Death as a Last Resort by Gwendolyn Southin

Mr. Edgeworthy’s newest projects. A great investment opportunity.”
    Suddenly, one of the two inner doors opened and Robert Edgeworthy emerged with a man wearing an overcoat and carrying a briefcase. “You won’t regret making this investment, Mr. Blythe,” he said as he escorted the man to the door. Then, as he walked back to his office, he nodded to Nat. “You wanted to see me?”
    Nat nodded and followed Edgeworthy in. “You were a friend of Maurice Dubois?” he asked, passing his business card over.
    â€œBusiness acquaintance. Didn’t know the man socially.”
    â€œWhat about the St. Clare deal?”
    â€œThat old fishing camp? Dubois had approached me on it, and to be perfectly frank, it was one of the reasons the wife and I were up there at New Year’s.” He laughed. “You know the old saying, ‘don’t buy a pig in a poke.’”
    â€œIs it a good deal?”
    â€œBeautiful spot, waterfront property, perfect view lots. Dubois had quite a good concept, really, but I don’t think it’s the right time.”
    â€œToo remote?”
    Edgeworthy nodded. “That and the problem of commuting. Give the Sunshine Coast another twenty-five years and maybe it will really come into its own, and then condominiums and townhouses will go over in a big way.”
    â€œThen it wouldn’t be a good thing to invest in now?” Nat asked.
    â€œBig risk. As I say, maybe twenty-five years from now. But I’m sure you’re not here to talk about real estate.”
    â€œYou’re right. Any ideas why Dubois was killed?”
    Edgeworthy shook his head. “I can’t say I liked the guy that much, but I have no idea why anyone would want to murder him.”
    Nat took him step by step through his New Year’s stay at the lodge, but the conclusion was that Edgeworthy, like the others, had thought that Dubois was out fishing that Saturday afternoon in one of the other boats, and he said he was completely mystified how the man’s body could have ended up on Hollyburn Mountain.
    â€œWhat happens to the St. Clare Cove property now?” Nat asked as he prepared to leave.
    â€œDubois had only put a down payment on it so it, will go back to the original owner,” he answered. “Unless, of course, his widow is prepared to take on the debt.”
    Nat couldn’t see Jacquelyn footing that bill, and he got up to leave. He turned just before opening the door. “I was admiring the drawings of another project you’re interested in. Your receptionist said it’s called Secret Valley. What’s that all about?”
    â€œAre you into skiing? If so, that’s going to be a really great deal. Ski lodge, saunas, indoor pool, massage—all that kind of thing.”
    â€œI’ve never heard of Secret Valley. Where’s it located?”
    â€œHollyburn Mountain. That area is going to boom, and if you’re interested, the receptionist will give you a brochure.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll pick one up on my way out.”
    â€¢ • •
    NAT FOUND ROMEO’S PALACE quite easily. The Italian restaurant had booths upholstered in red plush along two walls, and round tables covered in white tablecloths in the main part of the restaurant, each table adorned with a red candle stuck into a basket-covered Chianti bottle. A well-stocked bar was located across the back wall. Hadeya and Dario were a sharp contrast: Hadeya was a classic Egyptian beauty—olive skin, dark hair and a voluptuous body—while Dario was a handsome, swarthy-skinned, brown-eyed Italian of medium height. Hadeya’s older sister, Sharifa, they told Nat, had persuaded them to go to the resort over New Year’s and they had shared a large cabin with the Bakhashes.
    â€œWhich part of Italy did you come from?” Nat asked over a cup of coffee.
    â€œOh, I’m third generation Canadian,” he answered. “My