In the Shadow of Death (7 page)

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Al yelled as he rode closer to the bedraggled pair. “My God, what the hell happened to you?”

“Angel was spooked . . . by three dogs . . . she bolted,” she gasped.

“Dogs?”

“Angel ran into the forest . . . and a tree branch hit me . . . it wasn't her fault.”

“What kinda dogs?”

“German shepherds. They were vicious.”

“Jock Macleod's. Dad's warned him about those damned dogs. Come on, let's get you back to the house.” He swung off his mount and cupped his hands to help her up onto Angel.

“Did you see anyone coming down the mine road?” she asked.

“No. I just got here.”

“He must still be up there, then,” she said fearfully.

“Who?”

“The man with the gun.” She hesitated. “I had to go right through to the ravine before I caught Angel. And . . . and someone was on the road above . . . with a gun.”

Al shrugged. “Probably somebody deer hunting out of season. Come on, let's get back.”

But the out-of-season hunted was me!
She decided not to enlighten him.

• • •

“
WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU
?” Kate greeted her when she finally arrived back at the house. “Are you hurt?”

“A branch knocked me off the horse.” She hobbled across the kitchen. “I'll tell you all about it after I've patched myself up and changed.”

Maggie pulled her jeans and shirt off, letting them fall on the floor, then staggered into the bathroom. Too tired to shower, she washed the mud off her face and hands, struggled into clean clothes and then, lying down on the bed, closed her eyes. The tapping on the door woke her.

“Maggie, lunch is ready.”

“Thanks, Kate.” She bent down to scoop up the dirty clothes from the floor and felt the lump in her pants pocket.
The pouch!
And pulling it out of the pocket, she sat down on the side of the bed and popped open the metal press studs. “My God!” The bills—old ones, by the look of them—in denominations of thousands, five hundreds and hundreds were all rolled up and squashed inside it. She laid them out on the bed and counted them.
There's eight thousand dollars here. Why was it hidden under the seat?
Carefully, she pushed the money back into the pouch, then stowed it in the top drawer of the dresser.
So that's why I was shot at. Somebody didn't want me finding the money.
“I've got to talk to Nat.”

• • •

“
YOU LOOK A LOT BETTER
,” Kate remarked when Maggie reappeared downstairs. “Al told me about Jock Macleod's dogs. We'll tell Brossard about it when he comes in the morning.”

“Brossard!”

“I think he's taking Douglas' disappearance seriously, considering that a body's turned up.”

“Kate, I haven't told you everything that happened this morning.”

“You said Angel was spooked and . . . ”

It was obvious Kate didn't want to hear any more bad news, but Maggie knew she had to tell her the rest of the story. “I was shot at.”

“Shot at! You must be mistaken.”

“No. There was no mistaking those shots.” She recounted all that had happened—except finding the money pouch.

“I don't understand,” Kate exclaimed when Maggie had finished. “Why would anyone shoot at you? Maybe somebody thought you were a deer . . . ”

“Not a chance,” Maggie said. “I think whoever it was didn't take too kindly to me looking over that Jeep.”

Kate slumped into a chair. “I don't suppose you'll want to help me now?”

“Why not? It probably has nothing to do with your husband's disappearance. Someone just wanted to frighten me off.” Gingerly, she down at the table, grateful that the chairs were padded. “But I still have to talk to my boss.”

“I don't know what your rates are, but I'll pay whatever it costs.”

“I'll phone Nat and discuss it,” Maggie answered.

“We're on a party line,” Kate said. “Our signal is two longs and a short.”

“A party line? Does that mean that people can listen in?”

She nodded. “But you can usually tell if someone's listening. It's sort of echoey. The best time to call is late at night. You're more or less safe then . . . unless someone has insomnia.”

“I don't think I'll wait that long. Can I borrow the Rover to take a quick trip into Williams Lake?”

Kate nodded. “I'll come with you.”

Maggie pulled a notepad out of her pocket. “Before we go,” she said, “I want to go over a few things. First, have you a photograph of your husband?” The silver-framed photograph that Kate produced showed a tall, dark-haired man sporting a beautiful tan, a boutonniere and perfect white teeth. He had a protective arm around the diminutive Kate in the picture, who was dressed in some gauzy fabric that blew prettily in the wind.

“Your wedding?”

“Yes,” Kate answered. “We were very happy,” she added wistfully.

“We'll find him,” Maggie said in a firm voice. “Now, while I go upstairs and grab my handbag, I want you to take this pad and make a list of your husband's friends, acquaintances and family.”

“Do you want Ray Teasdale and Nordstrom and Kraft's addresses too?”

“Who are Nordstrom and Kraft?”

“Jamie's bosses. Albert Nordstrom's known Douglas for years.”

“He's the one that deals in mines and things?”

“I think he does something with money,” Kate answered vaguely.

“You mean a brokerage firm?”

“Something like that.”

“He sounds like a good one to contact. Just write all the names down.” And she left the room.

T
he Rover had travelled less than a half mile along the lakeside road when a car driven by Vivienne Harkness sped toward them, sending spumes of choking dust into the air as it passed. Momentarily blinded, Kate edged the car off the road. “Wonder why she's in such a hurry?”

As the dust settled, Maggie turned in her seat to look back. “Funny,” she said, “there's no sign of her on the road now.”

“Probably turned into our place,” Kate answered.

“But she can see you're not there!”

“Oh, she won't be coming to visit. You see, the lake's kidney-shaped. We're on the southern bulge and the Harknesses are on the northern one, so it's much shorter to cross our land than follow the lake road.”

“You don't mind?”

Kate shrugged. “They've been using the back road away before I came on the scene,” she answered, putting the Jeep into gear.

The only public telephone in the town was located outside the post office, and Maggie was lucky, as there was no one using it and she was through to her boss straightaway.

“A missing husband?” Nat said, when she'd finished telling him about Guthrie's disappearance. “Husbands go off on benders all the time. Why not find another place if you're so determined to stay up in there in the wilderness. A hotel or something.”

“It's not that simple, Nat.”

“What do you mean?”

“I . . . we sort of found a body. Up in a ravine.”

“A body?” he exclaimed. “How could you
sort of
find a body?”

“I was out riding and we found a Jeep that had gone over a cliff . . . ” The line was so quiet that as Maggie related what had happened, she thought he'd hung up. But when she got to the bit about watching the police haul the dead man up the side of the cliff, she heard an audible sigh of relief.

“So the police have got it all in hand.”

“Well-l-l, not quite,” she answered.

“Don't tell me. There's more?”

“We still don't know who the dead man is, and then there's the business of me being shot at.”

“Shot at!” She held the phone away from her ear until his spluttering stopped. “What do you mean,
shot
at?”

She filled him in on her frightening escapade.

“What did the police have to say about this?”

“I haven't told them yet.”

“Bloody hell, Maggie! Call them right away and then pack your bags and get back here.”

“Can't do that. I've promised to help Kate.”

“You won't be able to help anyone if you're dead!”

“The reason I was shot at has absolutely nothing to do with Guthrie's disappearance.”

“How do you work that out? Women's intuition?”

Maggie decided to let that one pass. “No. It's because of the money.”

“What money? You didn't mention any money.” His voice seemed to be reaching fever pitch again.

“I found some. Quite a lot, in fact. Large bills, too. I'm not sure what it all means yet. Can't tell you any more over the phone.” Then, before he could butt in again, she continued. “I told Kate I had to talk to you first before we took the case. After all, you're the boss.”

“Sure sounds like it!” He paused. “You're not licensed, Maggie.”

“That's why I'm calling,” she answered in her most patient voice. “To put the investigation on a business basis and then you can contact a couple of leads.”

“Then what?”

“You can join me up here. A break will do you good.”

“And who's going to look after the office? And don't say Henny!”

“Couldn't you put things on hold for a few days so that she only has to answer the phone and take messages? I really need you here.” She paused for a moment to give him time to think.

“I don't know, Maggie. Who do you want me to call down here?”

”You could call on Ray Teasdale—that's where Kate met Guthrie. Then on to Nordstrom. According to Kate, he's known her husband since way back. Also,” she continued before he could interrupt, “he's Douglas Guthrie's son's boss.”

“Whoa. One thing at a time.” He listened while she went over the list again. “Now,” he said. “What about this Kate? Is it possible for me to talk to her?”

“She's just outside the booth. I'll get her.”

When Kate came on the line, Nat told her, “I've just listened to Maggie, but I think our agency is too far away from the Cariboo area to be much help. Are you sure there's no one closer to where you live?”

“Williams Lake's a very small town, Mr. Southby,” Kate answered. “I've had no help from the police, and our ranch manager, Hendrix, insists that I'm paranoid and worrying about nothing. And if you can't help me,” she ended tearfully, “I don't know what I'm going to do. ”

Nat wasn't very good with tears. “You understand that it would have to be on a business basis?”

“Yes, anything. After Maggie was shot at . . . I'm so scared . . . ”

“Probably nothing to do with your husband being missing. Put Maggie back on,” he mumbled gruffly. Kate handed over the phone. “Okay,” he said, “I'll start on it, but I'm not agreeing to anything final until I've investigated Teasdale and Nordstrom and you've spoken to the police. And Maggie, please, please don't find any more dead bodies.”

• • •

MONDAY MORNING BROUGHT RAIN
and Corporal Brossard to the ranch.

“You haven't heard anything new?” Kate asked as she showed him into the kitchen.

The two dogs jumped out of their baskets and greeted the corporal with drool and enthusiasm. He pushed one dog down and then the other. “I'm sorry. Your husband seems to have disappeared without a trace.” He stood just inside the room, water dripping from his raincoat to make a pool on the floor.

“Did you check the railway station?” Maggie asked from her place at the breakfast table. “Or look for his car? Surely someone must've seen him?”

Surprised, Brossard looked at Maggie. “You're a friend of the family, I take it?”

“No,” she answered him. “I'm one of Kate's paying guests.”

“She's an investigator and she's helping me find Douglas.” Maggie's warning glance didn't reach Kate in time to stop her from babbling. “And she was shot at yesterday when she went riding . . .”

“An investigator?” Brossard's voice cut in sharply. “But I think we'll take the shooting first, Mrs. Spencer, if you don't mind filling me in on the details?” he added coolly, fishing a notebook from an inner pocket.

Maggie went through the episode again.

“Have you any idea why someone would shoot at you? Any enemies in this area?”

“I've only been here three days,” she answered. “But it could've been the money I found.”

“Money?”

“You didn't say anything about finding money, Maggie,” Kate said.

“I didn't want to worry you,” Maggie answered. She turned back to Brossard. “I found it in a leather pouch caught up in the seat springs of the Jeep. I'll go and get it.” She returned a short time later, her face ashen. “It's gone! I put it in the drawer and . . . it's gone!” Trembling, she sat down at the table again. “Corporal Brossard, there was eight thousand dollars in that pouch. I counted it myself . . .” Her voice faltered, then she continued in a very subdued tone, “That . . . that means that someone's been in my room . . .”

“Are you sure you didn't imagine that money?” he demanded

“Corporal,” she replied icily, “I held that money in my hand.”

He shrugged. “Well, you don't have it now, do you? About you being an investigator. I take it you have a licence to operate in this province?”

“Not as yet,” she answered truthfully. “I'm an assistant to Nat Southby of Southby's Investigations in Vancouver. Kate asked me to help when she found that she was getting nowhere with you.”

“And just like that, you're going to find him?” He smiled sardonically. “Does your boss know you're moonlighting up here?”

“I've brought him up-to-date.”