A Cold White Sun by Vicki Delany

Author:Vicki Delany
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2013-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

The sky gods smiled on John Winters, and he was trotting across the parking lot at Castlegar airport heading for his car by ten the next morning. He had not asked the station to call Mark Hamilton’s house to confirm the man was home, and if so instruct him to wait for John Winters’ arrival. He wanted this visit to be as much of a surprise as he could make it. Almost certainly Hamilton would have heard the news about Cathy Lindsay, but if he hadn’t, Winters wanted to be the one to tell him.

He’d left his Glock at the police station the previous day, not wanting to bother with the rigmarole of getting it onto the plane. He stopped by the office to pick up the weapon and check in.

One of the IHIT officers was in the GIS office, seated at a temporary desk, surrounded by paper coffee cups.

“Anything?” Winters asked.

“More of the same, Sarge. Nothing. Cathy Lindsay did not have an exciting life. Did you know she taught an adult class at the college on Monday nights?”

“Creative writing, I think Gord said.”

“Yeah. I got the class register from the office, fortunately they have a secretary in for a couple of hours even though they’re closed. I’m making those calls now. No one has much to say. My wife takes an Italian class at college. Same sort of night school thing. She’s determined we’re going to Italy on our next vacation. Night school’s completely different than regular school. At night, for one thing, all adults for another. They don’t socialize. Most of the class have families to get back to, jobs to go to the next morning. They don’t get together to study or do homework. The teacher doesn’t have an office and office hours.”

“Which means?”

“Unlikely anyone in Cathy Lindsay’s night school class would have reason to off her.”

“Agreed. But we have to ask. Find out if she ever went out for coffee or a drink after class with any of the students or another teacher.”

“I’ve asked. Mostly I get a shrug. Everyone picks up their books and heads off into the night the minute class ends. A couple of people said they sometimes saw her getting into her car. Alone. They couldn’t be sure if she left by herself every week. I asked if Lindsay ever talked much about her home life, her habits.”

“You mean habits like walking in the morning?”

“Right. Without saying so. Yes, a couple of them said. She told them she walks her dog in the woods behind her house every morning as soon as she gets up. The point, apparently, being that walking is supposedly good for the creative mind.”

“Anyone in the class she seemed particularly close to?”

“Apparently not. One woman, a…” he checked his notes, “Elaine Federhalf said she didn’t like Cathy and wouldn’t be taking a class from her again. Federhalf told me she was taking this course because she’s thinking of writing a book. Not to get an advanced degree.”

“What does that mean?”

“Cathy was hard on the class.

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