COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1) by JACKIE ELLIOTT (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

“No, that was it. Do you need anything out here? We don’t see Sue in town much these days.”

Fred answered sharply, “We got all we need. The girl shoots a deer when we need it.” He stopped and thought for a moment. “You got any diesel?”

“I’ve got a jerrycan in the pick-up.”

“The girl will pay. And don’t you mind that deer.” Fred pointed his cane at Jim. “We follow God’s rules out here.”

“Didn’t see a thing, Fred.”

The old man nodded, turned and shuffled back into the gloom and cardboard mountains.

Jim shrugged at Andi as if to say, See? Told you so.

They left the house. Andi was glad to be back in the fresh air.

Sue didn’t look up when Jim placed the jerrycan of diesel beside her. She carried on slicing and tugging at the carcass, dropping chunks of flesh onto a growing bloody pile beside her.

“You here about Mason?” she asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Jim answered. “You knew he was back?”

“Yep.” Sue didn’t make eye contact.

“How did you know?” Andi couldn’t help asking.

Sue lowered the cleaver.

“People are always in a rush to tell you bad news,” she said quietly. And then to Jim, “I don’t have any cash here. I’ll pay you for the diesel next week, when I’m in town.”

Andi felt ashamed as they drove away. They had achieved nothing, she thought, except add to the weight of grief that already threatened to bury the decaying homestead.

Then she remembered something that Fred had said.

“What was that all about?” she asked, as they drove back on the gravel road. “God’s rules and all that?”

“It’s not open season for hunting,” Jim answered. “Sue poached that deer.”

Chapter Nine

Jim reminded Andi about her “priorities”. They went back to the office, and together they stacked the boxes of the investigation files on Sarah McIntosh into Andi’s car. Jim agreed to let Andi take a look in her spare time but made her promise some things in return.

“Get me more on the Black OPS and the dead sea lions.” He handed her a list of stores and businesses to “hit up for some advertising”. Andi reluctantly agreed, knowing that keeping the Gazette afloat was part of her job — and vital if she wanted to be paid.

When Andi arrived home, she found a note on her door from Walter, her landlord, reminding her that rent was due in a week — a reminder of her current financial situation.

Instead of drowning her worries with wine, Andi spent a few productive hours cleaning up her apartment. She collected up pizza boxes and plastic sandwich containers and dumped them in the garbage cans at the back of the pub, promising herself a healthier diet from now on. She assessed the state of her living quarters with fresh eyes, noting the strewn clothes, unmade bed and the pile of dirty cups and plates in the tiny kitchen sink.

OK, pity party’s over. She stripped the bed, tidied up her clothes and cleaned the bathroom and kitchen area. As she worked, her mind turned over the events of the day. It was like stepping back in time, visiting Fred and Sue in the valley. Not at all like the romantic portrayal of homesteading she’d seen in the movies. She couldn’t imagine how a fifteen-year-old would have felt, being isolated from friends. No TV, no Wi-Fi, no pizza, not even regular hot water — literally none of the trappings of modern teenage life. No wonder Sarah had rebelled. It made Andi’s apartment seem luxurious in comparison.

She took down a bag of her laundry to the shared utility room at the back of the pub. She chatted with Cheryl, Walter’s wife, as she filled the washing machine and promised that she would have her rent cheque in a few days. Feeling hungry, she slipped into the bar to order some food.

“Burger and wine?” Walter asked as Andi stood looking at the blackboard menu hanging over the fireplace.

It was quiet in the pub, too early for the evening regulars, so Andi jumped when a voice from the other end of the bar said, “Try the salmon.”

She looked round and saw Harry.

“Ever eaten wild salmon?” he asked.

“I’ve had salmon before,” Andi answered.

“From the grocery store, I bet. Old stinky farmed fish. Try the real thing,” said Harry, almost challenging her.

She shrugged, and ordered the salmon, a salad and, remembering the promise to herself, a club soda rather than the wine.

“Did you supply the fish?” Andi asked Harry, heaving herself onto a bar stool.

“Nope,” he said, “that would be illegal.”

“Why?” Andi asked.

“Because I don’t have a commercial license anymore,” Harry replied.

“But you are still involved with the fishing industry, right?” Andi asked, thinking she might get some good information for her outstanding assignments.

Harry ignored her question, drained his glass, and set it on the bar.

“What do you want to know about fishing?” he asked.

“I’m a reporter. I report on all sides of the story.”

“That’s your job, is it? To write the truth?” A mocking note in his tone made Andi study his face for a second, wondering if he knew anything about her past.

“Yes. That’s my job,” she said evenly, deciding she was being paranoid. She was saved from further conversation as Walter arrived with her meal.

“Enjoy your salmon.” Harry got up to go just as Walter set the plate in front of Andi.

“That looks amazing,” Andi said. It really did.

“That’s the best way to have salmon,” Harry said as she took her first bite of the moist flakes of pink flesh.

“How?” Andi asked between mouthfuls.

“Poached.”

Both Walter and Harry laughed.

Andi, confused, asked, “What’s funny?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, still chuckling, and Andi realized that it was the first time in her few encounters with Harry that