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

Vega stood at the front of the room. He knew most of the officers by sight. Apart from Diane Fowler, his trusted sergeant, he hadn’t worked with any of them before, but he knew the team was experienced and solid. The five officers in front of him had come from major crime units. They were motivated, highly skilled and all dedicated to their work. They were also young, Vega thought. That was OK. Sometimes, officers with decades of experience had trouble thinking outside the box.

He’d hoped for some more manpower. Sinclair had been brisk.

“I’ll try to get some officers from Nanaimo, Inspector. But don’t count on it. They’re stretched to the max with a drug problem. You must do the best you can.”

PC Matt Beaufort and Sergeant Charlie Rollins were also in the initial briefing. Vega noted the dark smudges under Charlie’s eyes.

A guilty conscience interrupting his sleep, maybe? He’d have to put some hours in now, whether he liked it or not, Vega thought. He needed every single officer working at full capacity.

Vega spent a few minutes introducing everyone. Then he started.

He pointed to the whiteboard behind him, where he’d written one name: Ricky Havers.

“Ricky Havers was murdered. That is why we are all here, of course. For the time being, I’ve withheld that information from Ricky’s parents, Sandra and Dennis Havers, and the press. I expect the media will be all over us soon and we’ll be under scrutiny, but I want to buy us some time.” He hoped Charlie Rollins was taking notice. “Ricky was shot in the back of the head. Executed, in fact. You all have a package of information — it includes some preliminary data from forensics. Their team will be at the scene for a long time. At the moment, we don’t know if Ricky Havers was killed at the chapel or if he was killed elsewhere and brought to the site. What we do know is that he was not killed at the Smoke Room.”

Vega had spoken to the senior technologist at the RCMP Forensic Laboratory Services after his conversation with Superintendent Sinclair.

“Gunshot wound,” the technologist had told Vega on the phone before the meeting.

“Suicide?” Vega asked.

“Not unless he was double-jointed and able to tie himself up afterwards,” the crime officer said.

“Explain.” Vega knew gallows humour was part of the job, but he was impatient for answers.

“The victim’s hands and his feet were bound with plastic cable ties,” the chastened officer explained. “We’re running tests, but it’s likely the cable ties are a common make, available at any hardware store. But we’ll confirm. Some of the victim’s bones are missing from the scene, probably taken by animals, but we can say that the victim sustained a broken ankle and a broken clavicle. There is a hole in the skull, made by a bullet fired at close range. We must do more tests, sir,” the officer said, “but at this stage, it looks to me like the victim was kneeling when he was shot.”

“An execution?” Vega asked, almost to himself.

“Maybe. There’s a lot more work to be done before we can say for certain.”

“Can you tell me if he died at the scene?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“And the broken ankle and clavicle?”

“Most likely from a fall. The clavicle is most often broken when pressure is placed on the shoulders or when the arms are stretched out, as if trying to break a fall,” the technologist explained. “So it’s likely the breaks occurred three or so weeks before the victim was killed, because although there are signs of healing, they’re not very far along.”

He assured Vega he’d get more information just as soon as it was verified. Vega knew it was a long process. Even after the remains were removed, the forensics team would take hundreds of samples to help them narrow down a time of death and how long Ricky Havers had been at the chapel site. The two findings might not necessarily be the same, Vega knew.

There was a murmur around the room as the officers digested the information. Some of them had been involved in gang killings. An execution-style killing was rare even for violent gang members. Only a cold-blooded killer could hold a gun to the back of a defenceless man’s head and kill him. This was a deliberate act.

Vega looked around the murder room and waited for the noise to die down.

“You have a copy of the original case file of his disappearance. Despite extensive searches—” Vega looked pointedly at Charlie Rollins, whose face was stained red — “Ricky was not discovered at the ruined chapel. So we’re working on the theory his body was dumped some time between the date of his disappearance and yesterday.”

“Lucky those hikers found him,” someone commented. “Much longer and the remains most likely would have been scattered by animals.”

Vega nodded. Lucky? He didn’t know.

“We’ll be interviewing—” he looked down at his notes — “Katie Dagg, the museum curator, plus the other hikers.” Vega continued, “The original investigation into Ricky’s disappearance turned up nothing. Nothing untoward was found. Nobody saw him leave the Smoke Room. Nobody we interviewed at the time knew anything of his whereabouts. So, we re-interview, we dig deeper, we rummage around in the Havers family secrets and the Dagg family’s — was it coincidence he ended up on their land or is that significant? Let’s find out every last piece of information about Ricky Havers’ life and those around him, so we can get justice for his death.”

Vega paused. “In short, people, we start right back at the beginning.”

Chapter Sixteen

Summer Thompson hung a dreamcatcher in her window, where it could twist and turn in the morning breeze.

Maybe it really would keep away bad dreams. She’d had another bad night. She was used to not sleeping. But she wished the