Under Cold Stone A Constable Molly Smith Mystery Read Online Free Page B

she relaxed, but scarcely turned a page, so captivated was she by the stunning view of the Bow Valley outside the floor-to-ceiling windows as well as the parade of fashionable tea-drinkers, most of whom looked as if forty dollars for tea and sandwiches wasn’t at all out of the ordinary.
And then, not long after, a stroll through the hotel grounds having done little to work off the unnecessary meal, Paul had arrived back at the hotel, laden with new fishing equipment, and escorted her to dinner. She’d bought a dress for this trip, spending far more than was her norm, and felt young and pretty in a black calf-length wool dress topped with a sparkling gold jacket. She’d worn the gold and diamond earrings her son Samwise had given her a few Christmases ago. The outfit would have been stunning with sexy high-heeled gold sandals, but as she wasn’t really young and pretty and occasionally got a bad twinge in her right hip, she had to be content with plain black flats.
They dined in the Castello Restaurant, and Lucky felt she had to do the meal justice. She was quite virtuous passing on an appetizer but couldn’t resist ordering the lamb. She loved lamb and ate it at almost every opportunity. Paul had a Caesar salad followed by the rib eye. Lucky had never been much of a drinker, and Paul was more a beer guy, so they simply had one glass of wine each.
And now he wanted a full breakfast?
She reminded herself that they were on vacation. After breakfast they planned to drive to Lake Louise to have a look around another historic railroad hotel and see the famous glacier, and then head up to Lake Moraine—instantly recognizable to all Canadians for having been featured on the back of the twenty-dollar bill for many years—where they’d go hiking.
Tomorrow, Sunday, Paul wanted to try some fishing, and Lucky planned on joining a guided excursion to Johnston Canyon and the ink pots.
Paul came out of the bathroom and she slipped in to shower. Soon, dressed in sturdy hiking clothes and boots, armed with cameras and maps, they left the hotel. On his wanderings the day before, Paul told her as they drove into town, he’d seen a suitably cheap-looking restaurant that had hearty breakfasts on the menu.
It was, inappropriately for the mountain setting, called the Lighthouse Keeper and decorated to resemble an East Coast fishing village. The oars, fishing nets, and lobster trap decorations were tattered and cracked, the wood floors stained, the bottles behind the bar covered with a sheen of dust. The scent of stale grease and spilled beer hung over everything.
Paul rubbed his hands together in glee. “Perfect.” Lucky felt a rush of affection, and placed her hand lightly on his arm. He smiled down at her.
“Table for two?” the waitress asked, not bothering to show much interest in the new arrivals. With her long sad face, bored eyes, and lifeless hair she reminded Lucky of some of the young mothers who passed through her child nutrition classes at the women’s support center. The beginnings of a round belly spilled over the waistband of her faded black pants, the result of a diet consisting mostly of fast food burgers and pop. She grabbed menus and led the way to a table for six in the center of the room. Only one other table was occupied. They mustn’t get very busy at this time of day, not if Paul and Lucky could be casually shown to the biggest table.
Lucky scanned the menu. “I’m not very hungry, Paul. I only want tea. Why don’t you get an extra side of toast and I’ll have some of that?”
The waitress was soon back with Lucky’s tea and coffee for Paul. Paul placed his order: fried eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, extra toast. He got to his feet. “Be right back.”
Lucky poured tea and ripped open a package of milk. She was stirring her drink when she heard a voice behind her. “Well, well, if it isn’t the back-of-the-line lady.”
Startled, she looked up to see the two men she’d encountered the day