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  HAZARD OF THE HILLS

  A PARKS PAT MYSTERY #6

  P.D. WORKMAN

  ABOUT HAZARD OF THE HILLS

  This is another well-written, briskly-paced mystery featuring great characters, lots of interesting glimpses into Canada’s Indigenous culture, and a satisfying resolution all wrapped up in delightful quick-read police procedural by an author who could make a description of drying paint sound fascinating.

  KIM, GOODREADS READER

  Such a great series. Not only do you get the murder mystery, you also get great characters, beautiful scenery and the relationship between a mother, daughter and grandfather. Loving this.

  KANDY, GOODREADS READER

  A Mighty Fall

  * * *

  This case might just leave Margie feeling nostalgic about the water deaths she has been investigating lately.

  * * *

  A woman is found at the bottom of a 70-meter drop. It is pretty clear from the beginning that she was killed in the fall.

  * * *

  But you can never be sure until the medical examiner’s report comes back. It would appear that there is a lot more to be investigated after all.

  * * *

  Maybe this close-knit community wasn’t quite all it appeared to be.

  * * *

  Looking for a police procedural set in picturesque Canada? Let Award-winning and Bestselling Author P.D. Workman take you to her favourite Calgary parks, as Métis detective Margie Patenaude investigates a murder in this fast-paced new series.

  * * *

  These short mysteries are just right for those days when you could use a break from your busy life. Take a walk in a Calgary park with Parks Pat.

  * * *

  Fall into this new mystery today!

  Copyright © 2022 by P.D. Workman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  ISBN: 9781774681893 (Lulu Direct)

  ISBN: 9781774681855 (KDP Paperback)

  ISBN: 9781774681909 (KDP Hardcover)

  ISBN: 9781774681886 (Large Print)

  ISBN: 9781774681862 (Kindle)

  ISBN: 9781774681879 (ePub)

  Sign up for my mailing list at pdworkman.com and get Gluten-Free Murder for free!

  * * *

  For those standing close to the edge

  CONTENTS

  Style Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Edworthy Park

  Preview of Unlawful Harvest

  Unlawful Harvest

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by P.D. Workman

  About the Author

  STYLE NOTE

  Since my largest readership is in the USA, I have chosen to use US spellings throughout this series. That includes the Americanization of centre to center, even where it is an actual place name, just for consistency’s sake. I apologize to my Canadian readers for this.

  I have chosen, however, to use Canadian grammar, particularly for Canadian voices. If you see what you think is a grammar error, it may just be Canadian, eh?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Margie studied Christina as she prepared to go out with her friends.

  “Hat? Sunscreen? Bug spray?”

  “Mom!” Christina gave her most exasperated-teenager groan to the word. “I don’t need any of those things. It isn’t like I’m going to get sunburned.”

  “Even with your dark skin, you can still get sunburned,” Margie told her, smiling at the rich brown tone of Christina’s skin, very close to Margie’s own. Christina’s Cree features were a little less pronounced than Margie’s. Anyone looking at Margie immediately knew she was descended from one of the First Nations. Christina was most likely to be considered Indigenous, but her smaller nose and more rounded cheeks left enough doubt that people would ask rather than just assuming. “I remember going to an air show in Winnipeg once where I—”

  “Was standing outside in the full sun looking at the sky for ten hours,” Christina finished. Apparently, Margie had mentioned the story once or twice before. “And your skin peeled.”

  Margie nodded. “Exactly. You get a burn like that once, and your chances at getting skin cancer skyrocket. It isn’t worth the risk. If you would at least wear a hat to keep the sun off your face…”

  “No. I don’t want a hat on, and I’m not going to be looking at the sky for ten hours. We’ll be outside for a few minutes, and then be in one of the buildings to eat or look at exhibits. I don’t need a hat and I don’t need sunscreen.”

  Margie didn’t bring up bug spray again. Christina was rarely bothered by the mosquitoes. And it was going to be a warm day. The mosquitoes wouldn’t be out until the evening.

  “Okay? I’m going now,” Christina informed her. She leaned down slightly to give Margie a hug and kiss her forehead as if she were the child instead of Christina. “Stop worrying. I’ll have my phone with me, there’s security, and you raised me well, so there’s nothing to fuss about. I’ll be fine.”

  Margie knew that she probably would be, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. Things could still happen. Girls could be lured and trafficked. There was, unfortunately, an increase in trafficking around the Stampede, with extra girls brought in to serve the tourists and locals looking for some Stampede side action. What if some of those traffickers were looking to increase their stables? Christina was an attractive girl of the right age. And as sophisticated as she was, there was no guarantee she would recognize the danger if she were approached by a teen boy who showed her interest.

  “Who is going with you? You guys will stay together, right?”

  “We’re going as a group,” Christina said, which didn’t actually answer the question of whether they would stay together all the time. “It’s just some friends from school. You don’t know all of them.”

  “Is Tracy going?”

  “Yes.” Eye roll. “Tracy is going.”

  Tracy, a boy, not a girl, would help to deter approaches by young men, but also brought more worries.

  “You won’t go off on your own? It’s not safe for you to just wander by yourself.”

  “It will be perfectly fine,” Christina insisted. “I will be okay, Mom, I promise.”

  “Maybe I should come along. Seeing as it is Community Spirit Day, and I really should go see the Elbow River Camp. I went a couple of times when I was a little girl, but that was a long time ago.”

  “You are not coming with me.”

  Margie smiled and gave her daughter a squeeze. “Don’t give me reason to, then. Be safe. Take all the precautions, even if you think that I’m being silly and you don’t need to. Remember I’m a cop, I’ve seen a lot more than you.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Christina’s tone was pained. “Now I have to go. They’re texting me.” She flashed her phone at Margie to show her how impatient her friends were. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “When will you be home?”

  “I don’t know. It might be late. We might go to Peters’ and then find a place to watch the fire
works.”

  Margie salivated as she remembered her own trips to the drive-in with her friends those summers she had visited her Moushoom. Peters’ burgers, milkshakes in unending varieties so thick you could hardly suck them through a straw, and big baskets of fries. Back in those days, she could eat things like that without putting on weight.

  “Call or text me a couple of times during the day just to touch base,” she told Christina. “Then I won’t call you.”

  “Okay, Mom. Bye.”

  Christina touched Margie fleetingly on the arm to soften her abrupt reply and dashed out the door. As she left, Margie saw that she was wearing sandals. If she walked in those all day, the backs of her heels were going to be raw.

  Christina had promised that she would be okay. She was sure that she could control the outcomes, when all she could really control were her own choices.

  Once Christina was on her way, Margie did a quick sweep through the kitchen and the rest of the house to make sure that all the dishes were in the dishwasher and clothes from the previous night were in the hamper. The house looked reasonably tidy. Christina didn’t always remember to pick up after herself, but she was pretty good about it. Better, Margie was sure, than she herself had been as a teenager. She hadn’t made the best choices herself, becoming pregnant with Christina when she had been barely older than her daughter was now.

  The thought made her shudder.

  She had thought that she was so grown up. Such an adult. She hadn’t known how much growing up she would be forced to do in a short time to keep her daughter and get herself back on track.

  Margie’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out, expecting to see a text from Christina, but it kept vibrating in her hand, a picture of Kaitlyn Jones, one of Margie’s fellow homicide detectives, on the screen. Blond, friendly, smiling in the picture. She had made Margie feel immediately welcome in Calgary when Margie had arrived less than a year before.

  Margie swiped to answer the call. “Detective Patenaude.”

  “Is this Detective Parks Pat?” Jones asked smartly.

  Which meant that Margie’s assumed specialty in solving homicides that took place in Calgary’s parks was being called upon. She let out her breath. “What have we got?”

  “I don’t have many details yet. Body found in Edworthy Park. A woman. That’s about all I know so far. Meet me there?”

  “Will do,” Margie agreed. “Will it be on my GPS?”

  “I’m sure it will be. And the scene is actually fairly close to the south parking lot, so it shouldn’t be hard for you to find once you get there. Just look for the yellow tape and people trying to see what’s going on.”

  “Okay.” Margie headed over to the door to put on her shoes. “Tell me there isn’t any water at Edworthy Park.”

  Jones laughed. “It’s on the river. But you’re in luck this time. The body is not in the water.”

  “Thank goodness for that. I’m beginning to think that I’m going to have to invest in a life jacket as part of my on-scene uniform.”

  Jones chuckled at that. “See you there,” she said, and hung up.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The route that the GPS app showed on the map of Calgary was convoluted, and Margie hoped that she wouldn’t miss any exits, or she would be driving all over Calgary before she managed to find Edworthy Park. The computer voice would yell at her to perform illegal U-turns and cross medians while Margie tried to keep an eye on the screen and on the traffic and exit signs all at the same time. One thing that she wished was different about Calgary was how much area the city covered. It was not neat and compact, that was for sure. And very little of it followed the grid system that the city’s forefathers had envisioned.

  Margie finished braiding her hair and pinned it up into a bun.

  “Okay, be nice to me,” she told the GPS voice, and pulled away from the curb.

  She did manage to miss a couple of turns but, thankfully, the GPS was able to compensate without making her perform any illegal turns. She did not get pulled over by a traffic cop. Explaining that she was a police detective and couldn’t follow navigation directions was not how she wanted to start the case.

  It was nearly half an hour before she made it to the signs designating the park. There was a steep hill down into the park with switchbacks back and forth. She was immediately surrounded by an impressive growth of trees and bushes, giving the illusion that she was out in the wilds rather than in the middle of a busy city. When she got to the bottom, she could see the series of parking lots for public parking. There was a squad car with flashing lights blocking off one access and a cop redirecting traffic away from it on foot. Margie followed the road that curved through the parking lots, aiming for that entrance.

  The traffic cop bent down to talk to her when she stopped, half of his face obscured by a black mask. “Sorry, ma’am, this area is restricted.”

  Margie held up her police identification. “Homicide.”

  “Ah. Give me a sec.” He moved away from the car and grabbed one of the orange A-frame barricades that also blocked the road. He pulled it to the side so that Margie could get her car past the police car, then pulled it back into place as she drove farther down the road.

  Margie continued to follow the road and the waves of various law enforcement officers or park conservation officers along the way until she reached what was obviously the staging area. She stepped out of her car and was met by Detective Jones.

  “Didn’t take you too long,” Jones observed, her eyes smiling. “I take it Edworthy Park was on your GPS?”

  “Yes. Didn’t lead me astray this time. Which means I’ll have to be all the more careful next time…”

  Jones nodded. “We’re this way.”

  She led Margie at a quick clip to a patch of browning grass and dirt with narrow tire impressions, and there it was. Margie stayed well back from the body, looking around to see whether the forensic techs were there yet. There were a couple already geared up and waiting in the shade of the nearby trees. She made a slow circle of the body but couldn’t see much other than what Jones had already mentioned. That it was a woman, and she was dead. The crumpled form was face down, limbs askew, and it was not immediately apparent what had happened to her. She wore a light jacket and long pants, so it had probably been cool when she had gone for a walk in the park and… Margie had to stop there, because she really didn’t have any idea what happened next. The clothes were scuffed and had holes in them. A homeless person?

  “Any idea what happened to her?” Margie asked. “Who found the body?”

  “Dog walker.” Jones motioned in what appeared to be a random direction, since Margie didn’t see a man with a dog waiting to be interviewed. There were privacy screens up, though, and there might be a witness in one of the blind spots. “As usual. And as far as the cause of death, I would think that was pretty obvious.”

  Margie looked again for any sign of violence. There was no spreading pool of blood, no visible bullet or knife wound. No vomit puddles nearby indicating poison or overdose.

  “I guess I haven’t had enough coffee yet this morning. What’s obvious?”

  Jones pointed up. Margie raised her head and followed the direction of Jones’s index finger. “What…?”

  The hill beside them was steep, nearly a cliff. But as Margie looked at it, she realized that the stripes down the side were trails worn by bicycle tires. Margie would not have attempted to walk up or down the steep incline but, apparently, bikers used it regularly. Margie looked at the tire marks through the clearing. What amazed her was how many tire tracks and worn trails there were. It clearly wasn’t just something that one daredevil had attempted, surviving the plunge to the bottom, but something that was done with regularity.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I wish I was.”

  “She fell?”

  “Looks that way. Went out for her evening constitutional, and…” Jones made a whistling sound.

  “
Ai-yi-yi! Why isn’t there a fence or a barrier at the top? This is dangerous!”

  “They’ve had fences. They gave up because they kept being pulled down by the downhill bikers.”

  “They should be put in jail. Or in some kind of institution. How could anyone sane even consider that?” Margie stared up the hill. “I mean seriously, is biking down there even possible?”

  “I don’t think I would be able to watch.”

  Margie took another look around, analyzing the positioning of the body once more. Not someone who had just collapsed there, but someone who had taken a tumble down the hill and landed in a heap there. The dirt and tears in her clothing not from living rough or sleeping outside, but from falling down the hill head over heels.

  “How high is the hill?”

  “I asked one of the CO’s. Apparently, it’s about 70 meters.”

  Margie automatically converted it in her head. Over 210 feet.

  “Crap. She must have been terrified.”

  Jones nodded soberly.