Thin Ice. Nick Wilkshire

he wouldn’t be dumb enough to gas up with a credit card — or whatever — near Ottawa, if he was our guy.”

      “People can surprise you.”

      “So, you were looking at his gas gauge?”

      “Just under a quarter-tank. Here to Ottawa and back would be about three quarters of a tank, wouldn’t it?”

      “About that.” Marshall was grinning. “Not bad, Smitty. If he’s lying about when he filled up last, you might be onto something. Call it in.”

      As Smith stepped out to make the call to set the warrant in motion, Marshall chatted with Howard. They were soon back to the investigation.

      “You think it might be Ridgeway?” The young constable’s excitement was obvious.

      “I don’t think we’re that lucky,” Marshall said. “But you never know. Guys tend to be protective of little sisters.”

      “So, where to next ?” Howard said, as the waitress arrived to take their orders.

      “Ridgeway’s lawyer, Derek Bell. You know him?”

      “Doesn’t sound familiar, but I guess he’s not a criminal lawyer.”

      “Generalist, I think,” Marshall said, as Smith returned.

      “What’d you get me?”

      “Burger.”

      “Cheese?”

      “Of course, cheese. What’s the word?”

      “I talked to Beaudoin. He thinks it’ll be a slam dunk.”

      “Good.”

      Smith yawned and looked at his watch. “So we’ve got the lawyer at one-thirty, and then it’s just the dishwasher. He should be back to us by the end of that meeting.”

      “If it’s okay with you,” Howard said, “I’ll drop you back at the station after lunch. I’ve got to be in the other end of town for a two o’clock. The lawyer’s office is across the street.”

      “Perfect. Thanks for taking us around this morning.”

      “No worries. So what do you guys think? If it’s not Ridgeway, do you think it could be some crazy fan?”

      “Anything’s possible right now,” Marshall said. “I meant to ask you, since Ritchie played his junior hockey here, did you ever see him in action?”

      Howard nodded. “Sure. He was amazing. I’ve never seen anyone with a nose for the net like that. He wasn’t a big hitter, or much of a backchecker. But he was fast, and man, did he ever know how to put the puck in the net. He woulda broken some records, that’s for sure.”

      “I guess we’ll never know.”

      Smith and Marshall sat at a round table in a little library off the main reception area at Derek Bell and Associates. According to the directory by the front door, the converted two-storey housed a handful of lawyers, practising everything from property law, wills, and estates to family and criminal law. Bell himself was listed as a property expert, Smith noticed, looking at a certificate on the wall. He glanced at the adjacent print, depicting a man in Victorian clothes standing before a mirror with a legal text in one hand, the other raised dramatically. The caption below read: The lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client.

      “Hey, Marsh, check it out,” Smith said, pointing to the print as Bell, who had already greeted them and ushered them into the library himself — the office being closed for the holiday — came through the door with a file in his hand. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, but didn’t seem too put out by their arrival, given he was already working anyway. The rest of the building seemed empty.

      “That one’s my favourite,” he said, following Smith’s gaze.

      “It’s a great line,” Smith agreed as Bell sat and opened the file folder.

      “So, what can I help you with, detectives?” They had kept the explanation for their visit vague on the phone, but Bell had obviously come to his own conclusions about the purpose.

      “We’re investigating Curtis Ritchie’s murder, and our inquiries led us to Nancy Ridgeway. We understand you represented her.”

      Bell nodded. “Yes, I did. But surely you don’t think she’s a suspect. She wouldn’t harm a fly.”

      “No, she’s not a suspect at this time, but we are interested in her paternity claim.”

      Bell crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a bit of a sad story, really. She’s basically a good kid who got mixed up with the wrong guy.”

      “You mean Curtis Ritchie?”

      Bell nodded.

      “So you think he’s the father of Nancy Ridgeway’s child ?”

      “I have no doubt.”

      “Then why didn’t she pursue the claim?”

      “You’d have to ask her that, but I suspect it had a lot to do with family pressure, and appearances.”

      Smith looked up from his notes. “We met her parents this morning, and I can see what you mean about their not wanting the claim going through the courts. Who could blame them?”

      “Yeah. I’ve known John Senior for twenty years. He’s a good man, and I know he’s crushed by this whole thing. Since Nancy’s still a minor, he had the final say on the litigation.”

      “What about John Junior?” Marshall asked.

      Bell’s face hardened at the sound of the name. “What about him?”

      “Do you know him well?”

      “Not really.”

      “Was he involved in the claim?”

      “Most of the meetings were at the family home, and he was there, though I think he’s moved out since.”

      Smith nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been to his place. He should probably have toughed it out at home for a few more years.”

      Bell grinned. “To be honest with you, I always felt that it was John Junior who convinced Nancy’s folks to file the claim in the first place. I took instructions from the father, as Nancy’s legal guardian, but I think his son was egging them on.”

      “Nancy mentioned it settled for fifty thousand. That doesn’t sound like a lot of money.”

      “It’s not. I advised them against accepting it, but by then I think John Senior had stopped listening to his son, and Nancy had lost heart. It had already started to become unpleasant.”

      “How so?”

      “Ritchie’s lawyers wanted Nancy examined by an independent gynecologist, and they sent out a letter threatening all sorts of things, including a counterclaim for defamation, recovery of astronomical medical costs, that sort of thing. It was all smoke and mirrors, but it was clear they were going to fight the thing to the end.” Bell unfolded his arms and leaned over the table. “Like I said, I advised him against settling for that amount, as I think it was my duty to do. But deep down I was glad he didn’t listen. It would have torn them apart.”

      “What about John Junior? How did he feel about the settlement?”

      “He wasn’t really in the mix by the time it got to settlement. He wasn’t at the last meeting we had to discuss it.”

      “Were you surprised?”

      “A little, I guess. He certainly seemed to be pushing it in the beginning.”

      “So when, exactly, did you settle ?”

      Bell