Free Death as a Last Resort by Gwendolyn Southin

it. “What are their names?”
    â€œBlack and Tan—what else?”
    â€œI have a dog of my own,” she said, but didn’t add that Oscar was less than half the size and was a complete wimp.
    When his dogs finally indicated their approval, Mahaffy ushered Nat and Maggie into his comfortable office, a separate building that stood between the main stable and the garage that housed his silver Jaguar. The warm scent of sweet hay and the sounds of a busy and lucrative business wafted through the partially open window to them as they sipped the coffee he provided.
    â€œYou have quite a spread here,” Nat said, unbuttoning his jacket. “And you seem to have a lot of horses in those stables.” They had been thoroughly impressed with the massive stables as they drove through the farm’s gate.
    Mahaffy nodded. “I board as well as train horses for the track. But you haven’t come here to discuss horses.”
    â€œMrs. Dubois has asked Mrs. Spencer and myself to look into her husband’s death,” Nat explained as he proffered a business card. “Could you tell us how long you had known him?” Nat leaned forward and accepted the cigarette that Mahaffy offered.
    Mahaffy glanced at Nat’s business card before answering. “Only just met the man.”
    â€œI see you were in the army, Mr. Mahaffy,” Maggie said, pointing to a photograph on the wall behind his desk.
    â€Yeah. Monty’s 8th Division.” Then he added proudly, “I was a lieutenant in the tank corps at El Alamein.” He got up from behind his desk and reached for the photograph of a group of soldiers standing in front of a Sherman tank. “Here’s my crew,” he said, placing it in front of them. “That’s me there.”
    â€œYou all look so young,” Maggie remarked. “Have you kept in touch with any of them?”
    â€œOnly Arnold Schaefer. We were two of the lucky ones.” He was silent for a moment.
    â€œWhat rank did Mr. Schaefer have?” Nat asked after a respectful moment.
    â€œHe became our CO. Good bloke to have around, I can tell you.”
    â€œDid you live here before the war?” Maggie asked.
    â€œNo. Schaefer persuaded me to immigrate.”
    â€œAnd you went straight into the horse breeding business?”
    â€œGood Lord, no. I had just enough money to buy a small farm on Lulu Island.”
    â€œOh? Whereabouts?” Nat asked. “I used to live out there.”
    â€œWoodhead Road. Do you know the area? It’s just off No. 5 Road.”
    â€œNot very well. We lived over by Railway and Williams.”
    â€œI was no good at farming. Sold the acreage off a few years ago but kept the old house. Nice house, but it needs doing up . . .”
    â€œGoing back to Pender Harbour,” Nat interrupted, “were you interested in buying one of those lots?”
    â€œI have enough on my plate here. Schaefer invited me up and I needed a break. I was rather interested in Dubois’s other venture, though.”
    â€œThe ski lodge?” Maggie asked.
    â€œYou’ve heard about it?”
    â€œSecret Valley. I hear Dubois staged some kind of an introductory lunch?”
    â€œYeah! He had a good turnout.” He laughed. “Perhaps because it was free food. I hope Dubois’s death doesn’t put the kibosh on it, but I expect his partner will carry on.”
    â€œAnd who was his partner?”
    He hesitated for a fraction of a minute. “Some guy in real estate, I think.” He looked up as a girl in jodhpurs opened the door.
    â€œThe vet’s here, Liam.”
    â€œSorry, folks, gotta go.” He glanced casually at Nat’s card as he arose from behind his desk. “And it was Dubois’s widow that called you in?” He raised his eyebrows. “Why isn’t she letting the police get on with it?”
    â€œShe wasn’t happy with the way they were handling