"I thought he got six months."
"Parole. For good behavior."
"Good behavior! Are you freaking kidding me?" Christa turned, grabbed a gla.s.s candleholder off the table and moved to throw it against the wall. Lucky touched her arm. "Tea," she said, taking the object and putting it back in place. "Moonlight will explain what parole means."
Smith and Christa followed Lucky into the kitchen. It was barely large enough for the three women. There were only two chairs. Lucky set about putting the kettle on and rooting through the cupboards for mugs and spoons, tea bags and sugar.
Christa dropped into a chair. "So explain."
Smith leaned her b.u.t.t up against the kitchen counter. "His parole has conditions, Chris. Hes not allowed to contact you or to come within two hundred meters of you. If you see him, or if he calls you, youve got to call us...the police...right away."
"And h.e.l.l be sent back to jail?"
"Well, uh, the parole board will take it under considera tion."
"By which time Ill be dead, right Molly?"
Lucky dropped a mug. It hit the cracked linoleum floor and shattered.
It was the morning of December thirtieth. Ray Lopez was still on leave, as were the two most senior constables and Staff-Sergeant Peterson. Tonight and tomorrow night there would be a full complement of officers working, but theyd be kept busy on the streets. Winters had dragged Molly Smith half-way around town yesterday, on her day off, and she was on duty tonight. Shed be sound asleep this morning. He couldnt call her up and ask for help.
He pushed back his chair. Hed have to pound the pavement himself.
At least it was a Sunday: people would be at home.
Driving through the snow-covered streets, he thought about last night. Doctor Patricia Wyatt-Yarmouth sipping mimosas in his own living room. Earlier, hed decided to visit Jasons parents this morning to explain why he wasnt releasing their sons body.
Instead, realizing that Eliza and Barney would offer her more support than she was likely to get from her own husband, hed carefully told Patricia about the strange circ.u.mstances of Ewans death. Shed remained calm, although she finished her drink quickly and asked Barney for another. She asked medical questions that Winters had been unable to answer. She was an intelligent woman, a surgeon of international reputation after all, and instantly realized that the circ.u.mstances of Ewans death, and where his body had been found, raised questions about Jasons conduct on the night in question. And, although no one mentioned it, the boys friends and Jasons sister as well.
He offered to drive her back to her hotel, but she insisted on calling a taxi. Somehow Eliza and Barney ended up in the cab with her, and he was glad Patricia had the company.
He hadnt heard his wife climbing into bed beside him.
Aspen Street was steep and narrow and difficult to negotiate at the best of times. The day after a heavy snowfall was not the best of times. In the older parts of town many houses didnt have garages or even driveways, so cars parked on both sides of the street year round. The snowplow had been unable to do much other than sc.r.a.pe off the middle of the road. Parking was haphazard; cars scattered across snow packed into ice. Several vehicles hadnt been moved in days and resembled car-shaped snow sculptures.
The neighborhood was an eclectic mix of modern structures of brick and gla.s.s and wood, heritage houses restored to early twentieth-century glory, and heritage houses that couldnt remember their glory days, if ever theyd had such a time.
The LeBlanc home was one of the worst. The neighbors on the left had erected a tall fence: stiff, varnished wooden planks standing like soldiers protecting their owner from sight of the run-down property.
But Winters wasnt here to call on the LeBlanc family.
He went up and down the street, knocking on doors, considering himself lucky to find most people at home. At each house he asked if anyone had noticed a yellow SUV on the street on Christmas Eve. Fortunately that was an easy day for most people to remember.
Unfortunately no one had noticed much of anything. A few of the neighbors gave him their uncensored opinion of the LeBlanc family. He thanked them and moved on.
He was heading back to the van, dreaming of a mug of Eddies strongest coffee, when a blue Toyota stopped in the middle of the road. The woman behind the wheel rolled down the window and gestured to him. Hed spoken to her at the first house hed called upon, but she had nothing to tell him.
He crossed the street.
"Ive picked up my mom from Church," she said. "I mentioned youd been asking about Christmas Eve and she said she might have something to tell you."
A fragile, white-haired lady smiled at him from the pa.s.senger seat.
"Follow me," the driver said.
He did so.
He was invited in for tea. Outside, the house was warm wood and gla.s.s. The inside was modern and spa.r.s.e, painted neutral colors with lots of mirrors and pale hardwood floors topped by what real estate agents called cathedral ceilings.
He was led into a small room overlooking the street, crammed with heavy, dark, old-fashioned furniture. Black-and-white and faded color photographs sat on round white doilies, covering every surface. The last time hed been in air this warm, hed been in a sauna.
Winters was offered tea, which he accepted only because he suspected that the elderly lady liked a cup after church.
The daughter left to get the tea, and the older woman, introduced to him as Mrs. Frances James, sat on a stiff-backed, wooden-armed chair covered in brown and orange print. She placed her large black patent leather handbag on the floor beside her. Feeling like the Detective Inspector in a mystery novel of the cla.s.sic age, Winters leaned against the fireplace-electric, unlike those of the cla.s.sic novels.
"I do wish Ruth would at least allow the children to accompany me to ma.s.s on occasion," Mrs. James said. "But she sees fit not to. Except for Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday.
"Speaking of which, when Ruth picked me up at Church she mentioned you were asking about events on this street on Christmas Eve." Mrs. James waved her left hand. The diamond on her third finger wasnt much smaller than the Koh-I-Noor.
"Thats right. I..."
"When my husband died, my daughter and her husband were kind enough to invite me to come and live with their family here in your lovely town." Mrs. James thin lips were outlined in deep red lipstick and pinched in disapproval. Winters guessed that she wasnt all that happy living at her daughters invitation, but shed die before admitting it. "I accepted, realizing they need help with the children. It is difficult these days, what with families requiring two incomes." If Mrs. James hadnt been such a lady, she would have spat on the floor. "It was understood from the beginning Id need my private s.p.a.ce." Another twist of the lips. "They arranged this room for my use. Isnt it lovely?"
It wasnt lovely at all, at least not to John Winters eyes. But it did sit at the front of the house, with a big bay window and a clear view of Aspen Street. And the LeBlanc home. Which was all that mattered.
The door opened and a tea tray came in, followed by Mrs. James daughter. She placed the tray on a gla.s.s-topped wooden table with ornate legs. "Thank you, dear," Mrs. James said. "Its rather cool in here. Turn on the fire, will you."
"Sure, Mom." Ruth grimaced at Winters, but she flicked the switch to start the electric fire.
He took a seat by the window.
Mrs. James poured the tea. "Sugar?"
"Please."
She placed two slices of shortbread on the saucer and handed the cup to her daughter. Ruth gave it to Winters.
"This is my moms sitting room," Ruth said. "She spends a good part of her day in here. She might have seen something on Christmas Eve, right, Mom?"
Mrs. James touched her cup to her lips. Winters nibbled at a cookie and repressed a sigh. Mrs. James, he thought, only wanted to be entertained.
But she surprised him. "I must confess to an officer of the law that I find the goings on across the street to be as entertaining as the television, if not more so. However, I wont go on too much. Youre interested in Christmas Eve and the day before, Ruth tells me."
"Yes maam."
"My name is Frances. In my youth people called me Franny. Not at all dignified, was it? Never mind. Back to Aspen Street. I dont sleep at all well these days. Old bones cant quite settle. I often get out of bed and sit here where I can look out on the street and read for a while." Two books were on the table beside her chair. The one on top had a picture of a statue of Beethoven on the cover. Cemetery of the Nameless, it was called. Nice t.i.tle.
"It was the night before Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve Eve the children call it. They were getting most excited. Supper was long over. The children had gone to bed. Id watched a movie with Ruth and Joe and came in here to read before turning in. When I sat down, I happened to glance out onto the street. Ruth said youve been asking about a yellow vehicle, what I believe you call an SUV. I saw one parked outside number 484. Two men came out of the house. I can tell you, Mr. Winters, they were in a most dreadful state of agitation. Yelling and waving their arms and generally carrying on. As I watched, one of them struck the other." Her pale blue eyes shifted and she looked at Winters to judge his reaction.
He kept his face impa.s.sive. Hard to tell, sometimes, if a witness was telling you what they saw or what they thought you wanted them to have seen. Or even what they thought would make them sound the most important.
"Can you describe the men?" he asked.
She shrugged thin shoulders. "One of them was the boy whos been living there the past few weeks." Gary. "The other was tall, dark haired, quite nice looking."
"Come on, Mom, you couldnt see his features from here."
Mrs. James huffed. "I am an excellent observer. Youll note, Sergeant, that despite my daughters sarcasm, I have not mentioned the color of his eyes, or that he had a dueling scar running down his left cheek. I am merely reporting what I observed. The street light is located at the end of their path, remember. You," she glared at her daughter, "can believe what you will. Or not.
"They punched at each other, but I suspect they had some trouble keeping their footing in the snow. They never shovel the walk over there, you know. Its quite a hazard. Ive a mind to call the city about that."
"The fight, Mom. You saw a fight."
"Yes, I did. She was there, that girl who lives there."
"Lorraine?" Winters asked.
"Ive no idea as to what her name might be. In my day shed have been driven out of town, but these days we look past her behavior to the life the poor girls had to live. Well, most of us do." Mrs. James sniffed toward her daughter.
"If youre referring to the time we..."
"What happened with the fight?" Winters interrupted.
"They pushed and shoved at each other. The girl stood on the stoop yelling at them. And that was about it. The tall one, the one I didnt recognize, pushed the other man into a s...o...b..nk and got into his car. The girl joined him, and they drove away, leaving the man sitting in the snow." Mrs. James threw back her head and laughed, showing teeth yellow and misshapen. "He did look rather comical trying to stand up.
"More tea, Sergeant?"
"Tea? No, uh, no thank you."
Mrs. James talked for a bit longer, but she had nothing more to report about the fight shed witnessed on Christmas Eve Eve.
So Gary and Jason had a fight on the steps of the LeBlanc home the night Ewan disappeared. Presumably the fight had been over Lorraine. And Lorraine had then left with Jason.
Winters s.n.a.t.c.hed another piece of the excellent shortbread and finished his tea before saying good-bye and thanking Mrs. James for her help. He left his card on the table beside the chair overlooking the street. He considered signing the old lady up as a police informer, but decided that the daughter might have some objections.
He was in the van, turning the key in the ignition when the thought struck him.
A tall, dark man had fought with Gary LeBlanc, while Lorraine (and Mrs. James) watched. Hed a.s.sumed the man had been Jason. Jason who was involved, apparently, with Lorraine.
A white man, tall, dark, brown hair. A yellow SUV.
The description suited Jason.
It didnt fit Ewan, who was a good bit shorter, and slimmer, than his friend. Mrs. James wasnt much taller than a garden gnome; to her almost everyone must look tall.
Other than being white, young, short haired, and physically fit, the two men didnt look much alike.
Did the similarities count for more than the differences?
Could Ewan have been killed in mistake for Jason?
And did Jason, realizing that, panic?
Chapter Nineteen.
Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth was still staying at the Glacier Chalet Bed and Breakfast. When shed phoned her parents hotel looking for a room, the receptionist had almost laughed out loud. As Mrs. Carmine hadnt pushed her bill under her door, she decided to stay put.
Shed listened at the top of the stairs, checking that all was quiet, and peeked over the railing into the common room to ensure it was empty. She snuck out of the house and walked into town to meet her parents at Georges for breakfast.
It had not been a pleasant meal. Her mother obviously wanted to talk but her father kept shushing her as he threw dirty looks at pa.s.sing waiters and the occupants of nearby tables as if they were all here only to listen in on the familys troubles.
They left half-finished plates and no tip and went out to the street. Wendy wrapped her scarf around her neck. Her mother touched the wool. "Is this new, Wendy?"
"Nice, eh?"
"I saw one almost exactly like it in the craft store yesterday. Handmade. It was lovely, but very expensive."
Wendy lied. "Got it at a second hand place on Queen West."
"Never mind the G.o.dd.a.m.ned scarf," Doctor Wyatt-Yarmouth Number One snapped. "I want to know what the h.e.l.l were going to do now."
"We can do nothing," Doctor Wyatt-Yarmouth Number Two replied, as she took Wendys arm and began to walk. Her husband followed. "The news isnt good, honey," she had said.
The front door closed behind her. Wendy stood to one side and peered through the etched gla.s.s. Her parents were heading back to town. They walked together, but so far apart that her father was almost stepping into the road and her mother had one foot in the s...o...b..nks. Wendy twisted her hands.
Shed managed to stay calm while her mother told her that the police had doubts about Ewans and Jasons deaths. Doubts, Wendyd asked, how can they have doubts? Theyre dead.
Patricia explained what shed learned from Sergeant Winters while Jack puffed and fumed.
Wendy listened quietly and told her parents that shed be perfectly fine and planned on joining the others at the ski hill later. Her parents had walked her back to the B&B.
From behind the front door, she watched them round the corner, turning left, toward their hotel. Wendy left the B&B and marched down the street. She went right, into town. When shed bought the red and gold scarf at the craft gallery shed seen a fabulous necklace of beaten gold set with stones so blue you could imagine swimming in them. It would be perfect for a blue summer dress.
She couldnt afford the necklace, but right now she deserved a dose of retail therapy.
Murdered. The police thought Ewan had been murdered.
Lucky Smith drove Moonlight to her apartment.