Death on a Short Leash (25 page)

“It might be a good idea to put the pups back in the box,”

Maggie suggested. “The carpet?” But it was obvious that it was far too late to worry about the expensive oriental carpet.

“I seem to vaguely remember a German lady,” Pru said, mopping up one of the puppy piddles with a lace handkerchief, “getting me out of that room. A rather bossy woman.”

Maggie laughed. “That was our office help, Henny,” she explained as she stood up to leave. “We hope everything turns out okay for you, Pru.”

“We'll make sure it does,” Mrs. Ball-Harding cut in. “Carl Williams will be sorry he ever tangled with this family!”

As they were leaving, Nat turned to Pru and asked, “Do you remember the weekend that Johanna disappeared?”

“Vaguely. Why?”

“Do you remember if your husband went to the animal hospital that Saturday?”

“Yes, he did. I remember he was in one foul mood when he came home. He said that bitch Johanna hadn't turned up and he had no one to help him.” Then she turned to Maggie. “You must have one of the puppies.” And she pushed a wriggling little body into her arms. “I insist.”

“Let's wait until they're old enough,” Maggie answered, handing the pup back. She wondered how Emily would take to one of these lively, yappy balls of fluff.

• • •

“FOR GOD'S SAKE
, don't light up one of your cigars,” Maggie warned.

“Why's that?” Nat asked, hoping the brakes of his car would hold as they hurtled down the steep hill.

“The alcohol fumes in here will blow us up.”

They both laughed and then were silent for a few minutes.

Then Nat said suddenly, “I hate to admit it, Maggie, but you did a great but risky thing getting Pru out of Williams' hands. Only don't do anything like that again.”

“Thank you, boss,” Maggie answered. “That's praise indeed.”

She was thoughtful as they crossed over the Lions Gate Bridge.

“It's still early,” she said suddenly. “Let's go and visit Jasmine.”

• • •

THE ARMED POLICE GUARD
outside Jasmine's room barred the way until he had verified that their names were on his list. Nat waited in the corridor while Maggie went inside. Jasmine, though still very pale, was propped up with pillows, but her eyes were closed.

Maggie sat down beside the bed and took one of the girl's hands in hers. “Jasmine, can you hear me?”

The girl's eyes fluttered open and she looked fearfully at Maggie. “Oh, it's you.”

“I said I'd come back.”

“Have you found Luke? My baby.”

“Not yet. But the police know where the farm is now.” She squeezed the girl's hand. “They should find him soon. Jasmine, do you remember anything about your attacker?”

“No. I was walking and a car stopped.”

“Did you get into the car?”

“Can't remember.”

“That afternoon when Johanna came to the commune,” Maggie prodded, “what did the man look like?”

The girl closed her eyes and Maggie thought she had lost her again. Then, “It was morning,” she whispered. “Early.”

“Johanna was there in the morning?”

“About eight. I'd just finished milking. The man . . .” She shut her eyes again.

“What about the man?” Maggie asked. “Jasmine, what about the man?”

“He stayed in his car.”

“Was it the same car that picked you up?”

Jasmine suddenly opened her eyes wide, gripping Maggie's hand. “No. I remember now. The one at the farm was a black car.

A long black car.”

“And the one that stopped for you?”

“It was a small car.” But now the girl started to shake, and Maggie reached for the bell beside her pillow. “Don't let him get me,” Jasmine cried. “He'll come here for me.” The door burst open and the same nurse that Maggie had seen before came bustling in.

“She's beginning to remember and she's scared,” Maggie said.

“Outside please,” the nurse said sternly. “I'll see to her.” She closed the door on them.

“She's remembering things,” Maggie told Nat when they walked to the car. “But she said that Johanna was there in the morning, not the afternoon.” And she explained what Jasmine had said about having just milked the cows when Johanna arrived.

“And she insists it was a long black car. But how could that be?”

“Why not?” he answered.

“She was last seen leaving Pandora's around two Saturday morning. If Peterskill is telling the truth, he had her picked up there and taken straight home, so she would have been home by three, maybe three-thirty at the latest. And he says his car was back in his garage in time for him to take the first ferry to Gibsons, and that's around seven, right? So how did she get from Richmond to Abbotsford by eight that morning if she didn't get there in Peterskill's car?”

• • •

“LET'S GO OVER
everything bit by bit,” Maggie suggested as they sat drinking their after-dinner coffees. “I'd still like to pin Johanna's murder on Peterskill, but he seems to have an alibi, and according to Pru, our good Dr. Williams was at his clinic all day. That leaves us with Brother Francois, but why would he kill her?”

“I have the distinct feeling we're missing something important.” Nat got up from the table and started stacking the dishes. “Let's leave it till tomorrow and we'll drag the files out and really go into everything.”

By noon on Monday they were no closer to a breakthrough when Maggie announced resignedly, “I think you should go back and have another talk with the manager and the showgirls in Pandora's. You never know, perhaps they might come up with something new.”

Nat nodded. “I guess it's the only thing to do.” He closed each of the files and handed them to Maggie to be put back into the cabinet. “Maybe we should have another talk with Laura, too.” The telephone on his desk gave a jingle and he reached over to answer before Henny did. “Oh, it's you, George.” He gave Maggie the high sign. “They got the lot red-handed,” he said jubilantly. “The
SPCA
have been called in and are dealing with the dogs, and the whole gang are in jail.”

Maggie rushed out of his office to her own desk to pick up her phone. “And Marigold and the baby?” she asked George.

“Sorry, Maggie,” George said. “Neither Marigold nor the baby were found, and the bunch from the commune insist they've no idea where she's gone.”

“That's going to be so hard for Jasmine.” After she put the phone down, she stood at her desk for a few minutes, thinking. When Nat appeared in his doorway, she said, “You know, I keep thinking about Jasmine saying Johanna arrived there in a long black car that Saturday morning.”

“Which could be either Peterskill or Williams,” Nat said.

“But what if it's neither of them? What if it's somebody entirely different?”

“Some stranger who owns a long black car?”

“Maybe he doesn't own it. Maybe he rented it.”

“A limosine,” Nat said. “Okay, it's worth a try. Get on the phone to the car rentals and find out who rented limos that weekend.”

After spending most of the afternoon calling the listed car rentals, Maggie opened Nat's door and leaned against the jamb. “Only five of them have limos to rent, and it took a lot of persuasion for them to look up that particular weekend.”

“And?” Nat asked impatiently.

“Three didn't have any bookings for September 5, one limo was rented to pick up clients from the airport, three were for afternoon weddings and one for a late morning wedding.”

“Perhaps the car came from out of town,” Nat remarked.

“I thought of that,” Maggie replied. “Anyway, I'll look further afield in the morning.” She turned to leave his office. “I'm going to look in on Jasmine before heading for home tonight. Do you want to come?”

“Have you forgotten that I'm off to Bellingham tonight for that dinner and seminar on forensics?”

Maggie laughed. “I wouldn't dream of coming between you and a seminar. Is George going, too?”

“Yes. And a few of my other old buddies.”

“Have fun,” she said. “But you and George watch out for those women cops.”

“We're going to be too busy for that sort of thing,” he replied, laughing. “Anyway, we should be back by about four tomorrow.”

“I bet!” Maggie laughed.

• • •

AS MAGGIE OPENED the door to Jasmine's room that evening, a shabbily dressed woman, probably in her forties, looked up enquiringly from the chair beside Jasmine's bed.

“I'm Maggie Spencer,” she said, advancing into the room. As the woman still looked blankly at her, she added, “Southby's Investigation?”

“Oh! You're the people looking for that baby she's fretting about. I'm Gladys Pollack, Doris' mother.”

“Doris? I thought her name was Jasmine.”

“That's the name they gave her at that place.”

“How is . . . Doris?” Maggie asked.

“Fretting. As I said.” She looked down at her daughter. “God knows what her father and the neighbours will say when we get back home with a baby.”

Jasmine's eyes suddenly opened. “Maggie! Did you find him?”

Maggie shook her head. “They've picked up the men who were running the puppy mill, but Marigold wasn't there. Have you any idea where she would have gone?”

“Back to the farm.”

“You mean the commune on Cowslip Lane?”

“There's no other place for her to go.”

“Then we should tell the police,” Maggie said firmly.

“No,” Jasmine cried, struggling to sit up. “She'd run away again and I'll never get him back.”

“But . . .”

“She's an American, and she's scared the cops will send her back.” She fell back on the pillow again. “She and her boyfriend tried to rob a bank. You have to go and get my baby from her.” She was crying now.

“Me? What about you going, Mrs. Pollack?”

“I don't know where this commune place is, and on top of that I don't drive,” the woman said shortly. “I'm from Prince Rupert,” she added, as if that clinched the matter.

“Please, please promise me you'll go!” Jasmine cried, the tears running down her face.

“But suppose she's not there?” Maggie answered.

“She has to be there,” Jasmine insisted. “Please go.”

“Jasmine. I have other responsibilities . . .” Then, seeing the girl's stricken face, she said, “Just let me think about it. Okay?”

• • •

MAGGIE'S MIND WAS
in a turmoil. “What do I do?” she muttered as she scrambled eggs and made a salad for supper. Her thoughts ran on and on.
I can't reach Nat. He'll kill me if I go there by myself.
And it could be a wild goose chase.
In the end, she decided on a stiff drink and her latest whodunit. She would worry about Jasmine and her baby in the morning. But, like a lot of things, the new day brought a simple solution.

I
t was late the following morning, as Maggie was trying to explain to Henny the difficulties of her going to Abbotsford to find Jasmine's baby, when the office door opened and in walked Johanna's boyfriend.

“Hans!” Henny said, surprised.

“I hope you don't mind me barging in like this, but I've been thinking a lot about Johanna lately,” he explained. “Is there anything new?”

“We're still no further ahead in finding her killer,” Maggie answered, “but we've had some luck with catching the thugs that were running the puppy mill, and that would have made Johanna happy.”

“Well, that at least is good news,” he answered.

“Ja,” Henny butted in, “and Mrs. Spencer was telling me long story about she should go to Abbotsford today to find that girl Jasmine's baby.”

“All the way to Abbotsford?”

“Yes,” Maggie answered shortly, wishing Henny would keep her mouth shut.

“Jasmine,” he said slowly. “Isn't that the girl that got beaten up?

The Evanses told me about her,” he explained. “I didn't know she had a baby.”

Maggie found herself explaining that Nat was in Bellingham and the problem of having to go to Abbotsford and not really knowing if the child would be there. “Jasmine's friend Marigold is supposedly looking after him,” she added.

“How is Jasmine?” he asked.

“Better. Her memory's slowly coming back.”

“Have you got anyone to go with you?” he asked earnestly. “I mean, how are you going to drive and look after a baby?”

Maggie had been thinking along the same lines and had considered asking Henny, but she was needed to man the office. “I'll manage,” she answered.

“I'll take you,” Hans said firmly. “It's the very least I can do.”

“I can't possibly impose on you at such short notice,” Maggie answered.

“No, no. It'll save you the worry, and my car is just parked outside.” He turned to Henny. “You can take care of the office for Mrs. Spencer?”

“Ja. I know how to look after office.”

“But I can't possibly let you do this . . .”

“Get your coat on and I'll meet you downstairs.”

“Okay,” Maggie agreed slowly, wishing she could think of some way to get out of his offer. As she went to get her coat, she told Henny, “I'll leave a note for Nat, just in case you're gone when he comes back from Bellingham.”

“Ja. You do that. But I stay here all day. Bernie will understand.”

• • •

“I HOPE I'M NOT
dragging you all the way to Abbotsford for nothing,” Maggie remarked as she settled comfortably on the passenger side of the ancient car's bench seat. “I'm not even sure the child will be at the commune.”