Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier

this keeps building.” The Chief looked out the window. “Did you, uh, bring the Smiths in?”
    “They’re in an interview room. Peterson’ll take their statements.”
    “Perhaps I should pop in, make sure Andy’s not too traumatized. He’s not as young as he used to be.” His laugh sounded more like a dog with kennel cough. “And Lucky as well, of course.”
    A drop of sweat slid off Keller’s forehead, and Winters realized that the Chief Constable had been, perhaps still was, in love with Lucky Smith.
    The phone on the desk rang. Keller looked at the call display. “The deputy mayor. I guess she’s heard there’s trouble in town and’s calling to demand that I put a stop to it. Never would have thought of that myself. Do you want to take it, John? Tell her I’m on the beat, rounding up troublemakers.”
    “Not my job, Paul.” Winters pulled the door shut on his way out.
    He went to the booking area in the back. The little guy was yelling something about terrorist sympathizers, and the big one was asking Smith if she’d go out with him. Neither of them seemed to be concerned that they were about to be locked up.
    Evans had read them the caution and was starting on the paperwork.
    “Leave this to Constable Evans, Constable Smith,” Winters said. “I need you on the road.”
    “Woo hoo,” the big guy yelled. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
    “Shut the fuck up,” Smith said.
    “Hey, she can talk. What else can you do with that mouth, sweetie?”
    She walked out of the room. Winters followed. Her face was set into firm lines, and a spark of red coal blazed behind the blue eyes. A small vein pulsed in the side of her neck.
Women
, Winters thought,
did sometimes have it hard
.
    “My mom and dad?” she said, visibly gathering her self-control.
    “They’re in an interview room. Staff-Sergeant Peterson’ll take their statements. We’ve a witness to talk to.”
    “I’d like to check that they’re okay.”
    “Your parents are okay. You can’t take part in the interview, Molly. You know that.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “A man called the station in response to our asking for anyone who’d been at Eagle Point Bluffs on Thursday night to come forward.”
    They walked to the parking bay. Heat radiated off the asphalt and into the bottom of his shoes. The sky was as blue as in a brochure for Caribbean vacations; a single tuft of white cloud hovered in the west, no larger or more substantial than a cotton ball. “We could use some rain. I haven’t had time to water the impatiens beds, and if they’re dead when Eliza gets back, she’ll not be pleased.”
    “The whole area is on extreme fire alert,” Smith said.
    They got into the van, and Winters switched on the computer.
    “Where to?”
    “Hold on, computer’s slow.” He typed, waited for a response, then gave her the directions.
    She pulled onto George Street. “What happened at the store?”
    “Two guys walked in. Started trouble right away. Asked the clerk, what’s his name?”
    “Duncan.”
    “Duncan, if he was a deserter. He didn’t know what they were talking about. Your mother heard them, came out. They recognized her from TV and started with the insults.”
    Smith sighed. “So my dad intervened.”
    He coughed. “Not at first. There seems to be some, if I may say, conflict between your parents around this business.” That was an understatement. The van was so chilly with the Smith parents in it, Winters hadn’t needed to turn on the air conditioning.
    “Tell me about it.” She stopped at a light to let a hugely pregnant woman cross. She was pushing a baby carriage and dragging a toddler by the arm. Her skirt was pulled down low and her T-shirt didn’t extend far enough to cover the round belly.
    “Your dad tried to reason with the guys. Told them that the TV program was a pack of lies, and everyone in Trafalgar just wants to get along with everyone else.”
    “I bet Mom loved that.”
    “She basically told them they’d come to the right place and what did they want to do about it. One of them threw the table over and threatened to wreck the store. A customer ran out into the street, yelling for help. Mrs. Smith picked up a flashlight and threatened to bash their heads in if they didn’t leave and Mr. Smith stepped in front of her. And got hit.”
    “What a mess. Who are they, anyway?”
    “Your parents said they’d never seen them before.”
    “Neither have I. Outsiders.”
    “We can expect more