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

“Our diver pulled this gun — your gun — out of the ocean this morning. Do you have any idea how it got there?”

Harry felt his heart sink.

“No. But I didn’t put it there. So the only way it could have got there was if someone took it off my boat,” he added. “I live on my boat, the Pipe Dream.”

“You didn’t notice your gun was gone? Or that someone had been on your boat?”

“No. But I lock away the gun. I don’t check it every day.”

Sergeant Fowler sighed. “Mr Brown, you know what my next question is going to be, right?”

Harry nodded. “I keep my gun in a drawer under my chart table. It’s locked all the time.” He looked at Sergeant Fowler and closed his eyes for a moment. “I do leave the keys on the boat when I go out.” Harry was feeling like an idiot.

“Who knows where you leave your keys? And have you been aware of anyone on your boat? Anything else missing?” Fowler asked.

It was an obvious question, Harry knew. He shook his head.

“Not that I’m aware of. Nothing missing, and I leave my laptop out. Probably a lot of people know where to find my keys. There’s a cubbyhole above the door to the galley,” he tried to explain. “Fishermen know that keys are usually within an arm’s length of the door. It’s kind of a custom, I suppose.”

“Not very secure,” Fowler noted drily.

“Apparently not,” Harry agreed.

“And how would this intruder know where to find your gun?” asked Sergeant Fowler, a little sarcastically, Harry thought.

“If you have ever been on a boat, Sergeant Fowler, you’ll know that there isn’t much storage space. I kept my gun under my chart table. It wouldn’t take long for someone to find it.”

“When was the last time you checked on your gun? Or fired it?”

“I have no reason to ‘check’ on it. I fire it occasionally — but not out of hunting season. That’s why I have the gun. I go hunting.” Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here’s my hunting license. It’s up to date.”

He handed the card to the sergeant, who studied it for a moment and handed it back.

“Again, Mr Brown, when was the last time you fired your gun?”

Harry hesitated. “I don’t know exactly — a couple of weeks, maybe?”

Sergeant Fowler looked at him for a long moment and nodded.

“Mr Brown, would you be open to our team having a look at your boat? We might find something that corroborates your, er . . . ‘theory’. Of course, we could get a search warrant . . .” She let her sentence tail off.

Harry shrugged. “Be my guest. I’ll stay at my sister’s place.”

Fowler nodded her approval. “Thanks for your cooperation. Did you know Pierre Mason well, Mr Brown?” She opened her file and ran her eyes over a document while she waited for Harry to reply.

It rattled Harry a little.

“Not really. I remember him from a . . . legal matter years ago, and he was investigated for the murder of Sarah McIntosh.”

“He was cleared though, correct?”

Harry nodded.

“Maybe you still think he was involved?”

Harry could feel Fowler looking intently at him, waiting for a reaction, he thought.

He answered truthfully. “Mason may not have been directly responsible for Sarah’s death. But if he hadn’t been here, hadn’t stirred up all that trouble with protests and whatnot, I’m certain that Sarah would be alive today.”

“I see. The legal matter you mentioned, it was a bit more than that, wasn’t it, Mr Brown? You threatened Pierre Mason with a gun, I see from the court records.”

“That case was dismissed,” Harry said, feeling himself flush a little. He knew where Fowler was headed with this. And he knew to say as little as possible.

Fowler obviously decided that she’d unsettled Harry enough, because she closed her file and smiled at Harry.

“Thank you.” Fowler got up. “That’ll be all for now, Mr Brown, thank you for your time.”

Harry couldn’t help himself. “Did my gun kill Mason?”

Fowler didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll know that very soon, Mr Brown. Any more questions? Or anything else you’d like to tell me?”

Harry got up. “No, nothing,” he said and walked toward the door.

“Mr Brown?”

Harry stopped.

“Mr Brown, do you know a ‘Gerald Roberts’?”

Harry shook his head. “No, don’t think so.”

“You might have known him as Gerry? Or Captain Roberts?”

“No, never heard that name before.”

Fowler nodded. “Thanks again, Mr Brown.”

Harry left the detachment. He found Hephzibah waiting anxiously outside. But he was surprised and relieved to see she was on her own.

“Are you OK? What did they want?” Hephzibah bombarded him with questions as soon as she’d hugged him. “I didn’t know whether I should call a lawyer or what to do.”

Harry hugged her back. “I don’t need a lawyer, Hep, I haven’t done anything wrong. But I could do with a drink.”

Chapter Thirty

Jim sniffed the air in his office. Expensive aftershave lingered after Gavin and his team had hurriedly left. He’d assumed that they were at the detachment after word leaked out that Vega’s team had found a gun. But a short while ago, Jim had seen the whole of the Vancouver Mail get into their vehicles and head out of Coffin Cove. Jim was pleased to see them go.

He was glad to get the office back, he thought. Even if it did stink. “Lady Lure”, his father used to call it, teasing Jim when he was younger and getting ready to go out on the town.

The memory made Jim smile. “Out on the town, in Coffin Cove,” he chuckled to himself. That made him think of Andi. He’d seen her look at Gavin and the other reporters from the Vancouver Mail, with their smart suits, Bluetooth earpieces and expensive