Free A Cold White Sun: A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (Constable Molly Smith Series) by Vicki Delany Page B

the student in the creative writing class who got mad when Cathy suggested her crap piece of writing wasn’t ready for publication? If so, yes, some people don’t…didn’t like her. I bet there are people who don’t like you, Sergeant. But they don’t hide in the woods and shoot you down like a dog.”
Smith had her notebook in hand. Out of the corner of his eyes Winters saw her jot down the information. Highly unlikely a disgruntled student or parent had killed the woman. But stranger things had happened.
“Your wife walked that route most days?”
Lindsay glanced at the window. The drapes were open and the sun sparked on the white expanse of a good-sized back yard. A child’s swing set covered in snow, a wire fence surrounding the property, a small gate giving access to the walking trail. Forest and mountain filled the sky.
“I keep thinking this is some sort of joke, you know. Like she’s going to pop up from behind the couch and yell, “Gotcha.” And then roll around on the floor laughing.”
“Was Cathy a joker?”
“Not anymore.”
When a death had been so sudden, so unexpected, it could take a long time for the reality to set in. Years sometimes. Years in which the grieving parent or spouse would see their loved one in the turn of a head or the swing of a hip. On the street, in the background of a grainy amateur video on YouTube. Convinced, despite everything, that there had been some terrible mistake. That the deceased was only joking. John Winters kept his personal life separate from his job, but this once, as he studied Gord Lindsay’s ravaged, shocked face, he imagined Eliza heading out the door one morning. And never coming back. How could a man live with that?
He didn’t look at Molly Smith. It had happened to her, he knew . Before she joined the police. Something about her fiancé being knifed in an alley in the Downtown Eastside, dead before she made it to the hospital.
He wondered if she were remembering her own pain. He wondered if she saw the man in her dreams, in the shadow of a stranger rounding a corner.
He repeated his question. “Did Cathy walk on the trail every day?”
“Pretty much. First thing in the morning, winter or summer, rain or snow or shine, before the rest of us were out of bed. She might miss a day if we’d been up late the night before or if she wasn’t feeling well, but that didn’t happen often. If the weather was bad, she might cut the walk short, but she tried to get out.”
“Did she always take the dog?”
“Yes.”
“Did your wife have a lover?”
Something approaching a smile touched the edges of the man’s mouth. “You’re asking if my wife was having an affair.”
“Yes, I am. Was she?”
“No.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Sure as I can be. She taught at the high school during the day, came home after school, went out Monday nights to teach creating writing to adults at the college. Otherwise, she mostly stayed home. She believed in having dinner together as a family, every night. In the evenings she prepared for her classes, marked essays, that sort of thing.”
“Girlfriends?”
“She has…had…a couple of friends, yeah. Went to a movie or a play once a month or so, talked on the phone a lot. Nothing much more than that.”
“I’ll need the names of these friends.”
Lindsay waved his hand in the air.
Winters heard Smith shift her feet. She coughed lightly. He hid a smile. Not long ago she would have barged in with her question or comment. She was learning. He gave her a discreet nod.
“You spend a lot of time in Victoria, sir.”
Lindsay looked at her for the first time. “I know you, don’t I?”
“Molly Smith. I’ve been to this house before. Concerning your son, Bradley. I remember talking to your wife. She said you had a business in Victoria and spent a lot of time there.”
“Ah, yes. Bradley. Sadly, my son is, as the expression goes, known to the police. I still keep the original office on the Island. With staff. I spend