Death on a Short Leash (15 page)

“Does she know about the dog?” Nat asked.

“No. I'll have to explain.” But it took a lot of explanation.

“Let me get this straight, Mom. You've kidnapped a dog, it's had pups and you want me to look after them?”

“It will only be for a short time,” she said entreatingly. “Until we can get them to their rightful owner.”

“What do you mean . . . the rightful owner?”

“I'll try and explain when I see you. What time do you go on duty?”

“Tomorrow's my day off. But Mom,” she wailed, “what do I do with a dog and five pups? My place is so small.”

“And so is Rosie,” Maggie said firmly. “I'll be there midmorning.”

With Nat's help, Maggie lifted the dog and pups carefully out of the box and put a fresh blanket in it. She couldn't help marvelling how Rosie knew exactly what to do. She had cleaned each of the pups and had them settled close to her so they could suckle.

That night Maggie woke several times to tiptoe downstairs to make sure Rosie and her family were okay. Once Nat woke as she slipped out of bed. “Stop fussing. Dogs know how to do these things!” And he rolled over and went back to sleep. Eventually, thoroughly exhausted, she had fallen into a deep sleep, only to be wakened by the clanging of her alarm clock.

“Drat!” Stifling the urge to throw the thing across the room, she turned to nudge Nat, only to find he had gone, leaving a note on his pillow. “Gone home to get a change of clothes. I didn't want to wake you.”

“Rosie!” Pulling on her robe, she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Nat had fed both animals, and the dog was back in her box with her babies. Emily was outside, sitting on the windowsill, making silent meows to be let in.

Maggie decided to make an early start, and after a quick breakfast, she settled the dog and pups in their box on the back seat of her car and drove out into the alleyway, glancing anxiously both ways before driving cautiously to the intersecting road that would lead her down to Cornwall Avenue. She felt safer once she had mingled with the early morning traffic on the Burrard Street Bridge, but kept looking in her rear-view mirror. As far as she could tell, no one was following her. An hour later, she arrived at the apartment building close to the Royal Columbian Hospital, where Midge worked in the OR. With Rosie following anxiously, Maggie lugged the box to the door of Midge's ground-floor suite.

Midge greeted her mother with little enthusiasm. “I tried to tell you last night, this place is too small for a dog and five pups. And,” she added, “it's against the rules to have pets in these apartments.”

“What else could I do?” Maggie set the box on the floor and Rosie climbed in to be with her babies. “Just keep them for a few days until I can find a safe place for them.”

“Mom, what is this all about?” Midge demanded.

“Help me get them settled and I'll tell you everything.”
Well, nearly everything!
Midge didn't need to know about Jasmine yet.

“This puppy mill . . .” Midge's voice was shaky. “How many dogs were there?”

“As far as I could see,” her mother answered, “there were at least fifty cages and each one contained a bitch. Some had pups, others waiting to give birth. Altogether there must have been a hundred and fifty dogs and puppies cooped up in there.”

“I've heard of these mills, but I didn't realize how bad they were.”

“You don't know the half of it,” Maggie continued. “These poor little things are often bred when they're only six months old themselves. They have a terrible life of being bred continually, and when they're too old or sick, they're killed.”

“So what about this one?” Midge stroked Rosie's head. “Who does she belong to?”

“Prudence Williams. Her husband's involved in a case Nat and I are on. Hopefully, we'll be able to reunite dog, pups and Prudence soon.”

“Well, I'll do what I can, Mom, but I have to work tomorrow.”

“I'll call you this evening,” Maggie promised.

It was midday when she made it back to the office. Nat greeted her with, “You haven't forgotten we've an appointment with Johanna's boyfriend at four this afternoon?”

Maggie nodded. “I remembered. But didn't you say something about springing a visit on Williams first?”

Nat grinned. “Grab your purse. We'll get a sandwich at the deli across the street and then hightail it out there. How did Rosie settle in?”

Maggie laughed. “Midge was all set to say no way, but she took one look at the pups and she was completely won over.” She paused a moment. “Trouble is, she has to work tomorrow and she's worried about leaving them.”

“So what is she going to do?”

“She's going to try to co-opt her best friend into puppy-sitting.”

• • •

IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER
midday when they drove into the parking lot of the Little Pets Hospital. “Only two cars,” Maggie said as they parked. “Where is everybody?”

“Lunchtime,” Nat answered. “The best time to find him alone.”

“But suppose he's gone out to eat?”

“He didn't the last time I was here.” He walked purposefully to the door and tried the handle. “Locked.” He peered through the glass. “There's someone in there.” He rapped loudly until the door was eventually opened a crack by a girl dressed in a green uniform.

“We're closed until one o'clock,” she said through the opening.

“Is Dr. Williams in?” Nat asked.

“It's his lunch hour and he doesn't like to be disturbed.” She started to close the door. “You'll have to come back at one.”

Nat put his foot in the opening. “Please tell the doctor that Nat Southby wishes to see him.”

“I don't think . . .”

“Who is it, Dora?” Carl Williams' voice came from the inner room.

“A Mr. Southby, Dr. Williams. He wants to see you.”

“Come back when we're open,” Williams called out.

“I need to see you now,” Nat yelled back.

The door was suddenly yanked open by an irate Williams.

“Oh, for God's sake! Not you again? What do you want?”

“Just a few more questions about Johanna. You know she's been found?”

“The police have already been here.”

“So you know she was murdered?”

“Johanna's dead?” Dora gasped. “You said she'd left for another job!”

Williams ignored his assistant and turned to lead the way into his office. “You'd better come in.” They followed, leaving a horrified Dora standing in the reception area.

“You don't know how she was killed?” Maggie asked, sitting down across from Williams' desk.

“How the hell would I? I didn't kill her.”

“What's happened to your wife's little dog?” Nat asked.

“What's that got to do with it?”

“It turns out that Johanna might have been killed looking for it.”

“Why would she do that? She knew I'd sent it to a kennel to be bred.” He sat behind his desk, smugly confident.

“Is that where the dog is now?” Maggie asked.

“Why do you want to know?” He paused for a moment. “Did my wife ask you to look for the animal? It's just the stupid sort of thing she would do,” he added.

“She was worried about the dog,” Nat answered.

“She doesn't have to worry anymore.”

“Why's that?” Nat asked.

“Escaped from the kennel and was run over.”

“Have you told your wife?” Maggie asked.

“Couldn't keep it from her. She's very upset, and I don't want you two getting near her.” He stood up. “Now if you don't mind,” he said sarcastically, “I have patients to see.”

Maggie stayed seated. “Where is your wife?” she asked gently.

“At home, of course.”

Maggie shook her head. “Your neighbour said that she's away.”

“You've been discussing my affairs with that . . . that . . . snoopy Betteridge bitch?” he shouted. His face was such a curious purple colour that Maggie was sure he was going to have some kind of fit. “Although it's none of your damn business, my wife's gone to look after her mother.”

“But your in-laws are holidaying in Palm Springs,” Nat said.

Williams stormed to the door and flung it open. “Out! Or do you want me to call the police?”

“Do you know a man named Rolland Peterskill?” Maggie asked suddenly.

Williams stopped short. “Why?”

“Johanna's parents mentioned that he recommended her to you.”

“Business acquaintance.” Williams opened the door wider for them to pass and slammed it shut after them.

Half a dozen owners and pets were now waiting in the reception area to see the good doctor, and even the pets wore looks of astonishment on their faces as Maggie and Nat sailed past them.

“What made you ask him about Peterskill?” Nat asked as they drove away from the clinic.

“Don't you remember, Nat? Marie Evans said it was Peterskill who recommended Johanna to Williams.”

“So it's time we talked to Peterskill,” Nat said, negotiating a corner. “Do we have his address?”

“Can't be that many Rolland Peterskills in the telephone book,” she answered with a smile.

• • •

HANS VAN DYKE
arrived promptly for his appointment. “So good of you to come to the office,” Maggie said, hanging his coat on the coat tree. “We could have come to you this time.”

“No chance,” he replied. “I share a place with three other guys and none of us are what you would call tidy.” He stood by Maggie's desk. “Now how can I help?”

“Nat wants to ask you a few questions. I'll see if he's ready.”

“You knew Johanna well?” Nat asked as soon as they were settled.

“Sort of,” Hans replied. “I don't know if Mrs. Spencer told you, but I've only known her about six months or so. That's when we started to date—off and on, you know . . .”

“Do you know where she worked?”

The young man nodded. “At that animal hospital in Richmond,” he answered. “She wasn't all that happy there.”

“What makes you say that?” Nat asked.

Hans stared ahead as he formed his thoughts. “Well . . . when I first knew her, she was real happy . . . then she changed . . . sort of . . .”

“In what way?” Maggie asked.

“She would say she was too busy when I asked her out and she even stood me up a couple of times.”

“Perhaps she was seeing someone else?” Nat said.

He shook his head. “I asked her, but she said she wasn't . . . and anyway, we weren't going steady . . .”

“Did you know that she had a second job?” Nat asked.

“No. But her job at the vet's was only part-time, so I guess that makes sense.”

“Have you heard of a place called Pandora's?”

“Yes,” Hans said.

“Have you ever been there?”

“No,” he answered, his voice indicating his surprise at being asked. “I don't go to places like that.”

“That's where Johanna worked.”

“Johanna? You mean as a waitress?”

“No,” Nat said slowly, watching Hans' face. “As a stripper!”

“That can't be.” The young man was obviously shaken. “Johanna wasn't . . . wasn't . . . she wasn't that kind of girl.”

Nat shook his head. “Yes, she was.”

Hans gripped the edge of Nat's desk. “I don't think that's possible.”

“It's true,” Nat said. “She was a stripper at Pandora's.”

Hans stood up. “Have you any other questions to ask me?” he asked in a tight voice.

“No,” Nat answered. Unless Hans was a very good actor, he had known nothing about Johanna's other life.

“I think the police were right,” Maggie said after she had shown Hans out. “I'm sure that young man couldn't have been the father of Johanna's baby.”

Nat nodded in agreement.

• • •

A LITTLE BEFORE NOON on the following Saturday, Maggie and Nat sat in his car outside Johanna's apartment, waiting for David and Marie Evans.

“They said they'd be here by eleven-thirty,” Nat said peevishly, looking at his wristwatch. “For goodness sake,” Maggie laughed, “have a little patience. They've been staying with friends while they pack up Johanna's things. Anyway,” she added, “here they are.”

“So sorry we're late,” David said in his soft accent. Carrying a pile of flattened cardboard boxes, he led the way up the path to the apartment building. “I hope we haven't kept Mr. Peterskill waiting.”

“Peterskill?” Maggie echoed. “Is he going to be here, too?”

David Evans nodded as he pushed open the front door. “He's anxious for us to remove Johanna's things. He has a new tenant waiting to get in.”

“I can understand that,” Nat said, out of breath as he climbed the stairs behind the others. “It's a nice place.” By the time he reached the landing, David had opened the door of the apartment.

“That's good,” Marie said. “Mr. Peterskill is not here yet.” She turned to Maggie. “You go ahead and look around.” And she began reassembling one of the cardboard boxes.

Maggie, realizing that Marie Evans was having a tough time controlling her emotions, reached over to touch Nat's arm. “We'll start in the bedroom.”

Apart from several more empty boxes dumped on the bed, the place looked the same as on their last visit. Maggie went back into the living room. “Would you like us to pack up the things in the drawers?” she asked.

“Would you?” Marie answered. “I don't think I can pack her clothes. I'll do these things.” She waved a hand toward a pile of her daughter's books and ornaments.

Back in the bedroom Maggie grabbed one of the boxes and opened the top drawer of the dressing table. “Nat, why don't you fill that big box with all the stuff from the closet?”