Holly Martin Mysteries 3-Book Bundle. Lou Allin
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knows they’re a rough bunch. Some of them have been in jail.” She spoke with a wide-eyed amazement that bordered on admiration. Bad boys were always an attraction. Even good girls paid the price.
When the Benishes had left, Whitehouse snapped shut his file and made a sour face. “We have two problems to track down. If anyone saw Angie on that bike that night, and where she got the meth.”
Something had twigged in Holly’s memory. “What about the Port Renfrew boys camping in the park?”
He shot her a caustic look. “I thought you took care of that. What did they say?”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “Well, I haven’t—”
“Jesus. Get on it, then. You’re a government worker, not some local yokel on island time.” He stood and wiped at his damp pants, the knife crease a memory. “I’m going to Angie’s house to check her room. Her father said he’d meet me there in an hour. And follow up on this English teacher, too, now that we have another confirmation. If you’d done your job right in the first place, I wouldn’t be doing it for you.”
“But at the time, we only—”
He stood and brushed at his wrinkled pants, scowling.
“Need I mention that you called me in?”
Holly seethed for at least ten minutes after Whitehouse left, then found Kim Bass’s number. Her home phone had no answering machine, so Holly made a note to call the school and find out her free period. In their interview at the beach, Bass had looked entirely normal except for dark circles under her eyes. Insomnia, she claimed. She had admitted taking an over-the-counter sleeping pill. Holly traced a few contemplative patterns on her note pad and wondered whether the teacher had been dealing. The morning’s troll of the online Globe and Mail had reported a principal in Detroit selling drugs, not to students at least, but distributing from the school itself. Unheard of in Canada, but for how long?
“I’m going to Rainbow Elementary with Sean Carter to start this year’s DARE instruction. Andrea should be here in five minutes to take over the desk,” Ann said. Larger posts had many civilian positions, but Andrea operated on an on-call basis. DARE stood for Drug Abuse Resistance Education, a ten-week program.
Ann’s face was pale, another line etched into the broad forehead as she leaned against the doorway out of necessity, not languor. Holly asked, “Are you feeling all right? Are you okay with the duty?” She regretted her quick words, though prompted by concern. Officers didn’t consult their staff as to whether they were equal to ordinary assignments. They assumed it. For insight, Holly had searched the Mayo Clinic website to learn about the symptoms of DDD. Standing for long periods was as painful for Ann as sitting. Walking was easiest, though fast movements weren’t advised. No wonder she couldn’t assume active duties.
“Of course. Why do you ask?” Ann’s tone was defensive, and her spine stiffened, though Holly saw her wince.
Flashing a smile that she hoped looked reassuring, Holly added a casual gesture. “No reason. That’s fine then. Tell me how it goes.”
Fossil Bay was too small to justify the many programs of a larger division, such as Restorative Justice, Drug and Alcohol Counselling, or Family Counselling, but friskier retirees liked to combine their daily exercise with bike-patrol duty. Those who could drive to French Beach or China Beach worked the Park Watch, writing down license plates for reference in case thefts occurred. Young Sean Carter kept an eye out for “suspicious” activity, including abandoned cars and trash dumping. Garbage collection was privatized in the area and cost about twelve dollars a month per household.
Ann lined up a pack of bright, kid-style brochures fresh from headquarters. “I like going to the school. At that age they’re still open to ideas.”
Holly remembered Ann’s boy and saw an opportunity to reach out. “I guess you learned that raising...your son.”
In a rare gesture, Ann searched her eyes, as if to ascertain Holly’s sincerity. Apparently she found positive signs, because she continued. “The greatest school on earth. But Nick was a handful for awhile.”
Holly’s pulse jumped a few kilometres. How far should she go towards establishing friendship? Keep her radar open and pull back at the least sign of discomfort, banana-slug style? “That’s hard to believe. He’s a teacher now, isn’t he? You must be proud.”
Ann nodded, apparently warming to the conversation. “He could have become a serious problem at one point. Got in with a bad crowd. I was posted to Wawa when he was fifteen. Home of the giant goose, and I speak in a social sense, too. Absolutely nothing to do if you had no money for a snowmobile, boat, or motorcycle. We couldn’t even afford cable. Our rabbit ears pulled in one patchy U.S. station.”
Holly perched on the side of the desk in a casual but interested pose. “So what happened?”
Ann did an impromptu stretch. “Booze. He was picked up drunk after a house party gone bad. Three thousand dollars in damages. Two young girls nearly died from drinking punch from contaminated windshield fluid jugs. When he sobered up, I told him I’d sign him over to Children’s Aid if he pulled a stunt like that again. I arranged with a colleague to take him to the agency for an interview. Showed him some legal papers already filled out.”
Holly’s mouth opened at the imagination and the desperation. “Shock therapy. Would you really have...”
A thin smile crossed Ann’s mouth, the first so far. “I was very tempted. You have to know when your resources aren’t equal to your responsibilities. But he smartened up. First he got a part-time job at a motel, then a scholarship to Acadia University.”
“So your bluff worked. I wouldn’t have had the nerve. And where is he now?”
“He teaches high school up around Prince George. Third year already. English. Can you believe? He wants to be a novelist but knows he needs a day job.”
“Sounds sensible.” Holly had enjoyed their surprisingly productive conversation. Then as the wall clock ticked, she said, “Guess I’d better get moving. I thought we’d seen the last of Whitehouse, but now—”
Ann gave a dismissive snort. “I knew Phil Whitehouse when we were on the force together in Richmond. He’s a bully, but he usually gets the job done, methods aside. Don’t think he’d remember me, though.”
Holly had seen a graduation picture of Ann in the files, fit and determined, a world away from those extra twenty pounds. “He’s over fifty, old enough to be a Superintendent or even Chief Super. What’s holding him back?”
Ann assumed an owlish look increased by the two small puffs of hair over each temple. “Hot temper. He socked another inspector shortly after making the grade. Seems the other guy blew a case he’d worked on. They’ve had their eyes on him ever since. He never backs down. Gets his teeth in like a bulldog on a bear. Problem is, if he’s wrong, then there’s no steering him off the road to hell.”
Gravel crunched outside from a braking bike. Ten-year-old Sean came in and walked up to Ann, admiration clear in his shining butterscotch eyes. His round cheeks were pinked with exertion, and he could barely catch his breath. “The school sent me over. Are you ready? Can I carry anything?” He gave her a winning smile. Like many south coast youngsters, he wore long, baggy shorts well into the fall. Holly had seen him walking in a downpour with no umbrella, just a hoodie over his head. Immune to rain, with the high metabolism of youth. His sweatshirt bore the picture of a familiar detrivore: Nanner Slugs Rule!
Ann handed him a bundle of flyers and bookmarks. Clearly she had bent the principles by making Sean an honourary member of the Bicycle Patrol even though the official age was nineteen. He couldn’t have a uniform, but she’d found him an old badge for his jacket. It read: RCMP GRC: Gendarmerie Royale Canadien POLICE, with the crown at the top adapted from St. Edward’s for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
“I hear you’ve been doing a great job as our...auxiliary member in training.” Holly shook Sean’s small