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

Sergeant Fowler left him alone.

He took a deep breath and tapped in the number.

Sinclair seemed calm. She’d seen the article, but she’d endured many media attacks in her career, so was relatively sanguine about it.

“Nanaimo detachment is dealing with a high-profile overdose of that new street drug. Son of a minor celebrity, so the media is all over it. It should buy you a couple of days. As for Charlie Rollins—” she snorted — “I wouldn’t waste much time defending him. His retirement is imminent.”

“Sounds like a reward, not a punishment,” Vega commented.

“There are some battles we can’t win, Andrew,” Sinclair said briskly. “Let’s focus on the war. The Charlie Rollinses of this organization are fading away, and a good job too. I know you’re irritated by that young constable’s mistake, but I’m inclined to let this one go. Encourage him. Our new recruits are down by sixty per cent. We can’t lose the good ones.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And progress so far?”

Vega told her. It didn’t take long. Nine months was a long time, and they were having trouble locating anyone in the trailer park who might have remembered something around the time Ricky disappeared. It looked like they would have to rely on forensics to solve this case.

“Don’t be so sure, Andrew. It’s a tiny community. Someone knows something. Shake it out of them. Not literally,” she added dryly.

Vega had to make another call. He couldn’t put it off.

The phone was answered on the first ring.

“Mr Havers?”

“Inspector.” Dennis sounded monotone.

“Mr Havers, you may have seen an article in this morning’s Gazette,” Vega started.

Dennis interrupted. “Joanna brought us a copy, Inspector. My wife is very upset. The doctor is with her now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Vega said. “The information should have come from me. I apologize.”

“What difference does it make now, Inspector? Ricky is still dead. Do you know who killed him?” He sounded as if he were asking if Vega knew the weather forecast.

Vega said, “No sir, we don’t. And that’s the other reason for my call. We will have to ask you and Mrs Havers some questions.”

Silence.

Vega continued. “It’s routine, sir. We must talk to anyone who knew him, we’ll have to look at his financial records too. Did Ricky owe anyone any money, sir? Someone . . . er . . . connected to the Smoke Room, maybe?”

He heard Dennis sigh. “Inspector, I paid Ricky’s many debts throughout his whole life. My son wasn’t an angel. He did things to people. I tried to make them go away — those I knew about — with money. But money doesn’t always work, Inspector. I’m understanding that now.”

“I see, sir. Can you come to the detachment, sir? Or would you like me to come to you?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Inspector. Today, I must look after my wife.”

The phone went dead. And then, immediately, it rang again.

“Yes, Vega here?”

It was a technician from the forensic laboratory.

“Sir, we can confirm now that your victim was not killed at the discovery site. There were traces of embalming fluid and evidence that the remains were kept in cold storage, maybe a freezer, before being transported to the site.”

“Embalming fluid? The killer attempted to embalm the body?”

“Yes, sir. But embalming fluid, contrary to what you’d think, does not do a good job of preserving the body long-term. Our best guess is the killer tried embalming, and then freezing when the body started to decompose.”

Vega was silent for a moment, processing the new gruesome facts.

“So two things I’m thinking right away,” Vega mused, almost to himself. “The killer wanted the body to be found.”

“Yes, sir. And given the lengths he — or she — went to to preserve the body, maybe it was important the body was identified? I mean recognized, without the lengthy process of DNA?” the technician added.

“Yes. And it also means the site, the chapel where he was found, was significant,” Vega said. “Thank you.”

“Er . . . that’s not all, sir. And I’m sorry to complicate things . . .” the technician continued.

Vega gripped his phone a little tighter. What now? “Go on,” he said.

“Well, most of the remains were recovered from the site, except for a few, because of wildlife we think. But we have identified some human remains that do not belong to Ricky Havers.”

Vega closed his eyes. “You’re telling me we have two bodies at the same site?”

“Yes, sir. We are attempting to extract DNA, but these remains have been there for a very long time. We may not get a positive identification.”

Vega ended the call.

A second body. Another victim?

Vega got up and poked his head through the door of the conference room. “Diane? I need you to get the team together.”

Then he sank back down in a chair. Coffin Cove and its damn secrets!

Chapter Twenty-One

Andi was at a dead end.

First, she’d phoned Katie Dagg. She’d used Katie’s cell phone number, but Lee Dagg had answered and refused her request to talk to Katie. She had spoken to the police and was taking a few days off, Lee said. She was still in shock. He’d been polite, but before Andi could thank him and end the call, she’d heard a woman’s voice angrily telling him to “put the fucking phone down.” The phone went dead. Andi guessed it was Nadine.

Next, she’d knocked on Mr Gomich’s door. Initially, she’d been surprised when Peggy Wilson answered, but then it made sense. Peggy was the chief purveyor of gossip in the town, plus she had been the unfortunate person to discover a dead body in the fish plant a year ago.

She completely understood the shock, she’d told Andi, shaking her head, so she’d come straight over to give George and Margie Gomich