by Vicki Delany
The knife clattered to the ground. “Get down, get down,” Evans yelled. The man dropped. Evans holstered his gun and was on him. Only when he had the cuffs on, did Smith put the Glock away.
The man lay face down, arms bent behind him, Evans’s knee planted in his back. Evans looked at her. They exchanged a glance, and she felt the tension flow out of her body.
It had all happened so fast, she hadn’t even had time to be frightened.
Evans hauled the man to his feet. He hadn’t said a single word. He was on some heavy stuff.
“Show’s over,” Smith told the watching crowd, grown as news of a potential knife fight or gun battle spread through the Potato Famine. “Get lost.” She turned to the biker with the snake tattoo. “Your friend’s under arrest. You can visit him tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “No friend of mine. He sat beside me at the bar. We had a couple drinks, complained about this damned boring town. The music was shit.” He tossed his head toward the smallest of the group, the one who’d been on the ground when Smith first arrived. “That guy got up to go to the can, knocked his arm and spilled his beer. Wouldn’t apologize, so he,” with a nod to the man being stuffed in the back of the car, “figured he had to teach him some manners. Hell, can’t let a good fight go to waste. Didn’t know he’d pull a knife on a cop. Sorry about that.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Smith said. “I see your face again tonight, I’m taking you in.”
“I like a lady with spirit. I’m at the Falls campground. Drop around after work.”
“Get lost.”
He walked away, chuckling. His new best friend followed.
Dave Evans waited for her beside the car. Only one person was left. The man who’d been egging the fighters on. He was thin, pale, dressed all in black.
“Show’s over,” Smith snarled at him. “Go home.”
“Shoulda let them draw some blood,” he said.
The door to the bar flew open. A man ran out. He looked around, eyes wide and panicked. His fly was half undone. A woman peered over his shoulder. She was a brassy blonde, dressed in a short skirt about two sizes too small. Her lipstick was smudged and the buttons on her fluffy blouse done up incorrectly.
“Where the hell have you been?” Smith shouted. “I coulda used some help here.”
“Sorry, officer.” It was the Potato Famine bouncer. “Rodney’s sick tonight and I was on my break.”
“You take a break half an hour before closing time?” He’d been on the job about two weeks. She’d make sure tonight was his last.
She got into the car, and Evans drove away.
The man in the back snored all the way to the station.
Chapter Twenty-nine
John Winters tapped on the open office door. “Got a minute?”
Paul Keller looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. “Happily. The city council is meeting next week to discuss cutting the police budget. They always discuss cutting the police budget, and I always point out that they get what they pay for, and so they reluctantly agree to fund us for another year. It’s like the dances in those stupid movies Karen likes. Historical costume dramas, where everyone knows the exact steps. I’ve often wondered why they even bother. The dancers as well as the city councilors. Sometimes I wish I was back out on the streets, I can tell you, John.”
Keller looked well this morning, Winters thought, which made a change. The chief had been run down lately. New lines had appeared on his face, the bags under his eyes were deeper and darker, and his color wasn’t good. But this morning he had a sparkle in his eyes and his cheeks were pink. Although a coffee stain marred the right sleeve of his white uniform shirt.
“How is Karen?”
Keller shot him a glance. Trouble on the home front, Winters thought. That would explain the stain.
Keller glanced at the open door. They could hear Barb on the phone. Out in the hall someone laughed.
“Shut the door, will you, John.”
Winters stood and did as asked. When he got back, Keller said, “She’s left me.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s been coming for a long time. Now the kids are gone, I’m surprised she didn’t leave earlier. We’ve simply been going through the motions the past years. She’s found herself a lawyer and the house is going up for sale next week.”
“That’s tough. If you want to go out for a beer one night, to get out of the house, let me know.”
Keller didn’t appear to hear him. “There is, I guess everyone will find out soon enough, another woman. Here I am, going on fifty and I’m in love.”
Lucky Smith.
Keller gave Winters a grin. “I’m guessing you didn’t come in to ask me about my love life. What’s up?”
“Greg Hunt. Owns Alpine Meadows Realtors.”
“What about him?”
“His name’s come up in connection with Brian Nowak.”
“Really? That’s news to me.”
“Which is what I wanted to ask you. I don’t see any mention of Hunt in your notes on Nowak’s disappearance.”
“Don’t think he figured in any way. We canvassed the neighbors, of course. Talked to people Nowak worked with and socialized with. Put a notice in the Gazette and other papers in the Kootenays asking anyone with information to come forward. Never heard from Hunt.”
“You know he has a record for theft?”
“Now that you remind me, yes. I’d forgotten about that. I see him around town sometimes, Rotary and stuff. He was on probation when he moved back here. He seems to have kept his nose clean ever since. Have you found something to the contrary?”
“No. Perfectly respectable businessman. Prominent member of the community. He came to me on his own, said he was interested in the reopening of the Nowak case because they’d been friends. Wanted to know what I’d found.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Just enough to niggle my interest. Makes me wonder if Hunt knows something about the missing ten thousand. He had been some sort of an investment manager before getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”
“You think Hunt killed Nowak for ten thousand dollars?”
“I’ve seen men killed for a heck of a lot less, but that’s not what I’m thinking. If Greg Hunt were the sort to try to cheat a man out of ten thousand and killed him to cover it up, he’d have been in trouble since. Leopard doesn’t change his spots. Hunt appears to have led a quiet life since coming back to Trafalgar. Runs the family business, which is doing well, maintains his mother’s garden, goes to Vancouver every couple of months on business. Where he is unknown to the police. Takes vacation twice a year.”
“But something’s caught your attention?”
“Cop’s instinct? He seemed more interested in a fifteen-year-old case than he should be.” Winters got to his feet. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe he spends too much time watching CSI or Law and Order and thinks he can help us do our job.”
“Another one of those.”
“Thanks for listening. And uh… well, if you need to… uh.”
“Maybe when Karen’s lawyer has started the formal process I’ll invite you and Eliza out to dinner to meet my lady friend.” Keller grinned and his eyes sparkled. “I’m sure you’ll like her.”
I already do.
***
Lucky Smith carried the laundry basket upstairs. Rain drops pattered against the roof and she could hear the trees moving in the wind. It was so quiet.
Too quiet.
The house was always quiet these days. She put the basket on the neatly made bed. The bed where she had slept with Andy nights beyond counting. Where they had conceived two children.
She wandered out onto the landing. She gripped the banister and closed her eyes, listening.
She could almost hear the house coming back to life. Echoes of the children, the family. Sam teasing Moonlight. She always believed everything he said and then would be furious when she found out he’d been making it up. Moonlight’s temper tantrums. No one could have a tantrum like that girl. She would scream to the point of vomiting. Good thing they lived deep in the woods, out of hearing of the neighbors, or people would be reporting them for child abuse. Downstairs Andy would have the television on too loud and would be cheering on one sports team or another. He loved the Seattle Mariners and the Vancouver Canucks. Hated the Toronto Blue Jays and Maple Leafs. Children coming and going, Moonlight and Samwise’s friends visiting, laughing, wrestling, arguing, slamming doors, playing their music, the time one of the kids hit a home run—through the living room window.
She felt tears gathering behind her eyelids. Toenails clicked on the hardwood floor and she opened her eyes. Sylvester, the big sloppy golden retriever, was coming up the stairs. He gave her a long look and barked once, and she realized he hadn’t been outside yet this morning.
She went downstairs, the dog running ahead, and opened the kitchen door.
Sylvester stuck his nose out, got it wet, and hesitated.
She touched his rear with the toe of her slipper. “Out you go, old boy.”
He caught sight of a movement in the woods and dashed across the lawn, barking. Lucky followed, kicking off her slippers. The rain poured down. She lifted her face to the water and raised her arms. She swung around, enjoying the feel of the soft rain on her face, the wet lawn beneath her bare feet. Sylvester came back and ran in circles around her, howling.
She laughed. It’s been too long since I’ve danced in the rain. The dog will think I’ve gone mad.
She twirled and danced and laughed. And if Sylvester had been capable of laughing he would have laughed as well.
Eventually she stopped, and leaned up against the side of the house, breathing heavily. Life, she reminded herself, is too short and too sad to spend it wrapped in memories of the past.
She scooped a wicker basket off the outdoor work table and danced barefoot down the lawn to her vegetable garden. As the rain continued to fall, Lucky Smith picked squash and peas and spinach and popped the last of the cherry tomatoes into her mouth.
Chapter Thirty
“Let’s see the pictures.”
“Don’t have any.”
“Why the hell not?”
“’Cause I didn’t take any, that’s why.”
“Nicole, are you messing me around? Not thinking of going freelance are you? That would be a foolish move.”
“Don’t threaten me, Joey.” Nicole leaned across the table and stared into his black eyes. She’d stuffed the two small twisted pieces of paper he’d given her into her purse. She made sure to have the drugs before giving him the bad news. They were sitting on the patio at Big Eddie’s, an awning sheltering them from the downpour. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and people were streaming into the coffee shop. Business people mostly, grabbing a coffee and muffin to take back to the office. Other than a handsome gray standard poodle, left outside while its owner chatted with friends inside, the patio was empty.
“Not a threat,” Joey said. “A promise.”
She lit a cigarette, leaned back in her chair, and gave a light laugh. A sparrow settled on the table next to them, nibbling at crumbs. “For a moment there I thought you were serious. We’ve got a good deal going here, right? Neither of us is going to do anything to mess it up.”
The vein in his neck stopped throbbing. He unclenched his fists and picked up his coffee mug. “Right you are, Nicole.”
She knew he had a temper and suspected he could be violent when he thought himself provoked. But, knowing which side his bread was buttered on, he’d never shown any trace of violence toward her.
Until now.
She was getting frightened.
“I don’t have pictures to show you because I didn’t have the chance to take any. He wasn’t interested.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Joey, I am not out to cheat you. Get it? That’s not the first time nothing’s happened. I’ve had dates who left me at the front door with a chaste kiss on the cheek.”
“You were all over that big guy. If I hadn’t known it was you I’d almost have expected you to climb up on the bar and spread your legs right there.”
“Don’t be disgusting.”
“You left with him. His friends were drooling as they watched you go.”
“I failed, okay, Joey. I failed. He wasn’t interested.”
And wasn’t that the truth. Give her some credit, she did consider herself to be a professional. She knew how to signal that she was available for sex without, as Joey so crudely put it, spreading her legs.
She’d turned the charm on Adam Tocek. She’d flirted and teased, while at the same time chatting to his friends and basking in their attention, all the time letting them know Adam was the one she found attractive. Fastest way to a man’s wallet is through his ego. They’d bought her drink after drink, but only one of the men was drinking heavily. It had been his promotion party, apparently.
Finally, when a new arrival joined them, and the other men turned to talk to him, she wiggled off her stool and gave Adam a big smile. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I feel a bit wobbly. I’d just as soon not walk back home alone.” She reached out a hand and rested it on his chest, as if needing support. “Can you give a tipsy girl a ride?”
“I’ll call you a cab,” he said.
“Won’t take a minute. I’m staying at my mother’s. It’s not far.” Mention of the mother was a nice touch, she thought. She fingered her necklace. A large blue stone hung at the end of the gold chain. Heavier than it looked, it contained a miniature camera. Another camera was in her purse, in a special pocket with a tiny hole cut into it.
Adam glanced at his friends, as if seeking support. The newcomer made a joke and they laughed. The drunken one stared at her. Nicole took Adam’s arm, pressing her breast against his chest. “They’re having their fun,” she breathed. “Let’s us have ours.”
He tossed a couple of bills on the counter and led the way through the bar.
She wasn’t sure why she’d separated Adam Tocek from the herd. He was young and just a cop, unlikely he had much money. Not married, so not a good prospect for blackmail. Maybe only because he was cute, and it would be nice to screw a good looking guy for a change.
He was Molly Smith’s boyfriend.
Perhaps that was the reason. Molly’d had everything easy in life. Great parents, good family, university education, a job with power and prestige. Handsome boyfriend who seemed to adore her. Pretty soon she’d have the two point five kids and the house in a nice area.
She had a future.
Well, tough luck for Molly. This one time Nicky Nowak would have some of what Molly had.
Except she hadn’t.
Adam Tocek drove her straight to her mother’s house. She didn’t fail to notice he didn’t need to ask the address. No doubt every cop within a hundred miles knew where Brian Nowak had lived. She suggested they go someplace for a drink first. He said he couldn’t drink any more because he was driving. She suggested they go to his place.
He didn’t even answer that one.
He pulled up in front of the house and made no move to get out. “Night, Nicky,” he said.
She purred and leaned close. She ran one fingernail down his cheek. “Sure you don’t want to go someplace nice and quiet, Adam? It’s so early.” For one quick moment, she thought she had him. His face softened and his eyes glazed over. She cupped her other hand behind his neck and started to pull his mouth toward hers.
He jerked back and grabbed her hand. “Good night, Nicky. I’ll tell Molly you said hi.”
<
br /> She got out of the truck without another word and marched up the steps, face burning, heels rapping furiously on the cement. She’d heard his truck roar off into the night.
“Think he’s an arse bandit?” Joey asked her.
“If that’s a rude way of asking if he’s gay, he is not. As flattering as it is to know that you think a man has to be gay not to screw me, I’ve been told some men have morals.”
Joey laughed. “Don’t you believe it. Try again tonight. The more I see of this town, the more I’m convinced there’s gold here.”
A white bundle of excited fur ran onto the patio. The poodle snoozing in the shade of a maple tree opened one eye. The little dog barked in its face, but the poodle simply went back to sleep. The rain had stopped.
A gaggle of young girls ran up the steps. “Scissors, come here,” one of them called. She grabbed the dog and scooped him into her arms. She turned and saw the two people at the table.
“Oh, hi. Remember me? I bet you remember Scissors. I’m Becky.”
“Sure I remember you, Becky.” Joey got to his feet with a smile. “Are these your friends? Hi, girls.”
There were four of them. Three white, one Asian. All had clear skin, shiny white teeth, thin muscular legs, and budding breasts. Becky introduced her friends. Nicole dropped her cigarette to the floor and ground it out underneath her heel. She lit another.
“Why don’t you join us? We can pull up some chairs. Can we get you girls a drink?” Joey asked. “Our treat?”
The girls looked at each other. Then Becky said, “Sure,” and they echoed her. Becky dropped Scissors, and looped one end around a tree and snapped the leash on the dog.
“One of you can help me carry,” Joey said. “What are you having?”
They ordered drinks that were more like milkshakes than coffee and Joey and Becky went inside.
The three remaining girls smiled at Nicole awkwardly and then started chatting among themselves. She glanced inside and saw Joey rest his arm on Becky’s shoulder.
