Under Cold Stone A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (31 page)

“Hey,” Tracey said, “you never told me that. You pretended you were trying to help.”

“I was trying…I am trying to help.”

Matt started at Smith for a moment. Then, to her surprise, he burst out laughing. “Of all things. You, the wilderness kid with the hippie parents and the funny name, a cop. Me, the cop’s kid, a waste-of-space, wanted for murder. Makes about as much sense, I suppose, as Lucky Smith sleeping with my dad. Your mom said you still ski.”

“Whenever I can.”

“Me, too. I was planning on teaching Tracey this year. Guess that won’t happen, eh?”

“It still can.”

“Okay, Constable Smith. You win. I’ll come with you and hand myself over to good old dad. Probably be a feather in your cap, eh?”

More likely a stern talking to for not immediately reporting Matt’s contact with Tracey. Smith kept the thought to herself.

“I’m running out of freeze-dried food anyway. Never could stand that stuff. Got anything else to eat in there?”

She handed him two granola bars. “Where’s your things?”

He jerked his head toward the trees, as he unwrapped one bar. The second he stuffed into his pocket.

“Matt,” Tracey said. “Are you sure?”

“No. But it’s what I gotta do. I guess I knew that all along.”

Chapter Fifty-five

BIG EDDIE’S COFFEE EMPORIUM. TRAFALGAR, BRITISH COLUMBIA. TUESDAY AFTERNOON.

As soon as lunch was over and Paula and Beowulf had waved good-bye, John Winters made a phone call. Robyn Winfield answered on the first ring.

He thought he might have to persuade her to meet with him. Instead she sounded almost eager. She suggested Big Eddie’s in ten minutes.

The last thing Winters wanted was another coffee. But they had to meet somewhere, and he wasn’t ready—yet—to request she come into the station. Sometimes, such was the policeman’s lot.

Robyn told him she was shocked, shocked to hear about the setting of the trap. Then she shrugged and said, “Some people take the protection of the planet very seriously indeed. I’ll mention it at the next meeting of the action committee. Remind everyone we don’t want to put lives in danger. Although,
some people
don’t seem to think the lives of wild animals are of any importance.”

“You are aware that the trap was illegal, in the first place, and secondly, it was a deliberate attempt to injure someone? We will be investigating, and charges will be laid.”

“If you find the person who did it. If I have any information I’ll be more than happy to share it with you.”

“Tell me about Steve McNally.”

“What about him?”

No denial at the name. So, it was McNally at the demonstration. “Might he…know someone…who’d set the trap?”

“Steve’s committed to the protection of the planet. As am I. Other than that, I don’t account for him, and he doesn’t account for me.”

“He has a reputation, you must know that, of going beyond non-violence.”

She shrugged. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I’ve heard the talk. If it’s true, no one was hurt.”

“Lucky maybe.”

“He’s never been charged with anything.”

“Lucky then.”

She had fabulous blue eyes, the deep turquoise of the Caribbean Sea. Winters suspected she used colored lenses. Her red hair was cut very short. Her skin was tanned and lightly freckled, and she used no makeup. She wore jeans, well-worn but not tattered, and a Save the Whales t-shirt under a black leather jacket. As she sipped her coffee, she focused those lovely eyes on him.

She made him very uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He suspected she was laughing at him.

“This is a serious matter,” he said.

“And I take it seriously. We are talking about nothing more than the survival of our planet…”

“Save me the lecture. All we’re talking about is a handful of people from Vancouver or Calgary who want to spend their vacation time in the mountains.”

“It grows, you know. One little development here, one small hotel there. What’s the harm? A couple of luxury lodges. Soon you have a multi-lane highway and a nice new Walmart for all those people to shop at. Dam the rivers, cut down the forest, starve the bears, kill the fish.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “It has to stop somewhere. It will stop here. One way or another.” She downed her drink and shoved her chair back. She studied the scattering of people in the room. Early afternoon on a Tuesday, the clientele mostly consisted of young people, the sort who had jobs in restaurants or shops, not in business offices or city hall. A few teenagers off school early, a group of gray-haired women dressed in lululemon relaxing after yoga class.

“People.” Robyn lifted her arms in the air. “Please, can I have your attention?”

The clatter of cups and buzz of chatter stopped. Eddie looked up from the cash register and Jolene stopped halfway across the floor, a tray of quiches and salads in her arms.

Robyn, Winters had to admit, had a commanding presence. She paused, long enough to ensure every eye was on her. Her arms were outstretched, inviting them all into her circle.

He could do nothing but sit and fume.

“There will be a demonstration tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock at the Grizzly Resort. I’m going to protect that wilderness with my body. With my life if necessary. We have to stop those bulldozers and diggers. Is anyone with me?”

“Yes!” a young man, long hair tied back under a blue bandanna, shouted.

“How about you?” Robyn pointed to the yoga women.

They glanced at each other, hesitating. One of them leapt to her feet. “We’ll be there.” Her friends nodded, not entirely enthusiastically.

Winters stood up. “That’s enough.”

Robyn pumped her fist into the air. “Eight o’clock. Spread the word. We’ll show them what the people of Trafalgar can do.”

The teenagers cheered.

“This is over,” Winters said. “Let’s go.”

“Or what, you’ll arrest me?” She focused her intense sapphire eyes on his. Her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear. “Washed-up, small-town cop, you have no idea what you are dealing with. Get your hands off me,” she shouted, although he had made no attempt to touch her. She spun back to face the room. “This isn’t a police state, not yet.”

Winters knew when to make a strategic retreat. He walked out. Jolene threw him a strained smile as he passed.

What the hell was Robyn playing at? She’d pretty much invited him to show up tomorrow with a full complement of officers and arrest her. In full view, of course, of as many townspeople as she could gather. No doubt she’d be giving the media plenty of notice.

Media. Attention. Make a big enough scene, she might get some national focus. Nothing like attractive young people courageously lying in the mud or fastening themselves to trees in defiance of a row of bulldozers to make the front page of the major papers. Add police stepping in to move them, and she might even get herself on the CBC national news.

Winters marched back to the station, fury rising. He’d been played like a cat played a particularly stupid mouse. No more friendly chats in coffee shops. Next time he spoke to Robyn Winfield, it would be in interview room number one. Was it possible Paula had been in on it? Setting him up?

Probably not. Paula had no guile in her. She seemed to genuinely like him and had been happy to help.

Robyn would have known he’d be wanting to talk to her. All she had to do was sit back and wait for him to stick his head out of the mouse hole.

For the first time, John Winters wondered if the trap had been set, after all, for him.

Chapter Fifty-six

BANFF NATIONAL PARK, ALBERTA. TUESDAY AFTERNOON.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Smith asked. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

After an initial burst of exuberant energy, Tracey had begun dropping back. Matt Keller and Molly Smith were forced to slow their pace so she could keep up. Matt took Tracey’s hand.

“First, how’d you get a phone to call Tracey?”

“I went down the trail, closer to town. Sat on a log and put on a sad face. A couple came by and I told them I’d lost my phone and needed to contact my pal who was meeting me. I figured even if I was on the news, tourists wouldn’t have paid any attention.”

“True enough. Tell me what happened that night. You called your dad. Said you’d found your friend dead when you got home. Was that the truth?”

“Yup.”

She studied his face. She saw no cunning. No attempt to lie or to excuse himself. Then again, she was a lousy judge of character. “Why’d you take off?”

He slowed. “Tracey, you walk ahead.”

“Why?”

“Please?”

“Okay.” She let go of his hand and skipped down the trail. Tracey, Smith thought, did not seem to realize how serious this still was. She was happy, just to know Matt loved her so much he couldn’t leave without her.

Sometimes, that’s enough.

But not often.

“I recognized him.”

“Recognized who?”

“The guy who killed Barry.”

“Geez, Matt. Are you sure?”

“Sure I recognized him, or sure he killed Barry? Both.”

“All the more reason to tell the police.”

“I don’t…I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Barry was a scumball, pure and simple. Always looking for the main chance. Not smart enough to be a big-time crook, dumb enough to keep stepping into the shit and thinking it was his big break.” Matt snorted. He studied the path beneath his feet. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“Barry was into something criminal and his partner got mad at him. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not partner. But yeah, he screwed up, probably got greedy and had to be taken out of the picture.”

“You’re involved in this business too, are you? What is it? Drugs probably.”

“Not me. I’m no genius, but I like to think I’m smart enough to stay out of that sort of trouble.”

“Why then are you so reluctant to go to the police? If this guy is after you, trying to shut you up, you’re better with the police than hiding behind trees.”

“Maybe. Moonlight…”

“Call me Molly. I hate that stupid name.”

“Molly.” Matt lifted his head. He watched Tracey, trudging up the trail. They were keeping their voices low and every once in a while she looked over her shoulder, checking that Matt was really there. “She’s a good girl. A great girl. A lot better than I deserve.”

“Do the right thing for her. The right thing is not leading the life of a fugitive.”

“Hard to know, sometimes, what’s the right thing. How many lives can I ruin?”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“
Au contraire
, I am finally coming to my senses. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Molly. I guess I’ll find out when I find out.”

“You know who killed Barry. Tell me. You’ll be telling the Mounties soon enough.”

They started at a squeal from up ahead. Tracey stumbled over a tree root. She pitched forward, arms windmilling. She hit the ground with a yelp of pain.

Matt reached her in two quick strides. “You okay?”

She flipped onto her rump, and gave her head a good shake. “I think so.” She held out her hand, and he pulled her to her feet. She turned to him with a smile that would light up the night woods. He did not release her hand, and they walked on together.

Smith glanced at her watch. Three-thirty. They’d be back at the car before dark. She’d hand Matt over to his father, and then head out of town. She’d have to drive through the night, but she wanted… she needed… to be home.

Chapter Fifty-seven

BANFF SPRINGS HOTEL. BANFF, ALBERTA. TUESDAY AFTERNOON.

Lucky spent the day doing nothing. Nothing but worrying.

She’d hoped that after their talk yesterday, Karen would want to be, if not exactly friends, at least no longer enemies, but when Lucky suggested lunch, she’d been brushed off with an abruptness verging on rude. Karen was regretting her confessions.

Lucky ate lunch alone, once again not tasting the food and barely registering a word of the novel she’d brought to keep her company.

She’d expected Moonlight to call, to say she was leaving and were there any last-minute updates. But she hadn’t.

It hadn’t been fair of Lucky to ask Moonlight to come. The girl had her own life to live.

Adam seemed like—he was—a good man. He adored Moonlight, as well he should, without being overly protective or possessive. In the early days of their relationship Moonlight told her mother she worried that when they were on the job, Adam would feel he had to look out for her, rather than treat her like any other officer. But they didn’t work for the same force, so didn’t usually find themselves working together. And when they did, he was learning to keep a professional distance.