand, the woman began to apply fragrant lotion. Eliza settled back to enjoy the sensations coming from her feet. Her day at the spa had been as delightful as advertised. She would have liked to have come with John, but she suspected shed wasted her money on his Christmas gift. When they vacationed far from home, he made use of a spa, and always enjoyed it very much. But it was likely that in the close-knit, gossipy town of Trafalgar, hed be afraid of running into one of the two policewomen he worked with, or, even worse, the wife of one of his colleagues, while dressed in a fluffy white robe and floppy sandals heading for his facial.

Men.

A low moan came from the chair beside her. Eliza opened her eyes. The woman seated there lifted her hand and wiped at her face. Her eyes were red, the delicate skin underneath puffy and dark. Otherwise her skin tone was almost perfect, although she must be well into her forties, perhaps even her fifties. The woman saw Eliza looking her way. "Pardon me," she said, forcing out a smile as frozen as the patch of ice Eliza had skidded on while parking the car.

Eliza came to the spa to relax and be fussed over. She did not come to engage in mindless conversation with complete strangers. But she felt she had to say something. "Are you all right? If the pedicures bothering you, you can tell her to stop."

From her short stool at the womans feet, the second esthetician looked up, alarmed.

"Continue, please. Not the pedicure, no. Its quite lovely. Do you come here often?"

"Not as often as Id like. Yourself?"

"My first time. Im only visiting."

"Here for the skiing?"

"Skiing? No, I wont be skiing."

Eliza settled back into her chair. The dead skin was being sc.r.a.ped off her heels. White flakes flew into the air and coated the girls black smock. Quite disgusting. The woman beside her wiped at her cheek and closed her eyes. Conversation over. Thank heavens.

The pedicure was the end of the spa day. Eliza floated on a soft cloud of contentment to the changing rooms. She entered a tiny cubicle and dressed before standing in front of the mirror trying to arrange her hair. It was thick with lotion applied during the neck and forehead ma.s.sage, and the best she could do was force it into some sort of reasonable shape to see her to her car and home.

The woman shed spoken to in the pedicure room emerged from a cubicle. Elizas expert eye took in the quality of her cream wool slacks, navy blue cashmere sweater over a tailored white T-s.h.i.+rt. And were those ox-blood leather ankle boots Jimmy Choos? They might well be.

The woman smiled at Eliza and lifted a hand to her own hair. Her nails were perfectly groomed, cut short, the polish clear. Her eyes were red, redder than theyd been in the pedicure room. Eliza turned to her. "I dont mean to pry, but something seems to be wrong. If this were summer, Id suspect you have allergies, and leave you alone. If I can help, please let me."

This small town friendliness seemed to be contagious. Eliza did not normally care to hear anyone elses problems.

The womans smile was tinged with sadness. "Im parched after all that. And hungry. I didnt manage to eat much of the lunch they provided. Is there a coffee shop nearby where I could get a drink and perhaps a m.u.f.fin?"

"Big Eddies Coffee Emporium is just around the corner. Rather an extravagant name for whats essentially a corner coffee shop."

"Sounds perfect. Will you join me? My treat, but Im afraid Im not very good company today."

The woman held out her hand. "Im Patricia Wyatt-Yarmouth."

Quit. She should quit right now. Go back to university and finish her MSW. Or find a job at a ski resort. Perhaps she could work at Mid-Kootenay Adventure Vacations, her parents store. No, that would be just too humiliating.

Shed driven Sergeant Winters back to the station in silence. Wis.h.i.+ng hed yell and scream and call down plagues and locusts upon her head. Instead his silent anger spread through the car like the monster in a cheap science fiction movie. Hed said nothing more since theyd walked down the neatly shoveled path outside the Glacier Chalet B&B and hed said, very quietly, "A gas fireplace does not require stoking, Constable Smith. No use for a poker, no logs. No ashes to be discarded. I would have thought that, as a mountain woman, youd know such things."

Smith got into the drivers seat while Winters told Solway and the Mountie to leave. Ron Gavin had followed them out of the house, lugging his bag of equipment, trying not to laugh.

At least someone was amused.