Death on a Short Leash (6 page)

“You're right,” Maggie said with a laugh. “This is a golden opportunity to have this place fully paid for, and you never know, I might use some of the money to go back east to see my property.” She slipped the envelope into her jacket pocket. “Would you like some tea?”

She wasn't at all surprised when Harry declined.

Later that evening, Midge called her on the phone. “Just want to tell you how much I enjoyed lunch. I've never seen Barbara quite so relaxed either. Also, I'm curious. What did Dad want?”

Maggie told her about the inheritance.

“I wish I'd met my great-aunt,” Midge said after Maggie had finished. “She sounds quite a woman.”

“You did,” Maggie answered, “but you were too young to remember.”

“When was that?”

“Let me see, Barbara had just had her fourth birthday and you were about two at the time. My parents had decided to come to Canada to visit Aunt Jessie and her husband in Montreal, so you can understand that I couldn't miss such a golden opportunity for the whole family to be together.” Maggie was quiet for a moment thinking back. “I adored my aunt when I was a child. I was her only niece, and she spoiled me rotten. Anyhow, I took the two of you all the way to Quebec by train.” Maggie laughed. “What a journey that was!”

“Was she living in this same house that she's left you?”

“No. She and Uncle Jean Paul lived in a place called Côte-des-Neiges. It was a lovely two-storeyed brick house, and very close to downtown Montreal.

“Did Dad go with us?”

“No. He was just getting established in his law firm and he couldn't get away.”

“That was too bad,” Midge said.

“I only wish that I'd known that she was so ill,” Maggie said sadly. “I would have gone to her.”

“That reminds me,” Midge said. “I saw Grandma Spencer a few days ago.”

“How was the old . . . ? I'm sorry,” Maggie amended. “How is she?”

Midge laughed. Harry's mother, Honoria Spencer, was not a loveable person, and it was no secret the old lady had been one of the reasons Midge's parents had split. “She's still hobbling around and still insisting that the surgeon was too young to know what he was doing.”

“Dr. Rolland?” Maggie laughed. “He must be in his late fifties.”

“She certainly keeps Dad hopping,” Midge said sadly. “With you gone, she's always bossing him around.”

“Knowing her, I expect she does.”

“And she certainly kept the staff going when she was convalescing at Silver Springs,” Midge laughed. “I felt quite sorry for them when I went to see her.”

• • •

MAGGIE WAS THE FIRST
one to arrive in the office Monday morning, and it was all she could do to wait calmly for Nat to arrive. She had fleetingly thought about calling him the previous night to tell him her wonderful news, but she wanted to see his face. He didn't disappoint her.

“This won't make any difference to you working here, will it?” he asked anxiously. “You won't need the little amount that I pay you now.”

“Oh, Nat!” she said, flinging her arms around him. “You know me better than that. This is going to make things so much easier. I'm going to pay off my mortgage and put the rest in savings. I'm not sure what to do about the property in Quebec yet.”

“And the dog?”

“Another problem. I'll look into having him shipped out here.”

Their Girl Friday arrived right on time as usual, and asked her usual question. “You have news about Johanna?” In her anxiety for her friends, Henny had become a different person. Nat was surprised to find that he actually missed her burnt cookies, strong views and advice on how to handle his clients and the office.

Nat shook his head. “Sorry, Henny.”

“Marie told me that Johanna's apartment was a nice place?”

Henny said sadly. “I was to go there one day. Perhaps when you find her . . .” She sat down behind her typewriter. “Marie and David are coming this morning. You know, Mr. Nat, they are very worried.”

And if they knew what we know,
Nat thought,
they'd be even more worried.
“I put in a call to Sergeant Sawasky,” he said soothingly. “Perhaps he's heard something.”

When Marie Evans and her husband arrived a short time later, Henny immediately ushered them into Nat's office. “Mr. Nat, this is my friend, David Evans,” she said. “They want you to go on looking for Johanna.”

“Is that right, Mr. Evans?” Nat asked.

“The police are doing nothing. Yes, we'd like you to go on looking for her.” David Evans, short, dark-haired, blue-eyed and dressed in a dark navy-blue suit with a black armband around the left sleeve, looked absolutely exhausted. “I can't believe this is happening,” he added as he sank into one of the chairs. “Our Johanna is such a wonderful girl, so full of life . . .” He took a long, shuddering breath. “You will find her for us?”

“We'll do our best, Mr. Evans. I'm afraid you and your wife will have to sign a contract and . . .” he paused, “it could be costly.”

“We'll find the money somehow. Just go ahead.”

“You are staying in town?”

“We have to go back to Gibsons Landing today. But we have a telephone, so we can keep in touch.”

“I've put in a call to my old partner,” Nat said “He's still with the force, and he's agreed to check with Missing Persons for me.

I'll call you if he finds out anything.”

“What about this nightclub place?” David Evans asked abruptly. “What did you find out?”

Nat looked at both of them for a moment, as if deciding what he should say. “She's a performer there,” he said eventually.

“You mean on the stage?” Marie asked. “Why . . . why would she do something like that?”

“Perhaps she needed the money,” Nat suggested gently.

“What would she need money for?” Evans demanded.

“That's what we will have to find out,” Nat said, rising to stand behind his chair. “Maggie is waiting outside with the necessary contract. We'll keep you up-to-date on things.”

It was late afternoon before George called. Henny, who was in the act of covering her typewriter before departing for home, picked up the phone.

“George here, Henny,” he said. “Nat there?”

“I put you through,” she answered. She sat down again and turned to Maggie. “I wait until he speaks to Mr. Nat. Perhaps he has found Johanna.”

“Bad news, I'm afraid,” George told Nat bluntly.

“You've found her?”

“There's a girl in the morgue who fits the description.”

“Where was she found?”

“In a cranberry field. The owners were harvesting the berries when they came upon her. By the look of the body, she's been dead for some time.” He paused. “Bad business. Can you get your clients to come and identify her?”

“They've returned to their home in Gibsons Landing. Will Henny do? She's known the girl for years.” He paused. “I don't want to bring the parents all the way from Gibsons only to discover it's not their daughter.”

“I'll meet you there. Oh! And by the way, I couldn't find any kennels called the Circle or Path of Light. Sure you had the name right?”

“That's all we've got.”

“I'm busy on a case at the moment,” George said, “but I'll have another look when I've got some time.”

“Thanks. See you downtown.”

• • •

HENY, WHITE-FACED
and nervous, sat in the front seat of Nat's car. “Perhaps it is not our Johanna,” she said. “But what will I tell Marie if it is?”

From the back seat, Maggie put a comforting hand on Henny's shoulder. “Let's face that problem when we get to it.”

George Sawasky and Brian Todd from Missing Persons were waiting for them at the entrance to the greystone building. Brian greeted Nat. “How's the detective business? Haven't seen you since you were working that baby scam.”

“Good to see you, Brian. We've . . .” he put an arm around Maggie, “we've come a long way since then. I'd like you to meet Henny. She's known Johanna since she was a baby.”

Brian solemnly shook hands with Henny. “I do hope for your sake this isn't the girl you know.” He nodded toward the door. “Shall we get it over with?”

The morgue was in the basement, and Maggie felt a cold shiver run through her body as the elevator descended to the lower floor. The place was so white, so cold and so impersonal. A white-coated man, who introduced himself as Dr. Grebe, led them through a door and over to where a sheet-covered mound lay on a metal gurney.

“I know this will be difficult for you,” he said to Henny before pulling the sheet back. “But the body has been immersed in the bog for quite a few days.” He paused so that she could prepare herself. “Just take your time.” He pulled back the white sheet to reveal the face but not the bruising on the neck.

Nat, his arm around Henny's shoulders, compared the bloated, waxen, ravaged face to the photograph of Johanna he held in his hand and realized it would be very hard for anyone to identify her. But Henny gave a shriek and stumbled backward to bury her face on his shoulder. “Oh, Johanna. It can't be. Oh, Johanna,” she moaned.

“Then you can positively identify the body?” Sergeant Todd asked, puzzled.

Henny pulled her horrified face away from Nat's shoulder and pointed. “The earrings. Her mama and papa give them to her last Christmas.”

“Someone will go with you to break the news to her parents,” he answered. “I'm so sorry.”

Nat and Maggie exchanged a look. “Henny,” he said as he disentangled himself from her. “I want you to go outside with Maggie. I'll only be a few minutes.” He waited until the door had closed behind them before turning to Dr. Grebe. “How did she die?” he asked.

“I won't know until I've done a full autopsy, but I'd say probably strangling.” He replaced the sheet. “I'll send you a full report,” he said, addressing himself to Sergeant Todd.

“Brian, you'll let me know?” Nat asked.

“Homicide will take over now,” Todd answered. “Do you want a policewoman to accompany Henny to the girl's parents' house?”

“No. Maggie and I will go. We'll take the early morning ferry.”

• • •

IT WAS A QUIET THREESOME
that drove onto the Black Ball ferry the next morning, each of them dreading their meeting with David and Marie Evans, but it was a beautiful September day and the scenery was absolutely spectacular. Gulls swooped over the bow of the ferry as it pushed its way from the Horseshoe Bay terminal, the coast mountains on its right as it rounded Bowen Island on the left. Henny had decided to stay in the warmth of the ship's lounge, but Maggie didn't want to miss any part of the trip, and although it wasn't a happy occasion, she couldn't help but feel her spirits rise as she and Nat leaned over the ship's railing and watched a couple of small boats to the north, sails billowing in the wind as they turned into the narrow channel made by Bowen and Keats islands on one side and Gambier Island on the other. As the ferry passed close to Bowen, Maggie could see small boats moored at private jetties and smoke lazily snaking into the air from the chimneys of the houses. More and more people were opting for the quiet life and making the islands their home. The trip to Gibsons Landing took only forty-five minutes, and from there they followed Henny's directions to the Jones' home on Marine Drive. It was a small rancher right beside the water. Late-blooming roses climbed over a trellis, and asters and marigolds lined the path. The front door opened as the three of them climbed out of the car and walked toward the house.

“She's dead, isn't she?” Marie Evans said in a monotone.

“Let's go inside,” Nat answered.

• • •

IT TOOK A COUPLE
of days before George Sawasky returned Nat's repeated calls. “Sorry I've been slow in getting back to you,” he said. “What do you want that's so urgent?”

“I want to know how Johanna Evans died,” Nat answered.

“Like Grebe thought—strangled.”

“What with?”

“There was a silk stocking around her neck, but . . .”

“But what, George?”

“The bruises under the stocking were more consistent with someone choking her.”

“But why put the stocking around her neck?”

“Haven't figured that out yet.” George was quiet for a moment. “The fact is that apart from the stocking around her neck, she was pretty well naked.”

“Was she raped?”

“Come off it, Nat. Farthing would have my balls if he knew that I was passing all this information on to you.”

“Well, you've stuck your neck out about the silk stocking, so you might as well tell me the rest.”

“Okay, it looks like she was raped, but remember, she'd been in the bog for as much as a couple of weeks. But there's something else . . . and you'll really have to keep this under your hat . . . she was pregnant. And, before you ask, we've already had the boyfriend in for questioning and we don't think he's the father.”

“I guess you've brought the girl's parents up-to-date?”

“Not about her being pregnant. We're keeping that strictly to ourselves for now.”

“They tell you that their daughter had two jobs?”

“Yeh. The mother said she had an extra job as a waitress.”

“In Pandora's?”

“What! We took it that she worked in one of the restaurants downtown. How'd you find that out about Pandora's? And why didn't you tell me?”

“We only found out last week,” Nat explained, “and I
have
been trying to get in touch with you for days.”

“You could've called Farthing, you know.” They both laughed.

The call from Farthing came just as Maggie was locking up for the night, and he made it quite clear that their presence was required in his office at ten o'clock the next morning.