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

left. She wondered what she should do with the new information. She realized she hadn’t even managed to get the man’s name. There was no doubt in her mind who he was referring to when he called Dewhurst the sailor guy. She knew this was critical information. She left the cheesecake as he’d suggested, packed up her laptop, and headed for the precinct.

“Is Sergeant Colt in?” she asked the receptionist stationed at the entrance.

“No, ma’am, he’s out on an assignment. If you’d like to wait in the breakroom, he should be back in a half hour or so.”

“Oh, okay, yes, I’ll do that.”

Lucy took a chair in the breakroom that gave her a view of the front door. She opened her laptop to take advantage of the time. She was working on an article for the paper, trying different opening lines as her mind whirled around all the new information she’d obtained and how it could figure in solving Angie’s murder.

She looked up in time to see Kathy Simpson coming into the precinct. There was a male arm holding the door open, and it turned out to be Brendon. Lucy caught herself from flagging him down, and she was surprised and a little intrigued to see the two of them together. She hadn’t even realized they knew one another. Brendon was laughing at something Kathy said, and Lucy’s stomach flopped with jealousy. She watched them pass by on the way to his office.

Lucy gathered her laptop and papers and shoved them in the case. She rose from her seat and walked toward the entrance.

The receptionist smiled at her, and said, “I’m sure he’ll be done before long. She generally only stays five minutes or so.”

Generally? What does that mean? “No, it’s okay. I just remembered I have another appointment. No need to mention I was here,” she muttered, quickly fleeing the building. Hopping into her car, she was grateful there was no traffic, and she was able to pull out immediately and head back to Jon’s house.

Lucy was shaking, the aura of yet another betrayal surrounding her to the point that she felt as though she was suffocating. Tears streamed down her cheeks. When she finally pulled into the driveway, she forgot her laptop on the back seat and stumbled into her lower apartment.

That was when she finally gave in. All the disappointment, all the fear, all the sorrow got the better of her, and she let it all come out. It was a relief, cleansing and critical. A phone message ding. It was Jon.

IS EVERYTHING OKAY?

YES, JUST HAVING A GOOD CRY.

THINGS WILL BE BETTER, PAIGE. I PROMISE.

Lucy froze. He called me by his daughter’s name. What does that mean? Is he delusional? Dangerous, even? Oh heck, out of the frying pan!

She stopped crying, muffling her sniffles in her pillow. She knew she was expected upstairs to cook dinner. It was part of their deal. Summoning her strength, she walked up the stairs as normally as she could manage and tapped at the door. “You ready for dinner?”

Jon opened the door immediately and smiled. “Hi there, Lucy. What’s on the menu for tonight?”

Immense relief ran through her that he’d called her by her real name and not used his daughter’s. That told her he was fine and that his faux pas had probably been a mistake. “How about meatloaf and mashed potatoes?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had that? It sounds absolutely delicious. I’ll go in and watch the news and leave you to get on with it.”

She nodded and turned to the refrigerator, still slightly tense. Gradually, after she’d prepared the ingredients and began cooking, a calmness descended. She took time out and leaned against the living room doorway behind him, watching the news. Together, they formed a very domestic picture. Then Brendon’s image drifted into her mind, and it was all coming back to her. She turned to walk away.

She didn’t get very far. “Want to talk about it?” Jon asked.

“Probably not a good idea.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

She thought for a few moments. “Actually, there is another matter I’d like your advice on, though. Are you game?”

He tapped the remote, switched off the television, and waited patiently for her to begin.

“Without going into detail, I met someone today who I don’t know but says he lives in town. He claims that Angie was his investment client.”

“Angie, the friend who was murdered?”

“Yes, that’s her. Now, he offered up this advice, almost forcing it upon me. I had no clue and actually tried to avoid having the conversation with him.”

“Your question…?”

She drew in a breath. “He offered the intel that Angie was actually very wealthy. She’d inherited a good deal of money, and he helped her invest it. He says that Angie’s daughter’s name was on everything and that Christine had left town after her mother died. Which I had kind of worked out for myself after dropping by Angie’s place earlier. Anyway, he also said that Christine left with that man who showed up for her funeral—Greg Dewhurst. Dewhurst’s wife was the woman found dead in my basement. You see my confusion?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Okay, if I understand you correctly, you’re wanting to know whether his behavior makes his information suspect, and if so, what’s the truth, and where are Christine and Dewhurst? How do they figure into this?”

“Yes, exactly.” The timer went off in the kitchen. “Let me get this dinner on the table. Hold on, please.”

She could see pleasure in Jon’s eyes as she plated the food and handed him his meal.

“Okay,” he began. “Tell me about this guy. Did he seem the type to hang around on a bar stool?”

“Yes. I couldn’t even get him to share his name.”

“And Angie, was she a bar fly?”

Lucy nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Then my guess is that your mysterious new acquaintance is someone who has seen better days. Maybe a guy who lost his license and is still living in the past. He might have known