Free In the Shadow of Death by Gwendolyn Southin

raincoat to make a pool on the floor.
    â€œDid 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?”
    â€œNo,” she answered him. “I’m one of Kate’s paying guests.”
    â€œShe’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 . . .”
    â€œAn 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.
    â€œHave you any idea why someone would shoot at you? Any enemies in this area?”
    â€œI’ve only been here three days,” she answered. “But it could’ve been the money I found.”
    â€œMoney?”
    â€œYou didn’t say anything about finding money, Maggie,” Kate said.
    â€œI 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 . . .”
    â€œAre you sure you didn’t imagine that money?” he demanded
    â€œCorporal,” 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?”
    â€œNot 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.”
    â€œAnd just like that, you’re going to find him?” He smiled sardonically. “Does your boss know you’re moonlighting up here?”
    â€œI’ve brought him up-to-date.”
    â€œAnd he’s ready to rush up here and find Guthrie and show the locals how to do it.”
    Keeping a firm grip on herself, Maggie looked Brossard straight in the eye. “If necessary, Corporal Brossard, yes.” She stood up from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve things to do.”
    â€œNot so fast,” Brossard put out a hand to stop her. “I want to warn you that I won’t, I repeat, I won’t stand for any interference. Do I make myself clear?”
    â€œPerfectly.”
    Brossard turned back to Kate, who had been nervously following the exchange. “Now, Mrs. Guthrie, are you absolutely sure you don’t know the dead man?”
    Kate’s answer was to burst into tears. “I’ve already told you I don’t know him. Why don’t you believe me?”
    Brossard’s face reddened. “I have to ask,” he said in a more gentle tone. “It’s seems too much of a coincidence that your husband’s missing and then this body turns up.”
    â€œDo you know who he is?” Maggie asked suddenly.
    Brossard nodded reluctantly. “His name is Lewis Sarazine. Lived over Alexis Creek way.” Tucking his notebook into his pocket again, he turned toward Maggie. “I strongly advise you to return to Vancouver, Mrs. Spencer, or,” he added, “stick to horseback riding or whatever one