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

time on or near the ocean, Andi thought. Nothing new here, same as multiple environmental organizations. Apart from making half the planet and all the oceans protected zones, there was lots of pointing out the problems and apportioning blame, and little in the way of constructive suggestions. Andi had come across organizations like this before. Someone looking for an opportunity to cash in on environmental issues, organizes a few protests and puts up a website with a donation button.

She kept scrolling and found a few press releases but, interestingly, nothing about Coffin Cove.

Maybe Mason was just trying to make himself relevant again? Or looking to make some cash? It would be impossible to get any financial records. Mason was basically a private individual, and although Andi found the Ocean Protection Society registered as a non-profit corporation, it had only existed a few months, so had not filed any financial statements. That fit with the information she’d got from the property manager. Was the OPS a legitimate organization? If so, why wouldn’t it continue even after Mason’s death? Why the abrupt departure? Andi sighed and wished she had caught up with the woman in the office.

There was nothing here that might explain why Mason was killed, Andi thought. Did he interrupt a drug deal or some other crime? Or maybe someone in Coffin Cove decided to exact revenge for Sarah McIntosh, believing that Mason was responsible?

Andi checked out the About Pierre page on the website and found a few photographs of Mason in his Greenpeace days, addressing crowds with a megaphone and waving placards. Andi noted with amusement that Mason had written this section. It was self-aggrandizing, to say the least. Just reading this, Andi thought, you would think Mason was single-handedly saving the planet, fighting against big corporations and big government all on his own. The reality was so different. Andi knew from articles she had researched that it was the daily grind and work of faceless volunteers writing court briefs and constantly lobbying politicians that got legislation passed.

There was nothing here.

She clicked off the website and googled Pierre Mason. A list of references came up — top of the list was Gavin’s article in the Vancouver Mail, Andi noted with irritation, again resolving to pester Jim about bringing the Gazette into the twenty-first century. There weren’t many recent articles about Mason, mainly references to his exploits twenty years ago. He had been controversial and occasionally dangerous in his quest for media attention. Greenpeace made little mention of him except a reference to his “tireless fight for the planet” and how they had decided to “part company and continue the mission, albeit in different directions”. On the second page, Andi found a Vancouver Mail editor’s article that mentioned Jim’s investigation into Sarah McIntosh’s death. There was only a brief mention of Mason, but Andi smiled at the picture of a much younger Jim, with an older man, standing outside a much smarter-looking Gazette office. The older man must be Jim’s father, Andi guessed. Scanning it briefly, Andi realized that the angle was all about the importance of local journalism. Oh, how things have changed, she said to herself, thinking of the way Gavin mocked struggling local newspapers.

She found some references to court proceedings involving Mason — nothing a protester loves more than getting arrested — but the Google references were drying up, and she was just about to abandon her search when she saw a link to another court case. She clicked the link and found that Pierre Mason was the plaintiff. Then Andi read the defendant’s name.

“Holy shit!” she said out loud. Her heart sank.

Her phone buzzed. She had to leave to get to her interview, and she didn’t have time to phone Jim either, so she quickly saved the link and snapped her laptop shut. This would have to wait.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Department of Fisheries and Oceans’ office, which also housed a Marine Biology Unit, was located on prime waterfront real estate overlooking Nanaimo Harbour. Despite meticulous landscaping and the spectacular ocean view, Andi couldn’t help thinking that the box-like building resembled a hospital. It also appeared to be deserted.

There was no security officer at the gate, and only one notice pointing towards reception. After trying several doors that looked like they could be the entrance, Andi found one that was unlocked. She walked into a small lobby, painted institutional grey. There was no reception desk, just a door with an electronic lock.

Andi rummaged and found the contact number and name that Jim had given her and called it from her cell phone. A bored-sounding lady answered, and after describing where she was and who she was scheduled to meet, Andi heard her sigh and finally agree to walk down, collect her and show her to the right office.

Andi thanked her and waited.

After ten minutes, Andi was just about to call again when the door swung open. A young woman with a bored expression to match her tone asked Andi to follow her.

The building was a maze of corridors lined with closed brown office doors and narrow staircases that all looked the same. Andi wondered if she should drop breadcrumbs so she could find her way out after the interview. A couple of times, she caught a glimpse into an office with an open door, and saw desks piled high with files, dusty shelves full of bank boxes and people huddled silently in front of computer screens.

It was eerily quiet.

“How long have you worked here?” Andi asked her guide in an attempt to make conversation. The woman ignored her completely and stopped in front of a glass door. A brass plaque to the left read Department of Fisheries and Oceans, Enforcement Division, Pacific Region. The woman pressed a button on the right-hand side, and another young woman with an equally bored expression opened the door. At least, Andi thought, this young woman