Under Cold Stone A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (25 page)

“You don’t have a sister,” Tracey said.

“Sure I do.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of any book.”

“You mind your own business, Trace, and I’ll mind mine. Okay?”

“Mr. Simpson will not be happy if he finds out you’ve asked paying customers to run personal errands.”

Tom walked up to her, standing very close. Before Tracey could back away, he took her chin in his right hand. His muscles clenched and his fingers constricted. She shook her head, trying to get free. His grip tightened. “I said, bitch, mind your own business. Think Simpson wants to hear how you’ve been mooning around worrying about Matt so much I’ve had to correct all your mistakes?”

“You haven’t.”

“I have if I say I have.”

He looked into her eyes for a long time. Her skin crawled. Her jaw ached, her teeth forced so tightly together they hurt. For the first time, Tracey wondered if Tom knew something about Matt’s disappearance he wasn’t telling. Telling her or the police. Would Jody lie for Tom if he asked her to?

Yes. If Jody thought she was in love with the prick.

“There are things about Matt the cops would like to know,” he said. “If I decide to tell them. Do we understand each other, Trace?”

What things about Matt? Everyone had secrets, at least everyone Tracey knew, things they’d just as soon the police not know about. Was that all Tom meant? Or did he mean something about the death of Barry?

She forced out a nod.

Whatever that business about the book, and she’d seen that it was only a book, it had nothing to do with Matt. Therefore, nothing to do with her. She kept a lot of things that went on around here to herself.

“Good.” Tom gave Tracey’s face one last hard squeeze, twisted her neck, and then abruptly released her. He grinned. “Very good.”

A cube van drove into the lot and Tom went out to check it in.

Chapter Forty-four

BANFF SPRINGS HOTEL. BANFF, ALBERTA. MONDAY EVENING.

Lucky Smith had to decide if there was any point in staying here much longer. She was due to be at the store on Wednesday morning, and Paul was due to be behind his desk. She’d be able to call on the staff to fill in for her, and Paul was, after all, the boss. But this hotel wasn’t cheap, and certainly not with meals in restaurants and a separate room for Moonlight. The hotel wasn’t full, so there should be no problem extending their stay. Paul would be sure to want to do so.

How long could Paul remain here? They might not find Matt for weeks, months even. She would never say so out loud, but he might never be found. The Canadian wilderness was an enormous, empty place, even in this busy national park. An accident, a fall down a cliff, a broken leg. Plenty of animals to drag a body away or bury the bones.

She wiped at her eyes. She couldn’t imagine how Paul could bear it. The simple
not knowing
of it.

If she asked him what he wanted her to do, he’d tell her to go home. She doubted that was what was in his heart. No, she’d stay as long as he did. If they didn’t find Matt, perhaps even more if they did, he would need her support.

She tried to read, but the minutes until dinnertime ticked by so slowly. She had the spare keys to Moonlight’s car, and decided to pop out and take Sylvester for a quick walk. Sylvester would like that, and so would Lucky.

As could be expected, his greeting was enthusiastic and effusive. After many scratches and much oohing and cooing, she refreshed his water bowl and let him run in the woods for a couple of minutes. Then she held the back door open and gestured for him to get in. Tail sweeping, ears up, he made the leap. His back left leg crumbled and he collapsed onto the ground. He recovered quickly and jumped into the car. No harm done. This time.

Sylvester was getting old, although he was still in good health and spirits. It wouldn’t be too many more years before…

Lucky burst into tears.

She was getting old. Paul was getting old. Andy had already gone.

She reached into the car and wrapped the dog in a tight hug. She buried her face in his soft fur and wept. At first, Sylvester snuggled into her embrace, but soon he tried to wiggle free. She held him tighter and wept all the more. She didn’t know why she was crying. For herself, perhaps, for her lost youth and for the unstoppable passage of time. For Paul, who was aging before her very eyes as each hour passed with no news of his son, and for Moonlight, who had come to help and now chafed at her own helplessness because she loved an old dog whose ears smelled bad and who suffered from arthritis in his hips.

Sylvester whined and at last Lucky released him. She gave him a pat with one hand and wiped her eyes with the other. He gave her face a lick, and then he glanced at the driver’s seat. Telling her to get in and take him home. He had rabbits to chase and a fireplace to stretch out in front of.

“Soon,” she said. “Soon. We’ll all be going home soon.”

Back in the room, she splashed cold water on her face and got ready for dinner.

Moonlight was waiting in the restaurant, but she was alone.

“The chief’s tied up. They’ve got a lead from someone who called to say he saw a man of Matt’s description heading out of town on a hiking trail in the early hours Sunday morning. He and Blectha are at the trailhead waiting for the police dog to join them.”

“That’s good news, right? The dog will find him?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mom,” Moonlight said, studying the menu. “That’s what we thought had happened. It’ll be dark soon, and they can’t do much without daylight.”

“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.”