Matt lifted his head. He studied Lucky. He was a good-looking young man, with high cheekbones and thick black lashes guarding brown eyes that could have been attractive if they had a touch of warmth in them. “So,” he said with a lazy drawl, “this is her. Mom told me you’d taken up with some fancy lady. I thought she meant someone…younger.”
Paul’s face flushed and for a moment Lucky thought he’d strike his son. She said, quickly, “I remember you, Matthew. You used to come into the store to look at the ski equipment. You skied with my daughter, Moonlight, didn’t you?”
Matt’s eyes widened, and then he dipped his head. “Mrs. Smith. Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you there.”
“Would that have made a difference?” Paul was still standing, looming over his son.
The policeman, Lucky thought, not the father. She pulled up a chair and sat down. “We’ve all changed,” she said, “over the years. It’s nice to see you. Are you living here, in Banff? Still skiing, I hope. Moonlight gave up competition. I was sorry about that, she was very good. Not good enough, she said.”
“She wanted to be the best,” Matt said as a shadow of a smile touched his mouth. “And she usually was. I’ve a job at Sunshine as an instructor soon as the hills open. What’s Moonlight doing?”
“She’s a…uh…still living in Trafalgar. She doesn’t like to be called Moonlight anymore, but Molly, which I must say I do not like.”
Matt nodded. Lucky glanced at Paul. She jerked her head toward the empty chair, indicating that he should sit down. He did so, but his posture was no less aggressive. Hands clenched, back straight, a vein prominent in his neck.
Tracey, the waitress, hovered at Matt’s shoulder, twisting her hands together. Obviously they knew each other. A girlfriend?
“Your father and I are here for the weekend.” Lucky felt like the only living human at a vampire’s wake, chattering away, trying to ignore the currents whirling in the air. “We’re staying at the Banff Springs for a special treat.”
Matt’s eyes flickered toward his father.
Lucky briefly considered suggesting Matt and Tracey have dinner with them tonight. She usually tried to smooth troubled waters whenever she could. But, in the back of her mind, she realized she didn’t want to spend any time with Matt. He might be Paul’s son, but he had been rude and threatening to her. Besides, it wasn’t any of her business, although if her relationship with Paul continued on its course, it might be some day.
She leaned over and picked her bag off the floor. Got to her feet. “I didn’t want breakfast anyway and the tea’s cold now.”
“I’ll get you another,” Tracey said.
“No. Thank you. Paul, why don’t I walk to the hotel? You and Matt have lots of catching up to do.”
Paul pushed his chair back. “We’ve a full day planned, and I intend to enjoy it. If,” he said to his son, “you want to go for a drink or something later, we’re at the Banff Springs until Tuesday morning.” He handed Tracey a green twenty-dollar bill.
Paul stalked out of the restaurant. Lucky followed. She glanced over her shoulder. Tracey was kneeling on the floor beside Matt. The boy’s eyes were on his disappearing father.
Chapter Nine
LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER RESTAURANT. BANFF, ALBERTA. SATURDAY MORNING.
Tracey rested her hand on Matt’s back. When he didn’t pull away, she dared to slide closer, her knees scraping against the old wood of the floor. “Was that your father?”
Matt didn’t look at her. “Yeah. Great guy, eh? If he hadn’t been with Mrs. Smith he probably woulda sucker-punched me.”
“You know the woman, too?”
He shrugged. “She owns a shop back home.”
“In Calgary?”
“Nah. I grew up in a miserable dump of a town in B.C. The folks moved to Calgary when I was in grade twelve. That’s when I split.”
“Oh.” Tracey didn’t know much about Matt’s life before they met. She knew he didn’t get on with his cop father, rarely saw his mom and his sister. This guy here today, Matt’s dad? He didn’t look so bad. He was angry, but who wouldn’t be the way Barry was hassling his girlfriend? Matt, she thought with a twinge of disloyalty, was far too quick to follow Barry. One day, he’d follow Barry into real trouble, if he didn’t watch out. Barry had the sense to leave as soon as the woman threatened to call the cops and Kevin came out of the back. Kevin, they all knew, was an ex-con and he wasn’t going to allow any trouble in his place. Barry usually had the sense to drop it when things started to get out of control, but not Matt.
“You want something to eat?” Tracey said. “Your dad paid but they didn’t have their breakfast.”
“Nah.” His head was turned away from her, so she couldn’t see his face. She touched the back of his neck. Hot. Hot and wet.
“I guess you didn’t know your dad was in town, eh?” She slid her arm around his shoulders like a fawn testing to see if the meadow was safe to enter.
“No. Didn’t know he’d taken up with Mrs. Smith, either. Mom said he’d met some lady, but not who it was. Funny that Moonlight’s still in Trafalgar. Probably married with two-point-five kids and a job at her mom’s store. She was younger than me, but one hell of a skier. I figured she’d do better.”
Tracey felt a twinge of jealousy. Matt’s voice was almost longing as he caressed the name on his tongue. Moonlight, what a lovely name. Much nicer and more interesting than boring old Tracey.
Matt shrugged Tracey off. “I gotta go.”
“You working tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“I might pop in later, when I get off at the car rental.” Matt worked as a bartender at a fancy wine bar some nights.
“Suit yourself.”
Tracey would have liked him to show more enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing her but that was just Matt. He kept his emotions to himself. She couldn’t afford to go out drinking often, and certainly not there, but she’d order the cheapest drink available and make it last until the place got busy and Matt told her to get lost because they needed her seat.
The door swung open and Tracey struggled to her feet. Customers. Four guys dressed in safety vests and heavy, dirty beige overalls with orange stripes on the pants. Construction or road workers. She didn’t feel much like smiling, but made an effort. They nodded to her and headed for a table at the back.
Tracey went to the front counter to get menus. She wasn’t paying any attention to the new arrivals; instead she was worrying about Matt. She was glancing over her shoulder, to where he sat with his head in his hands and his shoulders slumped, when one of the men tripped over a crack in the wood floor and stumbled forward with a curse, crashing into an unoccupied table. Startled, Matt’s head jerked up.
And Tracey could see that he was crying.
Chapter Ten
CHATEAU LAKE LOUISE. LAKE LOUISE, ALBERTA. SATURDAY NOON.
Chateau Lake Louise was a grand old railroad hotel, younger sister of the Banff Springs. The building faced Lake Louise, emerald green, deep, cold water fed by the glaciers of Mount Victoria, framed by towering mountains.
The drive from Banff had been tense, to say the least. Paul gripped the steering wheel as if it were his son’s throat and Lucky stared out the window, scarcely seeing the panorama of dark trees and snow-tipped mountains sparkling in the sun.
He parked the car and they walked toward the majestic white stone building, so perfectly situated. Lucky slipped her hand into Paul’s, and was grateful that he didn’t snatch his away. He said little as they rounded the hotel and the famous view of the lake and glacier spread out in front of them. The gardens had been neatly tucked away for the winter, the canoes taken out of the water, and the lake wasn’t yet frozen over, but the scene was still spectacular. The lake front was crowded with chatting, laughing groups, and more cameras than Lucky had ever seen in one place, people posing and smiling while their friends clicked away. This might well be the most photographed spot in Canada.
“
Let’s get a picture, Paul.” Lucky dug in her bag for her own camera. Without waiting for him to agree, or not, she waved at a couple about their age. “Would you mind taking our picture, please?” She handed the man the camera, an inexpensive compact, and showed him the button to snap the shot. Then she half-dragged Paul to a spot she thought would make a good background. She rested her gloved hand on his arm, and felt some of the tension melt out of him. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and her for-the-camera smile folded into a real one.
“One more,” the cameraman said in a heavy German accent.
Lucky and Paul posed again, and when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye she was pleased to see him smiling. She took her camera back, thanked the couple, and she and Paul walked into the hotel.
They took their time wandering around, enjoying the old architecture, the modern elegance, and the sense of history that filled the halls and public rooms. Lucky wanted to pop into some of the stores, maybe look for Christmas gifts. One glance at the price tags and they were scurrying back out.
“I’d like to get some postcards,” she said as they passed the bookstore.
“Postcards?” Paul repeated. “We’ll be home before they get there.”
“I know. But I like sending postcards.” She rifled through the rack. Plenty of majestic mountain and wildlife scenes, some illustrating the rich history of the hotel. Lucky laughed heartily, and Paul left the display of old fishing posters to see what was so funny. She held up a card: a scene from a silent movie, altered to show, behind the film’s lovers, three uniformed Mounties kissing their horses. “For Adam,” Lucky said.
Paul grinned. “They don’t call them the horsemen for nothing.”
“I keep wondering if Norman’s expecting to be a groomsman at the wedding,” Lucky laughed, referring to Adam Tocek’s police dog.
“They won’t want him wearing his ordinary working vest. I suppose the Mounties could do up a splendid dog jacket in red serge.”
“Pants with a yellow stripe down the leg? Two legs or four do you think?”
“Hat might be hard to fit. He’ll keep trying to toss it off.”
They laughed again, and Lucky went to pay for her purchases.
“I never did get breakfast,” Paul said, once she’d joined him in the hallway. “And I’m starving. Let’s have an early lunch before we carry on.”
She agreed and they followed the signs to the Poppy Brassiere. Paul’s appetite was back in full force and he ordered the substantial Rocky Mountain breakfast, but Lucky asked for tea and a muffin. Paul handed the menu to the waitress, and when she was out of earshot, he said, “Perhaps we should have stayed at that dive in Banff. Heck of a lot cheaper.”
She didn’t know whether that was an opening for her to ask about Matt, his son, but before she could venture into those troubled waters, Paul asked how the plans were going for Moonlight and Adam’s wedding, and Lucky had to admit that as far as she knew there were no plans. They’d gotten engaged. Moonlight sported a beautiful diamond ring and had moved into Adam’s place in the mountains. Nothing more had been mentioned.
“Young people today…” Paul’s eyes twinkled.
Lucky roared with laughter. “Indeed. Can’t imagine what the world’s coming to. Andy and I got married in a registry office and the next day we left for Canada.” Andy and Lucky had crossed the border into British Columbia when Andy got his draft notice. He’d not seen nor spoken to his unforgiving father again. His mother had had to slip into Canada to visit, pretending she was going to see friends. Both Andy and his father were dead now, all hope of reconciliation gone. “My mom was dreadfully disappointed, but my older sister had been married in a fancy church wedding. I suspect Dad was relieved at not having to shell out for another big bash.”
The stop in Lake Louise lifted Paul’s spirits and they enjoyed their day at Lake Moraine. Banff National Park might seem crowded with tourists, but as soon as you drove off the highway, stepped off the paved paths, turned a corner and were out of sight of the majestic hotels, you were reminded that this was a true wilderness area. Prominently displayed grizzly bear warnings mark the beginnings of the hiking trails.
Lucky and Paul took the easier, flatter path along the lake. The trail was rough, scarcely maintained, and they clambered over boulders and around fallen trees. At this high elevation, patches of fresh snow filled the darker recesses of the woods and the bite of approaching winter was in the air. The famous Ten Peaks, all of them over 10,000 feet, filled the sky above. The lake, a stunning shade of pale green, lay to their left, and the forest, ancient and primeval, to the right. Quiet and still, the scent of pine trees, disturbed earth, icy-fresh water. “Do you want to talk about it?” Lucky said at last.
“No,” Paul replied.
Despite the horrible start, it turned into a lovely day. The hike invigorated them both and, to Lucky’s extreme delight, on the drive down the mountain they spotted a group of elk at the side of the road. Paul slowed the car, and Lucky leaned out the window to take pictures. They both knew better than to get out of the car. Mother elk could be as protective of their young as any other species.
They had dinner in the German-style pub on the lower level of their hotel. Then it was back to the room where Paul watched a hockey game on TV and Lucky settled into her novel. The lights were switched off and they were curled up together by ten o’clock.
Chapter Eleven
TRAFALGAR CITY POLICE STATION. TRAFALGAR, BRITISH COLUMBIA. SATURDAY EVENING.
“Still here?” Six o’clock and Molly Smith was beginning Saturday afternoon shift.
Sergeant John Winters swung his legs off his desk. “Catching up on some reports.”
“You having Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow or Monday?”
“Neither. Eliza’s gone to Saskatoon to visit her mother. She bought a roast chicken from the supermarket, so I’ll have to make do with that. Won’t be the first time.”
Smith hesitated. He could read the thoughts crossing her mind. She felt sorry for him, alone on the holiday. She should invite him to her house. To the house she shared with Adam Tocek, where they were having a proper festive dinner. She didn’t really want him there—they were co-workers, not friends and he was her superior. But still, she should be polite and ask.
“Would you like to have dinner at our place tomorrow night?”
He considered saying yes, just to see the expression on her face. “No, but thanks for the offer, Molly.”
Relief.
Chapter Twelve
GLOBAL CAR RENTAL. BANFF, ALBERTA. SATURDAY EVENING.
Tom Dunning left Tracey to lock up the office. Jody was waiting for him at her place. She’d have pizza and beer on hand. He could probably talk her into leaving the food until later. Tell her some romantic drivel about how he’d been thinking of her all night and just couldn’t wait. Girls like that sort of stuff.
He had been thinking of her. But not because he particularly wanted to gaze into her dark eyes or hear all about her day. When he’d phoned and told her to pick up pizza and a movie, she’d started to grumble. She wanted to go out. Alistair’s band was playing at a bar and everyone said they were good. And that new movie, that romantic comedy with Jennifer Aniston, would be gone by the end of the week.
He considered telling her to shut the fuck up and do what she was told, but Jody wasn’t that much of a pushover. She’d only let him go so far. Not that he cared for her one way or the other, but he wasn’t ready to move on quite yet.
After he screwed her and she was feeling all soft and romantic, he’d promise to take her to the bar tomorrow night. And then make up some excuse when the time came.
Tom hated live music. Jody was always whining about wanting to go to bars or shows. He’d let her take him to hear some long-haired chick play her guitar and wail about damage to Mother Earth. That hadn’t been so bad, but he still wouldn’t go out to hear rock. Tom liked rock music as much as the next guy. He just couldn’t stand to see it bein
g performed.
He’d had enough of that when he was a kid. His dad, Mad Mike Dunning, had played guitar in a band. Tom and his sister had grown up on the road, touring every little dump of a town—and there are a lot of dumpy towns among the wheat of the Canadian Prairie or the rocks, trees, and lakes of Northern Ontario. A childhood of lousy motels, greasy food, Mom trying to keep up their education. Then the band hit it big and for a couple of years the hotels were a lot better, and they traveled in planes and tour buses rather than a twenty-year-old Kombi. The groupies got better too, younger, thinner, sexier. Tom’s mom pretended not to notice.
Over all those years, the good times and the bad, the one thing Tom remembered the most was his dad shouting at him to play. He’d been given a guitar and told to play, Goddamnit!
Under Cold Stone: A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (Constable Molly Smith Novels) Page 4
