Death as a Last Resort (9 page)

“Where is it?” Maggie asked as she propelled Nancy to her Morris Minor.

“Outside that bookstore. There's no need to let Nat know about this.”

“He has to know. You sure you didn't take anything?” she asked, unlocking the passenger door for her and noticing that both Nancy's hands were still jammed into the bulging pockets of her rain jacket.

“You calling me a thief? Just get me to my car.”

They got to Nancy's car without mishap and Nat's ex-wife hopped out and made a beeline for it. Maggie, relieved to be rid of her, only waited a few seconds before pulling out into the road. Giving a last look back in her rear-view mirror, she saw Nancy waving at her to stop.

“Not on your life,” she muttered. “I've had enough of you for one night.”

• • •

“SHE DID WHAT?” NAT exploded the next morning. “You're telling me that my hare-brained ex-wife broke into someone's office?”

“Actually, it was Edgeworthy's Real Estate office.” And Maggie gave him the details.

“You should've left her there,” he said after she had finished. “Imagine what would've happened if you'd been caught climbing in that window? The police would've been all over us.”

“That's another thing,” Maggie said slowly. “You see, the damn ladder fell over when I was climbing in the window, and what with the rain and the dog next door barking—I just left it where it fell.”

“Oh, that's great! Did the owner of the dog come out to see what was going on?”

“Only when I was getting the ladder down from the wall.”

Nat groaned. “Hell, Maggie! Did he see your car?”

“It was a woman and she turned her flashlight onto it. But I was parked quite a distance away. I'm sure she wouldn't recognize it again.”

“I hope so, for your sake. Are you sure you didn't disturb anything in the office?”

“Only the keys, though I probably put them back on the wrong hooks. And I was wearing gloves.”

“Let's hope they weren't in any particular order.” Nat sat back in his chair. “Well, we'll know soon enough if Edgeworthy realizes that someone broke in and the police start checking with the neighbours. Better get your notes, Maggie, and let's go over everything again.”

“There is one other thing, Nat . . .”

He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

She pulled a small packet out of her pocket and slowly unwrapped it. “I found it on the passenger seat of my car,” she added. “Nancy must have dropped it.”

“Wow!” Nat exclaimed as he took the exquisite silver and turquoise bracelet out of Maggie's hand. “Where could she have got that?”

“It could be hers,” Maggie said slowly.

“She could never afford anything like this.”

“That's what I thought—and Nat, her pockets were bulging when she came out of that file room. I asked her if she had taken anything and she got all huffy.”

“Oh damn,” Nat said. “She's up to her old tricks.”

This time it was Maggie who raised an inquiring eyebrow, but Nat didn't explain. Instead, he carefully rewrapped the bracelet and placed it in his desk drawer. “I think I'll get it appraised before I tackle her about it. But why would a piece of jewellery be in the file room of Edgeworthy's office?”

“Nat,” Maggie said slowly, “I've been wondering—could that bracelet be Jacquelyn's? And if Nancy did find it in Edgeworthy's office, does that mean he's the one who burgled Jacquelyn's house?”

“Edgeworthy?” Nat said. They considered this idea in silence, then Nat said what they were both thinking. “Edgeworthy was Dubois's partner in the Secret Valley scheme, and it's possible he was the real estate agent who sold Maurice Dubois that house . . .”

There was a tap on Nat's door and Henny poked her head in the office. “Your old wife is here . . .” But Nancy pushed past her before she could say another word.

“Why didn't you stop last night?” she demanded of Maggie. “I dropped my bracelet in your car!”

“If you're talking about the bracelet I found on the passenger seat this morning, I've given it to Nat.”

“Well, lover boy, you can hand it over. It's mine.”

“Where did you get it?” Nat asked. “It looks very expensive.”

“An admirer. He's not a cheapskate like you.”

“If it's as expensive as it looks,” Nat answered her, “you'd better take more care of it. Here.” He pulled the desk drawer open and passed the bracelet to her. “And what exactly
were
you doing in that office?”

“You ratted on me,” Nancy snarled at Maggie, and then turning to Nat, she added, “And it's none of your goddamned business.”

“Yes it is when you involve this office.”

“Well, I won't be needing your services again,” Nancy said tartly.

Maggie waited until they heard the outer door slam before she said with a hint of laughter, “So much for getting the bracelet appraised.”

“I've got a horrible feeling that our Nancy is up to no good,” Nat said.

• • •

NAT WAS LATE ARIVING at the office the following morning. After giving a quick rap on Maggie's door, he poked his head in.

“So where have you been while I've been slogging away?” Maggie asked, leaning back into her chair.

“I did tell you,” he said as he settled into one of the visitors' chairs. “I said I would check on logging permits. Anyway,” he continued, “after a lot of runaround, I got the clerk in the government office to look up the files, and he said that the only mention of logging on Hollyburn was for three ski runs. If any other logging has been done, they would have had to apply for a licence from the Ministry of Forests.”

“And did they?” Maggie asked.

“He didn't have access to those records.”

“That's convenient,” she answered, ironically.

CHAPTER SIX

T
he next morning, Jacquelyn Dubois visited the office again. “My lunch engagement is cancelled,” were the first words Dubois's widow greeted them with, “so I have come to learn if you have found my Maurice's antiquities?”

It was on the tip of Maggie's tongue to ask her how well she knew Nat's ex-wife and whether she trusted the woman, but Nat was quicker.

“Hardly, Mrs. Dubois,” he answered. “You know we questioned both your cleaning woman and the gardener, but we don't have the authority to search their homes. Only the police can do that.”

“No, I tell you. No police. I want you to find the bad people who take my
objets
and, of course, my
pauvre
Maurice's life.”

“We are trying, but there is very little to go on. Are you sure you want us to continue?”

“
Oui, oui
,” she answered, gathering up her fur coat and her clutch purse. “What about Annette and that son of hers?”

“You mean your husband's first wife?” Maggie asked.

“She is very jealous. Perhaps she take it.”

“And his second wife?”

“That one has no . . . how you say . . . guts. Isabelle is just like her.”

She was almost out the door when Nat asked, “Was Maurice stationed in Egypt during the war?”

“That was long before I married him. I do not know.”

“You know,” Maggie said after Jacquelyn left them, “she has a point. We've been focusing on the gang that was at that fishing lodge. Perhaps we need to take a closer look at wives one and two.”

“But you think Nancy picked that bracelet up in Edgeworthy's office, don't you? So he's got to be mixed up in it.”

Maggie nodded. “But what if I've got it wrong? What if Nancy already had that bracelet in her pocket when she went to Edgeworthy's office? Maybe he had nothing to do with it. Maybe it's all just a bunch of coincidences. After all, we don't even know if he sold Maurice that house . . .”

“And maybe the bracelet wasn't even one of the stolen pieces . . .” The thought that Nancy might have got the bracelet from some admirer just as she said she had was very appealing to Nat.

• • •

“EGYPTIAN ARTIFACTS?” ANNETTE DUBOIS seemed very puzzled.

It was Saturday morning, and Dubois's first wife had reluctantly agreed to see them in her small first-floor apartment on Fifteenth Street in North Vancouver.

“Maurice never had any art collections when I was married to him,” Annette continued. “Anyway, what would I do with stuff like that? Apart from selling it.” She gave a harsh laugh. “You can see that dear Maurice left me well provided for,” she added sarcastically, gesturing to her surroundings.

The apartment, although fairly new, was cramped with its sagging sofa and two overstuffed armchairs, a dining table, four chairs and matching buffet that had definitely seen better days. But surprisingly, on the floor was a brightly coloured Persian-style carpet in excellent condition. Maggie wondered what the rest of the place looked like.

“Does your son live with you?” she asked.

“René? He moved out once he got himself a job.”

“He worked for his father for a while?” Nat asked.

“Six months. Then Maurice kicked him out. Now he works in a garment factory.”

“Bakhash's Ready Made?” Maggie asked sharply.

“That's it. On Powell.””

“What made him decide on that kind of employment?” Nat asked.

“Someone Maurice knew. Only good thing he ever did for his son.”

“Do you know your ex-husband's second wife, Edith?” Maggie asked.

“Oh yes. She was his secretary, but it happened to her, too.” She laughed again. “He got himself a younger and prettier one—that little tramp Jacquelyn.”

“I heard that she was a model before she married Maurice.”

“Ha! The only modelling that one did was to take her clothes off. She was some kind of exotic dancer, probably striptease.” She stood up to indicate that the interview was over.

It was nearly noon when Maggie and Nat left Annette Dubois and headed for a nearby family restaurant for a quick lunch.

“Well,” Maggie said, reaching for the breadbasket, “what do you think of her remarks about her son?”

“You mean about him working for Bakhash? What made you ask her about that?”

“I thought I recognized him the day I went to interview Bakhash. I'm sure I told you about the young guy arriving in an old army Jeep.”

“And you think that was René?

“I thought at the time that he might be the ‘and son' of Bakhash and Son, but I'm fairly certain now that it was René. You know, when you come to think about it, he and Jacquelyn must be very close in age.”

Nat nodded. “That could make for an interesting situation.”

After lunch they headed back to the city over the Second Narrows Bridge, as Edith Dubois and her daughter lived on Grant Street. Maggie was immediately struck by the contrast between the two residences—Annette's miserable little apartment and Edith Dubois's two-storied, well-kept home with its neat front yard, crisp white lace curtains and freshly painted green front door. Edith, too, was a complete contrast and welcomed them in with a smile.

“I saw you at Maurice's funeral,” she said after seating them in the living room, “so I suppose you noticed that I wasn't very nice to Jacquelyn, but she's such a little upstart.” She stopped abruptly. “I heard she'd hired some investigators.”

“Yes, she's asked us to look into Maurice's death,” Nat said. “Also the theft of some Egyptian antiquities that Maurice owned.”

“Egyptian antiquities? First I've heard of Maurice owning any Egyptian antiquities.”

“How long were you married to Mr. Dubois?” Maggie asked.

“Fourteen years too long. The only good thing that came out of that marriage was my daughter, Isabelle.” She reached over and took a photograph off a side table and held it out to them. “Lovely, isn't she? I expect you saw her at the funeral, too.”

“She's still in school?” Maggie asked, handing the photo back.

“She's training to be a beautician. I wanted her to go to secretarial school like I did. That's what saved me when that bastard dumped me for Jacquelyn—I got myself a job with an insurance company. It's been a struggle, but I'm okay.”

“Have you ever been to Maurice and Jacquelyn's home?”

She shook her head. “Why would I go there?”

“What about Isabelle?”

“The odd time. The last occasion was Maurice's birthday bash last fall.” She looked directly at Maggie. “And there's no way that my daughter would steal anything from that bitch, in case that's what you're thinking.”

• • •

“YOU KNOW,” MAGGIE SAID, “I'm beginning to wonder if those priceless antiquities ever really existed. After all, neither of the previous wives knows anything about them, and all we know about them is the pictures Jacquelyn showed us. What if this is just some kind of insurance scam that Jacquelyn is trying to pull off?”

“But she'd need the police to verify the theft if she was going to pull something like that off, and she's adamant that we not involve the police.” He drove in silence for a few minutes and then added, “And besides, Nancy said she'd seen the stuff.”

There was silence again as they both tried to decide whether Nancy's word was worth considering.

Suddenly Maggie glanced at her watch. “I'll need to do some shopping if we're going to eat in tonight.”

She shivered as she got out of Nat's car at the Overwaitea store. Not one for grocery shopping, he opted to stay in the car while she battled the afternoon shoppers on her own. The sunny day had turned cold and blustery, and she couldn't wait to get inside the warm store and out of the cold. Valentine's Day was only a week away, and gaudy boxes of chocolates had now replaced the Christmas and New Year's promotions.

By the time they got to Maggie's house, it was quite dark. Nat, carrying the bags of groceries, followed Maggie up to her front door. There Maggie, balancing a bag of dog food on one hip, reached into her purse for her key, then froze in mid-motion. The door was ajar.