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

“Mr Palmer is about to make me a partner,” he replied with more conviction than he felt.

“I see. Mr Nikos Palmer or Mr Adrian Palmer? Because it seems that Mr Nikos Palmer still holds a substantial amount of shares.”

“At the moment,” Steve conceded.

“I see. Well, Mr Hilstead, I can tell you that my client was not convinced of the value of your proposition. He believes that it will be a very long time, if ever, before your debt is fully repaid, should he decide to go forward. However . . .” Jonathan Dunn paused. “However, Mr Hilstead, I do see some value for Mr Nguyen to consider it. He has some considerable . . . let’s say exposure with his current business model and I have been encouraging him to diversify into more mainstream activities. There are some advantages in pursuing your proposal, I believe.”

“That’s right, I—”

“But,” Dunn stopped him, “there are hurdles to be overcome. I’ve detailed our counterproposal in this document.” He produced a manila envelope from his attaché case and laid it on the table. Steve reached out to pick it up. “Please don’t read it now, Mr Hilstead. I should tell you it’s non-negotiable. You have one month only. After that time, the debt will be payable in full, with the interest that has been accruing and continues to accrue. And Mr Hilstead,” he leaned forward and lowered his voice, “I need not tell you it’s very rare for Mr Nguyen to allow any extensions to his debtors. Please don’t let him down.”

He leaned back and snapped shut his attaché case, then smiled.

“That concludes our business, Mr Hilstead. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Dunn got up, pushed his chair under the table and walked out of the restaurant without waiting for a reply.

Steve sat there for a moment, feeling his chest pound as adrenaline flowed through him.

What the fuck? One month?

He rubbed his palms on his thighs, calming himself down and trying to think coherently.

He knew that Nguyen was tough. But they had a history. Just one bad deal, and it hadn’t been his fault.

He took a deep breath. Well, if I’m going down, then I’m not going alone.

He picked up the thin envelope, folded it up and shoved it in his pocket. He knew what he had to do.

Overcome obstacles, he thought grimly, and here comes the first one.

* * *

Adrian flopped into the chair that Dunn had just vacated.

“I’ve just spent two hours doing your job for you,” he said, waving with irritation for the waitress to bring him a drink. “That fuckin’ supervisor has got to be the most goddamn . . . where the fuck did you get him, anyway? And what have you been doing all afternoon — I don’t pay you to sit in here.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve agreed, and was about to remind Adrian exactly why he was around, when he felt his phone buzz.

He pulled it out of his inside pocket, looked at the screen and cursed.

Steve got up and, without bothering to explain to Adrian, started to walk out of the bistro.

“Where are you going?” Adrian called after him.

“To do what you pay me to do,” Steve shouted back, without turning round. “My fucking job.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Andi was glad to get out of town. She promised herself a Starbucks coffee after discovering that Hephzibah’s café was heaving with customers. Coffin Cove was vibrating with gossip about the death of Pierre Mason. Everyone seemed to have a theory about the crime, each one less plausible than the last.

Nothing like a murder to invigorate people, Andi thought, a touch cynically.

She saw Terry through the window, drinking coffee, and she noted with irritation that he was chatting to Gavin. She wasn’t concerned about Terry handing Gavin a scoop — he was too professional for that — but Gavin’s presence in Coffin Cove was getting under her skin.

All this time I’ve been desperate to hear from him, she realized suddenly, and now he’s here, I wish he would just piss off.

She felt strangely protective of Jim and the Gazette and knew that Gavin would enjoy mocking the local paper when he was back on the mainland. She’d seen him appraising the tired office with its outdated panelled walls and worn carpet. She knew that Gavin would have fun entertaining his well-heeled staff with tales of the old man trying to keep a local rag going with undercover investigations into fraudulent bake sales. Andi had seen his performances before. Gavin despised local newspapers. He described them as “nothing more than advertising rags and ‘what’s on’ listings for local businesses, nothing to do with real investigative journalism”. Andi knew, because she’d laughed along with him.

She felt ashamed now. And determined to chase down this story.

She turned her thoughts towards today’s missions and felt a little better as she drove towards the highway. Andi had plenty of time. She planned to grab a coffee near the Ocean Protection Society’s office and then pay a visit and see if she could glean any information about their campaign against the fishermen in Coffin Cove. After that, she had an interview with Jim’s contact at the Department of Fisheries and Oceans.

The official purpose of her interview was background on the DFO’s protection of sea lions and the recent shooting of the mammals in Coffin Cove. The real reason was to find out more about Pierre Mason’s mysterious photograph. Could she ferret out any connection between the DFO, the Ocean Protection Society and Pierre Mason’s death? Andi felt certain there were connections, she just couldn’t see them yet. And when she could, the real work would be following up each lead and verifying every fact.

Andi took the first turn off the highway into Nanaimo, the Harbour City, towards the downtown core. Nanaimo sprawled over several miles, from the southern