please. They don’t care about that.” Lindsey swung her flat face back to Whitehouse. “Jeff didn’t go anywhere. Had a super headache the next morning, too.”
Her mother assumed a hurt tone. “Were you drinking, too, Lindsey? You promised after the last—”
Lindsey lifted one finger. Like its fellows, it was long and pointed, a gel job in fluorescent green. Holly had had her nails done once. The next day, three broke off when she had to change a tire in the bush. “One beer. I swear. It’s no big deal. How many margaritas do you pack away before Dad gets home?”
The mother swallowed with difficulty and looked out the streaky window, twisting a large diamond wedding ring ensemble. Within the short sleeves of her dress, bat-winged arms threatened to flap free.
The dynamics weren’t working. Holly caught Whitehouse’s attention, seeking an opportunity to ask a question. He gave a curt nod. “What did you think of Angie? We need all the information that we can get from her friends,” she said.
“Huh. I wasn’t her friend. Used to be before she got snobby. Big friggin’ swim star and all.”
Mrs. B frowned. “Lindsey, watch your language.”
“Were the other girls jealous of her success?” Holly asked.
“No way. Unless they were jocks. Who cares about that stupid stuff? No girl wants to look like a weightlifter.”
“Was she dating anyone?”
“Jeff. Last year. He got sick of her, too. Stuck-up bitch.
Somebody should have...” She blinked at their expressions and looked at her hands. “I didn’t mean nothing. He just stopped dating her.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“His, for sure. He tells me everything. We’re close.”
“Was Angie close with anyone else?”
A mischievous smile creased her face as if she had found a secret jewel. She batted her furry lashes. “There were rumours.”
“Rumours?” Whitehouse came to attention.
She lowered her voice and looked around. “Ms Bass. The English teacher.”
“Go on.”
Lindsey crossed her legs theatrically and gave her gum a workout. “The L word’s no big deal now. Ms Bass is okay. Angie never really said anything. But she was always in there after class with her English themes. Brown noser.”
“Your cooperation is appreciated. One last question.” Whitehouse shifted in his seat, tensing his muscles like a cougar preparing to spring. “Where would Angie get crystal meth?”
The girl’s hand moved to her face, then she brushed back her long brown hair in a classic avoidance technique. Whitehouse twitched. “We don’t mess with that sh—” she said.
“Lindsey, really. Your father will hear about this.” Mrs. B settled into a pout.
Whitehouse stood, cracking his knuckles. He seemed to look down on them like a colossus. “Come on, Lindsey. Blade. Black beauty. Crypto. Pink. Tick tick. Do I have to run down the alphabet?”
Holly stifled a grin as she remembered those bizarre names from a Victoria meth website. Whitehouse had been fishing in the same pond.
Lindsey’s eyes glittered, but the idea seemed more humorous than threatening. She began giggling, putting her hand over her bee-stung mouth. “Excuse me? Is that New York language from TV? Shard’s more common out here. Maybe jib.” She dropped her eyes. “I mean the kids that hang out in Victoria down around Cormorant and Blanshard call it that. Older people call it meth, same as the other stuff.”
Whitehouse tapped a pencil and broke the point, startling Mrs. B. Picking up a small cube sharpener, he began grinding, testing the point until he was satisfied. “How do you know so much about the terminology?”
Lindsey folded her arms. “TV, movies. Plus we learned about it in Contemporary Problems class.”
“So as far as you’re concerned, there’s no meth out here in sweet, innocent Sooke.” Whitehouse tried a smirk. It didn’t look good on him.
Lindsey threw back her skinny shoulders, revealing two fading hickeys. A present from Jeff? “I...can’t say for every kid in town. I don’t hang with anyone from Edward Milne. The Port Renfrew gang go there. Everyone knows they’re a rough bunch. Some of them have been in jail.” She spoke with a wide-eyed amazement that bordered on admiration. Bad boys were always an attraction. Even good girls paid the price.
When the Benishes had left, Whitehouse snapped shut his file and made a sour face. “We have two problems to track down. If anyone saw Angie on that bike that night, and where she got the meth.”
Something had twigged in Holly’s memory. “What about the Port Renfrew boys camping in the park?”
He shot her a caustic look. “I thought you took care of that. What did they say?”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “Well, I haven’t—”
“Jesus. Get on it, then. You’re a government worker, not some local yokel on island time.” He stood and wiped at his damp pants, the knife crease a memory. “I’m going to Angie’s house to check her room. Her father said he’d meet me there in an hour. And follow up on this English teacher, too, now that we have another confirmation. If you’d done your job right in the first place, I wouldn’t be doing it for you.”
“But at the time, we only—”
He stood and brushed at his wrinkled pants, scowling.
“Need I mention that you called me in?”
Holly seethed for at least ten minutes after Whitehouse left, then found Kim Bass’s number. Her home phone had no answering machine, so Holly made a note to call the school and find out her free period. In their interview at the beach, Bass had looked entirely normal except for dark circles under her eyes. Insomnia, she claimed. She had admitted taking an over-the-counter sleeping pill. Holly traced a few contemplative patterns on her note pad and wondered whether the teacher had been dealing. The morning’s troll of the online Globe and Mail had reported a principal in Detroit selling drugs, not to students at least, but distributing from the school itself. Unheard of in Canada, but for how long?
“I’m going to Rainbow Elementary with Sean Carter to start this year’s DARE instruction. Andrea should be here in five minutes to take over the desk,” Ann said. Larger posts had many civilian positions, but Andrea operated on an on-call basis. DARE stood for Drug Abuse Resistance Education, a ten-week program.
Ann’s face was pale, another line etched into the broad forehead as she leaned against the doorway out of necessity, not languor. Holly asked, “Are you feeling all right? Are you okay with the duty?” She regretted her quick words, though prompted by concern. Officers didn’t consult their staff as to whether they were equal to ordinary assignments. They assumed it. For insight, Holly had searched the Mayo Clinic website to learn about the symptoms of DDD. Standing for long periods was
