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

knew who you were referring to when his name was mentioned. It was not unlike him to close the store and come over to see what sort of mess you’d gotten into, then bring the supplies, fix it himself, and charge you only for the parts. That’s just who Bob was.

“Rope. I’m looking for the nylon variety.”

He cocked his head. “Okay… like for a clothesline?”

“No, the kind you’d use, let’s say, if you went rock climbing.”

“Oh, then, that’s specialty gear, Lucy. I don’t carry that here. Everything I have in stock would fray as soon as it snagged a little on a rock, and then it wouldn’t be any good to you. It takes a special kind of nylon, too. One that will tie into knots and not slide loose.”

She was disappointed. “Do you know where I’d likely get some around here?”

He scratched his cheek. “Uh…not really. You could maybe try down at the marina. Sometimes they use it on the boats.”

The bell signaled someone coming in the door.

“Anything else you need, Lucy?”

“No, Bob, that’s it. Thanks.”

She left the store and headed for the marina. There was a small bait shop she knew which carried some very common boating needs. She opened the door and walked in. Turning to her left, on the hook next to her hung several, coiled, packaged blue nylon ropes.

9

Desperate to make sense of things, Lucy stopped by the police precinct and asked for Brendon. He stepped out of his office and motioned for her to join him.

Flinging herself into a metal chair opposite his desk, she let her bag hit the floor and expelled a huge, defeated sigh.

“Tough day?” he asked, a glimmer of humor twinkling in his eyes.

Lucy closed her eyelids and let her head fall back, her long blonde hair cascading down her sweater. “You don’t even want to go there.”

She opened her eyes again, sensing he was appraising her.

He shifted in his seat and clasped his hands on the top of his gunmetal-gray desk. “So, talk to me about it.”

“What is it about Christine that is so unsettling? Are you feeling it?” Lucy unloaded.

“Oh, I don’t know. She’s young, and I don’t think there was much love lost between Angie and her. So, eventually, I figure she’ll regret her present attitude. By the way, you should know that I’ve looked into Angie’s finances and she was on the verge of bankruptcy.”

“I know, I heard that at Sal’s. They said her salon was about to close.”

“Not just that. I’m talking about her house, too. It’s just a rental, you know. Christine isn’t working, and there’s no trace of any inheritance that I can find. So, the girl will be out on the street in under a month and probably doesn’t have the money for a decent service. Bearing that in mind, maybe we should give her some slack; it makes sense that sort of burden may stress her out, yes?”

Lucy sat up straight. “Oh my, why didn’t that occur to me? Now, I feel really bad. In my mind, I was bad-mouthing Christine. She wasn’t showing grief the way I thought she should, so she appeared cold, when all along, she’s in serious trouble and concerned about her future. How about her father? Can she go to him?”

Brendon shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t look wealthy, and she is over eighteen, so my guess is he’ll give her advice, but probably not much more.”

“Oh dear, this is awful. We have to do something about this. I’ll talk to the ladies. We’ll chip in and have a service. Reverend Cunningham would speak, I know he would. We can have the wake at the church, and everyone will chip in and bring something.”

“That’s nice of you, Lucy, but what if it’s not what Christine wants? What if what we saw was her getting ready to leave town, and she was too embarrassed to say so?”

“But, it was terribly un-Christian of me to look at her as a suspect and not be sympathetic to the fact that the poor girl just lost her mother and her home. Angie may have died with bitter things left said between them, and now Christine has no way to make peace and settle it. That’s just awful. People should never part in anger. Never.”

“No, you’re right. We never know… I’ve seen it too many times in my line of work.”

“Well, the paper be damned, I need to make this right.” Lucy bounced to her feet. “I’m assuming Christine has her ashes, but it will be up to her whether she wants a service that includes them or if she’s taking them with her. Maybe we could organize a collection and get her at least another month’s rent? Give her a bit more time to find a place to go?”

“Let me know if I can help,” Brendon offered, warmth in his eyes.

Lucy swung open the office door. “I will.” She left, renewed with purpose, and headed straight for Sal’s.

The next morning, Sal’s was full of customers, so Lucy squeezed in between a few of her friends. Pauline was there, her sock knitting in hand and looking as though she’d had a rough night.

“You okay, Pauline?” Lucy inquired, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“I’ll get better as the day goes along. It was a rowdy bunch last night, led by that newcomer, Greg—whatever his name is. When he’s had a few under his belt, he goes off the track. Broke a few things, and Frank finally had to throw him out.”

Lucy tensed, knowing he was supposed to have taken Kathy to the theatre. “Was Kathy with him?”

“Our Kathy? Good Lord, no. I’d have put an end to that immediately. Why would she be?”

“Oh, no special reason,” Lucy covered for her friend, knowing that whatever happened, it wasn’t something Kathy would want spread all over town.

Grace Marley walked in, her satchel sprouting knitting needles. She sat with the others, and the chatter began. Lucy was happy when Kathy