A Cold White Sun: A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (Constable Molly Smith Series) by Vicki Delany Page B

tough until it’s too late. Nothing more.”
“Gord Lindsay?”
“Seems to be grieving. Wouldn’t be the first husband to off the wife and then be sorry about it.”
“Head back up to the trail, will you? Check no one’s been where they shouldn’t while you were gone. Then go back to town. No point in guarding the scene any longer.”
***

Gord Lindsay wasn’t much of a drinker, but right now he sure could use a stiff one.
The house was stifling. Renee had jacked the furnace up and switched on the fireplace. His mother and mother-in-law constantly popped in and out of the family room asking if they could get him anything. A cheese sandwich he didn’t want appeared at his elbow, and he was encouraged to eat up as if he were a ten year old. Renee had found a roast of beef thawing in the fridge, and she and Ann were competing to see who could put together the most elaborate side dishes. They’d already had an argument over the virtues of mashed potatoes verses roast potatoes. He’d end up being forced to choke down both.
He wanted to throw the goddamned roast in the garbage. At the very least there must be someone in town who’d love to—like Bob Cratchet at the conclusion of A Christmas Carol —have a feast appear on their doorstep.
Cathy had planned on putting the roast in the oven yesterday after breakfast, switch the timer on, and finish preparing the meal when they got home from skiing. She’d even made a pie for dessert. From scratch.
Something seemed to have taken control of Cathy lately. She wasn’t usually so dedicated to creating the perfect family setting. In fact, she’d always had a rather laissez-faire attitude to the household. He’d put her change of behavior down to middle-age. Even to “the change,” not that there seemed to be any other signs of approaching menopause. Perhaps she’d realized how fast the kids were growing up; they wouldn’t be children forever.
Look at Bradley for god’s sake. The cute little boy with a nose covered in freckles and an unruly mop of curls, who wanted to go everywhere, do everything, with his dad, had turned almost overnight into a juvenile delinquent stereotype. Whenever Gord saw Bradley, he shuddered to think what Jocelyn might get up to in a couple more years.
Was Cathy trying to hold back time? Gord hadn’t thought much about her behavior. He sure was thinking about it now. He was thinking of little else.
She’d started dressing better too. Nicer clothes to wear to work. Tailored suits and silk blouses rather than the pants and T-shirts she’d long favored. She’d gone for a shopping weekend in Vancouver with her friend Carolyn a couple of months ago. Came home with high-heeled shoes rather than practical pumps and beautiful jewelry he hadn’t dared ask the price of.
He’d put it all down to changing tastes, to getting older, to seeing the passage of time written on her children’s faces. Written on Gord’s face.
Was it possible he’d been wrong?
Was she having an affair?
She wouldn’t have gone all out planning a nice dinner for the family to impress a lover. Could that have been to assuage her guilt?
He’d told the cop he and Cathy had a good, solid marriage.
It wasn’t a lie. Not really. They went their separate ways. Lived separate lives, mostly. Most of the long-time married people Gord knew lived together in mild contempt. Look at Ralph and Renee. Renee never shut the hell up, and Ralph rolled his eyes when her back was turned and spent his time looking for things to do to get out of the house. Gord’s driveway had never been so well shoveled. Tomorrow, Ralph said, he’d organize the mess in the garage.
When did Gord and Cathy last have sex?
He couldn’t remember.
Was she looking for something her husband wasn’t giving her anymore?
Gord headed for the mud room. He had to get out of here.
If they weren’t having sex it was hardly his fault. She’d turned as cold as a block of ice the last few years. They still slept together in