Death as a Fine Art

by Gwendolyn Southin

  The family, two girls around ten and twelve and a small boy in a wooden highchair, were seated around the oval table. Nat noticed with envy that they had got to the apple pie and ice cream stage of the meal.

  “You must be Lillian.” Maggie smiled at the eldest of the three children.

  “I’m Sheila. She,” she said, pointing to the other girl, “is Lillian.”

  Maggie turned to the younger child. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “When did Jenny tell you that her mother would pick her up?”

  “We were getting out of those stupid choir gowns in the changing room and she told me her mom was going to pick her up.”

  “How did she know that?” Nat asked gently.

  The girl shook her head. “I dunno.”

  “Did someone come to the church for her?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “So how did she know that her mother would be coming for her after all?” Maggie asked.

  “There was a note pinned on her coat.”

  “A note. Do you know how it got there?”

  The girl shrugged. “We were singing in the church.”

  “What did the note say?” Judith cried out in a shrill voice. “For God’s sake, what did it say?”

  Lillian burst into tears. “I don’t know what it said.”

  “I’m sorry, Lillian. I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

  “Did you see her get into a car?”

  “She left before I did.”

  “I know you’re worried,” Morag McPherson said as she escorted them back to the front door, “but Lillian’s only a little girl.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. I just want to know what happened.”

  “Thank you for your time,” Nat said, and taking Judith by the elbow, he steered her toward her car. “We’ll follow you home,” he told her.

  • • •

  “I’D LIKE TO use your phone,” Nat said as soon as they were inside Judith’s house. “I’m going to call Sergeant Sawasky—he’s a friend of mine—and get him to light a fire under Missing Persons.”

  Maggie headed for Judith’s kitchen to make coffee. When she returned to the living room, Nat announced, “They’ll be here as soon as possible.”

  “George, too?” Maggie asked.

  “Later, but as a friend. He has no jurisdiction with Missing Persons.”

  • • •

  GEORGE MUST, INDEED, have started a fire under Missing Persons because Sergeant Cadbury, a tall, dark man in his early forties, turned up in no time flat. “You said you were called out on an emergency,” he said, sitting across the table from Judith.

  “I was,” Judith answered. “But they told me at Children’s Hospital that they hadn’t called me. My God! It was all planned, wasn’t it?”

  “Have you any idea who would take your daughter?” Constable Deirdre Jones, Cadbury’s partner, asked. Short and plump with black hair pulled back into a bun and round tortoiseshell glasses perched on a button nose, she stood behind Cadbury’s chair. “Any enemies?”

  “Of course not . . .”

  “Are you sure, Doctor Sloan?” Cadbury had caught the slight hesitation. “Estranged husband, for instance?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Divorced then?”

  “No.”

  “The child’s father?”

  “He’s dead.”

  There was a silence while the two digested this information before Cadbury asked, “Any other relatives?”

  “Apart from Jenny’s step-brother, we’re on our own.”

  “Step-brother? Who does he live with?”

  “He’s a grown man with small children of his own. And I can’t see him taking Jenny.”

  “Are you on good terms with him?”

  “Not really. He’s not terribly happy about having a step-sister the same age as his own daughters.”

  The ringing of the telephone saved her from Cadbury’s next question. Judith went into the office to answer it. She returned a short time later and sat down hard on a chair.

  “That was the rector. He’s been calling his parishioners, and a Mrs. Hollister thought she saw Jenny getting into a car.”

  “Whose car?” Maggie and Nat were both on their feet.

  “She didn’t see the driver, but she recognized Jenny’s long, blond hair. She said the child seemed to hang back a moment before getting in. The rector’s still on the phone if you want to speak to him.”

  “I’ll take it.” Cadbury strode into the office.

  “Constable,” he said when he returned, “you stay here with the doctor. I’m going to have a talk with this Mrs. Hollister.”

  “Did he say what kind of car?” Nat asked.

  “Black or maybe dark blue.”

  “What about some coffee?” Maggie suggested to Judith after the officer had left. “And I’ll make some sandwiches.”

  “I can’t eat a thing,” Judith replied. “I should’ve gone with him,” she added as she started pacing up and down the room.

  “Come on. It will keep our minds occupied until the sergeant comes back.”

  Nat was very relieved that there would be food.

  A half hour later the ringing of the doorbell sent Judith flying to the door. “What did she say?” Judith grabbed Cadbury’s arm. “Did she see who was in the car? Did she get the number?”

  Cadbury gently disentangled his arm before leading her back into the house.

  “I’m sorry. But her eyesight isn’t all that good and she only noticed that the car was dark and that the little girl didn’t want to get in. I’ve put out an APB but right now we’re not positive it was your daughter, and they could be anywhere by now.”

  George Sawasky, who had arrived just minutes before the return of Cadbury, turned to Judith. “Tell us more about this step-brother.”

  “He only found out about us a short while ago. You see, he wasn’t on good relations with his father, and then to find out he had a young step-sister . . . !”

  “He was jealous?”

  “Very.”

  “Enough to hurt her?”

  “He’s a pastor—not that being a pastor would mean anything,” she added bitterly.

  “What do you mean?” Cadbury looked sharply at her. “Perhaps you’d better tell us what you know about this man.”

  Cadbury and Jones listened intently while Judith related the visit she’d made to Aaron’s place in Mission where she’d met his wife and children and the subsequent visit from Aaron himself. “I have the distinct feeling that he would like me and my daughter to just disappear,” she finished up.

  “Was he violent?”

  Judith thought for a moment before answering. “He could be, I suppose.”

  Cadbury stood up. “I’ll leave Constable Jones with you just in case you receive a phone call from the kidnapper.”

  “You mean a ransom?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t have any money.”

  “I’m going back to the station to make arrangements for the Abbotsford detachment to search the Standish place in Mission,” he continued without answering her question.

  Soon after the sergeant’s departure, George gave Maggie and Nat a slight nod and the three of them got up to leave.

  “We’re not abandoning you,” Maggie said, touching Judith on the shoulder. “But we need to go over things a bit more.”

  “Can’t you do that here?” her voice was edging on the hysterical.

  “You have Constable Jones here and she can call us if anything happens. We’re not that far away.”

  Reluctantly, she saw them to the front door. “If that creep has taken Jenny . . . I’ll . . . I’ll kill him,” she said as she closed the door on them.

  The three of them stood beside Nat’s car. “I can’t see Aaron taking Jenny,” Maggie said. “For one thing, he hasn’t got the guts.”

  “Although from what you’ve told me, he has one hell of a tem
per,” Nat answered.

  “Yes, but after Judith gave him a tongue-lashing, he slunk out of her house like a whipped puppy. And I saw him with his own family. He loves his children.”

  “Jealousy can be the basis of many a serious crime,” George cut in. “Anyway, there’s nothing we can do until we hear from the Abbotsford RCMP. By the way,” he added before stepping into his own vehicle, “have you heard from our Sheldon?”

  “No. Perhaps he’s at the gallery.”

  “Are they open on a Sunday?” George asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “He’s a slippery one, Nat. My advice is to make sure that he is where he’s supposed to be, and then keep an eye on him.”

  They watched George drive away. “Perhaps we should call in at the gallery.” Maggie slipped into the passenger seat of Nat’s car.

  “Maggie, it’s after five. Even if they were open today, Sheldon would be on his way home by now.”

  “Let’s go and make sure, okay?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Silver Unicorn Gallery was open, and luckily Maggie and Nat found a parking spot right outside. A grey-haired woman assistant—totally unknown to either of them—flashed them a smile. “We’re just about to close. But you’re welcome to look around.”

  “We would like to speak to either Alice or Sheldon,” Nat asked.

  “Neither of them came in today. Perhaps I can help you?”

  “Is Alice ill?” Maggie asked with concern.

  “No. She called me early this morning and asked if I would fill in for her. I wasn’t busy so I was happy to oblige.”

  “Do you know where she’s gone?”

  “She just said that she wanted to attend a special estate sale.”

  “And Sheldon White?”

  The woman shook her head. “I was expecting him but he didn’t turn up. I rang him at home but there was no answer.”

  “Any idea when Mrs. Standish will be back?”

  “The gallery isn’t open Mondays, so I guess it’ll be Tuesday. Is it urgent?”

  “Yes, very,” Maggie answered shortly. “And you don’t have any idea where she is? What if you have an emergency?”

  The woman shrugged. “It’s Sunday and it’s only for one day so she didn’t leave an emergency number for me.” She fumbled beside the cash register and produced a pencil and paper. “If you’d like to leave your name and phone number . . .”

  “We’ll try and get her at home.”

  “Mrs. Standish told me she wouldn’t be back in town until tomorrow.”

  The assistant waited until they had left the gallery and watched them warily through the glass door as they walked toward Nat’s old Chevy. The sound of the lock and bolt of the door made them turn back to gaze at the building. The woman gave them a curt nod as she firmly pulled down both the door and window blinds. They were still standing by the car when she reappeared from the side alleyway and, after giving them a very suspicious look, marched down the road.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Maggie slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s get over to Sheldon’s place.”

  • • •

  SHELDON’S HOUSE WAS enveloped in dark shadows. The blinds were down on all the front windows, and when they went round to the back of the place, the back door was locked tight. Nat hurried over to the studio but it was locked, too.

  When he returned, Maggie was standing on tiptoe peering into the kitchen. “Where could they have gone?”

  “The woman back at the gallery could be right, I suppose.”

  “An estate sale? Come off it, Nat. Sheldon’s up to his eyeballs in some kind of fraud involving forged art, he almost killed you when you confronted him, and . . .”

  “And Alice owns an art gallery and is most likely just as involved,” Nat added slowly.

  “And Jonathan was murdered and now his little daughter is missing . . .” Maggie stopped and stared over at the studio. “Nat! You don’t think Jenny’s tied up in there, too?”

  “We’ll soon find out.” He took off his jacket and wrapped it around a large stone. The glass windowpane in the laundry room door shattered inward, and within seconds he had slipped his hand through the hole and unlocked the door and entered. “Which key was it?” he whispered. Maggie took the keys from him and selected the one that opened the studio door.

  There was no sign of the little girl ever having been in the studio. Even Nat’s struggle with the ropes that had bound him, the fallen easel and the painting that he’d knocked over had been completely cleared away. Easels and canvases were all neatly folded and leaning against the one blank wall. The worktable was bare.

  “The house!” Nat rushed out of the studio.

  “Wait.” Maggie caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s call the police.”

  “And tell them what? That we think Sheldon has kidnapped Jenny? What proof do we have? For all we know he’s never laid eyes on the child.”

  “Okay.” She followed him into the dark and now very familiar house. There was nothing to show that Jenny had ever been there either.

  • • •

  “ALICE AND SHELDON are both mixed up in Jenny’s abduction,” Nat said grimly, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I can feel it in my bones.”

  Maggie couldn’t help smiling. “And you scoff at my woman’s intuition. But where could they have taken the child?”

  “Well, there’s nothing more we can do tonight,” Nat said, dispiritedly. “I can’t imagine what that poor woman’s going through. She must be out of her mind.”

  Maggie stood up and stretched her arms above her head. “I’m just about all in. Let’s go back to my place and I’ll fix us supper.”

  “That’s one of the nicest suggestions I’ve heard today. But not until we’ve been to Alice’s apartment.”

  “Do you think she would have risked taking Jenny there?”

  “No. But it’s worth a look.”

  As they expected, the apartment was in complete darkness, and their repeated pressing of the doorbell went unanswered.

  • • •

  “I HAVE AN idea,” Maggie said an hour later as she set a bowl of homemade soup before him. “Galiano!”

  “And that’s just what I was thinking, too! When’s the first ferry in the morning?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  In the morning they were up at six to catch the ferry, and to Maggie’s surprise, Nat didn’t even grumble about the early hour.

  “Sorry, Oscar.” Maggie bent down and undid his leash after a very hurried walk around the block. “We can’t take you this time.”

  “Why not?” Nat poured them each a coffee. “He might be a help.”

  “Nat, he’s not a guard dog. Remember how he ran away when I had that break-in last year?”

  “He had only just become part of the family. Now he’s very devoted and protective. Anyway,” he glanced up at the kitchen clock, “we’d better get our skates on if we want to catch that first ferry.”

  Oscar, giving Nat one of his lopsided grins, knew he would be going.

  “What about George?” Maggie asked, pulling on her raincoat.

  “I hate to disturb his day off. After all, we may be totally wrong.”

  “But just suppose we’re not?”

  “There are phones on the island, you know.”

  “It might be a bit late by then.” She picked up the prepared picnic basket from the table. “Would you mind stowing this in the trunk and getting this very spoilt animal into the back seat?” She headed upstairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m grabbing some towels. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need them.”

  Nat drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the windshield wipers making ineffectual swipes at the downpour. “Why do women always take such a long time, Oscar?”

  • • •

  THERE WERE ONLY a few cars and trucks lined up for the Galiano ferry on this drizzly day, and Nat f
ound himself thinking that sensible people stayed in bed on days like this. When their turn came, Nat followed a pick-up onto the ferry.

  On their last visit the sun had been shining and Galiano had been inviting. Today, as they drove off the ferry and into Montague Harbour, low clouds scudded overhead, trees and bushes dripped rain, and the unpaved road squelched beneath the Chevy’s tires.

  Nat drew up outside the general store and climbed out of the car. Pulling the brim of his fedora down and turning his raincoat collar up, he made a dash for the door. Maggie watched as he rattled the latch, peered through the shuttered door, and then the window.

  “It’s not open,” he said unnecessarily as he climbed back into the car. “What now?”

  Their first idea had been to ask the owner of the store if he’d seen anything of Sheldon in the past couple of days and if he had noticed any visitors with him.

  “Perhaps it’s best if we keep a low profile ourselves, anyway. I think we should drive up Burrill, find a place to hide the Chevy, and walk the rest of the way to White’s place.”

  Maggie remembered the gravel road from their last visit, but this time the rain had turned the road into a slippery, potholed hazard.

  They were about two-thirds of the way up the slope when Maggie suddenly yelled, “Stop!”

  Nat jammed on the brakes, which sent Maggie sharply forward and Oscar flying off the back seat. “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s a place to pull off.” She pointed to a narrow track.

  “My God! I thought something was wrong.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t want you to pass it.”

  “Suppose someone lives up there?”

  “It’s overgrown. Nothing’s been up that track in years.”

  Nat drove to a bend in the track, pulled to the side, and parked under a large oak. Oscar was the first to jump out and, whimpering with excitement, jumped up and down while waiting for Maggie to attach his leash.