Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

bitch’ they were screaming at?” Her voice broke, and Andy reached out and took her hand. She burst into tears. He jerked his head toward the door, telling Smith to leave them.
    She ignored him. “Is that what this is about? Is it, Mom? You didn’t tell the police you knew trouble was brewing because you don’t want to admit that I’m a cop? Well, tough. My life is not about you.”
    ***
    The wide patio doors at Eddie’s were open to the morning breeze, but a chair with a Closed sign propped on it blocked the entrance. Winters could see Eddie and Jolene moving about inside. He knocked on the glass. “It’s going to be one heck of a busy day, and I need a fix fast.”
    “I bet you do,” Eddie said. “Big trouble last night, I hear.”
    “And today’s the official announcement.” Winters climbed over the chair.
    Eddie poured coffee. “It might be a mite strong yet.”
    “Strong is good. I had two hours’ sleep last night.”
    “No charge, Detective.”
    Winters smiled, for the first time in what felt like days. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He put a toonie, a two-dollar coin, on the counter.
    Eliza was due back from Toronto this afternoon. Come hell or high water, he’d pick her up at the airport. Hopefully hell wouldn’t be the right word.
    He carried his coffee into the station. No one was at the front desk. He put his head into the dispatch office. “Morning, Ingrid.”
    The night dispatcher rubbed her eyes. “Morning already? Wow, you got coffee from Eddie’s before opening. You must be special.”
    “That’s what my wife tells me.”
    Ingrid grinned. “First coffee and then my news to make your day.”
    “What news?”
    “Vancouver called. Charles Bassing was arrested in a punch-up outside a Gastown pub.”
    “Sweet.” Both Ellie Montgomery and Frank Clemmins claimed to have never met Bassing, nor to have heard Montgomery talk about him. Unless something else came to light, which Winters didn’t expect, Bassing had nothing to do with the Montgomery killing. But it would be nice to see him put away for what he did to Molly’s friend.
    “And Ron Gavin has something for you,” Ingrid said.
    “Even sweeter.”
    He went to his office and called Gavin. “Don’t you ever sleep?” he said when the forensic investigator answered.
    “Not when duty calls. Actually, I haven’t started to examine Harris’ truck yet. But the officer who brought it over found something interesting. A Rolex Oyster watch in the glove compartment. Inscribed ‘To Reginald on his birthday. Love, Mother.’”
    Montgomery.
    “It was such an anomaly my guy called me about it right away. The back of the truck that picks the garbage up from the front of my house Monday mornings is cleaner than Harris’ truck. He seems to have been living in it. It’s a forensic investigator’s wet dream. We’ve been waiting for something to compare with the hairs found on Montgomery. This guy’s truck is so full of DNA we could clone him.”
    “Not that I’d want you to. I’ll send someone round to get that watch. We need to ask the wife to identify it. Let me know what else you find, eh?”
    “Will do.”
    Winters leaned back in his chair. If he could tie Harris to the Montgomery murder…. Early days yet, better not to get too excited. Anyone could pick a dropped watch up off the street, which is no doubt what Harris’d claim had happened. What motive could Harris have for killing Montgomery, anyway? They were, theoretically, on the same side. No point in speculating.
    He picked up the phone and called the cells. “I hope Mr. Harris had a restful night.”
    “Slept like a baby,” the custody officer said. “Better than you can say for me.”
    “I need to talk to him.”
    “He’s called his lawyer. Guy’ll be here at ten.”
    “He arranged a lawyer himself?”
    “Yup.”
    The legal aid lawyer usually came from the coast. It could be days before he, or she, got here. Harris was from out of town, yet he already had a lawyer on tap? He must have known he’d be running into trouble.
    “See you at ten.”
    ***
    Harris was a sullen, arrogant bastard. He sneered at Winters through his battered face and rubbed his tongue across his cracked upper lip at Smith, while his lawyer was getting paper and pen out of his shiny new briefcase. Winters informed them that the interview was being videotaped as well as recorded.
    Smith hadn’t slept a wink. The riot kept repeating itself in her mind, over and over: a bad movie