Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

to solve. Bicycles were easily transportable, easy to hide, and there was an eager market for the stolen goods in Vancouver.
    “You wanted to see me, John.”
    He looked up. Smith stood in the doorway. Her face was pale and her eyes tinged with red. People would think she had a slight cold. “Your bike was stolen the other night. Tell me about it.”
    She wasn’t expecting to have been called in off the street for that. “Why?”
    “I’ve been staring at the damned computer for too long. My head hurts.” He rubbed his eyes. It was getting increasingly hard to read small print if the light was poor, and the computer monitor was giving him headaches. He feared that he was going to need reading glasses soon: reading glasses, and before you knew it, it was a walker and spilling soup down your shirt front. “Let’s go pick up a coffee. My treat. We can talk on the way.” He stood up, trying to ignore the slight twinge in his lower back. “I’ve read the report on the loss of your bike, Molly, but I’m wondering if there’s anything more you can add.”
    The equipment on her belt jingled as she walked. “It was gone, that’s all, the cable lock cut right through. If you don’t mind my saying so, John, as much as I’d like to get it back, I can’t see why you’ve been called away from the Montgomery murder to worry about my bike.”
    He explained about Rosemary Fitzgerald and his search for the person who’d stolen her bike close to the time Montgomery was murdered.
    There were no customers at Big Eddie’s. Eddie was behind the counter, reading the newspaper. Winters ordered a large coffee, strong. Smith asked for a hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. They carried their drinks outside. Cars drove by, but there were few pedestrians on the streets. It was the dinner hour for those with regular jobs.
    “You saw a bike in the process of being pinched,” Winters said, “from the Tourist Info Center.”
    “Yeah. Arrogant bastard. I can’t believe he didn’t see me in that alley.”
    Winters stopped walking. “What did you say?”
    She licked at the tower of whipped cream. “He was so cool, he didn’t even bother to look around to see if anyone was watching. Just broke the lock and took off.”
    “When you found Montgomery, you were on your regular rounds, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you normally check out that alley?”
    “Of course.”
    “Round about the same time, every shift?”
    “You can’t set your watch by the time I’m at the corner of Elm and Front. But I’ll usually go down that way sometime between eight thirty and nine thirty, if it’s a quiet night.”
    “Goddamn it. You’re the common denominator, Smith.”
    Comprehension dawned, her blue eyes opened wide and her pretty face settled into angry lines. She threw up her hands. Chocolate splashed over the rim of her cup. “Hey! I’m not pinching bikes. Ask Solway, she saw me chasing the guy.”
    “I’m not accusing you of stealing them, Molly. Just of being in the vicinity when it happens. Look, we know of three bikes being stolen in the past week. One—Rosemary Fitzgerald’s around the time you could be expected to pass by on your rounds. Two—your own bike. And three—when you saw the guy in action.” He threw his half-finished coffee into a trash can. “I want to see your shift records for the past six months, and check them against the bike theft reports. And while I’m at it, we’ll look at other minor crimes. Stuff stolen from unlocked cars, for example. See if there’s a spike when you’re working.”
    “Please, no,” she said. “You don’t think I’m in enough trouble without creating my own private crime wave.”
    “You’re creating nothing, Molly. But if I’m right, someone’s watching you.”
    ***
    Smith and Winters watched the program in the chief’s office. It was not quite as bad as they’d feared.
    “Makes Ashcroft look like a bully,” Jim Denton said, giving Smith a smile that was meant to be encouraging.
    “Makes me look like a storm trooper,” she said.
    “The bully impression isn’t doing us, or Molly, any good,” Winters said. “It implies that the big bad wolf is bullying sweet little red riding hood who happens to be a female officer.”
    Keller pressed the remote and the TV went black. “Not a wolf, nor a storm trooper.” He leaned his elbows on his desk and folded his fingers into a pyramid. “But a public relations disaster no matter how you look