COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1) by JACKIE ELLIOTT (tharntype novel english .txt) 📗

Harry remembered when Sarah went missing. He was out fishing when Ed had contacted him via the satellite phone. Harry didn’t hesitate. He pulled his net in and headed back to the dock. He was just married, at the time, and his wife was expecting their daughter. Harry was already experiencing the parental fear of the unknown, and one of his biggest what-ifs was playing out for Joe.

Harry and most of the adult population of Coffin Cove had formed search parties. Even the protesters left their camps and helped. Police dogs on the ground and forestry helicopters in the air, but Sarah had vanished.

Worry turned into fear and then suspicion. What had happened? Who had done this? Who had taken her?

Everyone knew each other in Coffin Cove. It couldn’t be anyone local. Whispers about the protesters and Mason got louder. Someone told the police that Sarah had a crush on Pierre Mason, that he and she were seen together, maybe even kissing. Speculation turned to rumour and gathered momentum.

Until that day on the beach, and Sarah wasn’t missing anymore.

Harry got out of the truck, climbed the rotting wooden steps and stood over Joe.

“How are you, Joe?” Harry asked. The words seeming ridiculous, as he could see that Joe had shrunk into himself, his plaid shirt hanging over a skeletal frame. Joe’s shrivelled, nicotine-stained fingers jerked up, and Harry thought for a second that Joe was ordering him off the deck.

Joe nodded in the same direction as his fingers and Harry realized that he was gesturing at a chair for Harry to sit in.

The two men sat in silence, broken only by Joe’s wheezing breath.

“Joe, I have something to tell you,” Harry began at last, and told him about Pierre Mason.

Joe tried to speak. His voice, low and rusty after years of silence, came out as a whisper. Harry bent his head to hear the words.

“I failed her,” Joe said.

Harry touched Joe’s shoulder, and that simple gesture shattered Joe’s self-control. He bent his head to weep, and Harry backed away and left the broken man alone. Moments later, Harry was back in his truck, lurching back down the pitted driveway, cursing Pierre Mason.

Chapter Seven

“It’s in here somewhere, I’m positive.”

Andi waited impatiently, curbing her urge to push past Jim and start dragging boxes off the shelves of the archive cupboard. Instead, she tried to ignore the stench of rodents, and hoped that the files were still readable.

“Have you ever thought of creating digital records?” she asked, as Jim emerged, triumphantly carrying two heavy-looking boxes.

“No, never,” he answered, setting down his load and disappearing back into the cupboard for a third.

“These are all the files and transcripts from my original investigation. Er, this one, I think, is the first . . .” Jim opened the lid of one of the boxes. “Yes, all dated and in order. The articles are in fact saved on microfiche,” he said, ignoring Andi’s smirk. “If you’ve never used microfiche, I’ll be glad to help. I’m sure it’s no more complicated than Google,” he added.

Andi laughed. She was getting used to Jim’s dry sense of humour.

“Thank you, but I’m fully trained.”

Andi peered into the boxes. Each one was full of neat manila files, marked with names and dates.

“Lots of files,” Andi said. “Lots of work.”

“It was,” Jim agreed. “But sadly, no conclusion. I handed all my files and notes to the police, but they hit a brick wall too. The case file is still open as far as I am aware, and I think Sarah’s mother meets one of the original investigators on every anniversary of Sarah’s death, but there hasn’t been any new information since the first investigation.”

“What about forensics? DNA?” Andi had reported on several cold cases where new scientific methods had resulted in breakthroughs and eventual convictions.

“No DNA. Sarah had been in the water for hours, there was no trace of DNA or helpful forensics by the time they found her on the beach. Her legs and hands were tied with hemp rope, which in those days was used by just about every fisherman on the coast — and anyone could have found some lying about on the docks, and the knots were common.”

“So what linked her to Mason?” Andi asked. “Harry seemed totally convinced that Mason killed her.”

“As did everyone in Coffin Cove,” Jim sighed. “I tried to be objective, but most people close to Sarah thought she was having some kind of affair with Mason, who they said had a—” Jim fumbled for a word — “predilection for younger girls.”

“But why kill her?” Andi said, almost to herself. “Unless she changed her mind about their affair? Or found out something about Mason he didn’t want known?”

“There was a theory.” Jim sat down behind his desk, and absent-mindedly began twirling a pencil in his fingers. “There was a theory that Sarah and Mason had staged her kidnapping to scare her father. Sarah and Joe had some serious arguments about the clear-cutting and what his business was doing to the environment. If she was mad at her dad and under Mason’s spell . . . well, it could have all gone wrong . . .” Jim left his words hanging.

“Well . . .” Andi chose her words carefully. “If Joe and Sarah argued, is it possible . . . ?”

“That Joe did it?” Jim voiced her question. He shook his head. “No, the evening she went missing, she and Joe argued, but other people said they saw her after that. And I know Joe, he does have a temper, but he adored Sarah. Her death devastated him. He sold the business and spends his days just sitting and drinking. Waiting to die.”

Andi pulled out the first file and flipped it open. A photograph of a smiling girl with blonde hair spilling over her shoulders was