Winter of Secrets (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

The main room of the lodge was full of people changing out of their heavy outerwear, removing boots, stuffing accessories into back packs, talking over the day on the slopes. The kitchen was closed, only the hot beverage and dessert counter still open for last-minute business.

Smith went downstairs to hand in the radio. There was time for another run, but she was no longer in the mood.

The old guy was behind the desk. “Good day?” she asked.

“Wish every day was so quiet.”

“Then you’d be out of a job.”

He laughed. “Back tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Kathy Carmine was sitting on a bench removing her boots. Her face shone with happiness and cold and exercise. She waved at Smith. Her pleasure was almost infectious, and Smith smiled at her. “Have fun?”

“The best day ever.”

“Where’s Rob?”

“I’m such a slow-poke that he wanted to spend some time skiing by himself.”

“Is the rest of his crowd here?”

“Wendy and Alan and Sophie came with us. Jeremy’s still in jail.” Kathy giggled. “Sorry, forgot that was your fault.”

Smith had been skiing powder all day, and her arms and legs ached. Time to get out of here. As soon as she got in cell phone range, she’d call Christa and ask her around for pizza and a movie. With Charlie back in town, Smith had promised herself she’d keep a close eye on her friend.

She climbed the stairs once more and grabbed her backpack from the hook where she’d left it. She rummaged for her water bottle and took a long drink. Tucked into one corner of the lodge was a small bar with a scattering of seats arranged around a wood-burning fireplace. Flames jumped as the bartender tossed in a fresh log. Every seat was taken and men stood three deep at the bar. As Smith put her water bottle away, the crowd shifted and she could see Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth, lifting a wine glass to her lips, sitting alone against the far wall. Her yellow ski jacket hung on a hook behind her.

Wendy swallowed the remainder of her wine and waved her glass at the waiter.

Smith went into the bar.

“Not you again,” was Wendy’s greeting. Her eyes and nose were very red and her words were slurred.

“Mind if I join you?”

“There isn’t an empty chair.”

“I’ll stand.”

The waiter put the drink on the table. Someone had carved a pair of initials, surrounded by a heart, in the dark wood.

“Getcha something?” he asked, picking up the empty wine glass.

“No, thank you.” The man walked away. Wendy drank deeply. “Your friends will be ready to leave soon,” Smith said.

“I don’t have any friends.”

“What about Rob and Alan and the rest?”

“Jason’s friends. Always Jason’s friends.” She finished the drink. “Get us a bottle, will you.”

“How much have you had, Wendy?”

“Not enough for it to be any of your business.” She hiccupped. The waiter passed with a tray overflowing with mugs of beer, and Wendy shouted at him to bring a bottle.

Smith touched the man’s shoulder. “Cancel that.” He shrugged and passed around the drinks. The table next to them was crowded with six young men packed around a table for four. They crashed their mugs together and cheered.

Smith leaned over and spoke into Wendy’s ear. “It’s too loud in here. I told the waiter to bring our drinks outside. Let’s go.”

“What?”

Smith lifted Wendy’s elbow and guided her out of her chair. “I wanna another drink.”

“He’ll bring it outside.”

“Okay.” Wendy let herself be led. She was wearing ski boots and tripped over the chair leg. She stumbled against the young men’s table. Beer mugs wobbled, and men grabbed for them. “Hey, watch it. Stupid drunk.”

“It’s all good.” Smith gripped Wendy’s arm, and with her other hand grabbed the girl’s helmet off the table and jacket down from the hook.

The main room of the lodge was busy with families packing up at the end of the day. Smith spotted an unoccupied, battered old couch close to the center of the room, and led Wendy to it.

Through the big windows, Smith could see a line of cars heading down the mountain. The earlier promise of snow never arrived and the clouds had left to dump their load someplace else. The winter’s night was closing in fast, although a full moon was low in the sky to the south.

She threw Wendy’s things on the couch. “I’m going to look for your friends, okay? I saw Kathy downstairs earlier.”

“Kathy thinks she’s gonna get Rob just ‘cause she wants him. Not gonna happen. Why are women so dis…disillusional?”

“You wait here, Wendy, okay?”

The girl’s eyes were glazed and unfocused. She wasn’t hearing anything Molly Smith was saying. “Rob’s too polite to tell her to get lost.”

Smith started to walk away. Over the din of the lounge, she caught one word that had her spinning around and crouching down beside Wendy.

“What was that?”

“I said Rob needs to be more like Ewan. And Ewan needed to be more like Rob. He was a fucker.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“No loss to the world now he’s gone.”

Smith took a deep breath and settled herself on the edge of the couch, beside Wendy. “It’s tough when you like a guy like that, isn’t it?”

Wendy started to cry. Although she wasn’t really starting, just releasing another round of the tears that had been there all day. “Where’s that damn bottle?”

“You told him you liked him, didn’t you? What happened then? He laughed, I’ll bet, right?” Smith had a feeling that perhaps she shouldn’t be having this conversation. This was out of her league. She’d take Wendy to her friends, then call Sergeant Winters and ask for help.

She stood up. “Come on, let’s find the others.”

“I want another drink.”

“Too late, I’m afraid. The bar’s closing.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ve ordered. Go get it.”

“Where are you supposed to meet the others?”

“Didn’t laugh.”

“No one’s going to laugh at you.”

“He didn’t 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.

“Didn’t laugh,” she repeated. “Said he’d 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 I’d lost him. Then Jason made plans for this holiday and I knew it’d be my chance.” She hiccupped, and pounded her upper chest with her hand. “Oopsie. Here, away from Oakville where we’d been kids, Ewan would see that I’ve grown up. I look good, don’t I?”

“You look very good.” And wasn’t that a lie. Tears and mucus streaked Wendy’s 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. She’s a snoop.”

“What? Kathy goes though the guests’ underwear?”

“Sad, eh? The miserable little mouse.

“But Ewan didn’t 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 it’s funny, don’t you?”

“No, Wendy, I don’t think any of this is funny.”

Wendy closed one eye and peered at Smith through the other, trying to focus. “He said he didn’t 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 slut who operates a cash register.”

The day he’d 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 Smith’s hand, and pulling her back down. “Don’t 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 didn’t want it anymore and pushed him away. He fell down. He was pulling out his cock—that takes all their attention, doesn’t it—so he didn’t 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 wouldn’t tell anyone this, right?”

Smith was pretty sure she hadn’t said any such thing. She had to get Wendy into town, to Sergeant Winters. But first, one more question. “Jason?”

“When Ewan didn’t come back to the B&B, I figured he was with that slut. 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 didn’t want nice, decent girls. He liked them cheap. So, in a way, it was a complement to me that Ewan didn’t want to be with me.”

Smith failed to see it that way, but she wasn’t going to argue. “Jason?”

“I’d lost a glove. I’d taken it off to touch Ewan’s 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 I’d look anyway. The wind had created drifts around the trees where we’d 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 cock. Protecting his damn prick to the very last. I didn’t know what to do. Do you understand? I didn’t know what to do!”

“It’s 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 didn’t even know he was dead.”

Wendy didn’t 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 Wendy’d 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, he’d take care of it.”

“Come on, I’m going to get us a ride back to town.” Smith pulled on Wendy’s arm, but the girl resisted.

“Where’s that damned bottle of wine?”

“Wait right here. I’m 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.”

“What’s up?”

“Then call the TCP, and ask them to contact Sergeant Winters. Tell them I’m bringing someone in about the Williams case.”

“Why?” His fingers still hovered over the keyboard.

“Will you just do it! I don’t 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 wasn’t there. She headed for the washrooms.

She glanced at the table in front of the couch as she passed. Wendy’s 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. “I’ve lost her,” she said to the guard in the office. “Did you make that call?”

“On their way.”

“She’s 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 you’ve 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. I’m pretty sure I saw the woman you’re 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 didn’t have to. She knew it well. It led to the Double Black Diamonds.

“I’m going up,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-six

John Winters wasn’t happy to see Lucky Smith’s battered Pontiac Firefly parked halfway into the road outside the Glacier Chalet B&B. He wasn’t in the mood to put up with Lucky’s attempts to run interference around the few questions he had for Ellie Carmine. He considered coming back another time, but decided that was the coward’s 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 didn’t want to speculate.

The door opened as he mounted the porch steps. Ellie Carmine was holding a phone in her hand. “I haven’t even pressed talk and here you are.”

“Pardon?”

“Jeremy’s upstairs packing,” she explained. “When he showed up, straight from the jail I imagine, I told him to clear out. I was afraid he’d kick up a fuss, so I’ve punched 911 into the phone already. But he didn’t say a word and I don’t 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.

“I’m afraid I’ve 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 didn’t want to be on my own, so I called Lucky and asked her to come over. She’s 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 didn’t have to call the cops, lady,” he said. “I wouldn’t stay in this dump any longer if you paid me.”

“I didn’t….” Ellie began.

“But I’m 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 don’t 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 dad’ll be mentioning it to the tourism authorities and perhaps the Chamber of Commerce. You might want to have a word with your daughter before you’re 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 can’t punch someone’s face in they’re too lazy to do civilized things such as lay complaints. John, what brings you here?”

“I have a question for Mrs. Carmine.”

Ellie Carmine didn’t appear to be paying Jeremy Wozenack “no mind.” She had gone very pale and her fingers pulled at the tassels decorating the hem of her Christmas apron. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Lucky, about…about what he said. But I don’t know how.” Tears spilled down her face.

A bell rang in the kitchen. “Perfect timing,” Lucky announced. “The muffins are ready.” She took her friend’s 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 muffins 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 tassels had come off her apron, and she was weaving it between her fingers.

“Sit,” Lucky ordered Winters. Obediently, he sat.

Lucky placed the plate of muffins on the table, followed by a mug of coffee. He selected a muffin and dropped a pat of butter onto it. It spread across the warm surface like a soft yellow river.

“What he…that Jeremy…said? About Kathy? I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, Lucky, but I just didn’t know what to say.”

“We’ll have a nice long chat,
later
,” Lucky said, pushing the muffins toward her friend. “Once we’ve helped
Sergeant
Winters with his business and he’s on his way.”

“I’m looking for Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth, but if there’s something you need to talk to me about, go ahead.”

“She’s not here. Wendy I mean, although Kathy isn’t here, either.”

“He’s not asking about Kathy,” Lucky said.

“Do you know where Wendy’s 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 muffin and heading for the door.

***

The lift ended at two black diamonds and three blues. The skiers who’d 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, washing 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.

She was alone.

Always alone.

Everything was so very quiet. Not even a bird was chirping. Only the wind roared in her ears.

She turned around. At the top of the hill, beyond the giant mechanism that moved the ski lift, the terrain was much gentler and heavily treed. She hadn’t bothered to look at the map of the area when Jason and the others had been studying it so intently on their first day.

Was it only a week ago? Seemed like a lifetime ago.

It was a lifetime ago. Jason’s lifetime.

He hadn’t seemed all that surprised when she’d led him to Ewan’s body beneath the tree. “Figured someone’d get the prick some day,” he’d said.

Even through her shock and guilt, Wendy had looked at her brother in surprise.

“I didn’t like him much, you know, once we weren’t kids any longer. Ewan never gave a thought for anyone but himself. But he was my buddy, eh? My best buddy since Kindergarten.

“He raped a girl in high school. We were at a house party while the parents were on vacation. Ewan got her into a bedroom and raped her. I saw her when she came out of the room. Her clothes were ripped, her lip was cut, her cheek swollen. She was crying. Ewan stood in the doorway, zipping up his pants, laughing. He told her she’d be making a fool of herself if she went to the cops. She was hammered and everyone knew she put it out for the whole football team. He saw me watching, and winked.”

Jason hadn’t looked at his sister, just kept his eyes on the snow-covered body at his feet. “I turned and walked away. I wasn’t going to back her up, not against my friend. I should have.

“If I’d told the cops what he’d done, maybe he would have learned something and wouldn’t have tried it with you.”

Jason thought Ewan had tried to rape her. If only he knew.

“I’ll call the police,” she said.

“No. They’ll try to make it sound like you were responsible for this. They’ll say you led him on and killed him when he rejected you.”

Wendy hung her head and didn’t look at her brother. The wind had shifted and snow was settling over Ewan’s body like a shroud.

“Look,” Jason said at last. “I didn’t help that girl, but I can help you. I’ll dump him in the woods. We’ll say we haven’t seen him since last night. There’s nothing but wilderness around here. It’ll be easy to hide a body. They’ll never find him, and if they do, who’s to say some jealous boyfriend didn’t get rid of him.”

And so Jason had carried Ewan to the SUV, while Wendy followed, arranging the snow to hide the imprint of Ewan’s body and their footsteps. Which hadn’t really been necessary, the snow was falling so fast, and the wind blowing so hard across the open yard, every trace of their passing was soon covered. Jason had difficulty getting the body into the SUV, but Ewan was slight and Jason strong. Wendy had thought someone would see them, come out, investigate. But it was Christmas Eve and people had better things to do than spy on the neighbors.

She’d killed Ewan. That she could live with, he deserved it. But she’d killed Jason as well. The police said he’d gone into the river minutes after midnight. He’d left her not long after ten o’clock. He must have driven around, looking for a spot to dump the body, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

There’s nothing but wilderness around here
, Jason had said. Yet he’d come back to town, still with Ewan. Had he changed his mind and decided to take the body to the hospital?

If Wendy had faced the consequences of her actions, Jason would still be alive.

There’s nothing but wilderness around here.

She was past crying, past grieving. Time to do the right thing.

The area in front of her was roped off and signs warned skiers that this section was off-limits.

She ducked under the ropes.