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

“Yes, the sea lions are bloody parasites. We should have a cull, but the ‘scientists’—” he made air quotes — “they say the data doesn’t support the theory, and it’s all anecdotal evidence they’re wiping out the stocks.”

“Hmm. Well, of course I won’t quote you, but that is really interesting,” Andi said, and decided to push him a bit more. She felt that he was letting his guard down.

“What about the environmental groups? There was a group protesting in Coffin Cove. I hadn’t heard of them, but maybe you have, the Ocean Protection Society? They call themselves the Black OPS because they wear black — it’s a bit theatrical, if you ask me.” Andi wasn’t certain, but she thought Gerry Roberts flinched.

“No, I haven’t heard of them,” he answered abruptly, the confiding tone all gone.

“Yes, I did a bit of digging, and the group had only existed for a short time, but . . .”

“Just kids — rich kids with nothing else to do. We don’t bother with them as long as they keep out of the way.” Captain Roberts shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with this topic.

“But their founder was Pierre Mason, you must have heard of him? He’s quite famous,” Andi pushed.

“No, no, can’t say I have,” Roberts answered quickly. “I’m really out of time, Miss Silvers, I’m sure you have enough for your article?”

“Mr Mason was murdered a few days ago in Coffin Cove, I’m surprised you haven’t heard?”

“I heard something, but as I said, it’s not a name I recognize.” Captain Roberts stood up. “I’m very busy, Miss Silvers. We’re done here.”

“Just one more thing, Captain Roberts.” Andi ignored his tone, which was now angry. “Just before Mason was murdered, he sent me this picture. Do you recognize any of the vessels? Or know why he might have sent it to me?”

She pulled a copy of the photo from her bag and set it on the desk in front of Roberts. He was flushed bright red and breathing heavily but bent forward to look at the picture.

“No,” he said after a moment’s pause. “No, to both your questions, I don’t know the vessels, and I don’t know why this Mason would send you anything, so if you don’t mind—”

“That’s weird,” Andi said quickly, knowing she was just about out of time. “That vessel belongs to the DFO. You should recognize it, you were captain on that vessel. Are you sure you don’t know Pierre Mason?”

“What the hell do you think—? Get the fuck out of my office! Christina! CHRISTINA!” Roberts bellowed, losing control.

A wide-eyed Christina opened the office door.

“Show this woman out! Now! Make sure she leaves the building — and Miss Silvers, I’m warning you—”

Andi didn’t wait to hear the warning. Grinning to herself, sure now that Captain Gerry Roberts was caught up in this story somehow, she clicked the voice recorder off on her phone and followed Christina out of the office.

“So what was all that about?” Christina asked curiously, as they made their way back through the maze of corridors and staircases to the reception area. “I’ve never seen that pompous prick so mad.”

She had perked up considerably, Andi thought — the drama must be a welcome reprieve from her dull job.

“I guess he didn’t enjoy the interview,” Andi laughed, and Christina giggled.

“That guy you were asking about,” she said, “my friend knew him. She was a member of that protest group.”

“Really?” Andi was instantly interested. “Could I talk to your friend?”

Christina shrugged. “She might talk to you. But she was a bit freaked out when he got killed.”

“Could you ask her for me? Here’s my card.” Andi handed it over. “Do you know anything else about the Ocean Protection Society? Or Pierre Mason?”

“There was one woman from that society who tried to talk to the captain the other day, but he wouldn’t see her. He made me come down to reception and tell her to go away.”

“What was her name? What did she look like?” Andi tried not to let her excitement show.

“She was thin and had short grey hair. Looked like she was older than you,” Christina said, chewing her fingernail. “I don’t know her first name, but she said she was Pierre Mason’s wife.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

This was the time when Sue felt close to God. Out here, it was just her and Him, on equal footing.

The mist hung low over the valley, obscuring her vision, but she knew her way. The dampness muffled sounds. Sue paused every few footsteps to listen for cracks and snaps in the undergrowth. They didn’t need any more meat. She and Fred had finished butchering the deer and had filled their freezers. But this was where Sue felt most at peace, where everything made sense. And lately, she’d been on edge. Unsettled.

Fred’s customary rage ebbed and flowed. Sometimes, his fierceness was replaced by fearfulness. Several times a day, he laid down his tattered Bible and his magnifying glass, and struggled from his chair to stare intently out of the grimy windows.

“Girl, there’s somethin’ out there, I know. The Devil jus’ waitin’ for a chance.”

Sue didn’t answer, but she sensed it too. These days, though, she felt little distinction between God and the Devil.

God had taken her girl. With a rifle in her hand, and the ability to take a life with a squeeze of a trigger, Sue felt for a few fleeting moments that there was some equality of power, some reckoning of the debt she was owed.

“An eye for an eye” — wasn’t that what the Bible said?

Growing up with Fred, the certainty of God’s rules reassured Sue Harding. Every Sunday, her father’s preaching had mesmerized her. The thunder and roar, the conviction that sinners would perish in the fires of Hell and only the righteous would be