Part 7 (2/2)

”No thanks. You know I hate the stuff.”

”Your loss.” Keller took a long drink. ”Whats up?”

”Wyatt-Yarmouth and Williams. Car went into the river Christmas morning. All attempts at resuscitation failed.”

”Oh, yes, Im familiar with the situation. In fact, Doctor Wyatt-Yarmouth has been on to me, demanding that I accelerate the process of releasing his sons body. Doctors Wyatt-Yarmouth, I should say. The wife is, as her husband was quick to inform me, a member of the Order of Canada for her contributions to...” Keller waved his can of pop in the air...”the discovery of some thing that didnt make a word of sense to me.”

”Just what we need. Someone who thinks they have political clout.”

”Someone who might indeed have political clout, John. Is there a problem?”

”A big one.” As Winters explained s.h.i.+rley Lees findings Kellers face grew more serious by degrees. ”That,” he said when Winters had finished, ”is not good.”

”Agreed, but is it a murder case? I cant say, yet. Its entirely possible Williams fell and hit his head and lay in the snow for almost a day before his friend found him and tried to rush him to the hospital. In my experience a 24-hour corpse looks nothing like a living person, but Wyatt-Yarmouth might have thought he was getting help for his friend. I checked the weather, and it was minus 5 degrees that night, so the body would have been cold even if he were still alive. s.h.i.+rley has lots of tests to make still. Right now shes leaning toward a blow to the back of his head, hard enough to render him unconscious long enough for the cold and the concussion to kill him.” A blow that was definitely not caused by the contents of a gas fireplace.

Keller drank more c.o.ke. The staff joked, well out of the Chief Constables hearing, that the copious cans of pop he drank were his security blanket now that he couldnt smoke in the building. To his credit, Keller restricted himself to two smoke breaks a day-ten a.m. and three p.m. Although every time he had to leave for a meeting, he could be seen sucking as much nicotine as possible into his lungs before getting into a vehicle.

”What about his friends? Didnt they notice him missing?”

”I havent spoken to them yet.”

”Ill take a wild guess and say they a.s.sumed he was snuggled up with some dolly bird, all warm and comfortable.”

Dolly Bird? Keller sometimes tried to remind everyone, himself most of all, that he too had been hip once upon a time. Although his hipness pretty much remained locked in a time warp from the mid '70s when hed been lucky enough to snag a couple of months in England on a course on counter-terrorism. Fortunately the CCs time warp was restricted to his speech patterns, and not to his understanding of fighting terrorism.

They made fun of the CC quick enough-his incredible tobacco addiction, the ten or more cans of c.o.ke he guzzled every work day, his unfas.h.i.+onable phrases, but they all knew he was a good cop and a fair boss. As far as Winters knew he was the only one who suspected the CCs big secret: the man was in love, had been for many years, with Lucky Smith, Constable Smiths mother.

”What hotel are they staying at?” Keller asked.

Winters hesitated. He could mention the Keystone Kops invasion of the B&B. He could mention what had prompted it. But he decided to keep quiet. Word might never cross the CCs desk, and if it did, Winters would admit hed made a mistake.

He could withstand a mistake easier than Constable Third Cla.s.s Molly Smith.

”Glacier Chalet B&B.”

”Ellie Carmines place. My wife adores that house. She told me once shed dreamt that we bought it. I cant imagine a deeper level of h.e.l.l than owning a B&B. I live in fear thats what Karen has in mind for when we retire. Until you have reason to believe otherwise, this is a highly suspicious death, John.”

”Agreed.”

”So young Mr. Wyatt-Yarmouth-I hate those double-barreled names-and Mr. Williams will remain in the tender care of Doctor Lee until shes learned all she can from them. Are you going to inform the Doctors Wyatt-Yarmouth, or shall I?”

Winters got to his feet. ”I need to speak to them anyway. Find out what they know about their son and his friend.” He had plenty of people to talk to. He needed Lopez. But his partner was on the coast, on vacation. In the past hed taken Molly along, if he thought shed be a helpful listener. Today he was in no mood to make her think she was anywhere near his good books.

Hed manage for now.

Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth tried to come in the front door as quietly as possible. Shed sat in the front seat of the rusty old Toyota Tercel while the girl with the sore foot smoldered away in the back, where, under Wendys careful direction, shed been placed in order to keep her leg straight and her foot up. Wendy gave directions to the Glacier Chalet. When they arrived, the boy leapt out to help Wendy unload her skis, thanking her profusely for her help. The girl glared out the back window with pure white rage.

Wendy wiggled her fingers in farewell as the Tercel slipped and sided up the hill. The boy had wanted to get her number so, he explained loud enough for the girl in the back to hear, they could buy her a drink to thank her for her help. Wendy considered it briefly-not that she wanted to see either of these people again, but just giving the guy her number would probably send the girl into a fit. She wasnt in the mood for that sort of fun, so Wendy said no, and didnt bother to make an excuse.

She tried to nip into the B&B without being noticed, but Mrs. Carmine, who probably heard every mouse in the place scratch its little mouse a.s.s, stuck her head out of the kitchen. She wiped floury hands onto an ap.r.o.n featuring pictures of Mrs. Claus doing her Christmas baking.

Shoot me now.

”Youre back early, dear.”

Feeling that she had to say something, Wendy said, ”Im not in the mood for skiing, Mrs. Carmine. To be honest, Jason was the one keen on skiing.” She swallowed, determined not to break down in front of this well-meaning, but nosy, stranger. ”I left early. The othersll be back at the regular time. Im going to have a nap.”

”Im sorry, dear, but thatll have to wait,” Mrs. Carmine pulled a cell phone, a trendy little purple and silver piece, out of her ap.r.o.n pocket. She punched it only once, meaning a stored number. She turned and muttered something Wendy couldnt catch.

Snapping the phone shut, Mrs. Carmine turned with a smile. ”Theyd like you to remain here, dear.”

”I told you, I need a nap. If I cared, Id ask who would like what, but I dont.” She headed toward the stairs.

”The police, dear, will be here shortly. They have questions about Jason and Ewan. Sad, so sad.”

”Speaking of questions, you shouldnt have sent that woman from the newspaper after me. Id call that an invasion of my privacy.”

Mrs. C braced her shoulders. ”I didnt...That might have been Kathy. Ill have a word with her. You can wait for the police in the common room, unless you want them in your bedroom. Ill put the kettle on. Would you like coffee or tea? Its afternoon, but police officers seem to like their coffee. You go ahead and get settled. Shall I send them up to your bedroom?”

”Ill be downstairs,” Wendy said.

Which was where she was when the doorbell rang. After brief greetings, Mrs. Carmine led a man into the common room.

He was an older guy, about her dads age, but a lot, definitely a lot, better looking. Most of his salt and pepper hair was cut short, not grown into hideously long strands to try, and fail, to cover a bald patch. He had a mustache, black streaked with gray, which suited him as it did few men these days. He was tall and lean, with nothing but a hint of middle-aged belly.

Sergeant John Winters, he introduced himself. He expressed his sympathy at her loss and launched into the questions.

Wendy answered them, as best she was prepared to. Here for two weeks of skiing, theyd arrived in Trafalgar on December 18th. They were friends, but they didnt spend all their time together. She pulled at a tissue in her pocket.

”Tell me about Ewan Williams,” he asked. ”When did you see him last?”

She could blow the cop off. Burst into tears and run upstairs to her room. But hed be back. Guaranteed. She wondered whether to let him know that the reporter had told her there was something suspicious about Ewans death. She decided not to.

”Sunday. The day before Christmas Eve. We went skiing and came back to town together when the hill closed. Then,” she dug for that tissue, and began shredding it in her fingers, ”we went to our own rooms.”

”Mr. Williams as well?”

”Cookies?” Mrs. Carmine came into the common room, all smiles. She carried a tray, groaning under the weight of coffee carafe, cups, cream pitcher, sugar bowl, plate piled high with Christmas baking.

The cops face tightened at the interruption, but Wendy was glad of it. ”You are such a dear, Mrs. Carmine. Isnt she wonderful, Sergeant...uh...whatever? Ill have to spend the next month in the gym, non stop, to get over all these treats.”

Mrs. Carmine made to settle into a comfortable arm chair. Sergeant Winters wasnt shy about telling her, politely, that she wasnt wanted.

She left in a barely concealed huff.

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