head, âwhat if Mother finds out?â
âBarbara told me just the other day that it was time I found something useful to do. As for your mother . . .â
âDonât you dare say anything about my mother,â he said, picking up his briefcase, âafter all sheâs done for us.â Margaret thoughtfor an awful moment that he was going to cry, but he continued, âYouâve changed, Margaret. Youâve changed.â He stalked out of the room and she heard the door slam.
It was well into the morning before her depression lifted and she could concentrate on the job of filing. âMr. Southby, what are we going to do with all these notes on Collins?â she asked. âDo you want me to throw them out?â
âDonât you think itâs about time you called me Nat, Maggie? And regarding the files, Iâve a hunch that we havenât heard the last of him,â he answered. âNo, weâll keep them just in case.â
âThese files are a disgrace,â Maggie said, slamming another pile onto her desk to be sorted and reorganized. âHow you ever manage to find anything beats me.â
âWhy do you think I hired you?â he said with a laugh.
Margaret found herself grinning as she reached to answer the telephone. âSouthbyâs Investigations.â
âJohn Cuthbertson here. Would Nat be around?â
âA Mr. John Cuthbertson?â she said as she handed the phone to her boss.
âHi, Cubby. Youâve got some news for me?â
âI may have seen that missing boat you were asking about.â
âWhere? In the marina?â
âI think it passed me last night when I was coming in from fishing. It was being towed in by the Coast Guard.â
âYou think it was the
Seagull?â
âIt was getting dark, but it was blue and white and I caught part of the name Sea-something. It seemed to be in bad shape.â
âYou may be onto something, Cubby. Where can I get a look at it?â
âUm . . . ,â Cubby answered. âAw, what the heck, itâs Friday. Can you make it to the marina by two?â
âSure can. Thanks, Cubby.â
âDonât bury that Collins file too deep,â he said, turning to Maggie. âMy friend Cubby thinks he saw the
Seagull
being towed in last night. Heâs taking me to see it.â
âDid he say whether Collinsâ brother-in-law was on it?â
He shrugged. âDidnât sound like it. He said the boat was badly smashed up. Want to come along?â
âIâd love to, but . . .â
âGot something more exciting to do?â
Maggie thought about the previous night. âNo, not really.â
âThen come on. We wonât be back late.â
âBut,â Maggie said sweetly, âI thought you were off the case.â
He winked at her. âI am, officially. So youâre coming?â
Maggie thought for a minute. âYes.â
âGreat!â he exclaimed. âLetâs go. Iâm starved. Iâll buy you a hamburger on the way.â
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
CUBBYâS BOAT, SLEEK AND FAST, didnât offer Maggie, sitting on the long seat in the stern, much protection from the cold wind that was blowing down Howe Sound and churning up white-caps. Cubby had offered her the protection of the cabin, but she had declined, opting instead for fresh air and being able to see where they were going. But although it was a sunny day, she had to snuggle down inside her coat and hope to God she wouldnât lose the lunch that her boss had treated her to. He, on the other hand, sitting next to Cubby in the console, was protected by the windscreen.
âBe there in half a minute,â Cubby yelled back to her over the noise of the powerful engines. âJust beyond that point. See?â
Maggie stood up and poked her head, turtle-fashion, out of her collar to peer between the two men through the