The French doors were open to a closed-off balcony. “If you’re chilly, I can close the windows.” The waiter arranged menus and place mats.
Burgess lifted an eyebrow in question. Smith said, “It’s fine, thanks. The fresh air’s nice.”
“I’m going to have a beer. Molly?” Burgess said.
“Kokanee, please.”
“A true B.C. girl.”
She shrugged.
“Karen told me your name’s Moonlight, but you call yourself Molly?”
“Moonlight’s the name I was given when I was born, but it’s hardly a cop name. I prefer Molly, although Mom refuses to change. I’m okay with that,” she added quickly. Although she wasn’t. Anyone who met her under the name Moonlight automatically assumed she was some modern-day hippie chick. She remembered the first time she’d gone to court. Her first time as the charging officer. She’d been so nervous, awake half the night. The judge read out her name and the defendant, up on a drunk driving charge, laughed out loud. Ever since then she’d made sure all police and court records said Constable M. L. Smith. Moonlight was bad enough. God help her if people found out the L stood for Legolas, the Lord of the Rings elf with the long shiny blond hair.
Gracing her with an unfortunate name was the about the worst thing her parents had done to her, and she knew she was lucky indeed.
“I thought it best if we get to know each other without Karen around,” Burgess said. “She still has a, shall we say, sensitive spot about your mother.”
“She shouldn’t. She left the chief, as far as I and everyone else knows. What did she expect him to do after that? Take his vows?”
“I’m only telling you the situation, Molly. How well do you know Matt?”
“I haven’t seen nor heard of him since I was in high school. He’s older than me, and he dropped out of school early.”
Burgess’ face fell. “For some reason I thought you’d kept in touch.”
“Not at all. Who told you that?”
“Just an impression, I guess. In that case, it was nice of you to come and try to help find him.”
“I’m doing it for my mom. And my boss.”
They stopped talking while the waiter served their drinks and asked if they’d like something to eat. They both passed. “This is a beautiful room, isn’t it?” Burgess said. “It was originally the writing room. In the days when ladies and gentlemen would spend an entire afternoon writing letters before going in for afternoon tea. Hard to imagine, sometimes, all we’ve lost in the rush to the modern world.” He glanced around, taking in the paneled walls, the tall glass windows inset with lead panes and crests of stained glass, the paintings and framed maps.
“I scarcely know the boy myself. Not that he’s a boy anymore. We’ve only met once, about two months ago. Karen wanted a visit, so we came here for one night, and met Matt for lunch. He asked his mother for money. I understand that wasn’t the first time, either. Kids these days.” He forced a smile to take some of the sting out of his words, but to Smith the smile was all teeth, no sincerity.
Still, she’d cut Burgess some slack. It couldn’t be easy, trying to start a new relationship when you didn’t approve of the woman’s adult child. And, from what little she’d been able to gather, Matt sounded like a slacker.
“He was a good skier,” she said, for some reason feeling she had to come to Matt Keller’s defense. “I remember that.”
Burgess sipped his beer. “Karen told me he was looking for a loan. A loan to tide him over until ski season began and he got more work. I would have liked to believe her, but I got the impression she’s given him many loans. Which were never repaid. But that’s neither here nor there. I was hoping, Molly, you’d be able to give me some insight as to what’s happening with the search for Matt.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly.
“What business is it of mine, you mean? I’m about to ask Karen to marry me. I’ve booked a Christmas vacation in Turks and Caicos and intend to pop the question while we’re there. If this business is hanging over her, I’d like to know as much as I can.” He cleared his throat. “I am, Molly, not without means. I intend to make Karen a happy woman. I do not intend to have her son scrounging off me.”
“Fair enough. Everything I know, you understand, is strictly informal. No one but the chief has told me anything and I doubt he’s been kept fully in the loop. The working theory is that Matt has taken off into the backcountry. He’s good in the wilderness, and he’s probably equipped.”
“Is he a suspect in this killing?”
“My impression is that he’s the only suspect.”
Burgess leaned back in his chair. “What’s your opinion, as a police officer?”
“I’m not a detective, and I don’t have enough facts to have an opinion. But I do know Matt ran from the scene and isn’t coming forward as a witness. That’s highly incriminatory. Provided, of course, he’s able to come forward. Look, Mr. Burgess…”
“Jonathan, please.”
“Jonathan. You asked for my opinion, so I’ll give it. For what it’s worth. I’d recommend you not put any more money down on your Christmas vacation, okay. Matt Keller was at the scene around the time a murder took place, and then he fled. This isn’t Mexico or Columbia where he might conceivably be on the run from crooked cops. Even if Matt bolted into the night after calling his dad because he thought he’d been seen by the killer, he has absolutely no reason to stay hidden.”
“I appreciate your honesty. It’s why I wanted to talk to you. Without Karen.”
She finished her beer. “Thanks for the drink.”
He pulled out his wallet, threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and got to his feet without waiting for change. They walked out of the bar together. The elevators were directly across the hall. “I’d better go up to check on Karen,” he said.
“I’d better go out and check on my dog.”
He pushed the up button. “You brought a dog?”
“Yes, I brought a dog. My mom’s mutt. I couldn’t think of anything else to do with him on the spur of the moment.”
A soft ping announced the impending arrival of the elevator. It was going up and it was empty. Burgess got in and turned to face the front. “I won’t tell Karen about our conversation, and I’d prefer it if you don’t, Molly. She’s worried enough.” The doors shut with a silent whoosh.
Smith took the stairs down to the lobby. She hadn’t cared for Jonathan Burgess on first meeting, but she was warming up to him. His concern for Karen Keller did seem genuine. Nothing wrong with worrying that he was about to be stuck with gigantic legal bills for a young man he didn’t know well or even like.
Chapter Forty-three
GLOBAL CAR RENTAL. BANFF, ALBERTA. MONDAY EVENING.
Jody looked up as Tracey entered the car rental office. “Anything?”
Tracey shook her head.
“No news is probably good news,” Jody said. “It’s better Matt stays out of the cops’ way.”
Tracey didn’t quite see it that way, and she doubted Jody did either. But she was trying to be supportive, and that’s what mattered.
Jody got up from her seat and followed Tracey into the back room. Tracey hung up her jacket, and Jody took her raincoat off the hook.
“Stay strong, eh?” she said. “Matt’ll be back and they’ll catch the guy who attacked Barry and everything will be back to normal.”
Normal. Only two days ago, the last thing on earth Tracey wanted would have been for life to be normal. Now, it sounded like the best thing possible.
Jody wrapped Tracey in a hug. It was a good hug, from the heart, and Tracey clung to the other girl as the tears she’d fought all day began to rise. Jody broke away and said, “See you tomorrow.”
“Right. Tomorrow.”
Tom was coming into the office as the women walked out. There were no customers, and Mr. Simpson was nowhere to be seen, so Tom grabbed Jody around the waist, pulled her close, and gave her a long kiss, noticeably grin
ding his hips against hers. Then he released her, slapped her on her rump, and said he’d be around when he got off work.
He glanced at Tracey and the edges of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
Jody was a nice girl. What on earth she saw in Tom, Tracey couldn’t imagine.
She took her seat at the counter and logged onto the computer to check what was scheduled to happen this evening.
Soon a couple came in to pick up the Lexus SUV they’d reserved. At Global Car Rental they didn’t get a lot of high-end cars. The Lexus had only been booked this morning, for four days. The people were from Ontario.
Tom leaned up against the counter. The woman talked to Tracey while her husband studied maps on display.
“You’ll enjoy driving that car,” Tom said to the man. “Where you off to?”
“We drove in from Vancouver, spent a couple of days at the Banff Springs. Fabulous place. Some folks at the hotel were telling us Waterton and Glacier are pretty special. Figured we’d try them out.”
“You’re planning to cross the border?”
“Yup.”
“Look,” Tom said, dropping his voice. “I don’t usually ask favors of the customers but if you’re going to Glacier, I wonder if you can take something down for me?”
The man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Certainly not.”
Tom laughed. Perhaps only Tracey heard the tension behind that laugh. “It’s a book. Not wrapped or anything, nothing inside it but paper and words. My sister wrote it. An aunt of ours wants to read it, and my sister insists she has to have a signed copy. I was about to mail it, but you’re going down there anyway. Won’t even be out of your way. My aunt owns a café in the park. She’ll treat you to the best coffee and peanut butter squares in Montana.”
“I…” the man said.
“Here, let me get the book. I’ll show you.” Tom dashed into the office, and was back before the customer could gather his wits. He held up a glossy trade paperback and flicked through the pages. “No hidden compartments, no secret partitions. Just paper and ink. A book. What do you say? You’d be doing me a favor. Tell you the truth, I was supposed to mail this weeks ago and my sister’s been on my case.” Tom snatched a piece of paper off the counter and jotted down an address and phone number. “It’s not much of a book. My sister’s sorta, well, mentally challenged is the phrase they use, and the book’s self-published. But it means a heck of a lot to her.” He thrust the object in question out with an embarrassed smile.
The man had little choice but to take it.
“Hey, thanks. Here’s the address of the café. Like I said, best coffee and squares in the West. I’ll fetch the car now. I’ll give it a special going over ‘cause you’re doing me a big favor.”
And Tom was gone.
“What,” the woman asked her husband, “was all that about?”
He shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt.”
Paperwork completed, they took chairs in the waiting area. Before long, Tom delivered the gleaming Lexus. They walked outside to meet him, and he handed them the keys. They drove off and Tom came inside.
“You don’t have a sister,” Tracey said.
“Sure I do.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of any book.”
“You mind your own business, Trace, and I’ll mind mine. Okay?”
“Mr. Simpson will not be happy if he finds out you’ve asked paying customers to run personal errands.”
Tom walked up to her, standing very close. Before Tracey could back away, he took her chin in his right hand. His muscles clenched and his fingers constricted. She shook her head, trying to get free. His grip tightened. “I said, bitch, mind your own business. Think Simpson wants to hear how you’ve been mooning around worrying about Matt so much I’ve had to correct all your mistakes?”
“You haven’t.”
“I have if I say I have.”
He looked into her eyes for a long time. Her skin crawled. Her jaw ached, her teeth forced so tightly together they hurt. For the first time, Tracey wondered if Tom knew something about Matt’s disappearance he wasn’t telling. Telling her or the police. Would Jody lie for Tom if he asked her to?
Yes. If Jody thought she was in love with the prick.
“There are things about Matt the cops would like to know,” he said. “If I decide to tell them. Do we understand each other, Trace?”
What things about Matt? Everyone had secrets, at least everyone Tracey knew, things they’d just as soon the police not know about. Was that all Tom meant? Or did he mean something about the death of Barry?
She forced out a nod.
Whatever that business about the book, and she’d seen that it was only a book, it had nothing to do with Matt. Therefore, nothing to do with her. She kept a lot of things that went on around here to herself.
“Good.” Tom gave Tracey’s face one last hard squeeze, twisted her neck, and then abruptly released her. He grinned. “Very good.”
A cube van drove into the lot and Tom went out to check it in.
Chapter Forty-four
BANFF SPRINGS HOTEL. BANFF, ALBERTA. MONDAY EVENING.
Lucky Smith had to decide if there was any point in staying here much longer. She was due to be at the store on Wednesday morning, and Paul was due to be behind his desk. She’d be able to call on the staff to fill in for her, and Paul was, after all, the boss. But this hotel wasn’t cheap, and certainly not with meals in restaurants and a separate room for Moonlight. The hotel wasn’t full, so there should be no problem extending their stay. Paul would be sure to want to do so.
How long could Paul remain here? They might not find Matt for weeks, months even. She would never say so out loud, but he might never be found. The Canadian wilderness was an enormous, empty place, even in this busy national park. An accident, a fall down a cliff, a broken leg. Plenty of animals to drag a body away or bury the bones.
She wiped at her eyes. She couldn’t imagine how Paul could bear it. The simple not knowing of it.
If she asked him what he wanted her to do, he’d tell her to go home. She doubted that was what was in his heart. No, she’d stay as long as he did. If they didn’t find Matt, perhaps even more if they did, he would need her support.
She tried to read, but the minutes until dinnertime ticked by so slowly. She had the spare keys to Moonlight’s car, and decided to pop out and take Sylvester for a quick walk. Sylvester would like that, and so would Lucky.
As could be expected, his greeting was enthusiastic and effusive. After many scratches and much oohing and cooing, she refreshed his water bowl and let him run in the woods for a couple of minutes. Then she held the back door open and gestured for him to get in. Tail sweeping, ears up, he made the leap. His back left leg crumbled and he collapsed onto the ground. He recovered quickly and jumped into the car. No harm done. This time.
Sylvester was getting old, although he was still in good health and spirits. It wouldn’t be too many more years before…
Lucky burst into tears.
She was getting old. Paul was getting old. Andy had already gone.
She reached into the car and wrapped the dog in a tight hug. She buried her face in his soft fur and wept. At first, Sylvester snuggled into her embrace, but soon he tried to wiggle free. She held him tighter and wept all the more. She didn’t know why she was crying. For herself, perhaps, for her lost youth and for the unstoppable passage of time. For Paul, who was aging before her very eyes as each hour passed with no news of his son, and for Moonlight, who had come to help and now chafed at her own helplessness because she loved an old dog whose ears smelled bad and who suffered from arthritis in his hips.
Sylvester whined and at last Lucky released him. She gave him a pat with one hand and wiped her eyes with the other. He gave her face a lick, and then he glanced at the driver’s seat. Telling her to get in and take him home. He had rabbits to chase and a fireplace to stretch out in front of.
“Soon,” she said. “Soon. We’ll a
ll be going home soon.”
Back in the room, she splashed cold water on her face and got ready for dinner.
Moonlight was waiting in the restaurant, but she was alone.
“The chief’s tied up. They’ve got a lead from someone who called to say he saw a man of Matt’s description heading out of town on a hiking trail in the early hours Sunday morning. He and Blectha are at the trailhead waiting for the police dog to join them.”
“That’s good news, right? The dog will find him?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mom,” Moonlight said, studying the menu. “That’s what we thought had happened. It’ll be dark soon, and they can’t do much without daylight.”
Under Cold Stone: A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (Constable Molly Smith Novels) Page 19
