‘So did you see anything yesterday that’s going to help the Mounties get their man?’

Sam looked dolefully over his shoulder. ‘No.’

Eric made an upward nod, and swung away from Sam on his chair. Sam closed the door softly.

That wasn’t true. He did see something that the Mounties wanted. He saw it every morning when he looked in the bathroom mirror.

He walked through the office and felt eyes follow him across the corridor of oatmeal carpet. There was a small pause as he closed the outer door, then the bustle of noise continued as before, and a policeman got up and knocked on Eric Sindon’s door.

Behind the till, Margaret was eating cake. She tucked it out of sight as Katie came through the doors and pushed through the turnstile.

‘Hi!’

Her greeting was thick, from the spongy confection sticking to the roof of her mouth.

‘Hi, Margaret. Busy?’

Margaret opted for the easy option and just shook her head. It gave her time to swallow. Katie stopped at the counter and tidied a pile of flyers advertising the new Japanese restaurant on Carlisle Street.

‘How bad? Two people, three people, or no people?’

The cake was on its way to Margaret’s stomach. She could speak again. ‘All day we’ve had eight. There’s one woman upstairs. That’s it.’

‘Any messages?’

‘No.’

‘Denholm still in?’

‘Gone to his aunt’s. She asked him to cut wood. His uncle’s in bed with flu.’

‘You know, Margaret, it’s a challenge being a high-powered executive, but sometimes the stress is unbearable.’

Margaret said, ‘Hey,’ and put her hands out like a Jewish mamma, as Katie smiled and walked away, taking a path through the stuffed bears to get to her office. She opened the glass-panelled door and threw down her bag on the chair.

She was glad the museum was empty. There was a lot to think about and she didn’t have the energy today to introduce snotty-nosed kids to the miracles of fossilization, or phone up the computer contractors for the tenth time to complain about her screen flicker. Katie needed space to start a bit of damage limitation. She went to the window and looked out as she peeled off her coat. There wasn’t much of a view. It looked out onto the yard of a car hire company, but if you looked past their brick wall and chicken wire, you could just make out the big lodgepole pines on Main Street. She dropped her coat on the chair with the bag, crossed her arms and stood gazing at three snow-covered, unhired Buicks.

Okay lady, she thought, let’s get it all in proportion here. Number one. Do you trust Sam?

Yes.

Number two. Will Sam die?

No. Not if I can help it.

Number three.

Will everything soon be back to normal?

Yes.