Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

him it looked good, rather than outdated. He was tall and lean, with the slightest hint of a middle-aged pot.
    “Sir,” Smith said, more nervous than she’d been in the presence of the Chief Constable. She’d been working for the Trafalgar City Police for six months. She hadn’t said a word to the Detective Sergeant since she’d been introduced to everyone her first day on the job.
    Sergeant Winters and Detective Lopez were the entirety of the General Investigation Section. Lopez was one-of-the-boys-and-girls, friends with everyone, loved practical jokes and town gossip. Smith had been to his house for a barbeque earlier in the summer. But Winters kept himself apart. He didn’t socialize, didn’t engage in idle office chatter. He’d been a homicide detective in Vancouver, played a prominent role in the hunt for the serial killer who’d been snatching runaway boys from the city’s notorious Downtown Eastside for years. Marcus Sanders, a church youth-group leader, had been charged with the crimes, and forensics spent months digging up every inch of his property. Winters quit the Vancouver force shortly after Sanders’ arrest and moved to Trafalgar. No one knew why, but speculation ran rampant. Burned-out, some said; disgusted at the long-time official indifference to the fate of the boys, others whispered. Something else, a few said, unrelated to Sanders. Perhaps to do with the Blakeley murder: nasty business that, they all agreed.
    Winters never socialized with members of the department. The office administrator, Barb Kowalski, ever cheerful and inquisitive, had made it her mission to find out what she could about his private life. Wife used to be a supermodel, she reported, now does magazine ads for laundry detergent and floor polish. No kids. Fantastic home outside of town, deep in the woods on the side of the mountain.
    Winters looked at Smith. “Detective Lopez’s daughter is getting married on Saturday,” he said.
    “Yes, sir.” Everyone knew that. Lopez had talked about nothing else all month, and Barb had organized a collection to buy a gift for the happy couple.
    “The wedding’s in Toronto. He’s leaving tonight. Last plane out of Castlegar.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Bad timing, but it can’t be helped. I’ll have to conduct this investigation on my own.”
    “Yes, sir.” Smith had no idea why he was telling her this.
    Silence stretched through the alley. Restaurant staff threw the odd curious glance out the window—Smith had gone around to tell them, and the solitary worker at the convenience store, not to come out back until further notice—but otherwise the restaurant carried on business as normal.
    Winters turned to her. He was quite good looking, for an older guy. “So you’ll have to help me.”
    “Me?” Smith tried to swallow the squeak of excitement that escaped from her mouth.
    “Chief tells me you’re local.”
    “Born and bred. My parents live just outside of town. About ten klicks, kilometers, away. Sir.”
    “There may be some…shall we say sensitive…political aspects to this situation.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And as I need a partner, with Lopez on leave, and having only been in town for a short while, the Chief thinks you’ll be the best one to take me around.”
    “Yes, sir.” Smith was thrilled to bits. The first murder in town all year and she would be assisting the investigating officer. Her voice had regained some of its strength, so she dared to say something more. “Murder’s a nasty business, sir.”
    “No one’s said anything about murder, Constable. Don’t rush to conclusions. Accidents happen. And this isn’t the army. Stop calling me sir.”
    ***
    John Winters was not pleased at being given this fresh-faced young constable to assist him. Too eager by half, almost panting at the excitement of being involved in a probable-murder investigation, she reminded him of a sled dog at the beginning of the Iditarod. But as the Trafalgar City Police consisted of a grand total of twenty sworn officers, he didn’t have much choice. And as the Chief Constable had said, over the phone as Winters had left Eliza and their anniversary dinner behind, Smith was about as local as they came. And local politics, the CC said, might have a major role to play in this investigation.
    “Tell me, Molly. What do you make of this?”
    She took a deep breath, her chest puffing under the Kevlar vest, trying to make herself look important, wise and knowledgeable. He