Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

from being an attack on the wilderness, I see the Grizzly Resort as a place where generations can be introduced to the true meaning of nature, a meeting of two worlds, if you will.”
    “Sounds perfect to me, Frank. Let me congratulate you on having such foresight. But someone murdered Reginald Montgomery, your business partner, two days ago. How might that despicable act threaten this resort you both worked so hard to bring to fruition?”
    Clemmins squinted into the camera. “It’s made some of our investors understandably nervous. But I’m confident that they’re aware of the value of this project and we’ll be able to continue.”
    “Some people are saying that the cold-blooded killing of your partner, Mr. Montgomery, was committed by activists associated with the Trafalgar Commemorative Peace Garden crowd. What are your feelings about them?”
    ***
    As they drove to the site of last night’s fire. Winters told Smith what he’d learned from his earlier meeting with the businessmen from Japan.
    “Nothing.”
    She refrained from telling him that she’d seen that one coming.
    “They are, quote, shocked and horrified, at the sudden death of Mr. Montgomery. We already know they were with Clemmins for a couple of hours after Montgomery left them on the night in question, so they’re not in the frame. But I wanted to get a feel for how this’ll affect their business plans.”
    “And?”
    “And, if the police don’t solve this in a hurry, and prove that it has nothing to do with M&D Developments, they might, just might, suggest to their bosses that M&D isn’t a good investment opportunity at this time. All of which I learned by reading between the lines, you understand.”
    She drove past Big Eddie’s coffee shop. The French doors across the front were open wide, and a line-up spilled down the street. A neatly dressed middle-aged man appeared to be having an intense conversation with a dreadlocked young woman. People were gathering around. Smith watched them in her rear view mirror.
    “Get someone heading this way in case that scene grows,” Winters said.
    She picked up the radio.
    She stopped at an intersection in one of the leafy residential streets in the original part of town, not far from Christa’s place, to let an elderly lady with a walker cross the street. A face loomed up in her side window, and knuckles tapped at the glass.
    It was Charlie Bassing, as mean and ugly as ever. A few red spots dotted the front of his sleeveless white T-shirt: it looked as if he’d had a nosebleed.
    Smith pushed the button and the window rolled down. “What do you want, Charlie?”
    “Just sayin’ hi, sexy cop. This old guy your boss? Gotta go down on him to keep the job, eh?”
    She wanted to punch his smug face in. Or perhaps shoot his knees full of bullets. He wouldn’t be so tough if he couldn’t walk. Instead she rolled the window back up and stared straight ahead. The old lady was now directly in front of the van. She waved like the Queen on parade and moved a centimeter further.
    Charlie rapped on the glass again. Smith ignored him. They were only a couple of blocks from Christa’s. She’d told Christa to call next time Charlie bothered her. But Trafalgar was a small town, and Christa’s apartment was centrally located; perhaps Charlie really was only passing by.
    “Roll down the window,” Winters ordered.
    “Bet you loved it when the cops let girls onto the force, eh, man.” Charlie turned his bullet-shaped head and spat into the street.
    “Do you want to accompany us to the station?” Winters said. “I can think of several reasons to keep you a guest of the city overnight.”
    Charlie raised his hands and backed onto the sidewalk. “No thanks. Have a nice day, pal.”
    The woman and her walker had barely cleared the front bumper of the van. Smith drove across the intersection anyway.
    “You know that gentleman?” Winters said.
    “Sadly, yes. He’s after my friend, won’t leave her alone. I’ve tried to persuade her to get a restraining order, but she won’t do it. Figures that if she politely explains that she isn’t interested in going out with him, he’ll get the hint and go away.”
    “Nothing we can do then,” Winters said. “I don’t understand why women put up with men like that. Can you explain it to me?”
    She would like to explain to him, all right, about power-imbalances, about being raised to be a good girl, about the embarrassment of explaining to a