unofficially given their permission to allow the peace garden to go ahead now that Tom Maas is dead. Some of the councilors want to bring the matter to vote immediately.”
“I know that, Andy. They want to kill the park before the organizing committee gets itself back into shape, now that we don’t have Tom’s support.”
“So this town can get on with things.”
“So this town can get on with the business of making money, you mean.”
“Money. Nasty word, money. This business pays for your house, Lucky, for your car, last year’s vacation in Hawaii. Money put your children through university and helps your mother live out the rest of her years in some degree of independence.”
She got to her feet. “Don’t you dare throw our support to my mother in my face.”
“Christ, Lucky. I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m telling you that if this garden’s allowed to be built, family businesses along Front Street like ours, like Rosemary’s Campfire Kitchen, like Alphonse’s Bakery, will be forced to close down. When the American tourists stop coming, all that’ll be left will be the Wal-Mart in Nelson, and a few shops that provide goods for the handful of locals that haven’t been driven away.”
“There are plenty of people, in the States as well as Canada, who’ll be proud and happy to visit Trafalgar, to visit the Commemorative Peace Garden. Not to mention all the people who come here for the wilderness, and do their shopping in this store. People who don’t want to sit in air conditioned suites and swim in chlorinated pools and watch cable T.V. at the Grizzly Resort.”
“Lucky, you can’t….” He turned around. “What the hell do you want?”
Duncan, the company’s tour leader, had tapped the pads of his fingers on the open door to Lucky’s office. He shifted from one foot to the other, and tried not to look at either of his employers. “A lady’s on the phone. She wants to know if we can drop two days off her week’s trip, as she has to get back to Vancouver early.”
“Of course we can’t drop two days. Six other people have paid for a week, are you going to phone them all and tell them they only get five days? Are you, Duncan?”
“Not me, man.”
“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.” Andy pushed his way out of the office. “I’ll talk to her.”
Duncan raised one eyebrow toward Lucky.
“You did okay to ask Andy to speak to her,” she said. “People like that have to talk to the boss, or they think they’re being shafted. He’ll arrange for you to leave the group for a few hours and bring her back early.” She looked at her computer. The long list of numbers blended into a blur before her tired eyes.
“Lucky?”
“Sorry, Duncan. Not even half past nine and it’s already been a long day.”
“I have a day trip to meet down at the beach, but I before I go I was wondering how Molly’s getting on. I see her sometimes around town. She looks a bit lost, if you don’t mind my saying so, as a cop. The boots and the gun seem too big for her.”
Lucky rubbed her eyes, and looked at the young man standing in the doorway to the cramped, cluttered office. “Lost,” she said, “doesn’t half describe my daughter, Duncan.”
***
Smith was ready long before Winters arrived to take her to the autopsy. Truth be told, she hadn’t slept at all, excitement building at what the day would bring.
As light broke over the mountains to the east, she took a shower, and waited in her room while her parents moved about downstairs, getting ready for their day. The lack of laughter and friendly chatter spoke volumes about the state of the Smith marriage. They left for work together, as normal.
Lucky and Andy had opened a small camping goods store when their children were small, and, when the eco-tourism industry took off, expanded the size of the store and began running guided trips into the wilderness. In the early days they didn’t have much staff, so Andy led the