Under Cold Stone: A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (Constable Molly Smith Novels)

by Delany, Vicki

  “But it’s something, dear, it’s something.”

  After dinner, Molly went to the wine bar where Matt worked to talk informally to his coworkers in the hopes that they’d know something they hadn’t told the police.

  Lucky was unlocking the door to her room when she heard the phone ringing. She almost flew across the room to get it.

  Karen Keller wanted a meeting. Right now. Nothing more than curious, Lucky agreed. Karen said she’d be in the lobby, and Lucky spent some time tidying her hair and washing her face.

  Karen remained seated as Lucky approached. Karen hadn’t bothered to try to hide physical signs of her distress and Lucky’s heart reached out to the other woman. A mother, just like her.

  Two armchairs sat beneath a tall window overlooking the gardens, separated by a tall, lush fern planted in a substantial stone urn. Lucky took the other chair. It was not a comfortable place to talk. She had to lean forward and crane her neck to see Karen. Neither of the women bothered with empty greetings.

  “Paul tells me you met Matt’s girlfriend,” Karen said.

  “Yes. Her name’s Tracey.”

  “I know. We had lunch, here at the hotel, a month or two ago. I was not impressed. White trash, was the phrase Jonathan used. I hoped Matt would be rid of her by now. Apparently not. Paul said you have her phone number. I want to talk to her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s my son’s girlfriend, that’s why. She might know something about where he’s gone. Plus she’s a potential daughter-in-law, perhaps the mother of my grandchildren some day, perish the thought.”

  “You’re getting ahead of things, Karen. I didn’t get the impression their relationship has progressed that far.”

  “I have no interest in hearing about your impressions of anything to do with my family.”

  “I suggest you keep your grievances toward me to yourself for now. I met the girl, and I liked her. She’s obviously very fond of Matt and worried about him. Isn’t that what counts right now?”

  All the anger fled from Karen like air from a popped balloon. She almost visibly shrank into the buttery leather of her seat. Lucky remembered Karen Keller as a plump, cheerful woman, comfortable in her role of small-town police chief’s wife, as casual in dress and manner as everyone else in Trafalgar. This well-dressed, expensively groomed, brittle woman could be the evil twin of the Karen Lucky had known.

  “Perhaps,” Karen said in a small voice, “she’s heard from Matt since you last spoke to her.”

  “That could be. He might have told her not to contact the police.”

  “Can you call her, Lucky? Please. Ask her to meet with me…with us. I am his mother. She can confide in me.”

  Lucky pulled her phone out of the depths of her sweater pocket. “I believe she works at a car rental place until nine. I’ll ask if she’s able to meet us after work.”

  Karen watched eagerly, almost hungrily, as Lucky made the call. Tracey sounded hesitant when she realized it was Lucky calling, but that soon turned to enthusiasm when Lucky explained that Matt’s mother wanted to talk to her. “Can we pick you up at work when you get off?”

  “No. Come around to our place. Matt’s and mine, I mean. We have a roommate but he won’t be in so we can talk. Tell Mrs. Keller I’m looking forward to seeing her again.” She rattled off the address, and hung up. Lucky clutched her phone thinking. The address Tracey had given was Matt’s apartment. She hadn’t been living there yesterday.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No. She said to drop in around nine-thirty.” Lucky glanced at her watch. Eight-fifteen.

  “I don’t know about you,” Karen said, “but I need a drink. And, as I can’t walk into a bar on my own, I guess you’ll have to do. Come on.”

  “Where’s Jonathan?”

  “On the phone. He’ll be there for a long time yet. Business doesn’t stop because of family emergencies. He has a very important deal about to close and negotiations are getting tricky. Some property in the Kootenays, I think he said.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  BEARTRACK TRAIL. BANFF, ALBERTA. MONDAY NIGHT.

  She was a popular girl today. First, Lucky Smith called saying Matt’s mom wanted to meet with her, and then it was Lucky’s daughter checking in.

  Tracey told Lucky Smith she’d meet them at the apartment. She wanted to make sure Matt’s mom knew they were living together. Good thing she’d gone to all that trouble to clean up before going to work.

  “What you smiling at?” Tom said as the clock dragged itself reluctantly toward nine.

  “Nothing.” Tracey involuntarily stretched her aching jaw. Tom smirked.

  Matt’s bedroom door had a lock on it. Good thing, Tracey thought, if Tom was going to be hanging around before Matt got back.

  She was starving, and realized she hadn’t eaten a thing all day. A pot of coffee was kept on the go in the back room, but it was no substitute for food. No point in asking Tom to go out and get her something. In the unlikely event he did as she asked, she’d be afraid he’d spit in it. She remembered boxes of Kraft Dinner in the apartment. No milk to cook it with, but a sizable chunk of margarine would make it edible. She could hardly invite Matt’s mom and Lucky Smith to join in her a pot of Kraft Dinner, and she couldn’t eat in front of them.

  Tracey had told Molly Smith she could meet up for a late dinner. Let her pay. She looked like she could afford it, and she was after information, wasn’t she? Tracey said she was working late. She wasn’t sure why she lied. Afraid, probably, that if she said she was meeting Molly’s mom, then Molly would have no reason to want to talk to her.

  The hands on the clock over the counter turned very slowly indeed. A few cars came in. No more were scheduled to go out. Tom watched her with his perpetual sneer, and she did her best to ignore him. The Corolla he was so interested in, and trying to look as though he wasn’t, squatted in the far corner all day, untouched.

  She locked up the office promptly at nine. Tom had disappeared fifteen minutes earlier.

  She arrived at the apartment to find Matt’s mom and Lucky Smith standing on the doorstep. She wanted to give Matt’s mom a hug, but the woman’s stiff posture and stony face sent the message loud and clear: Stay back.

  “Hi, Mrs. Keller. Nice to see you again. Come on in.” Tracey led the way upstairs and opened the apartment door. Karen’s nose twitched and she visibly recoiled. Lingering traces of pot, stale beer, rotting food, unwashed clothes, and damp towels, all overlaid with the scent of the inadequate cleaning products Tracey had on hand for her task.

  She’d been so proud. Proud of the job she’d done cleaning up, proud to be doing what she could to help Matt. Now, she looked at the apartment through the women’s eyes.

  It was a dump.

  Karen was wearing a camel trench coat with a dark red scarf and brown leather gloves. She made no move to take the gloves off. “Is this where,” she swallowed heavily, “it happened?”

  “Yes,” Tracey said. “But you can’t tell. It’s all tidied up now.” She kept her eyes off the clean patch of carpet.

  “Perhaps,” Lucky said, “we shouldn’t have come.” She looked long and hard at Tracey’s face, as if seeing something there.

  “Boys will be boys, I guess,” Karen said. “I wasn’t aware you were living here, Tracey. I believe when I spoke to my son last, he said he shared with three other men.”

  “It’s a new development.”

  “I see.” Karen walked into the living room. She looked around the apartment, not liking what she saw. Lucky gave Tracey an encouraging smile.

  “The police called me,” Karen said. “Sunday morning. Looking for my son. They’d found my name in his contact list on his phone. I had to say I didn’t know where he was, I hadn’t spoken to him in some weeks. Things have been difficult between us lately. Jonathan thinks I spoil the boy. I only wish I’d spoiled him more.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Tracey said. “He might
not even know we’re all so worried. I bet that’s it. He’s done that before, gone off into the backcountry when he needed to get his head on straight without a word to anyone. Yes, that’s what’s happened. He doesn’t take his phone or computer or anything with him, says he wants to be away from the world. He won’t know there’s a search on for him.”

  “He’s always been like that. When he was a boy, he’d want to get away by himself. You must remember, Lucky. Matt was one of your regular customers, wasn’t he? Even before he got a job and made proper money, he’d be saving his allowance for a new sleeping bag or a Coleman stove.”

  Tracey McMillan and Karen Keller smiled at each other, pleased with their logic. “There’s going to be such a to-do when he comes back to town and realizes the effort the police have put into searching for him. Paul will have a fit.”

  “Paul?”

  “Matt’s father. He never did have any time for Matt’s daydreaming, as he called it. I’ve always said, if Paul would have let Matt be himself, he would have turned out…”

  “All of which is beside the point,” Lucky interrupted, her color rising. “Tracey, have you heard from Matt since we last spoke?”

  “No.”

  “If you do hear from him,” Karen said, “will you tell him to call me?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d appreciate it, dear, if you could let me know immediately when you hear. Before calling his father or the police, I mean.”

  Lucky chewed her lip, but said nothing.

  Karen looked around the apartment. She went to the window and pulled back the dusty white sheet that served as a curtain. Passing cars threw light from their headlamps into the room, illuminating the lines of stress and worry on the women’s faces. “I’m sure this is a lovely view during the day.”

  “It is,” Tracey said, pleased Karen was trying to find something good to say about their home. She should offer her guests a drink. But she didn’t have tea, and the coffee in the cupboard was instant, and there wasn’t milk or cream to go with it anyway. Unlikely either Lucky or Karen were the sort to quaff domestic beer straight from the bottle.

  “You and Matt don’t live here alone, do you?” Karen asked.

  “We need help with the rent so we have roommates. One of them left this morning, and I’m hoping the other will be gone soon. He’s not very nice.”

  Karen dug in her Coach bag and placed several new twenty-dollar bills on the coffee table.

  “I don’t need…” Tracey began.

  “You’ll have expenses until Matt gets back. I want to help. It’s not much.”

  Tracey felt tears behind her eyes. Mrs. Keller looked at her for a long time. “Thank you,” she said at last. “Thank you for caring about my son.”

  Tracey sniffled.

  Karen placed a card on top of the money. “This is my number. Call me any time, day or night, and tell Matt to call as soon as you hear from him. Tell him to phone me before he speaks to his father.”

  Lucky cleared her throat. “The police…”

  “The police,” Karen said, “can wait. His mother comes first.” She headed for the door, put her hand on the knob. “I’m glad we had this talk, Tracey. I’m sure all will be resolved soon.”

  She left. Lucky followed.

  Tracey shut the door, and leaned up against it. Wow, Karen Keller wasn’t such a snooty bitch after all. Her stomach grumbled. She eyed the money on the table. Better save that in case she needed it to help Matt. Let Smith buy her dinner.

  Chapter Forty-six

  CHINA WOK RESTAURANT. BANFF, ALBERTA. MONDAY NIGHT.

  More expense. Smith sighed and put away her phone. Tracey wanted to meet for dinner. No doubt she’d expect Smith to pay. Wouldn’t be so bad if she actually wanted to eat, but she’d indulged in a huge ribs and fries dinner and about the last thing she needed now was more food.

  Hopefully Tracey would choose some place more down-market this time.

  It was shortly after ten o’clock. Tracey said she’d be at the China Wok on Banff Avenue in fifteen minutes. This time Smith drove herself into town. Sylvester bounded happily in the back. She didn’t intend to have much to drink, not after last night. She’d been to Reds, trying to find out what she could about Matt. The place was quiet so the staff had time to talk. Unfortunately, they had nothing to say. They didn’t socialize with Matt after work, didn’t know much about his life or where he lived. Didn’t know and didn’t care. One of the waitresses, a tall icy blonde, mentioned that Tracey came in sometimes, sat by herself and nursed a drink for hours, watching Matt through adoring eyes.

  Smith finally ran out of questions to ask and people to ask them of. She killed time waiting for Tracey to call by taking Sylvester for a walk down Banff Avenue, the town’s main drag. Cascade Mountain, its outline visible in traces of moonlight, framed the end of the street. Along with the usual array of tourist shops both cutesy and junk-filled, galleries featuring local art, and high-end women’s fashions, the town sported some pretty good wilderness equipment stores. She peeked in windows, drooling at the array of supplies, while Sylvester sniffed under lampposts and left messages telling any dog who might follow that he’d been here.

  She was debating coming back tomorrow when one particular store was open and trying on the ski jacket in the window when Tracey called.

  By the time Smith got Sylvester back to the car and arrived at the meeting place, Tracey was seated, with a bottle of beer in front of her while she studied the menu. The restaurant was decorated the same as every Chinese restaurant Smith had ever been in. Walls colored red and gold. Small tables, unadorned by tablecloths or candles. Paper-wrapped chopsticks and a couple of small bottles of sauce. This time of night, on a holiday Monday, the place was empty other than Tracey and the waitress who bustled over, smiling, to greet Smith as she entered.

  “Just green tea for me, please.”

  “You’re not eating,” Tracey said, disappointment in her voice.

  “I had dinner earlier. You go ahead. I’ll get it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your face. Did someone hit you?”

  Tracey flushed, and dipped her head into her menu. “Of course not, don’t be silly.”

  “Hardly silly. What happened?” The girl’s jaw was bruised, looking as if she’d fallen and it had struck the pavement. Or someone had held it, hard. “It’s fresh, must have happened within the last couple of hours.”

  “Nothing happened. I bumped into a door. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “Never heard that one before. Have you seen Matt?”

  “No! Not since Saturday, as I keep telling people. And even if I had, Matt never hit me. He wouldn’t.”

  “Someone did.”

  “Drop it, will you? Why are you so sure, anyway? Are you a nurse or something?”

  “Not a nurse. No.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Ready to order?” The waitress’ smile was stiff, her eyes wary. She’d heard the raised voices.

  Tracey requested egg rolls, General Tao chicken, green beans in spicy sauce, and steamed rice. Smith repeated that she’d have green tea.

  Tracey had nothing new to tell her, and Smith realized the girl had only agreed to meet hoping for another free meal. She should have been annoyed, but something about Tracey’s vulnerability touched Smith deep inside.

  She hoped Matt Keller was worthy of this intense, loyal young woman.

  She doubted it.

  She remembered Matt as a strutting high-school athlete, popular among his peers and the girls, center of attention, cocky in school, minor troublemaker out of it. The young Matt wouldn’t have given this timid, insecure girl a second glance. She was young, very young, compared to Matt’s early thirties. Not hard to see what Tracey saw in Matt, but the other way? It wasn’t even as though Tracey had some money behind her. No accounting for taste, Smith reminded herself, and it had been
a lot of years since she’d known Matt Keller.

  People could change. Couldn’t they?

  Smith sipped tea while Tracey ate.

  “You gonna tell me what happened to your face?” Smith said as Tracey scooped up the last of her rice and sauce.

  “A guy at work. His name’s Tom. He shares the apartment with Matt. It’s nothing. He’s on edge. We all are.”

  “You’re on edge, as you say. Have you hit this Tom?”

  “Of course not.”