Death on a Short Leash (21 page)

As soon as he disappeared, Maggie flung open the car door, then raced around the back of the building and up the short path to where Joan was standing by the closed emergency door.

“She's still in there,” Joan whispered. “They must have caught her!”

“I've just seen Williams go in,” Maggie whispered.

“What?” Joan shouted. “We'd better get out of here.” And turning, she ran for the car.

“We can't go without Henny!” Maggie shouted after her. Suddenly, the door beside her was flung open and a dishevelled Henny burst through, half-carrying and half-dragging Pru in her arms. As the door clicked shut behind them, Maggie bent and grabbed hold of Pru's legs. “Quick, the car,” she yelled at Henny, and, lugging the semi-conscious Pru between them, they ran to where they had parked it.

“Joan! Start the car,” Maggie shouted as she rushed around to the other side and opened the back door. “Quick, Henny! Push her in.”

Pru seemed all arms and legs as the two of them pushed and pulled to get her onto the back seat, and Maggie was beginning to panic that they wouldn't manage to get her in before they were surrounded by the hospital staff. Then Henny, taking things into her own hands, gave a final push that sent Pru sprawling across the back seat.

“Henny,” Maggie commanded as she squeezed in beside Pru, “get into the front and let's get out of here.”

Joan, her knuckles white on the steering wheel, gunned the motor and careened out of the car park and onto the driveway.

“Don't panic,” Maggie said, leaning over the front seat. “We mustn't draw attention to ourselves!”

“Suppose they come after us?” Joan answered through clenched teeth.

“We're almost at the gate,” Maggie said encouragingly. But taking a quick look back as they drove through the entrance, she saw that there were a lot of people dressed in white rushing out of the building.

Unfortunately, Joan had glanced in her rear-view mirror and seen them, too. “Oh God! They're coming after us,” she cried, putting her foot down hard on the accelerator as she swerved around the corner and into traffic.

“For God's sake, slow down,” Maggie yelled. “Do you want the cops to stop us?”

“Oh, dear,” Henny said suddenly. “I forget my scarf!”

“You've what?” Maggie yelled. “Where?”

“In Mr. Herbert's room.”

“Mr. Herbert?” Maggie and Joan gasped in unison.

“The nurse ask who I am visiting,” Henny answered, “and I remember you say Mr. Herbert. So she took me to see him.
Not
a nice man.”

“So that's why you were so long?”

“Ja. Had to wait for nurse to go to other room.”

“Wha's happening?” Pru cried, sitting up suddenly. “I know you.” She peered at Maggie through glazed eyes. “What say we have a little drinky?”

“Later,” Maggie answered, pushing Pru back down on the seat. “You have a little sleep first.”

“Sleep. Had lotsa sleep.” She struggled to a sitting position again. “Hello, Joanie,” she said, reaching forward to grab Joan's shoulder. “What you doing here? You want a little drinky, too?”

“Do something,” Joan yelled at Maggie.

“I'm trying,” she answered, as she struggled with their exuberant patient.

But Henny had turned in her seat. “Sit down and be quiet,” she thundered.

Startled, Pru sat back with a thump. “Wha . . . ?”

“I don't want to hear anymore. Understand?”

Pru nodded and squashed herself into the far corner of the seat. An hour later, they transferred their patient into the charge of a very efficient Mrs. Crawford, who tut-tutted in a reassuring way as she helped Henny and Maggie get Prudence out of the car and into the house.

“I'll call later,” Maggie said, “but I'm sure she'll be fine once the drugs have worn off. And please keep her off the booze.”

“Don't you worry. I'll take care of her. I've known Pru since she was a baby.”

“Williams might call you.”

“I know nothing.” She saw them to the front door and then turned to go back inside. “Thank you for all you've done for Pru.”

“Her parents?” Joan asked.

“They're on their way back.”

Maggie scanned both Saturday's and Sunday's papers, expecting to see huge headlines that a patient had gone missing or been kidnapped from the Silver Springs private hospital. But there was nothing. “I wonder why they're keeping quiet about it?”

“T
hank goodness the weather is cooperating,” Maggie commented as she and Nat set off for Abbotsford. “I don't think I could stand another wet, muddy drive to that place.”

“You know,” Nat said as he negotiated around a huge truck, “you mustn't bank on the pups being at the commune. In fact,” he added, “they are probably long gone.”

“I know. But don't say that to Midge when we pick her up. She's still upset about them being taken while in her care.”

“That's why it's not such a good idea that she's coming with us.”

“She feels she has to. Turn right at the next intersection.”

Midge was waiting outside her apartment, and she quickly opened the back door of the Chevy and climbed in. “I do hope we find the pups,” she said, leaning back into the worn leather seat. “But I suppose it's really too much to hope for.”

“That's precisely what I've just said to your mother,” Nat answered her grimly. “Don't expect too much.”

A couple of hours later, they had reached the lane leading to the commune. Maggie was sure the cows in the nearby field hadn't moved since their last visit.

“Does this road lead to the puppy farm?” Midge asked.

“No. That's further on.”

“Then perhaps we should go there first,” Midge said, “in case they've brought them back there. What do you think, Nat?”

“I think you're right. Which way, Maggie?” he asked, backing out onto the main road again.

“It's only two fields along the road.” And a few minutes later, she pointed and said, “There. It's down that track. Do you want to risk your car driving down there?”

“It seems a bit spooky,” Midge said, noting the thick woods lining the left side of the track. “Does this brush go all the way?”

“Yes,” Maggie answered. “But the track goes right down beside the barn, and there is a large open area at the back where they parked their truck.”

“Let's risk the car, then,” Nat said. “We'll stand a better chance of making a quick exit if things get sticky.” The two women were silent while Nat manoeuvred the car around the ruts and potholes to the broken-down barn.

“It feels deserted,” Maggie said as they drove past the barn and into the yard.

“Let's just hope there isn't a reception committee waiting inside for us,” Nat said as he backed in and turned the car ready to drive out.

But there was no sign of life anywhere. Even the flatbed truck had gone. “The door is over here.” She led the way into the murky darkness.

“What a disgusting smell,” Midge said, holding her nose.

“With luck, the lights should still be working.” Maggie reached up to where she remembered the switch to be. A few seconds later, they were looking at a completely empty interior. “No dogs,” she said sadly. “I guess we have to pay the commune a visit, after all.”

• • •

“SO THIS IS THE
infamous commune,” Midge remarked as they came to a halt in the farmyard. “No sign of the mysterious monks or whatever you call them.”

“Seems as deserted as the dog barn,” Nat said after repeatedly knocking on the farmhouse's front door. “I wonder where they've all gone?”

“More important, where have they stashed all the dogs? It's going to be very hard to hide all those cages,” Maggie replied grimly. “But I've a hunch they're not that far away.”

“But would they have gone away and left all these goats and chickens?” Midge asked, pushing an inquisitive goat away from her. “Someone has to feed them.”

“Midge has a point,” Nat said. “Let's take a walk down to the barn.”

It was wide open, and the chickens were having a wonderful time helping themselves to the feed that was spilling out of a couple of split bags. The ducks and geese were just as happy in the adjacent field, where they were diving headfirst into a green, weedy pond, their tails waving in the air.

Nat led the way back to the house.

“What a mess,” Midge said, indicating the crates and boxes that littered the wraparound veranda.

“You should see inside,” Maggie laughed.

Nat gave the front door a few more bangs. “Perhaps we should try the back.” And the two women followed him around the house.

“The door's open.” Midge gave it a push. “What a huge kitchen. Hello! Anyone here?” The other two walked in behind her.

“It feels empty,” Maggie said, walking over to the wood stove. “Cold. Hasn't been lit for ages. Have a look in the icebox, Midge. See if there's food in it.”

“There's just a jug of sour milk and a bowl of eggs.”

Nat opened the door to the walk-in pantry. “There's flour, sugar and masses of canned goods in here,” he commented thoughtfully. “Maybe they intend on coming back. Let's take a look in the other rooms.”

“Okay, Sherlock,” Maggie replied, “we're right behind you.

Lead on.”

“What are we looking for?” Midge asked as they entered the familiar large, untidy front room.

“Anything that will give us an idea where they or the dogs have gone,” Maggie answered.

“Nothing here,” Nat said after circling the room for the second time. Maggie watched as he stepped into Brother Francois' office next to the kitchen.

But Midge made a sudden grab for his arm. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Shh. Someone's on the stairs.” The three of them stood stock still, listening.

“Wait here,” Nat whispered, and he moved toward the door that opened onto the stairs. The two women were right behind him as he pushed open the door. There was no one on the stairs.

“There,” Maggie whispered and pointed upstairs. They listened as a floorboard overhead creaked.

“Stay here,” Nat ordered. “I'm going to have a look.”

“Just be careful, Nat,” Maggie said, holding onto his arm. And they watched fearfully as he crept up the stairs and then disappeared around the bend at the top.

Suddenly, the two of them heard him laugh. “You two better come up here,” he called down to them. They had almost reached the top of the stairs when they were confronted by Nat trying to hold onto the mane of a huge billy goat. “Here's your intruder, and he's been having a ball, by the look of the mess up here. Watch it! He's coming down.” The startled animal abruptly wrenched itself free and bolted toward them, leaving Maggie and Midge hanging onto the banister to keep themselves from being taken down too.

“Now that we're up here,” Maggie said breathlessly, “we might just as well take a look around.”

“Something must have scared them off,” Midge observed after they had looked in the two back rooms and the bathroom. “They've taken everything except the beds and mattresses.”

“There wasn't much to begin with,” Maggie replied.

“Oh, hell!”

“What's up, Nat?” Maggie and Midge ran toward the front bedroom.

“Don't come in here,” he warned. “It's Brother Francois.”

“What . . . what's . . . happened to him?”

“He's very dead,” Nat answered grimly. “And it's very messy.” He came out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. “He's been shot through the chest.” He headed for the stairs. “We'll have to call the police.”

“How?” Maggie asked, following behind.

“I'm hoping the Brother wasn't too worldly to have a phone.”

“Are you sure he's dead?” Midge asked, moving toward the door. “Do you think I should examine him to make sure?”

“Too late for that, Midge. He's been dead for quite awhile.” Nat led the way down the stairs and into the office. “Now, is there a phone?” There was. The black instrument was on the desk among strewn papers, seed catalogues, ledgers and other unidentifiable papers.

“Seems to me that someone else has been in here,” Midge commented, looking at the mess. “I wonder if they found what they were looking for.”

“Shouldn't we have a quick look around before you call?” Maggie said.

“I've got to call them, Maggie.”

“I know, but we won't have a chance once they get here.”

“Ten minutes,” Nat conceded. “I'll go through this mess, and you two start on that pile over there on the table.” But they soon saw that there was little of interest. Nothing to show where they had stashed the dogs or where they could have fled. Nat reached for the phone.

Maggie, sitting down to wait in front of an old Underwood portable typewriter on the table, idly lifted off its tattered cover. Two fresh sheets of paper with a piece of carbon paper between them were rolled around the patten. “Carbon paper!” she said.

“What do you mean, carbon paper?” Midge asked, peering over her shoulder.

“It means they kept copies somewhere.” She gazed around the room. “There,” she said, “on that top shelf.” She pointed excitedly to a couple of box files. “Can you reach them, Midge?” A few moments later, the two of them were rifling through the filed papers.

“What am I looking for?” Midge asked.

“Any clue that will tell us where they've stashed the dogs,” she answered. “But we've got to be quick, because the police will be here very soon.” But the contents were very disappointing. “Just invoices for feed, hay and stuff,” she said disgustedly.