Part 2 (1/2)

Lorraines upper lip twisted. ”As if,” she said, ”Id go anywhere with a d.y.k.e cop. I value my reputation, you know.”

”Its not like that.” And it wasnt. Molly Smith had a BA in Social Work from the University of Victoria. Shed been about to get her MSW when shed dropped out and, after a year of aimless wandering, applied to the Trafalgar City Police.

Police and social workers sometimes stood on opposite sides of the fence. And, as if she didnt have enough problems, Molly Smith occasionally found herself straddling said fence.

”I have a boyfriend, Molly. A nice guy, okay? Im going to his place now.” Lorraines make-up was thickly applied, dripping in the snow melting off her hair. She wore a proper winter coat, although one elbow and a seam in the right shoulder were patched with duct tape. Her boots were good, but they looked too big for the girls small feet. Probably from the Salvation Army. Her scarf was full of holes, but at least it protected her neck. ”Were gonna have a real Christmas,” she said. ”With presents and a tree and everything.”

”That sounds good.” And it did. Too bad the boyfriend couldnt, or wouldnt, pick Lorraine up and escort her to this Christmas wonderland. Although, Smith had to admit, Lorraine LeBlanc had good reasons to keep a prospective beau well away from her family.

Particularly as Mom and Dad were spending the night in the drunk tank.

”The sidewalks are icy, Lorraine. Watch your footing.”

”Ive been out after dark before.”

”Night, Lorraine.”

”Hey, Molly.”

”Yeah?”

”Merry Christmas, eh?”

”Same to you, Lorraine. Same to you.”

Evans came out of the shop, ripping the packaging off an Oh Henry. He stood beside Smith, watching Lorraine slipping on the icy streets. ”Whatd that s.l.u.t want?”

”Come on, Dave, give the kid a break. You know what her lifes like. Dawn hauled Mom and Dad off to the cells tonight. Nice family Christmas.”

”Tough. But shes still a cheap s.l.u.t.”

Chapter Three.

”Hes not here, and I dont know where he is. Theres nothing unusual in that. He likes to play at keeping people waiting for him.” Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth looked the girl standing in the doorway up and down, not trying particularly hard to hide a sneer. No matter: the stupid girl didnt seem to know an insult when one scored a direct hit on her b.u.t.t.

The girls lanky hair and the shoulders of her second-hand coat were covered in snow. She was making a puddle on the mat at the front door.

”You might as well go home,” Wendy said. ”If, and I mean if, he comes in, Ill tell him to call you.”

”But...I dont...I mean, he promised. He said hed call before he came to pick me up. He didnt, so I came over anyway. I figured his cell phone ran out of juice.” Her voice trailed off.

”My brother promises a lot of things. To a lot of people. Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but he doesnt believe promises are worth f.u.c.k all.” What she said was true, and Wendy wasnt too bothered by the tears that welled up in the girls eyes, or the way her chin quivered.

”Nonsense.” Mrs. Carmine helped the visitor divest herself of her coat. ”Im sure the young men will be back soon. In the meantime, Ive prepared a lovely meal. Youre welcome to join us, dear.”

Whatever. Wendy went back to the common room. Where, she had to admit, lovely was the appropriate word. A fire roared in the fireplace, spreading warmth and light. It was only gas, but was a good imitation of a real wood fire. The Balsam Fir in the corner was green and tall and fat, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with delicate ornaments and colored lights. The side tables held wooden decorations, small and lovingly carved, of a manger scene, an Alpine village in winter, and Santas workshop. Nine big red stockings, names painted on them in bright glitter, crowded the mantle above the fireplace.

The interloper gasped at the sight. She stepped toward the mantle and reached out her hand, stopping just short of touching the stocking with her name. ”Its beautiful.” Her voice cracked.

Wendy rolled her eyes.

”I made one for you, Lorraine,” Mrs. Carmine said with a big smile. She was short and fat, her hair gray and badly cut, her eyes small and dark like a rats. She wore a red velour tracksuit covered with a white ap.r.o.n decorated with gingerbread people. Except for the eyes, she looked exactly as one might imagine Mrs. Claus.

Mrs. C, as she insisted her guests call her, had gone all out to create the perfect Christmas setting.

It would be hard not to enjoy it.

Wendy was not enjoying it. Theyd accepted Mrs. Cs suggestion-okay, her quiet bullying-to have a traditional Christmas Eve in the common room. But Jason had left hours ago, and hadnt come back, and no one had seen Ewan since yesterday.

”Were going to get old waiting for them,” Sophie said. ”Its long after midnight. Hi, Laurie.”

”Lorraine.”

Theyd flown in from Ontario and Quebec. A group of friends getting together for a ski vacation in British Columbia. A cozy B&B in Trafalgar. Days on the slopes, nights in the bars. Christmas cheer and New Years revelry.

It had all gone wrong, almost immediately. Although that shouldnt have been any sort of a surprise, Wendy thought. She shouldnt have come. These were her brother Jasons friends, and she didnt like any of them. Now Jason had taken off, leaving her to celebrate Christmas with his university buddies. And the awkward local girl hed collected like a dog collects fleas-a wide-eyed child who was anything but innocent.

G.o.d f.u.c.king bless us, every one.

Wendy threw herself onto the couch. ”Jasonll be here soon. I dont want to open our presents without him. It was his idea to have our party tonight, so we could hit the slopes first thing tomorrow.”

”Get real, Wendy,” Jeremy said. ”Jason found something more interesting than us, and hes snuggled up in someones bed getting his private Christmas present.”

”He wouldnt,” Lorraine said. Light from the fire reflected off her washed-out blue eyes. ”He invited me to come. For his away-from-family-Christmas, he said. He wouldnt forget that.”

Wendy pulled out her phone, one more time, and dialed Jasons cell. Again, it went to voice mail. Maybe he had run out of juice, like Lorraine said. But that didnt explain why he wasnt here. He had to know she was waiting for him.

”You can sulk all you want.” Alan said. He switched his smile to ”on” like the actor he was and turned it full force onto Mrs. C. ”Im in the mood for Christmas. And speaking of something better, Ill bet theres something here for me.”

The landlady laughed. ”You have to wait, just one minute. Kathy, help me in the kitchen. You stay right there, Sophie,” she said to the girl whod only leaned over to nuzzle the back of Alans neck. ”I dont need any help.”

Mrs. Carmine and Kathy, her daughter, returned moments later, carrying trays precariously balanced with gla.s.ses of pale yellow eggnog, platters of sliced shortbread, mince tarts, cheese and crackers.

”I have something to add to that.” Alan ran up the stairs and was back a moment later, clutching a bottle of Champagne. Being Alan it was the real stuff-Mot et Chandon.

”Nice,” Jeremy took the bottle from him. Sophie, Alans girlfriend, ran toward the tree. ”You have to open mine first. You must.”

Alan swept Sophie up as she pa.s.sed. ”Let me get you some Champagne first.”

Everyone jumped as the cork popped out of the bottle. With a big grin, Jeremy held it high. Wendy was still looking at Alan and she saw the cloud flash across his handsome face. Hed wanted to do the ceremonial opening, to continue being the center of attention, but Jeremy had upstaged him. Alan never liked to be upstaged.

Rob and Kathy held the gla.s.ses while Jeremy poured the drinks into an a.s.sortment of champagne flutes, beer mugs, and wine gla.s.ses. Kathy beamed at Rob who seemed impervious to her charms, modest as they might be. Alan threw himself into an armchair, smile fixed in place. Lorraine accepted her drink with wide eyes and brought the gla.s.s slowly to her lips.

Pearls before swine.

When everyone was served, Mrs. C clapped her hands in delight. ”Presents, presents. We must have presents.”