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

on Mr. Smith’s lawn chair by Brendon. “Luce? Are you okay?”

“Is she…?”

“’Fraid so. You up to telling me what happened?”

“Not right now, Brendon. Not with all these people staring. And I don’t want to go in the squad car.”

“Not much choice, Lucy. We need to talk, and I can’t let you get in your own car in the condition you’re in.”

There was a movement to her left. She looked to see Mr. Smith leaning forward, blocking her from the crowd standing nearby. “Why don’t you two use the gazebo in my yard? It’s sort of pretty out there right now, and I’ll see to it you’re not bothered.”

“There you go. See?” Brendon’s voice was calm and reassuring.

He helped her to her feet, and they made their way toward Mr. Smith’s backyard. Lucy heard Mr. Smith say something behind them.

“Nah-nah, private property. She’s fine. Go about your business,” he warned neighbors and onlookers.

The gazebo was white and covered with vines and flowers. To Lucy, at that moment, it looked as though they’d arrived in Heaven. Who knew Mr. Smith kept to himself because he actually had a life?

“Ah, will you look at that?” she whispered in awe.

“Yes, yes, just beautiful.” Brendon said distractedly, clearly worried about her.

Her legs suddenly gave way beneath her.

Brendon reached for her, scooped her up and carried her the last fifteen or so steps into the gazebo. He slid off his jacket and wrapped it over her shoulders, pulling her to lean against him. Her head fell against his chest, and she sighed with pleasure, even though they were under very traumatic circumstances.

“I don’t know…” she began.

“Hush now. You’ve had more than you can take. Let’s just sit here a while, and I’ll make out a bare bones preliminary report based on the coroner’s findings. Then we’ll come back another time and visit it. For now, just relax and put all that out of your mind.”

For once, Lucy didn’t argue. Mr. Smith appeared at the side of the yard and held out his hands in question. Brendon motioned for something to drink, and soon, Lucy was cradling a cup of hot, strong coffee between her shaking hands.

“There,” Brendon said, his voice calm and yet strong. “Is that better?” He’d been watching her for signs of shock.

Lucy nodded.

“Did you know she was in the house? Was the door broken open?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, in fact, I came home from shopping and had my hands full. I noticed that your deputies had nailed wood over the broken window and I was pleased about that.”

Brendon held up his hand. “Wait. Are you saying the window broken out of your front door was repaired?”

Lucy nodded. “Not with glass, but they’d nailed plywood over it, and I was so grateful.” She smiled up at him and then noticed the shadow in his eyes.

“Lucy, we’re not permitted to do that. For liability purposes, we aren’t allowed to do anything to repair property. That’s the homeowner’s and their insurance company’s responsibility.”

Lucy stared at him. “Then who did?”

“I’d say that’s the golden question, wouldn’t you? Why don’t you stay here for a little while longer and let me get the people back to their houses. Then I’ll get you settled for the night. Let me talk to the coroner and my deputies, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She nodded, and he suddenly leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“It will be all right,” he murmured and then left.

His glow remained with Lucy, although she was very surprised. She pulled her feet up beneath her and cuddled into the jacket. Birds were hopping from branch to branch, calling to one another as verbally as if they were locals, gossiping over the latest event in Lucy’s life. After a while, she found them irritating, so Lucy moved on to watching the bugs and butterflies. Mr. Smith had created quite an oasis for himself, and she felt honored that he would invite her in. Just as she thought of him, he suddenly appeared in the side yard again.

Seeing her sitting alone, he came toward her and gestured to the seat opposite her in the gazebo. “May I?”

“Of course, after all, this is all yours. Thank you so much for sharing it with me for a few minutes.”

“My pleasure. As you’ve probably realized, I tend to keep to myself. Never was too crazy about kids and dogs. They tear up my flowerbeds and leave unwelcome presents.”

She smiled. With those views, she hoped Mr. Smith never made an appearance in Sal’s or he’d find himself stoned. “Still, it was most generous.”

“It was the least I could do. You seemed in a bad way, but you’re looking better now.”

Her gaze fell to the ground, and for once, she found herself at a loss for words.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, but I’m Jonathan Smith, and you, I’ve heard the neighbors say, are Lucy Diamond?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s right. A pleasure.”

“A memorable name—Lucy Diamond.”

“It’s my married name and unfortunately won’t be mine for much longer. My husband and I will be divorcing soon, and I’ll be taking back my maiden name of Thomas, Lucy Thomas.”

“Shame. It has the ring of an enchanting author. Perhaps a detective story.”

She chuckled. “Hardly. I’m a part-time reporter for the Wellington Journal, although you can barely call it a newspaper. Not much business left in town to support it. I think it may disappear when Len retires.”

“Your editor?”

She nodded. “May I ask what you do, Mr. Smith?”

“Fair is fair. I am an author by trade and a traveler in my mind.” He crossed one leg over the other at the knee in a protective gesture. “I study people and their behavior as a hobby, and despite the circumstances, I’ve had a fair idea you’re going through some rough times.”

Lucy glanced up, he was staring at her. That’s when she realized he had a clear, almost one hundred and eighty degree view of her house and property. “Do you write from home?” she asked cautiously.

“My