Under Cold Stone A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (33 page)

Suddenly, the blows stopped and Tracey was out of Smith’s space. Bodily lifted to her feet. Matt’s arms were tight around her, and she wept into his chest.

Matt stroked the girl’s hair. “I’ve done enough damage, Molly. I won’t have Tracey sent to jail because of me. If you forget what Tracey did, I’ll come with you. I give up.”

Smith wiped at her nose and her hand came away streaked with blood. Her butt ached where she’d landed on a rock and she could still feel the pressure of Tracey’s fists in her chest. Blood leaked through torn fabric on her sleeve.

Fuckin’ lunatics the both of them. “You’ll come with me all right.” She got to her feet, swallowing a gasp from a knee full of pain. She spat blood from a torn lip. “I might think about not mentioning your girlfriend’s temper.” Keeping her eyes fixed on Matt, she bent, scooped up the knife, and shoved it into her belt. Sylvester rubbed against her leg.

“You drive.” Smith threw the keys to Tracey. “Let’s go.”

Smith put Matt in the back, beside the dog. Sylvester whined, confused.
No more confused,
Smith thought
, than I am.
She climbed in beside Tracey. Smith shifted in her seat, pulled the phone out of her rear pocket. The casing was cracked, the face shattered. She’d have a phone-shaped bruise on her butt tomorrow. “Fuck!” She punched buttons. Silence. She twisted in her seat, spoke to Matt. “My phone’s not working. You can buy me another. We have ten minutes until we get to town. You wanna tell me what brought on that little display?”

Matt leaned forward. He laid his hand on the back of Tracey’s neck. Sylvester, who never bore a grudge, licked it.

“My mother’s boyfriend, Jonathan Burgess.”

“What about him?”

“Did he send you after me?”

“No, he didn’t send me after you. He’s here with your mom, trying to help. Like I am. For whatever that’s worth.”

Matt studied her face.

“We don’t have all day here, you know.”

“Sorry. I believe you. I guess I overreacted.”

“You think?”

“Don’t leave me alone with Burgess, okay?”

It would be a long time before Matt was alone with anyone. Except maybe his cell mate. “Why?”

“I told you I saw the guy who killed Barry. I was coming up the stairs after work when he came down. He was hurrying, head down, hood up. But he passed under a light, and I recognized him straight off. He didn’t know me. Otherwise, he would have killed me right there.”

“You’re telling me Burgess killed your friend? I find that hard to believe.”

“No. Jonathan wouldn’t get his hands dirty. The guy I saw worked for him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I went to Calgary about two weeks ago. My car died on me, needed a lot of work. I was broke. I needed money. I’d met Jonathan once, when my mom brought him to Banff.”

“We had lunch,” Tracey said, “at the hotel.”

“Yeah. Big spender, liked to flash his cash around. Have you seen that rock my mom’s wearing? She sure as hell didn’t buy it herself. Nor did my dad. I did some checking up on Burgess. Easy to do. He owns his own company. They’re into property development, resource exploration. Big projects. Big pay-offs. He owns some smaller companies as well. Bit of this, bit of that. He’s been divorced twice, no kids. I wondered what he saw in my mom. There are pictures on the Net of him at charity functions with glamorous women. The sort of low-level model or wannabe actress, twenty years old, a hundred pounds, who attach themselves to men with money. Eye candy.”

“Your mom’s pretty,” Tracey said. “She’s thin.”

“I guess so, but she is my mom. And that’s the point. She’s old enough to be a grandmother. I figured Burgess must be seriously in love with her, you know. Not to mind her age.”

Smith kept her opinion of a man in his sixties who didn’t
mind
dating a woman in her fifties to herself. She looked out the window. They were on the highway. The dark forest spread out to her right, surrounded by fencing. To the left, a steady stream of transport trucks and cars. Overpasses had been built at regular intervals to allow wildlife to move from one side to the other. “So you figured you’d touch Burgess for a loan?”

“Why not? He has the money. He wants my mom to be happy.”

“And?”

Tracey slowed, took the exit ramp off the highway.

“Mom had told me they were going out to dinner that night, so I figured he’d be in the office in the afternoon. I didn’t want to phone ahead. I dropped in. He gave me a thousand bucks, enough to get the car fixed. Told me to get lost.”

Smith wasn’t looking at Matt, but she heard the shrug in his voice. “We’re almost there. Get to the point. I don’t see what any of this has to do with what happened to Barry.”

“I arrived around noon. Figured Burgess would be at lunch. I didn’t want to be turned away if he was, so I hung around outside. It was a nice day, and there’s a park in front of the building. I saw Burgess. He was walking with a guy. Expensive suit. Expensive but tacky, I thought. Flash ring. Big guy. Lots of muscle. Sharp eyes. I figured him for a private detective or something like that. The next time I saw the guy he was coming out of my apartment. And Barry was dead.”

“You think he killed Barry. Good assumption. But I don’t see what that has to do with Burgess. Everyone talks to plenty of people. I talk to the scum-of-the-earth all the time. No one arrests me for it.”

“I did some more checking after I got home. Found a couple of pictures of Burgess with this guy. He works for one of Burgess’ companies. Meaning, Jonathan’s his boss.”

“That’s quite the accusation.”

“You’ll understand why I wasn’t happy to hear Burgess is coming with my dad to pick me up.”

“Your dad and I’ll be there. He’s not going to do anything.”

“I doubt he’s gotten where he is by being stupid. Or hasty.”

“You’re still leaping, though. Why would Burgess, if he did order this guy to do his dirty work, kill your pal Barry?”

“I went into the apartment. First thing I saw when I switched on the light: Barry dead. I called Dad right away. I figured he’d know what to do. I threw my phone onto the table and went out to the landing to wait for him. Only then did I have time to think about it. I figured the hit was meant for me. Burgess probably figured I’d keep coming back for money, causing trouble with my mom if I didn’t get it. He has a lot of money. Money buys things. So I ran. I keep my camping stuff ready so I can get outta town fast if I get the chance. I guess I panicked.”

“You tend to do that,” Smith muttered. “I saw a picture of Barry on TV. You don’t look remotely alike. If Burgess does have the wherewithal to order one of his employees to make a hit, he’s not going to be so sloppy as to get the wrong guy.”

“It was night. The apartment’s dark. He made a mistake.”

“I don’t think so. The question then is, why would Burgess want to kill your pal?”

The car began to slow. They were entering town. Tracey pulled up to the side of the road.

Smith glanced at the gas tank. Half-full. “Why have you stopped? We’re going to the Lighthouse Keeper.”

Tracey switched off the engine. She turned and faced Smith.

“I might know something about that.”

Chapter Sixty-one

BANFF, ALBERTA. TUESDAY EVENING.

“You told the guys about your mom’s new boyfriend, didn’t you?” Tracey asked Matt.

“Sure. Why not? Looks good on me, having a sugar daddy for a stepdad.”

“You’re not the only one who can use the Internet to find out things.” She faced Smith. “I’ve known for a while that shady stuff’s going on at the car rental where I work. They think I’m stupid. I’m not stupid, but I know when to mind my own business.”

“What sort of shady stuff?”

“Charging for repairs that aren’t made. Charging several different people for one lot of repairs. Fix a chip in a window, make the renter pay for a full windshield replacement. Scratch nicks and cracks into the car when checking it over and charge for a door replacement. That sort of thing. Barry worked at the garage where the cars were serviced. He had to be in on it. I’m pretty sure they’re also smuggling marijuana into the States in rental cars.”

“How’s that possible? You don’t know where the cars are going. Cars rented in Canada can’t be dropped off in the States, and vice versa, right? They’d just bring the drugs back home.”

“Tom makes friendly, finds out they’ll be in Glacier Park, say, and asks the renter to run him an errand of some sort. The errand involves dropping off a book or delivering a message. Nothing anyone would think twice about. But the cars are packed with drugs. The border guards aren’t going to be suspicious; the people in the car aren’t trying to hide anything. If they do get stopped and searched, hey, it’s the renter’s fault, isn’t it?”

“You knew about this?” Smith asked Matt.

“I suspected Tom and Barry were into something illegal, yeah. None of my business.”

“That certainly puts a new slant on the killing of Barry. But it still says nothing about Jonathan Burgess.”

“Maybe it does,” Tracey said. “Mr. Simpson, who owns the car rental franchise, also owns Kramp’s Auto Repair. At least on paper he does. No one knows that.”

“But you do?” Smith said.

“Like I said, people think I’m stupid. I was good with computers in school. Real good. But my mom wouldn’t buy me one for homework and stuff, so I fell behind. One of my teachers offered to help me get into university. She wanted me to get a degree in computer science.” Tracey laughed. “As if. I quit school at sixteen. Didn’t see the point, really.”

“I didn’t know that,” Matt said. “Maybe we can get a loan and you can still…”

“Let’s stick to the problem at hand, why don’t we?”

“There’s a lot of spare time at the car rental place. Slow nights, not much to do in the office. So I hacked into the company’s books.”

Matt whistled.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Tracey said. “It was easy. Global Car Rental and Kramp’s Auto Repair are owned by a company in Simpson’s name, which is, in turn, owned by Burgess Enterprises.”

Pieces of the puzzle began coming together. Smith glanced at Matt. He nodded.

“Barry came to Calgary with me that day. He wasn’t working, my car was in the shop, and I needed a lift. He didn’t come up to the offices. He was, however, with me when we saw Burgess talking to the guy in the flashy suit.

“It’s possible Barry approached Burgess later. Maybe he also knew about the company ownership, maybe he recognized Burgess, and figured he wouldn’t want word to get out that he was involved in shady dealings.”

“Blackmail? Was Barry the sort to do that?”

“If it would net him a buck, Barry was the sort to do anything at all.”

“I need a phone,” Smith said.

“Why?”

“I’m not going to meet the chief and Burgess in a dark parking lot. Who knows if Burgess made a couple of calls of his own. Tracey?”

“I don’t have mine with me. Sorry.”

“My mom tells me there used to be public phone booths on every corner.”

“Like Superman changed in,” Tracey said.

“Whatever. I could use one now.” Smith’s purse had been kicked under the seat. She dug it out, scrambled around and found her ID. She got out of the car.

The streetlights had come on while they talked, but it wasn’t yet dark. Condos and hotels lined the street. Cars drove past, and people were out walking. A man with two miniature dachshunds trotting at his heels approached.

Smith stepped in front of him. She lifted her badge. “I’m sorry, sir, but I need to use your phone. Won’t be a minute.”

He blinked in surprise. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flip phone.

“Wait here.” She didn’t know the chief’s number. Her mom had also told her that people used to be able to remember the numbers of all their friends. Smith did remember one number though. Sergeant Winters’ cell phone number was the same as Graham’s birthday.

“John Winters.”

“Hi, Sarge. It’s Molly.”

“Molly, I…”

“Sorry, but this is urgent. I need you to contact the chief ASAP. Tell him the meet at the Lighthouse is off. He has to ditch Burgess fast. We’ll be parked in the street next to the library. He is not, repeat NOT, to inform Burgess or Karen of that location.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, John. Any problems, have him call me at this number. It’s not my regular one.” She hung up. Turned to the dog owner. “Sorry, sir, I am taking possession of your phone.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yes. You can pick it up tomorrow morning at the RCMP detachment. Thanks.”

She got back into the car. Told Tracey to drive. She glanced in the side mirror. The man’s mouth was hanging open as he watched them pull away.