In the Shadow of the Glacier (16 page)

“Environmental issues, however, may be another matter. I’ll admit that some people might be prepared to go to extremes.”

“You know these people?”

“I know of them. I know of a lot of people, including those who claim they’ve been abducted by space aliens.”

As a boy, Winters had been considered a good chess player, usually beating his dad and Uncle Joe, and most of the members of the high school chess club. But when he’d joined the club at University he soon dropped out: he couldn’t begin to outthink the people he was expected to compete against.

Talking with Lucky Smith gave him the same feeling.

“If you think you know someone who might have killed Reginald Montgomery in a dispute over his resort, you need to tell me. I’m not looking to railroad anyone.”

“Fortunately for you, John, whether or not I believe you is irrelevant. My daughter’s assisting in this investigation?”

Winters nodded.

“I believe in Moonlight’s integrity,” she said.

Winters felt himself veering off track. Was this competent, intelligent, skillful woman about to turn airy-fairy on him? “Please don’t tell me that your astrology readings have advised you to cooperate, Lucky. The light of the moon has nothing to do with any of this.”

The edges of her mouth turned up. “My daughter’s name is Moonlight. As I may have mentioned, I’m an aging hippie. When she was born, the light of the moon outside my window shone on freshly fallen snow. She was so fair, as if reflecting the scene outside. Do you have any children, John?”

“No.”

“A blessing and a curse, all at the same time. Two outsiders arrived in town a couple of months ago. Stuffed full of rhetoric about animal rights and the spirituality of the untouched wilderness. The sort who talk about the noble Native Canadian but have never bothered to actually meet one. They were quick to badmouth citizens’ groups, such as I belong to, as too arthritic to accomplish anything.” Lucky fanned the back of her neck. “There are people who believe in fighting for animals against people. I may not always disagree with them, but one can cross the line.”

Winters said nothing.

“You understand I’m making no accusations. Just chatting.”

“Why are you not a lawyer?”

Winters meant the question to be rhetorical. Lucky didn’t take it so. “Because I got pregnant with my son Samwise, and because Andy was on the run from the Selective Service and without government-sponsored child care and….”

“Please, Lucky. The point.”

“Kevin Sorensen and Robyn Goodhaugh. Very, very passionate animal rights types, although I suspect he’s just following her lead. Robyn’s been heard to say, or so I’ve been told, that the Grizzly Resort is equivalent to the opening of the earth down to hell. The Hellmouth, she calls it.”

Chapter Twelve

“Your mother told me your full name.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Smith slapped the steering wheel. She was trying to make her way through the world as a competent adult. A cop, no less. That god-awful name haunted her. “It’s completely embarrassing.”

“I thought it was nice,” Winters said. “The exhausted, but thrilled, young mother looking out her window and seeing the light of the moon reflecting onto freshly fallen snow.”

“Moonlight’s not so bad, I guess. But they had to follow it up by a ridiculous name from
The
Lord of the Rings
.”

She could tell by the look on his face that she shouldn’t have mentioned it. “My mom didn’t tell you my middle name, did she?”

“No.” He was smiling now; it made him look almost likeable.

“Legolas.” She practically spat out the word. “A fey elf. One of the Fellowship of the Ring. Utterly humiliating. In school one of the teachers suggested that I try out for the archery team. I considered showing her an arrow, all right.”

Her parents had been
Lord of the Rings
fans back in the day. Smith’s brother Sam was a hotshot corporate lawyer in Calgary. She wondered if his blue-blood wife knew that his proper name was Samwise. When the
Lord of the Rings
movie came out a few years ago, Smith had been horrified to see that the actor playing the elf Legolas bore a strong resemblance to her. Tall, lean, thin face, high cheekbones, long, straight blond hair the texture of corn silk. She had not gone to see it.

Sergeant Winters laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, straight from the diaphragm. She felt a smile tug at her mouth.

“We all have our crosses to bear, Molly. I had a classmate who gloried in the name Robin Hood. His parents should have been shot.”

When they walked into the dentist’s waiting room, the wide-eyed receptionist buzzed the doctor without a word.

All of two seconds passed before he made an appearance. The dental hygienist peeked out from a side room.

“I’ll be making an official complaint about this harassment.” Dr. Tyler was puffed up and full of his own self-importance. Smith decided on the spot that he wasn’t guilty of the murder of Mr. Montgomery. If he were, surely he’d be a bit more ingratiating.

“That is, of course, your privilege, Dr. Tyler,” Winters said. “But if it would make you more comfortable, we’ll continue this discussion down at the station.”

Tyler deflated slightly. “I wouldn’t want to take up your time.” He turned on his receptionist. “Shouldn’t you be going home, Gloria? It’s past closing.”

She yanked at a drawer in search of her handbag. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Pens, highlighters, markers, a stapler, packets of brightly colored Post-it notes, and a heavy-duty tampon spilled out. The hygienist laughed.

Tyler spun around. “The office is closed,” he yelled. “If you repeat anything you heard here today, you’ll be fired, the both of you.”

The women grabbed lunch bags and purses and scrambled for the door. Smith’s brother had once briefly dated Rachel, the hygienist. They exchanged glances, and Rachel tripped over a loose bit of linoleum.

“Common gossips, both of them. It’s difficult to get competent help in this damned town,” Tyler said.

Smith pulled her notebook out of the pocket at her thigh.

Winters got to the point. “I spoke to your wife earlier.”

Tyler threw himself into the receptionist’s chair. He didn’t offer his visitors a seat. “A boring conversation, I’m sure.” He spun the chair around in circles.

“Don’t make too much fun of this, Doctor. Murder is a serious business.”

Tyler studied his nails.

“You told me,” Winters said, “that you were with Mrs. Montgomery until eight forty-five and then you went home.”

“Which is what happened.”

“Your wife says you didn’t get in until after ten.”

He stopped spinning. “She’s mistaken.”

“She seems sure. Do you agree, Constable Smith?”

“Ten it was, sir. She was positive.”

“Some evenings, when I’m not home, my wife enjoys more wine than perhaps she should.”

“What did you do after leaving Mrs. Montgomery, Doctor?”

The dentist stood up. He patted his comb-over and wiped his hand down the side of his trousers. He looked at Smith.

“Dr. Tyler, can you answer the question?”.

“Nothing. I did nothing. I went for a drive. I was emotionally unsettled.”

“What caused you to become emotionally unsettled?”

“Can’t you just accept that I went for a drive and got home around ten-ish?”

“I can’t just accept anything. If you don’t tell me where you were between eight forty-five and ten o’clock last night, I will consider you a suspect in the murder of Reginald Montgomery.”

Tyler blanched. “I drove up the mountain. It was a clear night. I like to look at the lights from Eagle Point Bluffs when I have things to think over. I sat in my car at the side of the road for a while.”

“What were you thinking over?”

Tyler shook his head. “Personal problems.”

“Nothing’s personal, I’m afraid, in a homicide.”

Tyler blew out a breath of air. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Not if it’s not relevant to the investigation.”

“Molly?”

“Get on with it, man.” Winters’ patience snapped like a rubber band loaded with a spitball. “Constable Smith is not here to collect gossip.”

“I was considering asking Ellie to leave Reg and come with me. We have children, Ruth and I. It’s a big decision.”

“If you have to leave town, Doctor, call the station and let us know. We wouldn’t want to have to try to locate you. We can find our way out.”

“You’re not arresting him?” Smith asked as they walked to the van. A shiny grey Mercedes SUV was the only other car in the lot.

“I don’t think he did it. The man was having an affair with the wife of a prominent businessman. An affair that you yourself told me was common knowledge. Probably to everyone but the husband and wife of the participants. I’ll bet he did have a lot to think about.”

Smith flicked the door opener of the van and the inside lights came on. She glanced at Winters. His face was tight and drawn. “I’ve made mistakes,” he said, “more than a few. But unless Doctor Tyler won an Academy Award that he’s keeping secret, he isn’t that good an actor. When we spoke to him earlier, he didn’t seem to have a clue what we were there for. Said he hadn’t heard of the Montgomery killing.” He fastened his seatbelt. “I’m not dismissing him as a suspect, but I see no reason to drag him, and what’ll probably be an excellent criminal lawyer, down to the station. Not yet anyway. Call in and find out what Tyler drives, Molly. That fancy new Merc, I’m guessing. I’ll send someone up to Eagle Point later to ask if any of the dog walkers saw him there last night.”

A group of barefooted, dreadlocked, tie-dyed-T-shirt-wearing young men and women had gathered in front of Big Eddie’s Coffee and Bagel Emporium at the corner of Elm and George streets. A man squatted on the pavement, pounding on a home-made drum clenched between his splayed knees; a tall, lithe woman shook a tambourine, her hair moving with the rhythm. Two people of indeterminate gender swayed to the music, and a white dog looked very bored.

Winters rubbed his eyes.

“You okay?” Smith asked, not sure whether she should appear to have noticed. She didn’t know what her relationship with Winters was, and was afraid of making a misstep. Winters, she suspected, liked to work alone.

“Just tired. It’s been a long day, and it’s nowhere near over yet. I need to talk to the gentlemen Clemmins and Montgomery had dinner with last night. Highly unlikely that Clemmins would use business acquaintances as a fake alibi, but no stone unturned, eh?”

He gave her a weak smile, but the cloud behind his eyes didn’t go away. He turned his face toward the window.

□□□

For the nineteenth time in the past twenty minutes, Lucky Smith looked out her kitchen window.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Michael said with a chuckle. “Calm down, Lucky. You told them seven thirty. It’s not even quarter past.”

“Don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not as if we haven’t spoken to the press before.” She turned from the window. They were sitting around her scrubbed pine kitchen table, exchanging nervous glances. “Perhaps it’s because Barry isn’t here,” she said.

“Barry’s not coming?” Jane Reynolds said. “What’s happened?”

“He called me just before you got here. Marta was seeing him to the door, and she tripped over a dog toy and fell down the stairs. She might have sprained her ankle, so they’ve gone to the hospital.”

“Is it a problem? That Barry isn’t here?” Norma McGrath asked.

Several voices murmured. They were ten, and Lucky’s kitchen table was large enough to accommodate all of them with room to spare.

Lucky said nothing. It was Barry who’d left an arm in Vietnam. Barry who gave their group the gravitas it needed in the face of the media. Jane had a half-century of activity in the peace movement, but age was quickly overtaking her, and she looked and sounded too much like someone’s dotty grandmother. Joe had escaped the draft, but he was so tongue-tied that the press didn’t bother with him. Michael never talked about his past, and Lucky didn’t quite know why he was here. She hadn’t told Andy the press were coming to interview the group—he would have just told her to let it go. Tonight, it was up to Lucky Smith to make their case. Vehicle lights washed across the driveway. She swallowed a glass of wine in one quick gulp.

□□□

It was long after midnight when Winters dropped Smith off. They’d spent the night moving between the alley south of Front Street and Eagle Point Bluffs, looking for someone who’d seen either a disturbance behind the bakery or Dr. Tyler brooding alone in his car.

No one they spoke to had been in the alley at the time in question. The restaurant staff was kept under such tight control, by a chef so tempestuous that he’d been fired from Food TV that they didn’t dare so much as to take a breathing break. The dog walkers had all been either early or late yesterday. On Thursday night, the alley behind Alphonse’s Bakery might well have been on the far side of the moon as far as the good citizens of Trafalgar were concerned.

At the park overlooking the lights of the town far below and the black shapes of the mountains all around, courting couples had been busy with their own interests—watching the stars twinkle overhead, apparently.

All in all, it had been a fruitless night. But Smith did allow herself to get her hopes up, just a smidgen, that she was making some headway with Sergeant Winters, proving to be a good detective. Or, at least, a competent detective’s assistant.

Her mom was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in the loose tank top and cotton shorts she wore as pajamas. Her head was cradled in her hands, and her shoulders shook.