She remembered the way her mothers eyebrows rose in a question when, from that day on, Moonlight had mocked, ridiculed, slandered, disparaged Doug Whiteside every time his name came up. Even more embarra.s.sing, Lucky probably knew why her att.i.tude had changed so abruptly.
Smith barely missed colliding with a snow-laden Douglas fir. She dug the edges of her skis in and came to a hockey stop in a swirl of cold powder.
Who the h.e.l.l did all that remind her of?
She took refuge near the tree, getting out of the way of anyone who might be coming down, before pulling her helmet off and rubbing at her face.
Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth didnt have a good word to say about her brothers friend, Ewan Williams. What was it Smith had overheard Wendy saying about Ewan?
When it came to women, he liked to sc.r.a.pe the bottom of the barrel.
Chapter Twenty-four.
John Winters read the e-mail from Doctor Shirley Lee confirming that the body of Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth would be released to the funeral home arranged by his family.
He took his gla.s.ses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Hed arranged to come in to work later today, thinking that rank had its privileges and hed take the privilege of enjoying a pleasant, relaxing New Years morning at home, breakfast on the sun porch, catching up on the newspapers. Perhaps hed bundle up later and go for a run. A perfect morning following a perfect evening out with his wife.
It hadnt quite worked out that way. Instead, Barney had come with them to dinner, and hed been woken by the sound of the phone ringing and Barney chattering in the computer room next door as she made calls to re-arrange her schedule, having been unable to get a flight out yesterday. Barney wanted to go to town at noon to see the annual polar bear swim in the Upper Kootenay River. John Winters had absolutely no interest in watching a pack of people without a lick of common sense between them jump into an icy river. But Eliza asked him to drive, and, like a good husband, hed put the newspapers aside and done so.
Winters swiveled his chair and looked out the window. The sun was shining in Trafalgar, but there were several mountain ridges between here and Castlegar, and that meant a lot of weather. The one oclock flight had gotten away, but it had been full, and Barney was booked on the later one.
Hopefully tomorrows planes would leave on time. It would not be good for Patricia Wyatt-Yarmouth if she had to spend hours in the waiting room while the body of her son lay next door in the cargo area.
With the departure of Doctors Wyatt-Yarmouth the friends would also be heading back to Ontario. He had no reason to keep them in Trafalgar, but once they were gone it would be difficult, if not impossible, to continue with the investigation.
Whether Ewan Williams death was deliberate or accidental, one of his friends had to know a lot more than they were saying.
Winters stared out the window. An old van, the sort of Volkswagen Kombi that had bounced down the road to Woodstock, clattered up the hill, puffing and wheezing as if, like an old timer still trying to keep up with the kids, its age was catching up with it. The inside was loaded with young people and the roof with skis. Ewan Williams had been alone, supposedly, when he left the B&B on Sunday evening after the days skiing. He was never seen again. At least not by anyone who was prepared to tell the police so. He had met a woman earlier that day at the lodge and arranged to meet her at a bar in the evening. He hadnt arrived. Winters had sent an officer to the bar to check that the woman, Marilyn Chow, had told Smith the truth. Chow was attractive enough that the bartender had no trouble remembering her. Hed watched her sitting in a table in the corner, alone, for about an hour, and then leave, alone, at the time shed told Smith she had.
Winters mentally checked the hard-to-accept scenarios off on his fingers. The B&B wasnt in the wilderness, and there were only a few blocks of well-travelled and well-lit city streets between it and the Bishop and the Nun. Ewan was on foot: if hed had an accident on the way into town, someone would have reported it. If hed been mugged he would have been rumbled and left on the sidewalk for a pa.s.ser-by to find. If hed changed his mind and was heading for someplace other than the Bishop, the same rules applied. Ewan didnt have a vehicle except for the rented SUV, which had not gone missing, so he would have been walking.
He might have been picked up. A random or serial-type killing, Winters dismissed off hand. Hed come back to that if necessary, but right now the idea was way out in left field. Someone Ewan knew, one of the men hed been in a fight with because of paying attention to the guys girlfriend? Unlikely. Ewan didnt seem to be naive enough to accept a lift from someone hed offended.
Lucky told Molly shed heard that Alan and Ewan had sparred over Alans girlfriend, Sophie. Clearly the incident hadnt been forgotten: Winters remembered the dirty look Alan had given his girlfriend when the discussion had come around to Ewans s.e.xual habits. He made a note to have a talk with Alan Robertson.
Ewan had stepped out the front door and disappeared for twenty-four hours. It was highly likely hed never left the grounds of the Glacier Chalet B&B.
Winters thought about the property around the lovely old house. Neat gardens and perfect lawns, now covered in deep snow, backing up against a patch of woodland. No fence, the lawn was outlined by perennial beds.
What do you find in a forest? Lots of wood. Dead branches.
Tomorrow, when everyone was back after the holidays, hed get the Mounties forensic team crawling through those woods.
Jason had been at Lorraine LeBlancs house in the hours before his death; his bright yellow SUV parked on a city street in clear view of any one pa.s.sing. Highly unlikely hed left a dead body in the front seat while he went inside for his Christmas Eve supper with Lorraine. So he had to have found, or recovered, the body between leaving Lorraines and midnight, when he went off the road. Where had Jason told Lorraine he was going when he left her?
Back to the B&B.
Like a movie unraveling in his head, Winters tried to play out the last movements of Jason Wyatt-Yarmouths life.
He leaves the LeBlancs around nine, telling Lorraine to join him later at the Glacier Chalet. He gets into the car while Lorraine watches from the door. Jason drives back to the B&B. Does he get there? Winters had sent reserve officers down the street, asking if anyone had seen the yellow SUV parked at the B&B between nine and midnight. A few people said they might have, but they were unsure about the time, or even the day.
For now, Winters would a.s.sume it had been there. The movie continued.
Jason parked the car, but didnt go inside. The house was busy with preparations for the midnight celebration, someone would have seen or heard him.
Why didnt he go inside? Did he remember something he had to do? Buy a last minute gift, perhaps? As he drove through town, Jason would have noticed that the stores were all closed.
Winters watched Jason get out of the car. With a flick of his finger on the remote door-lock he takes a step toward the house. Its snowing heavily.
Someone steps out of the shadows. Snow covers head and coat. He or she had been waiting.
Why is someone else involved? Jason could have been coming back to get the body hed stashed earlier.
Again, unlikely. Jason had, by all accounts, not behaved that day like a man with the death of his best friend on his mind. Like his friends, Jason thought Ewan had met up with his date and it had gone so well he was still with her. Apparently it wasnt out of character for Ewan to instantly drop the company of his friends when he found more pleasing companionship.
In John Winters private movie, the figure waiting for Jason stepped out of the shadows. The streetlight shone into her face. Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouths expression was bleak and her face was wet with melting snow and tears.
Winters stopped the movie, and thought about Wendy. A bitter and angry young woman, who appeared to be veering perilously close to the edge of a breakdown. One would think that with all the money and influence her parents had, theyd have taken her to a good therapist. Maybe they had, and it wasnt working.
Or maybe they hadnt. Maybe the depth of Wendys problems had only started coming to the surface on this vacation.
He glanced at his watch. Almost four. He had one last chance to get Wendy to tell him what she knew before she left tomorrow.
He reached for his coat.
Chapter Twenty-five.
The main room of the lodge was full of people changing out of their heavy outerwear, removing boots, stuffing accessories into back packs, talking over the day on the slopes. The kitchen was closed, only the hot beverage and dessert counter still open for last-minute business.
Smith went downstairs to hand in the radio. There was time for another run, but she was no longer in the mood.
The old guy was behind the desk. "Good day?" she asked.
"Wish every day was so quiet."
"Then youd be out of a job."
He laughed. "Back tomorrow?"
"Wouldnt miss it."
Kathy Carmine was sitting on a bench removing her boots. Her face shone with happiness and cold and exercise. She waved at Smith. Her pleasure was almost infectious, and Smith smiled at her. "Have fun?"
"The best day ever."
"Wheres Rob?"
"Im such a slow-poke that he wanted to spend some time skiing by himself."
"Is the rest of his crowd here?"
"Wendy and Alan and Sophie came with us. Jeremys still in jail." Kathy giggled. "Sorry, forgot that was your fault."
Smith had been skiing powder all day, and her arms and legs ached. Time to get out of here. As soon as she got in cell phone range, shed call Christa and ask her around for pizza and a movie. With Charlie back in town, Smith had promised herself shed keep a close eye on her friend.
She climbed the stairs once more and grabbed her backpack from the hook where shed left it. She rummaged for her water bottle and took a long drink. Tucked into one corner of the lodge was a small bar with a scattering of seats arranged around a wood-burning fireplace. Flames jumped as the bartender tossed in a fresh log. Every seat was taken and men stood three deep at the bar. As Smith put her water bottle away, the crowd shifted and she could see Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth, lifting a wine gla.s.s to her lips, sitting alone against the far wall. Her yellow ski jacket hung on a hook behind her.
Wendy swallowed the remainder of her wine and waved her gla.s.s at the waiter.
Smith went into the bar.
"Not you again," was Wendys greeting. Her eyes and nose were very red and her words were slurred.
"Mind if I join you?"
"There isnt an empty chair."
"Ill stand."
The waiter put the drink on the table. Someone had carved a pair of initials, surrounded by a heart, in the dark wood.
"Getcha something?" he asked, picking up the empty wine gla.s.s.
"No, thank you." The man walked away. Wendy drank deeply. "Your friends will be ready to leave soon," Smith said.
"I dont have any friends."
"What about Rob and Alan and the rest?"
"Jasons friends. Always Jasons friends." She finished the drink. "Get us a bottle, will you."
"How much have you had, Wendy?"
"Not enough for it to be any of your business." She hiccupped. The waiter pa.s.sed with a tray overflowing with mugs of beer, and Wendy shouted at him to bring a bottle.
Smith touched the mans shoulder. "Cancel that." He shrugged and pa.s.sed around the drinks. The table next to them was crowded with six young men packed around a table for four. They crashed their mugs together and cheered.
Smith leaned over and spoke into Wendys ear. "Its too loud in here. I told the waiter to bring our drinks outside. Lets go."
"What?"
Smith lifted Wendys elbow and guided her out of her chair. "I wanna another drink."
"h.e.l.l bring it outside."
"Okay." Wendy let herself be led. She was wearing ski boots and tripped over the chair leg. She stumbled against the young mens table. Beer mugs wobbled, and men grabbed for them. "Hey, watch it. Stupid drunk."
"Its all good." Smith gripped Wendys arm, and with her other hand grabbed the girls helmet off the table and jacket down from the hook.
The main room of the lodge was busy with families packing up at the end of the day. Smith spotted an unoccupied, battered old couch close to the center of the room, and led Wendy to it.
Through the big windows, Smith could see a line of cars heading down the mountain. The earlier promise of snow never arrived and the clouds had left to dump their load someplace else. The winters night was closing in fast, although a full moon was low in the sky to the south.
She threw Wendys things on the couch. "Im going to look for your friends, okay? I saw Kathy downstairs earlier."
"Kathy thinks shes gonna get Rob just "cause she wants him. Not gonna happen. Why are women so dis...disillusional?"
"You wait here, Wendy, okay?"
The girls eyes were glazed and unfocused. She wasnt hearing anything Molly Smith was saying. "Robs too polite to tell her to get lost."
Smith started to walk away. Over the din of the lounge, she caught one word that had her spinning around and crouching down beside Wendy.
"What was that?"
"I said Rob needs to be more like Ewan. And Ewan needed to be more like Rob. He was a f.u.c.ker."
"So Ive heard."
"No loss to the world now hes gone."
Smith took a deep breath and settled herself on the edge of the couch, beside Wendy. "Its tough when you like a guy like that, isnt it?"
Wendy started to cry. Although she wasnt really starting, just releasing another round of the tears that had been there all day. "Wheres that d.a.m.n bottle?"
"You told him you liked him, didnt you? What happened then? He laughed, Ill bet, right?" Smith had a feeling that perhaps she shouldnt be having this conversation. This was out of her league. Shed take Wendy to her friends, then call Sergeant Winters and ask for help.
She stood up. "Come on, lets find the others."
"I want another drink."
"Too late, Im afraid. The bars closing."
"Doesnt matter. Weve ordered. Go get it."
"Where are you supposed to meet the others?"