Winter of Secrets by Vicki Delany Page B

be releasing your brother’s body any time soon, nor that of his friend. Never mind that your distinguished parents are cooling their heels in town. Recipient of the Order of Canada, eh? Impressive. That makes your family newsworthy. I’m interested in finding out why the police have suddenly started paying attention to the accident, and when I saw you sitting here, by yourself, I thought you also might want to know what’s going on.”
    Wendy looked at the black-haired woman on the far side of the large, battered wooden table. Stew had splattered across what were probably surgically-enhanced boobs.
    She hadn’t happened upon Wendy having lunch. She’d probably gone looking for her at the B&B, and Mrs. C or Kathy had told her the group was skiing. Wendy’d have a thing or two to say about that. She had a right to her privacy, and the reporter should have been sent packing.
    How good could she possibly be anyway, working for the Trafalgar Daily Gazette ? Rather than sticking her nose into the Wyatt-Yarmouth family business, she should be reporting on the results of the Ladies Bridge Finals or the Men’s Curling Quarterly.
    Wendy pressed the paper napkin she’d picked up at the checkout to her eyes. “My brother,” she said, “was the most important person in my life. Not only did I love him, but I respected him as well. Jason…well, Jason believed in the dignity of every human being. It was his dream to become a doctor and go to Africa and help the suffering humanity. As for my parents,” Wendy lifted her eyes to check that what-ever-her-name-was was paying attention, “they are quite naturally inconsolable with grief, and I request that you respect that.”
    What a perfect lot of rubbish. Wendy adored her brother, that was true, but she had no illusions about him. Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth was no more interested in the suffering people of Africa than she was.
    Meredith gave her a smile full of sympathy. “I can tell you loved him very much. May I quote you?”
    “If you must.”
    “Thank you.”
    “But you’re full of garbage. My parents were told this morning we can take Jason home.”
    “The situation’s changed.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “Seriously, Wendy, I am not. I have contacts, well placed contacts. A good reporter needs contacts. How close were you to Ewan Williams?”
    “If I thought this was any of your business, I’d tell you he was my brother’s friend, nothing more to me than that.”
    “Then I don’t mind telling you that the pathologist found…complications…with Ewan’s death.”
    Wendy picked up the almost full plate of Caesar salad and threw it across the table.

Chapter Six
    John Winters wasn’t going to speculate about Doctor Lee’s startling discovery to Smith. He wasn’t even going to speculate to himself. The only thing he needed to know, right now, was that Ewan Williams had died before the car accident. That meant one of three things: Williams died naturally, in the car prior to the accident, and no one noticed; Wyatt-Yarmouth had killed him and was taking the body to dispose of it; Wyatt-Yarmouth had not killed him and was taking the dead body who knows where or why. The direction they’d been going in took them away from the police station and the hospital. Which might not be relevant: it was possible that, being an outsider, Wyatt-Yarmouth didn’t know where the hospital was.
    Did Wyatt-Yarmouth know Williams was dead? Winters would have to check with Lee about the condition of the body at the time of the accident.
    All this was speculation. Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth would not be sitting up to answer John Winters’ questions.
    But Ewan Williams might have something to tell Doctor Shirley Lee.
    Winters looked out the window, not that there was much to see. Gray clouds, fat with unshed snow, hung so low they covered the mountains. Puffs of mist rose up from the river, black and cold, to his left.
    “Have a nice Christmas?” he said to Smith about half an hour outside of