Death on the Coast by M Comley (best book recommendations TXT) 📗

into his squad car, and headed out of the village. She followed him at a distance.

As they passed into Waverly, the squad car slowed, and Lucy did the same, hanging back. She drew up between two cars in a parking lot and waited. Brendon got out of his car and approached the small house with a chaotic front yard filled with cast-off appliances and bags of garbage. Brendon studied the mess, and she agreed with his obvious frown. She rolled down her window to hear what was happening, but she figured she was too far away.

Brendon knocked and then took a few steps back off the slab porch and waited. He was about to knock again when the door opened a few inches. She couldn’t hear what was being said. The door closed again, and he appeared to be waiting. Suddenly, it was flung wide open, and a man and a woman stepped out. Brendon spoke, and the man offered his hand, which Brendon shook. Brendon’s posture seemed more relaxed, and the man did most of the talking, gesturing with his hands now and again. The woman hung back, almost using the man as a shield.

A dog ran out of the open door and jumped on Brendon, who reached down casually to pet him. Eventually, the two men shook hands again, and the couple went inside. All in all, it appeared to be a harmless interaction. That was, until Brendon didn’t get back in the squad car, but crossed the street and headed straight for Lucy.

She flipped the key to start the car and was about to drive off when he extended a finger and pointed directly at her. The finger converted to the flat of his hand, indicating she should stop. Nervously, she put the car back into park and waited. Brendon wasn’t going to be happy with her.

He tapped on the window, a silent order for her to open it. For a wild moment, she considered ignoring him until he went away, but then realized that would be pointless; he was fully aware of where she lived.

Down it went.

Anger twisted his lips. “You found your way this far. I want you to follow me to that pub down the street. Do you understand?”

She nodded and wisely said nothing. Brendon got back into his squad car, paused, then turned around and slowly drove ahead while she followed.

Brendon and Lucy settled into a booth toward the back of the pub. Without consulting her, he ordered two whitefish sandwiches and a draught beer for both of them. While they waited for their snack, he let her have it. “What was the idea of that?”

She defended her actions. “What do you mean? I’m entitled to go anywhere I like.”

“I know that’s how you rationalize it—freedom of the press and all that. But this is real stuff, not something for that crime novel you’re still trying to write.”

Lucy gasped at his rudeness. She wasn’t ready to give up on the mission, though. “So, what did you find out?”

Their sandwiches arrived, and he had time to formulate his response. He doused his sandwich with vinegar and oil, while she cut hers into pieces and nibbled at the bun. Fish wasn’t her favorite food, although she had to admit that the freshly batter-dipped meal tasted wonderful. For her, it was a matter of principle.

“Well?” she prompted again.

He’d taken a bite of his sandwich, licked his fingers, and wiped his face with his napkin. “Well, what?”

“What did Angie’s ex have to say, Brendon?”

“Not much. He hasn’t seen her. Heard about her death from Christine, is sorry for her pain, but staying out of it. His wife looked appropriately curious, but never raised her brows at a single thing he said. So, I think it’s a dead end.”

“Hmmm…maybe,” she muttered, thoughtfully.

“See here. Are you trying to solve Angie’s murder or are you guilty of gathering plots for your novel?”

Lucy just stared back at him for his audacity.

He swiftly changed the subject. “Luce…that night…” His eyes sparkled and a brief smile touched his lips. He reached out a hand.

She tried desperately to fight the emotion that was keen to emerge. “Don’t.”

“We’ve never talked about it.”

“For good reason. It never happened.”

“Luce, we both know that’s not true. I’d have to be a fool not to see you’re not happy in your marriage. You know…”

She threw down her napkin and abruptly slid out of the booth. “You know nothing,” she countered and left the pub to go home.

6

Mark walked in to find Lucy in her apron and bent over a bowl of mashed potatoes in the kitchen. The smell of roast beef oozed out of the oven. “Why the special meal? Did I miss our anniversary?”

She looked up and froze for a moment. “Gosh, I hope not. If you did, so did I. No, just had a craving for roast beef.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. No special reason?”

It flashed through her mind that she’d been observed at the pub with Brendon and word had gotten back to Mark. She decided not to bring it up. If he knew, he’d mention it.

“Go wash up. Dinner will be on the table in five minutes.”

Mark opened his mouth to protest and then waved a hand in a I-can’t-be-bothered-to-debate-this kind of way and left the room. After a quick shower and change of clothes, he returned to find Lucy laying the table.

“What would you like to drink? Some wine?” she asked.

“Actually, I think I’ll just take milk, if that’s okay.”

Not exactly conducive to a romantic dinner. “Sure, I’ll dig some out.” She reappeared a minute later with the milk carton which she poured into a wine goblet. In her other hand, she carried her own glass of wine.

They ate in silence for several minutes.

“The beef is delicious,” he complimented.

She nodded and downed her entire goblet of wine.

“Have you uncovered anything about the case? How’s that going?”

“Not really. Listen, my sister’s getting excited for her wedding. Shame it has to be so soon; I