HELL'S HALF ACRE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 2) by JACKIE ELLIOTT (classic literature books .txt) 📗

were the pretty ones who gathered together at lunch breaks and giggled about boys. The boys they liked were the ones who had trucks. Trucks with gun racks, boys with beer who liked to race their trucks in the gravel pit while the pretty girls watched. Or the sports jocks who strutted and preened and expected adulation.

They never invited Jade to join the crowd and giggle about boys. The girls were not openly mean, they just huddled and whispered when Jade was near, and sometimes they laughed.

Jade didn’t care that she wasn’t popular. Until that one day. She preferred not to think of that day.

When Jade was at college, she discovered her weapon: her intellect. She had always been smart, with good grades, but in college she excelled. Her professors had wanted her to study law, but she rejected that option. She studied business and economics because she knew that money, not law, equalled power. When she graduated, she was snapped up by a large property developer who soon discovered Jade’s ability to negotiate contracts with steely resolve.

“She cut their head off before they even knew they were bleeding,” she overheard one partner say in awe after she saved the company millions, by refusing to back down or even move an inch during particularly sensitive transactions.

Jade took that as a compliment. She also took the bonus with a curt “thank you”, refusing the invitation to the celebratory dinner. She still wasn’t popular.

Jade knew some of her decisions as mayor would not be received well. Some of the residents still disliked blow-ins. They preferred to think of themselves as outlaws in a renegade town, keeping business to themselves. But business hadn’t been good for decades. Not since the days when lumber and fish fed the town’s economic boom. But those days were gone now, and Coffin Cove needed a financial lifeline, one that benefited the whole community, not just opportunists in elected office.

After Jade took over, she worked on uncovering the damage Dennis Havers had done. She opened files, worked through budgets, studied reports. While the rain pounded outside, Jade made it her business to know all the financial secrets of Coffin Cove. Dennis Havers had never considered the possibility of losing, she thought, because he had made little attempt to cover his tracks. There weren’t actual records of backhanders, but the inflated tenders for city contracts — sometimes with no evidence of work having ever started, let alone been completed — showed that Dennis was skimming. The same names came up repeatedly.

The atmosphere at City Hall for that month was hushed and apprehensive, as Jade worked long hours with her door closed.

But she made headway. She was true to her promise. She never fired anyone or used the word “fraud”, but a quiet word in a clerk’s ear, pointing out accounting discrepancies, was usually enough to prompt a quick note of resignation.

When the new fiscal year rolled around, the budgets were balanced. Jade had acquired provincial grants and long-term loans to invest in the town. Applications for business licences were up and the planning department reported an increase in applications for new building work. Jade had big dreams for the town, and today, for the first time, she believed they would come true.

She turned around and sat at her desk. She had some letters to sign, and after that she promised herself a walk to Hephzibah’s to get a large mug of milky coffee. Her latest project, the Heritage Festival, kicked off next week, and Hephzibah would let her know if there was a buzz of enthusiasm in the town about the festivities. Jade hoped so. An early start to the tourism season was what everyone needed.

Still work to be done, she admonished herself. Can’t celebrate just yet. And she focused on the pile of paperwork on her desk.

Jade had her head down, working through her pile, when she heard a slight cough.

“Excuse me.”

She heard a man’s voice and looked up.

A tall man was standing in the doorway, smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “You are Jade Thompson, oh . . . my apologies, Mayor Jade Thompson?” He was still smiling, but Jade couldn’t sense a mocking tone. She didn’t stand on formalities, but she didn’t tolerate disrespectful comments either. But there was no hint of either, and the man didn’t move to walk into the office.

“Yes, I’m Jade Thompson. Come in.”

The man was well-groomed, and Jade thought he’d be in his late fifties or early sixties. Carrying a manila envelope, he walked to Jade’s desk and stretched out his hand. She shook it. Jade noticed his handshake was firm, but his hand was soft and his nails were trimmed.

He held out the file, and as his sleeve moved up his arm, Jade caught sight of a tattoo.

He saw her looking.

“Sign of a misspent youth, Mayor,” he said, and his smile widened. “Don’t judge me.”

Jade could not help but smile back. She associated tattoos with the bikers of the bad old days of Coffin Cove. But she knew it wasn’t fair. Many people had tattoos now. It didn’t mean they were in a gang.

“I’m a property developer,” the man said, with no preamble. “I’m interested in developing the old fish plant site.” He nodded at the envelope. “The details and my offer are in there.”

Jade took the envelope and frowned. She had uncovered Dennis Havers’ plans for the now derelict fish plant. The site was one of the few pieces of real estate still owned by the city. Once, it had been the centre of Coffin Cove’s thriving seafood industry. Fishing vessels lined up to unload their daily catch at the pier, and the plant hummed with the sound of conveyor belts moving mechanical rivers of shiny fish to be cut and processed. The fish plant was one of the major employers in the town. For decades it had