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Authors: Vicki Delany
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snow-topped in high summer, sparkling in the hot sun. He wondered if it was ever possible to get tired of this view.
That Marigold was lying was so plain she might as well have hung a banner over Front Street to advertise the fact. She was probably lying about everything she knew about her roommate. Which might not be significant if, as Winters suspected, Ashley hadn’t told her much. But she went into overdrive in the lying department when Smith found the flyer advertising the protest against the Grizzly Resort. That demonstration had been held out of town, on the highway near the construction site, so the Mounties would have been watching. He’d circulated Ashley’s morgue photo to the RCMP, and gotten nothing positive back, but he’d ask them to have a second look with the demonstration in mind. Not that it would probably matter much—so the girl was opposed to the development. Most of the town’s population under thirty were.
He figured he could have Marigold singing her heart out in five minutes flat—send a car around to her place as she was about to leave for work, bring her into the station for a private chat in the interview room, a uniformed officer present.
The girl could wait.
He rubbed his eyes and went back to his desk.
Ray Lopez had reported that nothing happened last night. The officer they’d brought in to play the sting had, once again, not been approached. Maybe he’d been made. Regardless, soon they’d have to send him back to his regular job. The entire complement of sworn officers of the Trafalgar City Police numbered twenty; no good for undercover work as every drug dealer in town knew where they went for lunch.
Winters had spent most of his career in Vancouver, the later part on the rough streets of the Downtown Eastside. Canada’s worst neighborhood. He hated drug dealers with a white-hot passion.
His phone rang, and he picked it up with a barked “Winters.”
“My little ray of sunshine.”
“Sorry. Just angry at the world.”
“You’re entitled, sometimes,” Eliza said. “Look, as strange as this might sound, we’ve been invited out to dinner with the M&C Development partners.”
“They want to have dinner with me?”
“Of course not. They want to have dinner with me, and reluctantly agreed to include my spouse. That would be you, the ever cheerful Sergeant Winters. José’s been invited as well.”
“Who’s José?”
“My other husband.”
“Please, Eliza, I’ve a ton of problems on my plate and I don’t want to play games.”
“Okay, okay. José’s the male model they want to work with me. We’ll be together for shots of a happy retirement couple enjoying the benefits of Grizzly Resort. You know, golfing, fine dining. Of course there isn’t yet a golf course, or a restaurant to photograph us enjoying, so they want shots of José and me on the resort location with the mountains and river in the background, and take us to Whistler for fine dining and golf background.”
“I thought you didn’t want the job.”
“I said I’m not sure.”
“This dinner’s tonight?”
“If you’re busy, I’ll make your excuses. I want to go. I want to talk to José, because I don’t know anything about his portfolio. And before I make a decision, I want to get to know the partners a bit better.” Her voice dropped into serious tones. “I know you’re busy, and I love you because you care about your job and all the garbage you have to deal with. Dinner’s at Feuilles de Menthe at eight. I’ll leave home at five to. If you can come with me, that’s good. If you want to drop by, that’s fine, and if you can’t face it, that’s all okay too.” Her voice lifted. “Time to check out the wardrobe. I hope they haven’t invited someone to join us who expects to see the face that was on the cover of Vogue thirty years ago. If so they’re going to be crushingly disappointed. Love you, muchly.” She hung up.
He stretched his legs and put his feet on the
That Marigold was lying was so plain she might as well have hung a banner over Front Street to advertise the fact. She was probably lying about everything she knew about her roommate. Which might not be significant if, as Winters suspected, Ashley hadn’t told her much. But she went into overdrive in the lying department when Smith found the flyer advertising the protest against the Grizzly Resort. That demonstration had been held out of town, on the highway near the construction site, so the Mounties would have been watching. He’d circulated Ashley’s morgue photo to the RCMP, and gotten nothing positive back, but he’d ask them to have a second look with the demonstration in mind. Not that it would probably matter much—so the girl was opposed to the development. Most of the town’s population under thirty were.
He figured he could have Marigold singing her heart out in five minutes flat—send a car around to her place as she was about to leave for work, bring her into the station for a private chat in the interview room, a uniformed officer present.
The girl could wait.
He rubbed his eyes and went back to his desk.
Ray Lopez had reported that nothing happened last night. The officer they’d brought in to play the sting had, once again, not been approached. Maybe he’d been made. Regardless, soon they’d have to send him back to his regular job. The entire complement of sworn officers of the Trafalgar City Police numbered twenty; no good for undercover work as every drug dealer in town knew where they went for lunch.
Winters had spent most of his career in Vancouver, the later part on the rough streets of the Downtown Eastside. Canada’s worst neighborhood. He hated drug dealers with a white-hot passion.
His phone rang, and he picked it up with a barked “Winters.”
“My little ray of sunshine.”
“Sorry. Just angry at the world.”
“You’re entitled, sometimes,” Eliza said. “Look, as strange as this might sound, we’ve been invited out to dinner with the M&C Development partners.”
“They want to have dinner with me?”
“Of course not. They want to have dinner with me, and reluctantly agreed to include my spouse. That would be you, the ever cheerful Sergeant Winters. José’s been invited as well.”
“Who’s José?”
“My other husband.”
“Please, Eliza, I’ve a ton of problems on my plate and I don’t want to play games.”
“Okay, okay. José’s the male model they want to work with me. We’ll be together for shots of a happy retirement couple enjoying the benefits of Grizzly Resort. You know, golfing, fine dining. Of course there isn’t yet a golf course, or a restaurant to photograph us enjoying, so they want shots of José and me on the resort location with the mountains and river in the background, and take us to Whistler for fine dining and golf background.”
“I thought you didn’t want the job.”
“I said I’m not sure.”
“This dinner’s tonight?”
“If you’re busy, I’ll make your excuses. I want to go. I want to talk to José, because I don’t know anything about his portfolio. And before I make a decision, I want to get to know the partners a bit better.” Her voice dropped into serious tones. “I know you’re busy, and I love you because you care about your job and all the garbage you have to deal with. Dinner’s at Feuilles de Menthe at eight. I’ll leave home at five to. If you can come with me, that’s good. If you want to drop by, that’s fine, and if you can’t face it, that’s all okay too.” Her voice lifted. “Time to check out the wardrobe. I hope they haven’t invited someone to join us who expects to see the face that was on the cover of Vogue thirty years ago. If so they’re going to be crushingly disappointed. Love you, muchly.” She hung up.
He stretched his legs and put his feet on the
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