Death in a Family Way (26 page)

“He must know a cooperative doctor?' Maggie asked.

“But how do you know all this?” Nat asked.

“Cuthbertson ran out on Larry, so Larry spilled his guts to get even.”

“But what happened to all the other girls?” Maggie asked. “According to your files, most of them are still missing.”

“We've had a bit of luck there.” He shifted in his seat. “Last week one of the girls escaped and managed to get to a telephone and call for help. The Seattle police have located the farm where the girls were held and have made several arrests. It'll take awhile
to find all of them and their babies,” Farthing added. “But we'll be working closely with the Seattle authorities.”

“So Cuthbertson was cleaning up on these kids' misery?” Nat said.

“Yes,” Farthing answered. “But we think that he and his crew got too greedy. Why give the girls a cut if they didn't have to? Also, they got worried that their money-making scheme would blow up in their faces if any of girls blabbed or had second thoughts about giving up their babies.”

“So they kept the girls in the States,” Nat said.

“Yes. As far as we can make out, the girls would be systematically drugged until they had a dependency and then put on the streets in Texas and Florida,” Farthing replied. There was a silence in the room, and he added, “Maybe we'll be able to find some of them before it's too late.”

“I hope Amy Holland is found in time,” Maggie said quietly.

“We'll have a damn good try.”

“But what about Ernie? Where did he fit into the picture?” she asked.

“Old Bradshaw?” Farthing stood to open the door for them. “We're not sure if he does fit in. Forensics are still at the Larkfield house looking for evidence that he was killed there.” He paused for a moment. “But I think he must have stumbled onto their little scheme while searching for that cat of his—like his daughter said.”

“Emily,” Maggie said, tucking her purse under her arm.

“I beg your pardon?” Farthing asked, puzzled.

“His cat's name is Emily. And she's mine now,” she said with a happy smile.

“Eh . . . Southby,” Farthing's voice faltered. “About that other affair . . . Can we just . . . uh, forget it?” He held out his hand.

Ignoring the hand, Nat followed Maggie out of the room.

“What other affair?” Maggie asked when they reached their car.

“I'll fill you in about that later,” he answered, helping her in the passenger seat. They were both very quiet with their own thoughts as they drove toward the office.

“They murdered him, you know,” she said as they got out of the car.

“Old Ernie? Yes, I'm sure they did.” Nat opened the street door to the office building. “You coming up?”

Maggie hesitated for a moment and then followed him up the stairs.

The familiar dry office smell hit her as they walked into the room. Nat threw his hat in the direction of the coat tree, and as usual, missed.

Maggie ignored it. “I'm leaving Harry,” she said quietly.

Nat's heart gave a thump. “I'm glad,” he said.

Deliberately, she turned away and sat behind her battered desk. “Can I come back to work?” she asked.

He smiled. “You weren't thinking of leaving me to struggle here on my own, were you?” He walked over to the window to look down at the busy street. “Well, if you're leaving Harry, where are you going to live?”

“I don't know as yet, Nat. But I've decided to keep the cat, and for the sake of Emily, I have to find a small house or at least a basement apartment with a small garden.”

“Great.” Nat retrieved his hat from the floor. “We're both professional detectives. Come on, let's start looking.”

From
In the Shadow of Death...

BY THE TIME
the train had reached the coastal mountains after stopping at the small stations of Squamish, Whistler and Pemberton, Maggie thought that the scenery couldn't possibly get any better. She peered out of the dusty window of the three-coach train, awestruck by the beauty of the mountains, their snow and glacier peaks glinting in the morning sunshine. Then the scene changed to sheer tranquility as the track ran beside Duffy Lake, where the fir forest and mountains were reflected perfectly in the still water. Before reaching Lillooet, the train made a couple of stops to let passengers off. Most of them were met, and she watched as they threw their bags into battered pickup trucks or old cars. Once, the train even stopped to let a passenger off in front of his home. She watched the man throw his bag over the fence before hopping over it himself, then turn and give a cheery wave to the train's engineer, who gave an answering toot of the whistle before continuing down the track. But the area was so remote, the roads that ran beside the tracks so narrow and dusty, that she wondered how people could possibly live in such isolation.

•  •  •

MAGGIE AND THE HORSE
eyed each other warily. “Ever ridden before?” a voice said behind her. She turned to find a heavy-set man in his mid-fifties. He was dressed in jeans, western boots, red-checked shirt and the biggest Stetson she had ever seen.
This must be Hendrix.

Kate made a perfunctory introduction, then hurried off to attend to her own mount.

“Not for quite awhile,” Maggie answered, trying not to stare at his hat. “My sister has a riding stable in Norfolk, but I haven't been back there in awhile.” She put out a tentative hand to stroke Angel's nose.

“Then you never used a western saddle?” He pointed to a mounting block. “Here, climb up.”

Maggie was terrified that she would make a complete fool of herself and go flying right over the horse and land on the ground. But to her surprise, she found herself astride the animal. Hendrix adjusted the stirrups. “Okay,” he said, “let's see what you can do.” Swinging himself onto a huge chestnut mare, he leaned toward Angel and took the leading reins in his hand as they headed out of the enclosure and onto a well-marked trail. After her initial nervousness, Maggie soon found herself adjusting to the horse's gait, and she even managed to take an occasional glance at the open range as they plodded toward the distant hills.

Hendrix broke the silence. “You a friend of Kate's?”

“No. I rent a basement suite from her sister in Vancouver.” Her gaze wandered up ahead to where Kate, looking very much at home on her horse, was chatting to the young ranch hand keeping pace beside her on his grey mare. “Kate looks as if she's doing okay.”

“Yep.”

“She's worried about her husband.”

“Huh!” he snorted.

“You don't think she has cause to worry? He's been away for nearly two weeks now.”

“Used to go away all the time before she come along.” He leaned over and handed the reins to her. “Try riding on your own.”

“If you're sure she won't charge off with me clinging to her neck.”

“Just do what I showed you,” he added. “Head for those hills up there.”

“That seems an awfully long way.”

“You'll make it,” he answered in his terse manner. “You seem like a natural. You'll be sore when you get back.”

“Kate and Al are coming back,” Maggie said, hoping Hendrix would decide they'd gone far enough.

“Al's got chores to do.”

“See you back at the house, Maggie,” Kate called as they trotted past.

Maggie waved and then urged her horse to go a little faster to catch up to Hendrix. As they neared the base of the hills, he reined in his horse and looked up at a flock of birds wheeling in the sky. “What's the matter?”

“They're over the Black Adder Ravine,” he replied thoughtfully. “Stay here while I take a look-see.”

“No. I'll come, too,” she answered, not wanting to be left alone.

“Probably a cow fallen into the ravine. We'll ride aways, then dismount when it gets too steep. You go ahead of me.”

The higher they climbed, the steeper the ravine fell away on their left side, and Maggie was glad that Angel was very sure-footed on the loose gravel of the narrow road. She made an effort not to look down. After awhile, she stopped and let Hendrix catch up. “I think I'd better get down,” she told him.

Hendrix nodded and steadied Angel while Maggie slid down
the animal's flank. “We'll leave 'em tethered here.” He dismounted, took the reins of the two horses and fastened them to one of the saplings that lined the cliff side of the road, and they began plodding upward. Getting as close to the edge as she dared, Maggie craned her neck to get a better look at the top of the craggy mountain that towered over them.

“This road is literally cut out of the side of the mountain,” she said in wonder. “Where does it lead?”

“An old mine. Hasn't been worked for at least fifty years, to my knowledge.” For another five minutes, he led the way up the road, then suddenly stopped and pointed down into the ravine. “Christ! There's a Jeep down there.”

Maggie stopped beside him. The Jeep was upside down, and a man's body lay on the rocks beside it. She grabbed Hendrix's arm. “We've got to get down there.”

“No. We'll go back to the ranch for help. Come on.” He turned and ran down the road to where they'd left the horses. “Come on.” Maggie followed and when they reached the horses, he cupped his hand and helped her onto Angel

“You go on ahead,” she said. “I'll be fine.”

“You sure?” And when Maggie nodded, he jumped onto his own horse and raced back down the track, and was soon a cloud of dust in the distance.

GWENDOLYN SOUTHIN
was born in Essex, England and launched her career after moving to the Sunshine Coast of Canada. She co-founded The Festival of the Written Arts and the region's writer-in-residence program. She co-edited
The Great Canadian Cookbook
with Betty Keller and her short stories and articles have appeared in
Maturity, Pioneer News
and
Sparks from the Forge.
She lives and writes in Sechelt, British Columbia.

Stay tuned for more adventures in the Margaret Spencer series which currently includes:
Death in a Family Way
,
In the Shadow of Death
,
Death on a Short Leash
, and
Death as a Last Resort
.

“The flow is smooth, the action well-paced.”
—Quill & Quire

“A good puzzle plot and an engaging character to carry it along.”
—Globe and Mail

“[Margaret] has her way with the reader . . . you want to find out how she's going to make out as a detective (she seems better at it than the professionals).”
—The Vancouver Sun

“Satisfies throughout. Fascinating story.”
—Sunstream Magazine

“Margaret Spencer is a smart and feisty woman to whom people open up. Original.”
—The Saskatoon Star Phoenix