Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

lawyer?”
    Winters meant the question to be rhetorical. Lucky didn’t take it so. “Because I got pregnant with my son Samwise, and because Andy was on the run from the Selective Service and without government-sponsored child care and….”
    “Please, Lucky. The point.”
    “Kevin Sorensen and Robyn Goodhaugh. Very, very passionate animal rights types, although I suspect he’s just following her lead. Robyn’s been heard to say, or so I’ve been told, that the Grizzly Resort is equivalent to the opening of the earth down to hell. The Hellmouth, she calls it.”

Chapter Twelve
    “Your mother told me your full name.”
    “Oh for God’s sake.” Smith slapped the steering wheel. She was trying to make her way through the world as a competent adult. A cop, no less. That god-awful name haunted her. “It’s completely embarrassing.”
    “I thought it was nice,” Winters said. “The exhausted, but thrilled, young mother looking out her window and seeing the light of the moon reflecting onto freshly fallen snow.”
    “Moonlight’s not so bad, I guess. But they had to follow it up by a ridiculous name from
The Lord of the Rings
.”
    She could tell by the look on his face that she shouldn’t have mentioned it. “My mom didn’t tell you my middle name, did she?”
    “No.” He was smiling now; it made him look almost likeable.
    “Legolas.” She practically spat out the word. “A fey elf. One of the Fellowship of the Ring. Utterly humiliating. In school one of the teachers suggested that I try out for the archery team. I considered showing her an arrow, all right.”
    Her parents had been
Lord of the Rings
fans back in the day. Smith’s brother Sam was a hotshot corporate lawyer in Calgary. She wondered if his blue-blood wife knew that his proper name was Samwise. When the
Lord of the Rings
movie came out a few years ago, Smith had been horrified to see that the actor playing the elf Legolas bore a strong resemblance to her. Tall, lean, thin face, high cheekbones, long, straight blond hair the texture of corn silk. She had not gone to see it.
    Sergeant Winters laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, straight from the diaphragm. She felt a smile tug at her mouth.
    “We all have our crosses to bear, Molly. I had a classmate who gloried in the name Robin Hood. His parents should have been shot.”
    When they walked into the dentist’s waiting room, the wide-eyed receptionist buzzed the doctor without a word.
    All of two seconds passed before he made an appearance. The dental hygienist peeked out from a side room.
    “I’ll be making an official complaint about this harassment.” Dr. Tyler was puffed up and full of his own self-importance. Smith decided on the spot that he wasn’t guilty of the murder of Mr. Montgomery. If he were, surely he’d be a bit more ingratiating.
    “That is, of course, your privilege, Dr. Tyler,” Winters said. “But if it would make you more comfortable, we’ll continue this discussion down at the station.”
    Tyler deflated slightly. “I wouldn’t want to take up your time.” He turned on his receptionist. “Shouldn’t you be going home, Gloria? It’s past closing.”
    She yanked at a drawer in search of her handbag. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Pens, highlighters, markers, a stapler, packets of brightly colored Post-it notes, and a heavy-duty tampon spilled out. The hygienist laughed.
    Tyler spun around. “The office is closed,” he yelled. “If you repeat anything you heard here today, you’ll be fired, the both of you.”
    The women grabbed lunch bags and purses and scrambled for the door. Smith’s brother had once briefly dated Rachel, the hygienist. They exchanged glances, and Rachel tripped over a loose bit of linoleum.
    “Common gossips, both of them. It’s difficult to get competent help in this damned town,” Tyler said.
    Smith pulled her notebook out of the pocket at her thigh.
    Winters got to the point. “I spoke to your wife earlier.”
    Tyler threw himself into the receptionist’s chair. He didn’t offer his visitors a seat. “A boring conversation, I’m sure.” He spun the chair around in circles.
    “Don’t make too much fun of this, Doctor. Murder is a serious business.”
    Tyler studied his nails.
    “You told me,” Winters said, “that you were with Mrs. Montgomery until eight forty-five and then you went home.”
    “Which is what happened.”
    “Your wife says you didn’t get in until after ten.”
    He stopped