Free Death as a Last Resort by Gwendolyn Southin Page A

it,” Nat answered, standing up. He reached across the desk and shook Mahaffy’s hand. “Thanks for seeing us.”
    After they left, Mahaffy slowly tapped the card on his teeth and watched the two of them climb into Maggie’s red Morris Minor.
    â€¢ • •
    â€œSO WHAT DO YOU think of our Irish boy?” Maggie asked as she swung the car out of the gate. “And did you see that silver Jag in the garage next to his office?”
    â€œI was more interested in the fact that he and Arnold Schaefer were in the army together.”
    â€œYes, isn’t that something? I’m glad you didn’t tell him that Nancy was at that lunch. I think we should keep that to ourselves for a bit.”
    â€œI almost did mention it,” he admitted. “I get so steamed up when I think of her investing money she doesn’t have.”
    â€œIt’s her money, Nat.”
    â€œThat’s the point. It isn’t,” he growled.
    To change the subject, Maggie said as lightly as she could, “It’s such a beautiful day, why don’t we have lunch somewhere and then call on Midge and see how she’s making out with that puppy of hers?” Maggie knew that her younger daughter, Midge, an operating room nurse at the Royal Columbian Hospital, had Saturday afternoons off, and the puppy she was referring to was Snowball, a beautiful white Sealyham that a grateful client had insisted on giving to Maggie after their last case. But Emily and Oscar had been enough for Maggie to cope with in her small house, and Midge and Snowball were made for each other.
    â€œGreat idea,” Nat answered. “Let’s call Midge and get her to meet us at that new Italian restaurant, Angelo’s, I think it was called. You remember? It’s just a stone’s throw from her place.”
    Maggie readily agreed and an hour later the three of them were sitting in a booth, sipping red wine and waiting in anticipation for their Pasta Primavera to arrive. The meal was wonderful and the talk just flowed between them as they ate and then had a leisurely coffee.
    â€œThanks for a lovely lunch,” Midge said finally, getting to her feet. “l’d better get home and find out what Snowball has chewed up this time.”
    Later, when Maggie and Nat arrived at her house, she was very glad that Oscar’s puppy days were well behind him. The place was just as she had left it early that morning.
    â€¢ • •
    SUNDAY WAS A TYPICAL February day in Vancouver. It had turned from warm and sunny to cold, wet and windy. Maggie had just settled down to a late supper by the fireside when the phone gave an unwelcome ring.
    â€œDamn!” She glanced at her watch; it was eight fifteen. Nat, she knew, was on a stakeout on an arson case, and she’d spoken to both of her daughters that morning. Reluctantly, she reached for the offending instrument.
    â€œSorry to interrupt your evening, Mrs. Spencer. It’s Julie from your answering service. A woman has called twice for Mr. Southby, but I can’t reach him. She insists it’s a matter of life or death . . . so I thought I’d better call you.”
    â€œDid she give you a name?”
    â€œThat’s what’s odd. She’s quite distraught and she seems to be whispering, but I think she said that her name is Southby.”
    â€œYou’d better patch her through.”
    â€œI’ve been trying to get Nat for hours!” Nancy was whispering, but the urgency in her voice still came through loud and clear. “Is he there with you?”
    â€œNo. What’s wrong?”
    â€œI’m locked in this office and I can’t get out.”
    â€œWhat office?”
    â€œIt’s a real estate office on Hastings.”
    â€œCall the owners.”
    â€œThey don’t know I’m here.”
    â€œThen what in God’s name are you doing there?” Maggie snapped.
    â€œI came to get my money