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

in the Smoke Room. Kevin nearly laughed out loud as Ricky blustered some bullshit about being his “own man”. Tell that to Daddy when he comes to collect the rent and balance the takings, Kevin thought.

The boss changed tack and started grilling Ricky about loyalty. Again, Kevin wanted to laugh. Loyalty was not a concept Ricky grasped. But then Kevin didn’t rate it highly either. But the boss banged on about it. He’d been betrayed before, he said. He was a patient man, though. His voice got lower, and for the first time, Kevin shivered, and hoped he wouldn’t be discovered. The man was fuckin’ nuts. He wondered if he was holding a knife to Ricky’s throat or something, because Ricky remained silent while the boss described exactly what would happen if Ricky screwed him over.

Finally, he heard Ricky speak. His voice was shaky, as he promised absolute unconditional loyalty.

Then the boss seemed to lighten up. The voices faded a bit and Kevin slipped down one step to keep listening. This was the important bit. What was the product? From what Kevin could make out, it was some kind of psychedelic. He hoped it wasn’t mushrooms. He fuckin’ hated mushrooms. They were finicky to grow and hardly anyone could get it right. They were either mouldy or dried out, and instead of a hallucinogenic out-of-body experience, all you got was a mouthful of expensive dung. But it wasn’t mushrooms. Something like LSD, but better.

Kevin liked the idea. LSD was old-school. It wasn’t found much on the island, most people preferring shrooms. But the market was saturated with crap products and people were restless for something new.

Kevin had heard enough. He slowly moved his body round to creep upstairs. The voices grew louder, and the boss said something about “night”. Operating in the night? Kevin hesitated. No, it wasn’t “night”. He was asking Ricky to join his “knights”.

Kevin didn’t chance it. As quiet and quick as a rat, he scuttled up the stairs, closing the hatch behind him, and descended the fire escape before running across the waste ground behind the strip mall and entering his secret hideout, just as the boss left the Smoke Room. Kevin watched from the window, just peeping over the sill enough to see the top half of the boss as he bent to open his car door and then disappeared from Kevin’s view as he got into the driver’s seat. Then Kevin heard the low purr of the engine fade into the distance.

Kevin waited for Ricky’s call. He kept looking at the cheap pay-as-you-go phone Ricky had given him. No text, nothing. Ricky didn’t call him the next day or the day after that. Kevin wondered if Ricky was being tested. Maybe the boss was making sure of Ricky’s loyalty. Maybe there was some kind of initiation for the new “knight”.

Kevin watched and waited. He wanted in on this new venture. Maybe he’d wait and approach the boss himself? He could be an asset. He knew several customers looking for a new high, something more exciting. The new product, whatever it was called, could fill a gap in the market, as Ricky would put it.

A couple of nights later, Kevin got excited as he watched Ricky smoke his usual joint on the roof of the Smoke Room. This had to be it — the test. Kevin watched as a woman climbed the fire escape and stood looking at Ricky. It wasn’t one of Ricky’s prossies, she was dressed different. She didn’t look like she was coming on to Ricky either.

Kevin saw Ricky reach out, as if he were going to shake the woman’s hand . . . What the fuck? Kevin saw a flash of light, and Ricky fell backward, seemed to right himself and then fell and collapsed like a rag doll on the ground behind the Smoke Room. Kevin was on his feet, clutching his head. What had the boss done? What had Ricky done to piss him off? Kevin realized he was standing in the window. He ducked down and waited for what seemed like hours. Then he straightened up and dared to look out the window. It was dark. Kevin could see the glow of the neon sign on the shop, but nothing else.

This didn’t make any sense. Why would the boss send a woman to shoot his new knight?

Kevin paced the room. What to do? Maybe this was a way to get in, he thought. If Ricky was dead, then maybe he could take over the operation? And if Ricky wasn’t dead, and Kevin helped him, then maybe they’d both be so grateful, they would cut Kevin in?

Kevin made up his mind. He left his lair and stood in the night air for a moment until his eyes adjusted. There was enough light from the trailer park to cast shadows, and as Kevin made his way carefully through the debris, he could see the outline of Ricky’s body. Kevin waited. Ricky wasn’t making a sound. Kevin inched closer and saw Ricky’s chest moving slightly. He was breathing. One leg was bent at a weird angle, and Kevin could just about see a dark patch under Ricky’s head, which he assumed was blood. Unconscious, but not dead.

Kevin knelt down beside Ricky’s inert body. He felt around in Ricky’s pockets, pulled out his phone and grinned. It was still intact. He sat back on his haunches and opened the phone. He knew Ricky’s four-digit password and tapped it in. He scrolled down the recent calls. There was only one number without a contact name. Ricky had called and received a couple of calls in the last two days, so Kevin took a chance and pressed the phone icon. The call was connected, and Kevin breathed out with relief as he heard the same man’s voice he’d heard a few days ago.

“Yes?”

Kevin hesitated.

“What is it?” the man said.

“Your