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

her, Brenda looked at him wide-eyed. “That’s the name on one of the receipts in that file!” She told Harry how she had found the name and on impulse called the number.

“Well, you know now why you didn’t get an answer,” Harry said. “You were calling a dead man. But I wonder how Mason was involved with Hades? Maybe they were paying him to protest and screw up the Herring fishery.”

Brenda let that sink in as they walked back to the dock. Harry jumped on his boat and started her up. Brenda helped untie the lines and threw him the ropes, same as she had done years ago. Above the throaty roar of the idling engine, she shouted, “Thanks for coming over, Harry.”

There was something else at the back of her mind, that she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t grab it out of her recesses of her memory. She shook her head.

Never mind, she thought, I’ll get it.

Harry waved and shouted back, “I’ll call you when I get back,” and with a last smile, he climbed up into the wheelhouse, and the Pipe Dream chugged away from the dock.

Brenda watched as the boat slowly made its way beyond the breakwater, and then heard the engine kick into gear as the boat gathered speed and slipped away on the horizon.

It had been wonderful to see Harry again, she decided. And they could surely help Nikos and Adrian get Hades back on track. But as she slowly walked towards the office, she couldn’t shake a weird feeling that there was something more ominous going on.

As she reached the doors of Hades and entered the familiar lobby, decorated with black-and-white photos of the glory days of the fishing industry, she caught the thought that had been eluding her.

She remembered where she had heard the name Pierre Mason before.

And she knew what she needed to ask Harry.

Chapter Eighteen

Andi waited impatiently at the RCMP detachment. The previous evening, she had gone to the press conference and listened as the official press liaison officer confirmed that the deceased was Pierre Mason and that his death was under investigation. Andi hadn’t expected to get any more information. The press conference was sparsely attended, but she knew that it wouldn’t be long before the media arrived. Pierre Mason was a controversial figure. Sure enough, on her way to the detachment, she saw a couple of media vans just arriving into town.

A young constable told her that someone would be along shortly to speak to her and showed her into an interview room, where she sat on a plastic seat at a desk in the middle of the room. He offered her some coffee, and Andi accepted.

It was horrible coffee, lukewarm and served in a styrofoam cup, but she drank it anyway. Half an hour passed. She was about to leave and make an appointment for another time when the door swung open, and a tall man in jeans and a sports jacket came into the room, holding a notepad and a file.

He was youngish — forty, maybe, Andi guessed. Dark hair and complexion, with brown eyes. Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, she thought.

“Hi, I’m Inspector Vega.” He held out his hand. “Andrea Silvers, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but you’ll understand that we’re pretty busy at the moment.”

“Andi,” she replied, and smiled back. She understood.

“So you have something to tell me about the deceased?”

Inspector Vega took a seat, grabbed a pen from his inside pocket and waited for Andi to tell her story.

She told him first about her encounter with Mason at the Fat Chicken, two nights previously. Vega listened, making notes. He waited until she was finished before asking questions.

“Why do you think he felt the need to threaten you with legal action?”

“Well, I guess he wasn’t happy with the articles that Jim did last time,” Andi said, shrugging.

“Mason was cleared completely of any involvement with Sarah’s death. Why would you be pursuing the same story?”

Andi was irritated. “I’m not pursuing the same story, I’m pursuing the story of why he is — was — in Coffin Cove.”

Vega checked his file.

“Yet you and Jim went out to interview Sarah’s mother and grandfather?”

“Yes.” Andi felt herself redden.

“Why would you do that, if you’re not pursuing the same story?” Vega asked, fiddling with papers in his file. “Could be upsetting for them, couldn’t it, having someone ask painful questions about the past?”

“Well, I am curious about who might have killed Sarah — you guys still haven’t solved the case, right?” Andi shot back. “They might be glad that Sarah hasn’t been forgotten.”

Vega ignored her.

“OK, do you know the significance of the picture Mason emailed? Recognize any of the boats?”

“No, I don’t,” Andi answered. Technically it was true. She hadn’t recognized any of the boats, Jim had. But she wanted the chance to investigate further, maybe get an interview with Harry to get a head start on the police investigation.

“And the cell phone you turned in, did you see this, er . . . Brian McIntosh drop it?” Vega looked up from his notes.

Andi nodded. “Yes, I saw it hit the ground when he ran off.”

“Were there any calls? Before you turned it in?”

“Just one,” Andi lied again. “I answered it, and that’s how I found out the phone was Mr Mason’s.”

“Sure?”

Andi shrugged. “It was the only one I heard.”

“Right then, Miss Silvers . . . Andi. Thanks for all your help. And if you think of anything else, please let me know.” Vega handed her a card and got up, indicating that the interview was over.

Andi shook his hand and Vega showed her to the detachment entrance.

“Oh, Miss Silvers,” he called after her, as she walked away, “be careful about digging up old stories. Don’t want you to lose another