Under Cold Stone A Constable Molly Smith Mystery by Vicki Delany Page A

they hang around the wine bar some nights.” She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Does he go with them often?”
Tracey shook her head. She lit the fresh cigarette with trembling hands. “No. I don’t know! I don’t know what he does. They’re so much prettier than me. They’ve got loads of money, are looking for a good time. Why wouldn’t he?” She started to cry. “Look, I’m sorry I called you. That’s probably what happened. He’s shacked up with some rich bitch and doesn’t even know Barry’s dead.”
Lucky looked at the tear-streaked face, and debated what to say. Matt had not gone with a woman last night. He’d come home, probably as soon as he got off work, found his roommate dead, phoned his father. And then he disappeared. She reached out and touched the girl’s arm. Startled, Tracey turned and looked at her through eyes red and wet, full of disappointment and sorrow. Lucky gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
“Matt phoned his father last night before three. From the apartment.”
“He did?”
“Yes. That’s all I can tell you. When we arrived he was gone.”
Tracey wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“He didn’t pick up a woman at the bar, and he did go straight home. So where might he be now? Think Tracey.”
“Hey, Trace!” The older waitress stood in the open restaurant door. Warm air and the scent of frying bacon and plenty of grease swirled around her. “You gonna be all day? I need help in here.”
“Back in a minute.” The second cigarette joined the first on the wet sidewalk.
“One minute. Or I’m complaining to Kev. I can’t work this whole place by myself.”
“I have to go,” Tracey said. “Kev’s okay, but he doesn’t like slacking off.”
“You’re hardly slacking off.”
“Whatever. I missed the start of shift going around to Matt’s place.”
Lucky pulled a pen and notebook out of her purse. She ripped a piece of paper out of the book and scribbled on it. “Here’s my cell number. Call me if you think of anything. Please. Even if you only want to talk.”
Tracey took the offering, and turned it over in her hands. “Matt does a lot of hiking and camping. He likes to go into the backcountry by himself, sometimes for days at a time. If he needed to get away for a while, he might have done that.”
“If you hear anything from him, please let me know. Tell him his father is very worried.”
“I will. Nice meeting you, Mrs. Smith.”
Lucky watched as Tracey slipped back into the restaurant. A cold drizzle had started to fall as they stood on the sidewalk talking. Lucky was wrapped in her raincoat, but the girl wore nothing but her restaurant uniform. She seemed to love Matt Keller, perhaps a good deal more than he loved her. Poor thing.
But Lucky wasn’t here to interfere with anyone’s romantic relationships. She flipped her phone open and called Paul. He answered immediately.
“Anything?” she asked.
“No. Hold on a sec.”
She waited. The mountains surrounding the town had been swallowed by low-hanging clouds. The rain was picking up and pedestrians scurried for cover.
“Okay,” Paul said. “I wanted to go some place private. I’m now in the men’s room. They’ve put a BOLO out on Matt. I told them he called me precisely because he didn’t kill that man, but they’re, shall we say, keeping their options open.”
“Any other suspects?”
“No one in particular, but this Caseman guy was a real lowlife. I doubt finding suspects will be a problem.”
Lucky laughed without mirth. “Good thing I was with you last night. I might have considered doing some damage to him myself. Have you tried phoning Matt?” Stupid thing to say. As if that wouldn’t have occurred to the police. But Paul answered her question anyway.
“His phone was left in the apartment. His car’s parked outside on the street.”
“I might be able to help. I’ve had a chat with Tracey.”
“Who the hell’s