Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

That’s a black mark against him. I’d like to find someone who saw him on the bluffs at the time Montgomery was dying. The business partner is in the clear, as are the business associates, unless they acted together, which I can’t see. Or hired out the killing. But it wasn’t a professional job—too up close and personal. Unless it was made to look unprofessional. So I’m left with….”
    “The peace garden proponents or the resort opponents.”
    More food arrived, serving platters overflowing.
    “Do you think,” Winters said, “that we’re being provided with more than the standard fare? Perhaps we should pull them in for attempting to bribe an officer.”
    She worried that one day she’d mistake one of his jokes for a serious suggestion, and really mess up. It was not a pleasant thought.
    “Let’s not,” he said. “That would make it hard to find a good, cheap meal.”
    They ate the rest of their meal in silence.
    The bill arrived and Winters said, “Let’s get back to the station.”
    Smith dialed Christa again as they left the restaurant. Four rings and then voice mail. “I’m sorry, John, but I’m worried about my friend. It’s probably nothing, but seeing him so near her place, and her not answering, has me concerned. I’d like to stop by, check everything’s okay.”
    He looked at her over the roof of the van. The sun was high in the sky and it cast a shadow over his face. He put on sunglasses. “Let’s go,” he said.
    ***
    Meredith was no longer the bubbly cub reporter Rich Ashcroft had met yesterday. This was a small town; she’d have friends and family on the other side. He didn’t care in the least if she was happy or not, but she was the only local contact he had, so he wanted to keep her sweet.
    “That footage is going to be great,” he said. “What a story. We’ve got the solid, respectable business man, looking like Charles Manson, but I can’t do anything about that, talking softly about the death of his partner, and the loonies outside, ready to destroy his business, screaming abuse. And then Harris, all wet eyes and honoring the father he never got the chance to know. I want to go to someplace with a good view and record my closing comments. I’ll run this segment at the top of the show tonight, and we’ll get major exposure on the East Coast tomorrow morning.”
    Greg grinned and wiped his face on his napkin.
    “But I need something more,” Rich said. “I need a local touch. It’s one thing me telling the viewers what I’ve found here in your pretty town, but I need help. Think you’re up to it, Meredith?”
    “Up to what.” She leaned back to let the waitress remove her almost untouched plate.
    “Reporting for CNC. A first step toward a regular job.”
    Fire shot through her eyes.
Gotcha
, he thought. She sucked in her breath.
    “Me?”
    “You’ve got what it takes to report for TV, or I wouldn’t ask. I need local color. How about it?”
    “I’d appreciate the opportunity.”
    Greg tossed his company credit card onto the table.
    “Can I go home and change?” Meredith said, as they left the cool of the restaurant for the sunbaked street.
    Rich stood back and studied her body. She had a good figure: long legs, trim waist, and adequate-sized tits. She wore a short jeans skirt that showed a good portion of her long, bare, brown legs, a blue tank top, and sandals with thin straps. Her dark hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. She put her sunglasses on. “No need,” he said. “That outfit’s perfect for a woman-in-the-street reporting style. I’d like to get an interview with that cop friend of yours, Smith’s daughter. When can you arrange it, Meredith?”
    “Molly? I can’t see her agreeing to an interview.”
    “There’s no real hurry. I’m going to stay on for another couple days. Get the town’s reaction after they see that once people have watched my show, there’s going to be a lot of controversy over this so-called peace park. The power of the press. You okay with two or three more days, Greg? Nothing on at home?” As if Greg had a life other than behind that camera. He probably jerked off against it every night.
    “Not me. I’m good, boss.”
    “We’ll get the lady cop later. Right now, I’d like a shot of you, Meredith, walking past that store, the one the Smiths own.”
    “Why?”
    Rich wasn’t used to underlings who asked why. He swallowed a sharp reply. Keep her sweet. “The store gives the feel of what