Death as a Last Resort (25 page)

“So why did you come back this weekend?”

“Because your secretary told me that the Smith brothers had grabbed the woman who stole Dad's Egyptian jewellery,” René said.

“And that's why we know she's got it,” Isabelle cut in. She pointed at Nancy, who shook her head sadly again.

“How did your father get the stuff in the first place?” Maggie asked. “Was he part of the smuggling ring?”

“No,” René answered. “He found out what was going on, and I guess, knowing Dad, he demanded a payoff to keep quiet.”

“He always called us his little family,” Isabelle said vehemently, “but he was a blackmailer and a crook and a liar and then he got conned by that little gold digger.” She turned to watch René ineffectually poking the reluctant fire. “Here, give them to me.” And grabbing the tongs out of his hands, she bent down and pushed the pieces of wood into the flame.

“Isabelle,” René said in a warning voice.

Ignoring him, she carried on, “He promised René a partnership in the logging business and then that Jacquelyn got him fired. And he was going to set me up with my own beauty salon.”

“But why kill your own father?” Maggie asked softly.

Nancy stared at Maggie in horror. “You mean they killed Maurice?”

Isabelle stood up and turned from the fire to face Maggie. “Jacquelyn got him to change his will, and then she had the nerve to tell us that we had to stand on our own two feet.” She laughed. “She said she and Dad were going to start their own family—if you can believe that!”

“Oh, Isabelle,” René said sadly. “Why can't you keep your mouth shut?”

“I'd begun to figure it out for myself, anyway,” Maggie told him. “And Jacquelyn? Did you kill her, too?”

“We had to,” Isabelle answered. “With her gone, we inherit everything.”

“Oh, my God, no,” Nancy moaned. “Jacquelyn, too?”

“Oh, shut up,” Isabelle snapped.

There was silence. Isabelle stood holding the tongs. She seemed to be daring Maggie to move.

“I guess we underestimated you,” René said at last. “Your knowing all this changes everything.”

“Nat knows that Nancy and I are here. And the police are on their way,” Maggie answered, turning to walk towards the door.

Isabelle laughed. “I don't think so. Anyway, we'll have to take that chance.”

Maggie was only a couple of feet away from the outside door and safety when she sensed a movement behind her. She ducked, but Isabelle was quicker, and the heavy iron fire tongs came crashing down on her head.

• • •

NAT SLOWLY PULLED HIMSELF up and peered in both directions before starting the engine and ramming the car into gear. He drove up the long, winding driveway to the entrance—no one was following—but he was sure that once Mahaffy saw that his car had gone, he would be hot on the chase. Nat hadn't realized how tense he was until the iron gates came into view and he began to breathe easier.
Now where the hell are you, Maggie?

“Bloody hell!” A Jeep had suddenly appeared from the side road on the right and swerved directly toward him. Nat jammed on his brakes, shooting Oscar into the front seat. The Jeep didn't stop but kept going hell-bent for leather through the gates to disappear up the hill ahead. “Jesus!” Nat leaned his head on the steering wheel, his heart hammering.

“What's wrong, Oscar?” The dog was scrabbling frantically at the door. “Wait a sec.” He leaned over and patted him on the head. “Let me park, okay?” Putting the car back into gear, he drove through the gates, but before he could pull over and park, a black Ford nosed its way toward them up the short, steep incline to the gates and halted beside him. Sergeant George Sawasky climbed out of his car.

Nat rolled down his window, and immediately Oscar leapt over him, out the window and raced up the hill.

“Oscar, come back here,” Nat yelled.

“What's going on?” George asked.

“Maggie and Nancy are missing. She left a note telling me to meet her here at the gates.”

Suddenly, George pointed back down the road. “My God, look!”

Nat climbed out of his car. “Nancy?”

They watched incredulously as Nancy, still tied to the wooden chair, hobbled toward them. “They've got Maggie,” she shouted.

“Who has Maggie?” Nat said, running toward her.

“René and Isabelle! And they killed Maurice and Jacquelyn.” And she sat down on the chair, tears running down her face. “Get me out of this, Nat,” she pleaded.

Nat squatted down beside her and started to untie the ropes.

At that moment, the passenger door of George's car opened and out popped Quentin De Meyer. “I've got to get down to the resort before the Coast Guard arrives,” he yelled. “Can't you catch up on your social life later?”

“Take the damned car, Quentin,” George yelled back. “I'm going to help Nat find Maggie. Now,” he continued, pulling Nancy free from her chair, “let's follow Oscar. He knows where she's gone.” Grabbing Nancy by the arm, George helped her toward Nat's car.

Nat slid behind the wheel, and moments later the old Chevy was heading up the hill in the direction that Oscar had gone.

“Let's get away from this goddamned place,” Nancy screamed from the back seat.

“But I only saw two people in that Jeep,” Nat said as he drove.

“They probably threw her in the back,” Nancy chimed in. “Isabelle hit her on the head and she was out cold.”

“Oh, my God!” Nat groaned. “I can't believe those two are murderers.”

“That's one of the reasons I'm here,” George said, holding tightly to the door handle as Nat pushed his foot down on the accelerator. “Scene of crime officers have finally identified two distinct sets of fingerprints in places that only the killer or killers could have left them. And Jacquelyn's maid told us that René had become a frequent visitor since Maurice's death. And on that particular night, she had helped Jacquelyn prepare dinner for the two of them.”

“René?” Nat asked in disbelief.

“And the other prints were Isabelle's. Let's hope we can catch up to them.”

“And Maggie must have figured it out,” Nat answered grimly. “But where could they be going?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

M
aggie could hear somebody moaning, and as she struggled to wake up, she realized that the moaning was coming from her. All she wanted to do was sink back into sleep, but subconsciously she knew that she must wake up.
Okay. I'm in a car of some sort and I've hurt my head. Whose car?
She tried hard to think. Then it came to her—she was lying in a fetal position on the floor behind the front seats of a car.
It's René's Jeep!

“I hope you didn't kill her,” Maggie heard René say.

“What's it matter?” the girl answered. “We have to get rid of her anyway.”

“I can't do it, Isabelle.”

Maggie realized the car had stopped.

“Keep going, you idiot,” his stepsister ordered him.

I must pull myself together
, Maggie thought. She tried to flex her legs without the two in front seeing the movement.

René rammed the Jeep into gear and turned right. Maggie had to stifle a cry of pain as the Jeep's acceleration caused her head to strike the hard metal floor.

“There's a big lake at the end of this road,” Isabelle said, glancing over her shoulder to check on Maggie.

“So?” René asked.

“That's where we dump her.”

“No! We've done enough killing, Isabelle,” René answered.

“You're a big baby, René,” she sneered. “Baby!”

• • •

NAT TURNED RIGHT AT the crest of the hill onto Hotel Lake Road and drove around the twists and turns until he was skirting the lake itself.

“There's a turnoff ahead,” George yelled.

“Which way would they have gone?”

“Go right,” George shouted. “Look! Skid marks.”

Nat rammed the old car into gear and tore around the corner, but the tires hitting the muddy verge caused the car to begin a slow skid and head straight for the lake's edge. He yanked hard on the steering wheel, but the car was slow to respond and continued its slide across the mud. There was nothing he could do but hold onto the wheel. Gradually, the vehicle stopped skidding and came to rest a mere foot away from the lapping water.

“For God's sake,” Nancy yelled. “You nearly got us killed!”

Nat took a few deep breaths, then carefully reversed back onto the gravel road. “Sorry about that,” he said in a very shaky voice.

“This is just a wild goose chase,” Nancy continued to yell at him. “We'll never catch up to them.”

“Look,” George yelled. “There's Oscar!”

Nat didn't bother to answer as he pulled up beside the tired little dog, opened the door and scooped him up.“Good boy, Oscar. You're a real hero!” And they continued the chase.

• • •

MAGGIE FELT THE JEEP'S speed easing off and knew that they must be nearing the lake where the two of them were proposing to dump her. But not without a fight, she thought. She took a few deep breaths to clear her aching head as she watched the driver's loose seat sliding back and forth on its metal runners.

“There!” Isabelle yelled. “Pull off under those trees.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Hurry up, she's coming around. I'll have to give her another bang on the head when we stop. The water will do the rest.”

From her position on the Jeep's floor, Maggie was unable to see ahead, so had to wait until she felt the car beginning to make the turn. She pulled her legs up even closer to her body until her knees were against the back of René's broken seat. Taking a deep breath, she pushed with all her strength. The sudden jolt slammed René into the steering wheel. The Jeep, now out of control and fishtailing in the loose gravel, skidded sideways into a huge rock, the passenger door flew open with the impact, and Isabelle was flung out onto the grass. Maggie found herself flying backwards. And then, by sheer willpower, she pulled herself over the back of the Jeep to collapse onto the ground, where comforting blackness took over.

• • •

“TAKE IT EASY. THERE'S a sharp bend ahead.”

“And skid marks going straight for the lake!” Nat said.

“It's the Jeep!” George shouted.

“Where's Maggie?” Nat cried out in anguish.

“What's she doing?” Nancy yelled.

Nat jammed his foot on the brake and brought the Chevy to a shuddering stop. He flung the car door open and raced towards Isabelle, who, holding a large rock, was bending over Maggie.

But René got there faster. “Isabelle, no-o-o!” he was screaming as he lunged at his stepsister. The girl looked up in surprise as his body hurtled toward her, and the next second she was flying backwards into the cold waters of the lake.

“Maggie, Maggie!” Nat, kneeling beside her, took her into his arms. “If you've killed her . . .” he threatened René.

“I'm sorry,” René said. “But I wouldn't have let Isabelle kill her.”

George knelt and felt for Maggie's pulse. “We've got to get her to a hospital. There's one just down the road—we passed a sign pointing to it on the way up here.”

“You stay and help George with those two,” Nancy said firmly as she covered Maggie with the blanket from Nat's car. “I'll take the car and go for help.”

“Okay,” George said and looked toward the lake. “I'd better fish that girl out of the water before she drowns.”

“Oh, for God's sake, let her drown,” Nancy said as she tried to stop Oscar licking Maggie's face.

Nat, looking down at the sleeve of his jacket, realized that it was soaked in blood—then he saw the gaping wound on the back of her head. Gathering her up in his arms, he staggered to the car and placed her gently on the back seat.

Suddenly, Nancy pushed him aside, lifted the blanket again and started removing Maggie's shoes.

“Why are you taking her shoes off?”

“Can't drive in bare feet, can I?” she answered as she crushed her feet into Maggie's pumps and began climbing into the driver's seat of the Chevy. “Now get over there and help drag that miserable little bitch out of the water.”

“But I must go with Maggie!”

“No,” Nancy said firmly. “Go and help George. I'm quite capable—in case you've forgotten!”

Nat looked to where George was trying to haul a dripping Isabelle out of the water. “Okay,” he answered reluctantly, closing the back door of the car. “Just carry on down this road to Garden Bay Lake and . . .” But Nancy had rammed the Chevy into gear and was already out of earshot.

It was a good hour later before she returned, suitably backed up with an RCMP officer, to find that Isabelle—shivering with the cold, but still looking defiant—and her brother had been handcuffed and were sitting back to back on the ground, waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I
t was a week since Maggie had been transferred from Garden Bay Hospital on the Sunshine Coast to a private room in St. Paul's in Vancouver. Although she still wore a turban bandage covering most of her head, the bruises had faded to dull yellows and purples, and the cuts were healing nicely.

“I hear you are having a few visitors this evening,” the nurse said after removing Maggie's supper tray. “Remember what Dr. Dryfus said—don't get too tired. Just shoo them out when you've had enough.”

Maggie nodded obediently, knowing full well she couldn't wait to hear all the news from Nat, George and Quentin.

But it was Henny who arrived first, though she was followed closely by Nat, who leaned over to gently gather Maggie into his arms. She was sure he looked a lot older than when she had last seen him. “I'm okay, Nat,” she reassured him. “I'm okay. But is Nancy all right?”