Death as a Last Resort (18 page)

Maggie went through the whole story once again, finishing up with her return home, hoping to grab a bite to eat before staking out Smith's emporium herself. “Luckily,” she ended, “Nat called me.”

“I'd been trying to get hold of her since shortly after six,” Nat chimed in. “I was getting worried and was about to get in my car and drive to her place when she answered.”

“And that's when the chase began,” George said. “Are you sure that Nancy was in the van?”

Maggie glanced over to Nat. “That's the problem, George. We're not really sure. You see, Smith complained that he couldn't keep her at his emporium any longer, and that's when the boss man told him to take her to the farm.”

“Did he mention a specific time?”

“No. Just that night.”

“So when we saw the van leave,” Nat said, “we were sure that she must be in it.”

George reached for another pastry. “This is the same emporium where Nancy sold the bracelet, right?” he said before taking a large bite.

They both nodded.

“And you can't place the voice of this boss man?” he asked Maggie.

She shook her head. “I couldn't hear him properly from where we were.”

Nat suddenly asked, “Have the West Van police got anywhere with Maurice Dubois's murder?”

“They'd love to pin it on one of that bunch at the fishing resort, but they can all provide alibis for each other. And they all say Dubois was there until the Saturday afternoon and then he simply disappeared, only to turn up dead on Hollyburn Mountain a couple of days later.”

“And Jacquelyn's murder?” Maggie asked.

“Farthing says it was simply a robbery that went wrong. Someone knew she was alone and that she had valuable stuff. Unfortunately,” George continued, “it's quite common to rob grieving spouses. Thieves find obituaries in the paper and follow up on them.”

“Farthing could be right,” Nat said. “After all, the theft of the antiquities did take place a couple of weeks before she was murdered.” He sat deep in thought for a moment. “But I still think that the murders are connected.”

“I agree with you. And now there's Nancy's kidnapping.”

“I don't know if you realize it, George,” Maggie said, “but the three I saw last night with that cache of Egyptian antiquities were all at that fishing resort over the New Year's holidays. And Mrs. Schaefer told me that both Edgeworthy and Smith were in North Africa with the 8th Army—so there is a connection.”

“It's got to be some big-time smuggling racket,” Nat said. “And Nancy's somehow got herself mixed up in it. I'm really worried for her, George.”

“I know you are, Nat, but even if I got a search warrant for the Smiths' place, you can bet your bottom dollar Nancy won't be there.” He stood up and reached for his coat. “In the meantime, you be careful,” he said, and turning to Maggie, he added, “No more breaking and entering.” He reached down from his six three height and gave Maggie a peck on the cheek. “Loved the pastries.” He patted his stomach. “My wife won't let me have them.”

• • •

IT WAS AFTER TWO when Maggie, deep in paperwork, heard the outer door opening. Stretching her arms over her head, she got out of her chair and made for the outer office, where Henny was hanging up her coat.

“Mr. Nat tell you my boy is sick?” Henny said. “My neighbour will go in and make sure he is okay.” She dived a hand into her roomy tapestry bag, pulled out her new knitting project, laid it on her desk and then dived back into the bag for a large brown paper bag. “I have baked something different for Mr. Nat.” She plonked a large round loaf next to her knitting. “Soda bread. My neighbour, Mrs. Reilly, showed me how.”

“Soda bread! I haven't had that for years. My Irish grandmother used to bake it.” She stopped suddenly. “Of course. It's Liam Mahaffy! The boss man is Liam Mahaffy and the farm they're talking about is Twin Maples—Mahaffy's stables.” She turned and gave a very surprised Henny a hug. “Thank you.”

“For soda bread?”

“For
Irish
soda bread.” She reached up, grabbed both their coats from the bamboo stand and tossed Henny's over to her. “The Smiths' van wasn't going to Richmond. It was heading for the Deas Island Tunnel and Mahaffy's stables out in Delta! Come on! We're off to rescue Nancy.”

“But what about Mr. Nat?”

“We'll leave him a note.” Then she stopped. “But what about your boy?”

“It is only a cold he has. I call my neighbour and say I have to do some detecting.” She popped the soda bread back into her bag and struggled into her coat while Maggie scribbled a note for Nat and left it on his desk.

Henny sat in the passenger seat of the Morris and clutched her large tapestry bag to her bosom as if it would protect her from the speed Maggie was driving. “Perhaps we get there safer if we go slow?”

“Sorry. My mind was on how to go about tackling Liam Mahaffy. I can't just bust in on him and ask if he's kidnapped Nancy.”

“You will think of something when we get there,” Henny answered. “You always do, Mrs. Maggie.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” But her mind was still going over several scenarios for the confrontation ahead.

• • •

“YOU ARE SUCH a bad liar.” Liam Mahaffy looked down at Nancy, trussed up and lying on an iron cot. “The Smiths dug under that damned birdbath and they didn't find a thing! I think it would be in your best interest to stop playing games and tell me what you really did with the stuff.”

“I told you, Liam—I buried them in a bag right under that birdbath. They
must
be there!” She gave a little sob. “They couldn't have looked in the right place.” Nancy was certainly not a brave person, and now she was hungry, thirsty and dirty, and her left cheek and eye were painfully swollen where one of Smith's sons had given her a few unnecessary vicious blows. “Take me home and I'll show you.”

“My dear, it doesn't work like that. You tell us. We find the goods. Then if you're telling the truth . . .”

“I
am
telling you the truth. And how do I know you'll let me go?”

“You don't. We're willing to give you a few more hours to consider.” He glanced at his Rolex. “Say midnight tonight.” He gave a sardonic smile. “It's easier to get rid of a body after dark.”

“Please, Liam, I'm so thirsty . . .” But he had already left the room, locking the door firmly behind him.

Nancy curled up in a fetal position and sobbed.
Why did I steal that junk? Nobody knows where I am, and nobody cares.
She was totally exhausted. A few minutes later, the door was reopened, and Mahaffy returned carrying a jug.

“I'm not totally unfeeling,” he said, placing the jug on the night table. He pushed her roughly onto her side and untied the tight cords binding her wrists and ankles. “You won't be going anywhere. There's a toilet in there.” And then he was gone. Nancy listened to his footsteps getting fainter and fainter as he descended the stairs.

Struggling to sit up, she took a long drink of the water—it was wonderful—but it took several tries to get her numb legs working so that she could hobble to the toilet in the adjoining closet.

The bedroom she had been imprisoned in was obviously in an attic and was sparsely furnished with just the iron bedstead, a wooden chair and a rickety table. Before returning to sit on the bed, Nancy put the chair under the small window and gingerly climbed onto it to look outside. It told her little other than that the ground was a very long way down and the house was completely isolated. All she could see for miles were waterlogged fields with rows and rows of dead cabbage stalks and acres of rhubarb. There were no horse stables, paddocks or barns, or any sign of Liam's staff of workers that she had expected to see.

Climbing down from the chair, she sat on the side of the bed to think. “So where the hell am I?” She fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Even if Nat goes looking for me, he'll never find me here!”

• • •

“YOU WANT ME TO stay in car?” Henny asked nervously as a string of riders on huge horses, hooves clattering on the concrete driveway that fronted the complex of buildings, trotted past.

Maggie nodded. “I'll see if he's in his office before asking around.”

She tapped on the office door and pushed it open. Liam Mahaffy was immediately on his feet and extending a hand to her.

“Well! It's Mrs. Spencer, the detective lady. What brings you to this neck of the woods? Don't mind the dogs—they won't hurt you,” he added as his two German shepherds came over to sniff at her again.

He pointed to a chair. “Sit down and tell me what I can do for you.”

“It's about Nancy . . . Nancy Gladstone,” she repeated when he responded with a blank look.

“Who the hell is Nancy Gladstone?”

“Didn't you meet her at that ski resort promotion lunch?”

“Oh!
That
Nancy. What about her?”

“She seems to have gone missing, and I wondered if you had seen her lately?”

He shook his head. “Haven't seen her since. You a friend of hers?”

“No.”

The answer came out so curtly that Mahaffy raised an eyebrow and gave a little laugh. “Obviously not. So why the interest?”

“She's my boss's ex-wife.”

“Oh! I see.” He tried to hide his surprise before he continued, “Why isn't he doing the looking?”

“He is. We both are.”

He got to his feet and walked around the side of the desk. “Sorry I can't be of any help, but I'm sure she'll turn up.” And putting his hand under Maggie's elbow, he eased her out of the chair and over to the door. “At least let me see you to your car. You still driving that cute little red one?” The two dogs followed closely behind as he walked her to where the Morris was parked.

“Is that where you live?” Maggie asked, pointing to a sprawling rancher just beyond the stables.

“Oh yes. Have to be where the action is,” he replied as she got behind the wheel. “Nice to see you've brought a bodyguard with you,” Mahaffy added, nodding to Henny. Laughing, he closed her car door, turned and walked back to his office. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, Maggie could see that the two dogs watched the car until she reached the farm gate.

“What we do now?” Henny asked as they drove back down the lane.

“I don't think he could be keeping Nancy in the stables. There are too many people going in and out all day. So we need to get into his house.” Maggie glanced at her watch. “It's nearly five. Do you need to get home right away, Henny?”

“Dirk will be home with the boys now,” Henny said. Maggie knew that Henny's husband owned a garage and worked erratic hours, so it was lucky he'd have the time to spend with his two sons. Henny's next words confirmed Maggie's thoughts. “So it is okay for us to go on looking for Mr. Nat's old wife.”

“That's great, Henny. Thanks. I'm going to double back and hide the car in that small side road near the stables. Then I'm afraid we'll have to wait until it gets dark before I can get back into the stables. This is the place,” she added as she turned into a narrow side road and then drove her car under some evergreens. Turning off the engine, they settled down to wait.

Henny, diving once again into her copious bag, produced the soda bread and a knife. She handed a big wedge of bread over to Maggie, who would have given anything for a cup of hot tea to go with it, as it was rather dry, but she was grateful all the same.

Through the branches of the scrubby evergreens beside the car, they had a partial view of the road leading from the stables. Around six they watched several of Liam's workers leave, some on foot and others pedalling bikes. Even so, Maggie waited until a little after seven before finally opening her car door and very gingerly shaking the crumbs from her lap. The rain had stopped but the sky was still overcast, so hopefully she would be able to slip back to the stables unnoticed.

“If I'm not back in an hour, get to a phone and call Nat.”

“We go together,” Henny answered firmly, hauling herself out of the passenger seat. “But what about those big dogs?”

“Let's hope they're keeping the horses company.”

• • •

IT WAS NEARLY FIVE thirty before Nat arrived back at the office. He was excited about the new case and couldn't wait to fill Maggie in, but there was no one in the office when he arrived, so he settled down at his desk, eager to make notes on his afternoon appointment.

He was so engrossed that a full hour had passed before he glanced up and saw Maggie's note propped up against his desk calendar. He knew immediately it meant trouble. “Oh, Maggie, what have you done this time?” He scanned the note, uttered several meaningful oaths, then thrust it angrily into his coat pocket.

He debated whether he should call George, but decided he needed more information before bringing him in. “Why the hell couldn't she have waited?” he asked himself.

Grabbing his keys, he returned to his car and headed out into the traffic.

• • •

MAHAFFY'S STABLES WERE AT least a hundred yards from the gate, but they were well lit. Maggie could see that at least four people were still working and moving in and out of the buildings. The house also showed a few lights, so she surmised that this was where she would find Mahaffy. Touching Henny's shoulder, she indicated that she was going to the right to follow the line of trees along the rail fence that bordered the property.

“Where are the dogs?” Henny asked nervously as she followed on Maggie's heels.

“In the stables . . . I hope,” she whispered back.

Ten minutes later, Maggie stopped and indicated silently that she was going to cross the open space between the trees and the open garage where Mahaffy's silver Jag was parked. The office was located next to it, and light was filtering through its slatted blinds. “You stay here,” she whispered, “while I take a peek through the office window.” She kept her fingers crossed that someone wouldn't appear out of the dark and surprise her as she tiptoed past the garage to reach the office. But Liam Mahaffy was not in the room, and as far as she could tell, neither were the dogs.