Winter of Secrets by Vicki Delany

and Ewan as well, but she wasn’t going to tell the cops. She tried to look as if she were struggling to remember. “Sorry, Mr. Winters,” she said at last, “but I can’t say for sure. I didn’t see him leave, but he might have.” He had, in fact, phoned Lorraine, his bootie call, from the sidewalk outside the restaurant. He drove the group back to the B&B, went to his room for a few minutes, and then left, without telling anyone where he was going. Jason and Ewan were a couple of tom cats, always on the make. And that was none of this damned cop’s business. She looked at the tissue in her hands—it was shredded to ribbons. She wiped at her nose with the back of her sleeve. Winters got a box of tissues from the table and handed it to her. She pulled one out, and blew her nose, resisting the urge to be polite and say thank you.
    He walked to the window and looked out on the snow-covered garden, allowing Wendy a few moments of privacy to wipe her face and compose herself.
    Sunday night she’d been lying in bed, not able to sleep, when she heard footsteps in the hall and Jason’s voice. A female said something in return. Jason had been alone at breakfast the next morning.
    Sergeant Winters turned from the window. “You didn’t see Ewan Williams again, after approximately five o’clock on Sunday evening?”
    She wiped her eyes. “No.”
    “I’ll need to speak with the rest of your group, Ms. Wyatt-Yarmouth.” He handed her his card. She took it. “I’d appreciate it if you’d ask them to give me a call the minute they get in.”
    Nice words: Appreciate it . As if he wouldn’t hesitate to clap them in irons if they didn’t call.
    He hadn’t touched his coffee or the homemade cookies. Mrs. Carmine would be disappointed. Wendy could imagine the old bat leaning up against the kitchen door, ears flapping.
    “We want to help,” she said, getting to her feet to show him out.
    Mrs. Carmine came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron.
    “I’d like to have a look at Ewan’s room, if I may,” he asked her. “Have you cleaned the room since they died?”
    “Of course I have. And I removed their things. Wendy wasn’t up to it, so Sophie helped Kathy pack their suitcases.”
    “I’d still like to have a look.”
    Mrs. Carmine led him back through the common room and up the stairs. Wendy threw herself into a chair. She heard Sergeant Winters ask Mrs. C if she had noticed anything out of order. She answered in the negative.
    It wasn’t long before they came back down. Wendy was still sitting in the common room, a pile of soggy tissues on her lap.
    This was all such a nightmare. Her parents wanted her to wait in Trafalgar and go home together. She wanted to leave but the effort of organizing a flight home seemed beyond her.
    It was just so unfair .
    Mrs. C gave her what she probably thought was a sympathetic smile. Wendy got to her feet and followed them to the hall, wanting to see for herself that the cop got through the door and wasn’t about to jump out and say “One more question.”
    “Isn’t he just the cutest thing,” Mrs. Carmine said, as the two women watched John Winters walk to his van. “His wife is a famous supermodel.”
    Yeah, right. Kate Moss secretly living here in back of nowhere British Columbia.
    “Enjoy your nap, dear.” Mrs. Carmine returned to her kitchen.
    Wendy made major noise heading up the stairs. She used the bathroom and then tiptoed back down.
    Never mind a nap. She needed to go shopping.
    ***
    Lucky Smith came out of her cramped office at the back of Mid-Kootenay Adventure Vacations. It was past four o’clock and the sun had dipped behind Koola Glacier. She zipped up her bulky winter coat and wrapped her beloved hand-woven blue scarf twice around her neck. Lucky didn’t normally indulge in luxuries, but she’d fallen so in love with a scarf she’d seen being created on an old wooden loom in Crawford Bay that, after months of agonizing about the cost,