In the Shadow of Death (12 page)

“My dear, please call me Albert.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “No, to answer your question. I'm taking a canoe out onto the lake.”

I
n the morning, the sky was overcast, the wind wet and gusting, but at least the sporadic rain helped to keep the dust down on the gravel road leading into town. “When was the last time you saw your father?” Maggie asked Christine as the Jeep bumped over the potholes.

“He was down to see my grandmother a month ago. Jamie and I went out to dinner with him.”

“How did he seem? Worried? Tense?”

“He seemed okay to me, considering he's living with that woman.”

“You don't like Kate?” Maggie asked.

“For crying out loud! She's only a few years older than I am.”

“I think she could do with a little sympathy from you and your brother.”

The girl shrugged. “She won't get it from me. She's just after Dad's money.”

“Something tells me you're very close to your mother,” Maggie observed.

“Not since she married again. But at least he's the same age, for Pete's sake.” She shifted in her seat. “What are you going into town for?”

“My boss is coming up Monday. I have to pick up a few things for him. And of course, Kate's supplies. I shouldn't be much more than an hour.”

“Do you know Williams Lake?” Christine asked as they drove into the small town.

“No. First time.”

“I'm just going to browse around,” Christine said. “I'll meet you for coffee in the Ranch Hotel when you're finished. Okay?”

“Where's that?”

“Just across from Al's Variety. See . . . over there.”

After Maggie had let Christine out, she drove along the street until she found the general store. Used to shopping in a supermarket, she was amazed at the way the goods were displayed and sold. She walked down the uneven, wooden plank floor, peering into various-sized barrels. The first containers were filled with flour, oats, dried peas, several types of beans, dried fruit, brown sugar, white sugar. In the hardware section on the other side of the store, the barrels contained different sized nails, screws, spikes and other objects for which Maggie could not imagine a use. Behind the counter were numerous wooden drawers, all neatly labelled, some having a sample of the contents nailed to the front. The back part of the store was taken up with crates of soft drinks.

While she waited behind a native mother with several children for her turn to be served, Maggie couldn't help grinning as she watched the children arguing over whose turn it was to take a gulp from the putrid-coloured bottle of pop they were sharing. Their lips, tongues and ragged clothes were all covered in the same vivid orange. After Kate's list had been filled by the clerk and carried out to the Jeep, she returned to the store and bought some of Nat's favourites: chocolate biscuits, soda crackers, cheese and pop—though not the orange kind!

She was lucky enough to find a parking spot in front of Al's Variety Store and slipped in to buy a flashlight, spare batteries and a pair of strong twill work gloves. Everything stowed, she walked over to the hotel to meet Christine, but had to wait for almost half an hour before the young woman turned up, accompanied by Vivienne.

“Maggie,” the latter drawled. “Nice to see you again.”

“Thank you for letting us barge in on you yesterday,” Maggie answered.

“I enjoyed the company,” Vivienne answered. “I was tired out from being on the range all morning.”

“Riding?”

Both Vivienne and Christine laughed. “No,” Christine answered. “Vivienne's a crack shot. She means the shooting range.”

“I was competing in the Cariboo ladies' finals.”

“You shoot competitively?”

“Shooting's her passion,” Christine answered proudly.

“And did you win?”

“Of course.”

Well! How about that?
Maggie beckoned the waiter over. “Coffee for three,” she ordered.

The return trip to the ranch seemed much shorter. Christine talked incessantly about Vivienne and how wonderful she was and how talented, and why couldn't her father have married her instead of a sissy like Kate. Maggie was happy when the journey was over.

Christine was first out when the Rover pulled up at the front of the house. But as Maggie reached into the back for the first box of groceries to hand to her, she discovered that the girl had already disappeared. She had at least left the front door open, and Maggie picked up her own purchases and stomped into the house in search of Jamie.

• • •

NAT WAS SITTING
in his office, hiding from his new Girl Friday, when the door suddenly flew open and Henny entered, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and a sticky cheese Danish on a paper napkin in the other.

“Mr. Nat, you see my note?” She kicked the door shut behind her.

He nodded as he surveyed the sticky bun oozing icing and the overfilled coffee cup that she had deposited on his notepad.

“Thank you, Henny,” he said, moving the offending delicacies to a safer spot, but the cup had already left a wet ring on the paper.

“Ja. Maggie told me you like that kind,” she said, happily moving the Danish back in front of him. “There is man to see you. Posh? Is that what you say?” She beamed.

Nat checked the flip day calendar in front of him. “I'm not expecting anyone.” He looked reprovingly at her. “Did you forget to tell me again?”

“No, no. I did not forget. He is a new one. I'll go and get him.”

“Wait. Did he give you a name?”

“Oh, ja. I'll get him.”

“But . . . ” Nat had started to rise to his feet when the door banged open again.

“What do you mean, letting my wife go off to a place like that?” Harry shouted, advancing into the room and brandishing a rolled-up newspaper. “She told me she was going on vacation, and all the time she was just doing your dirty work!”

Nat looked at Harry in utter astonishment. “For God's sake, man, calm down. What are you talking about?”

“I can read, you know,” Harry spluttered, his ginger moustache quivering. “It's in all the papers! Woman out riding at dude ranch finds dead man in overturned Jeep! He was shot! Shot! And you sent my wife there . . . ”

“I didn't send Maggie anywhere,” Nat interrupted the tirade. “She went up there on vacation and just happened to find that body. That's all there is to it.”

“Mr. Nat . . . I . . . ” Both men had completely forgotten Henny, who was standing in the doorway with mouth agape as they yelled at each other across the desk.

“Not now, Henny. Not now!”

After Henny had left them, Harry returned to the fray. “She's still my wife, Southby, and she's needed at home. And what do you do? You send her up to this . . . this . . . ” He opened his newspaper to find the name. “This Wild Rose Ranch, to find dead bodies!”

“How many more times do I have to tell you that I did not, I repeat, did not send Maggie up there.”

As though he hadn't heard a word that Nat said, Harry continued his rant. “It was bad enough when you nearly got her killed right here in Vancouver, but to send her off into the wilds at a time like this, when she should be here with her family . . . ”

“What do you mean—a time like this?” Nat demanded. “Has something happened to Midge?” Nat felt a flicker of fear, knowing Maggie and her second daughter were very close.

“My daughter Mildred is fine.”

“Barbara, then?”

Harry drew himself up. “It's my mother. She's in hospital, and at a time like this, a man needs his wife beside him,” he finished melodramatically.

“Is it serious? I mean, is she . . . uh . . . dying?”

“Serious enough. She's having surgery tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I am sorry.” Nat suddenly felt like a heel. “What's wrong?”

“She's having a bunion removed from each foot and will be crippled for weeks. That's why it's imperative that Margaret returns home to take care of her.” He held out his hand. “Now, I'd like a phone number at this ranch where I can reach her.”

Nat looked at the lawyer with undisguised loathing. “Mr. Spencer, I would suggest that you get some professional help to take care of your mother. Maggie is still on vacation. I'm sure she'll be in touch when she returns.” He drew his yellow pad toward him. “Now, if you don't mind . . . ”

“If you or that imbecile outside won't give me her phone number,” Harry spluttered, “I'll find out another way.” He turned toward the door. “Margaret will have it on her conscience for the rest of her days if anything happens to Mother.”

Nat looked stupefied as the door banged shut. “Bloody hell! The man's a nutcase.” He buried his head in his hands.

“Mr. Nat.” Henny came in and stood uncertainly by his desk. “He is saying that he's Maggie's husband. He is making that up, ja?”

Nat looked up. “Yes, Henny, he's her husband all right.”

“I thought she was . . . uh . . . divorce?”

“No,” he answered grimly. “In this country, the only grounds for divorce is adultery. And Maggie would never consent to that.”

“Oh, I see.” Henny nodded wisely and retreated, closing the door quietly behind her.

It was getting close to lunchtime when he heard a light tap on his door. “Yes, what is it?

Henny opened the door a crack and peeped around the edge. “Sergeant Sawasky here. I tell him you are busy, but he say that is okay.” The door opened wider and George strode in.

“It's lunchtime,” he said, handing Nat his hat. “I thought we'd go dutch at the Aristocrat.”

“Great idea,” Nat answered, taking the hat. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

While they waited for their order, George asked, “How's Maggie doing up there in the boonies?”

“Haven't spoken to her for a couple of days. Why?”

Sawasky took a sip of coffee. “Like I promised, I've been looking into a few things.”

“And?” Nat prompted.

“I hope that gal of yours is being careful, Nat. Who told you Chandler was out of jail?”

“Albert Nordstrom. He's an old friend of Douglas Guthrie's.”

“I see. But what this Nordstrom probably doesn't know—or didn't tell you—is that Chandler's disappeared too.”

“You think he's in the Williams Lake area?” Nat said in alarm.

Sawasky nodded. “Chandler always insisted he was framed.” He stopped talking while their club sandwiches and fries were placed in front of them. “He's supposed to communicate with his parole officer every week,” he continued after the waitress left, “but there's been no contact for almost a month.” He picked up a chip and dipped it in ketchup, and then bit it thoughtfully. “You know, Nat, it's one helluva coincidence that they're both missing.”

“I've a bad feeling about this Guthrie. Could you run him through your system too?”

“I'll try, Nat. But Farthing's in line for inspector, and he's now my boss. And you know how he loves you?”

Nat did know. When he had retired from the force five years previously, Farthing, who had always detested Nat, had taken over his old job. Since then, he'd risen in rank but still harboured the same feeling. “Well, do your best, will you? I'm worried about Maggie. I've told her to play it cool, but you know Maggie.”

Sawasky reached into his pocket. “Here's a mug shot of Chandler.” The photo showed a dark-haired man in his late thirties with a cleft chin and a long scar over his left eye. “You planning on going up?”

“Next week. I've told Henny not to make any new appointments for me.”

“The sooner the better. Keep me informed, eh?”

• • •

MAGGIE WAS ALSO
just finishing her lunch. The skies had cleared somewhat, and rising from the table, she announced, “I'm going for a ride on Angel.”

“You're a devil for punishment,” Nordstrom exclaimed. “Kate told me she threw you a couple of days ago.”

Maggie's hand went instinctively to the bruise on her forehead. “You know what they say—you have to get right back on.”

She laughed. “I think my pride was hurt more than my backside.”

“You wouldn't get me near one of those animals except if I've a bet on it,” he told her.

“What about you, Jamie?” Maggie asked.

“I'm like Albert,” Jamie answered. “I'd rather just watch 'em win.”

“I can't spare the time,” Kate said quickly.

“There's no need for anyone to come, ” Maggie said. “I like going out on my own, anyway.”

Kate shrugged. “Well, if you're sure.”

Al helped her to saddle the horse. The weather was still warm and overcast, but there were some black clouds looming in the west.

“Shouldn't stay out too long,” Al said, pointing to the clouds. She waited until he had returned to the stable before stowing her new flashlight and gloves in the saddlebag. Good-natured Angel waited patiently while Maggie struggled to swing herself into the saddle, and she felt quite proud of herself for the near-expert way she accomplished this feat.

She turned Angel's head toward the riding track. Feeling much more confident on the horse, she made the trip to the start of the mine road under the half-hour. Then she headed up the hill, stopping on the way to look down into the ravine where the Jeep still lay. She noticed that not only had the tires been removed from the Jeep but that there were other visible signs the police had been there. Yellow tape had been stretched between two saplings where the vehicle had plunged from the road and also around the site below. Nudging the horse, she rode further up the road to where she estimated the sniper must have hidden, then dismounted to search the boulders and bushes on the side of the road, looking for telltale signs that someone had been there. But either he had been careful not to disturb the bushes or yesterday's storm had wiped out his traces. Taking hold of Angel's reins, she continued walking up the hill until she came to the end of the road.