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

have thought better of it and went back to the paperwork he was filling out. “Look, go in through the kitchen door and get your things. I’ll wait here and escort you. Where do you plan to stay?”

“I don’t want to be a bother. I guess I could stay at Grace’s.”

“Isn’t that where Dewhurst is staying?”

“Not sure if he’s still there. Okay, okay, I’ll ask Sal.”

“Better choice. Go on now and get your stuff. I’ll wait here for you.”

21

“Is it true you were almost raped?” Cecilia leaned in to ask as Lucy sat with Sal at one of the tables the next morning, devouring a mocha coffee cake.

Sal knew it was one of Lucy’s favorites.

Lucy gave Sal the mean eye.

Sal’s hands flew up in surrender. “I didn’t tell her that,” she objected.

“No, Cecilia, no one raped me. I don’t even know who it was. Why not wait until the sergeant has solved the case, then I’ll write it up for the paper? And everyone can read the truth at the same time.” There was a slight dig in her words, one that escaped Cecilia because she never blinked an eye.

“Oh, well, I can see why you’re staying here. Much safer.”

Again Lucy looked intently at Sal. “I didn’t tell her that. Must have been Dan,” she hurried on to say as she stood and guiltily gathered up the dirty dishes and then headed for the kitchen, backing into the swinging door.

“Cecilia, do me a favor and don’t let people talk about this, would you? In truth, I might actually be in a little danger, and the least said about it the better. I’m sure you understand, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose I do.”

Lucy nodded, and Cecilia eventually wandered off, visibly disappointed to be left empty-handed. Everyone in town knew. It was obvious by the way their eyes combed the customers until they landed on Lucy, turning to compassion and then contemplation. Lucy was having none of it.

She stood and slammed both palms down on the table. “Yes, someone broke into my house last night. No, I wasn’t ravaged or hurt, and nothing was stolen,” she shouted so everyone could hear.

The room was otherwise silent.

“No, we don’t know who did it or why, and when we do, it will be written up in the paper. In the meantime, would you stop staring at me and deal with your own personal business, which I can promise you is far more interesting than mine at the moment?”

She sat. Heads clashed together, whispering at her tactic. Lucy ignored them and decided to go up to Sal’s guest room to take a nap. Sal had kept her up more than half the night, demanding to know the ins and outs of what went on. Bakers rise early, and Sal made the most of it.

Lucy kicked off her shoes and slipped under the quilt. She dozed fitfully, images of Mark, Brendon, Greg Dewhurst, and others crossing her mental viewing screen.

Then it hit her, and she sat upright.

Pulling on her shoes, she ran her fingers through her hair and stood in excitement. She ignored the other customers as she hurried through the bakery and out the door. The precinct was only a couple of blocks away, and her hands hit the door, hard, to push it open.

“Where’s Brendon?” she asked the first person she saw.

The young officer threw a thumb in the direction of Brendon’s office.

Without knocking, she opened the door, and there sat Brendon, calmly filling out paperwork.

“Thank you for knocking,” he admonished her. “Is there something I can do for you?” he asked in a rather unfriendly tone. “I thought this interference was decided last night.”

“I know who it was,” she burst out with excitement.

“Who what was?”

“I know who broke into my house!”

He laid down his pen and folded his hands. “Close that door, would you?” Motioning to a chair, he gave her his full attention. “Now then. Who?”

“Bertha Bannutt.” She emphasized the name, victorious in her realization.

“Don’t mean to pop your bubble, Luce, but she’s the logical perp.”

“Why? Because she’s looking for him? Why would she want to threaten me? I have no connection to him.”

“Because she’s his wife.”

That knocked the wind out of Lucy. She’d seen Dewhurst’s taste in women, and the Big Foot of a woman was nothing like his type. “Are you sure? I mean she’s…”

“Big and ugly?”

“I don’t mean to be crass, but yes. But then she must think I am, too, if she thinks I’m his type?” If there was anything left to Lucy’s self-esteem after Mark, it departed at that moment.

“Of course not. She didn’t warn you because she thought you were in a romantic relationship with him. If she did, she would have probably done you great bodily harm by now. No, she thinks you’re onto his long trail of legal transgressions.”

“Long trail… hold on a second. What do you know that I don’t?”

“Luce, we talked about that. You’re off the case, remember?”

“That’s so unfair. My life has been overturned and I deserve to know. Look at me—I’m living in hiding because of those two.”

“Chatting with the girls in full view at Sal’s Sweets is hardly being in hiding, Luce.”

“Well, I have to sleep there at night.”

“Only a couple nights until we get your place swept and printed, and put some sort of secure door in place. Then you can go home.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Wait a minute. Why are you calling home the national guard all of a sudden? It’s run for my life one moment and go home and sleep well the next. What gives?”

Brendon pointed to the door that led to the cells. “Ms. Bannutt is a guest of the village.”

“You have her locked up?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded, leaning back in his swivel chair and clasping his hands behind his head.

“Why didn’t you say so from the start?”

“Because…” He sat forward and came to his feet, taking her by the elbow as he opened his office door. “You’re off the case,