Read Constable Molly Smith 01 - In the Shadow of the Glacier for Free Online

emphasizing her age, rather than concealing it.
    “Trafalgar City Police,” Smith said. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we need to talk to you.” Her voice was calm, deep, and full of authority. So she could be comfortable, Winters thought, within her area of responsibility.
    The lock turned. The door opened a crack. The dog ran out. It was a minuscule thing—looked like a Doberman that had been shrunk in the wash. It barked hysterically and showed its teeth. Couldn’t weigh more than five pounds. Winters considered giving it a good kick in the ribs to get it out of the way. But that approach probably wouldn’t go down too well with the lady they were here to console on the death of her husband.
    “Henry, you shush.” The woman scooped the dog into her arms. The beast glared at Winters and Winters glared back. Must be tough to defend your property when you couldn’t get out of the grip of a middle-aged lady who looked like she’d fall over in a strong wind.
    “Mrs. Montgomery?” Smith said.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m Constable Smith and this is Sergeant Winters of the Trafalgar City Police. May we come in?”
    She looked from one face to another. “My husband isn’t home, Officer, although I was expecting him some time ago. Can he call you in the morning?”
    “Mrs. Montgomery, ma’am,” Smith said. “We’d like to talk to you, not your husband. May we come in?”
    The woman stood back. Her face a mask of stoic incomprehension. Winters didn’t condescend to smile at her.
    The police walked into the house.
    The front hall was vast, but mostly empty. A thin-legged piecrust table was the only piece of furniture on the squares of black and white tile. As they passed into the living room, the tiles gave way to thick planks of a rich dark pine. The couch and chairs were white leather, a bad match for the rustic floor. The curtains were pulled back, and the lights of the town winked below. The kitchen was open plan; a long granite counter separated it from the living and dining areas. Everything was as neat, as Winters’ mother always said, as a pin.
    Mrs. Montgomery was dressed in a pink summer suit, skirt to the knees, matching short-sleeved jacket nipped in at the waist, stockings, expensive-looking pumps. She was very thin, with the look of an expensively maintained body.
    “You should have had a better look at my ID before letting me in your home, Mrs. Montgomery,” Winters said.
    “Perhaps.” She gave a nervous laugh. “But this lovely town isn’t anything like Vancouver or Los Angeles, is it? Can I offer you a drink? I can make coffee, or tea. We have beer, if you’d like, or something stronger. Juice?”
    “Nothing, thank you, Mrs. Montgomery.” Not anything like Vancouver, indeed. Her husband hadn’t been murdered in Vancouver. “Perhaps you should sit down, ma’am.”
    She sat. The dog snarled at Winters. He was tempted to snarl back. Instead he said, “Constable, will you get me a glass of water, please.”
    Smith blinked. “Water?”
    It’s not for me, you fool, he wanted to shout. “Yes, please. Water.” Smith bustled off, her braid flapping behind her. She’d taken off her hat as they came through the door, and tucked it under her arm. He turned to their hostess and settled his face into lines of sympathy. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Montgomery, but your husband, Mr. Reginald Montgomery, died earlier this evening.” Cupboards opened and shut as Smith searched for a glass. He rubbed the face of his watch with his thumb.
    Mrs. Montgomery scratched behind her dog’s right ear. “That’s too bad.” Henry wiggled in ecstasy.
    Smith returned, carrying a glass full of water. There was no ice. She handed it to him.
    “Perhaps Mrs. Montgomery…”
    Comprehension crossed the constable’s pretty face. “Oh. Right. Mrs. Montgomery would you like a drink of water?”
    “Thank you, dear.” She accepted the glass and held it out to Henry. The dog drank.
    “Do you