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

the benefit of her support and counsel. She sighed. Only people who’d been through trauma would understand. George hadn’t said much, but she had all day and would stay until he was ready to talk. Get it all off his chest.

Mrs Gomich had appeared before Andi could say anything and said she’d had enough of visitors — giving Peggy a meaningful look — and George just wanted to be left alone. He didn’t get a good look at the body anyway. It was poor Clara Bell who’d found that Ricky Havers, and perhaps Clara needed support and counselling. (Another meaningful look at Peggy Wilson.) Andi had asked if she could include that comment in her article, and Mrs Gomich had told her she “didn’t bloody care what she wrote, they just wanted some bloody peace and quiet.”

So that was that.

Andi was sure she wouldn’t be able to get close to the chapel site just yet, and anyway, she wanted to avoid any possibility of bumping into Andrew Vega. Her article had gone out that morning. She’d seen the headline when she picked up a coffee at Hephzibah’s.

In black and white, it seemed stark. Andi contended that Coffin Cove had been let down by the RCMP and the community deserved better. Andi contrasted the tiny two-person detachment with the 200-strong force in Nanaimo, which was supposed to provide backup. She’d analysed crime statistics and population numbers and made the convincing argument (or so she thought) for at least triple the RCMP members, increased training and replacement of obsolete methods and equipment. She also dismissed Vega’s press conference as “arrogant” and called for greater transparency.

“Despite repeated requests from the Havers family, the response to his mysterious disappearance was lacking, to say the least. No televised appeals, no search parties, no helicopters, nothing except a short public relations visit to ‘quieten down the locals’. Even now, after the tragic discovery of Ricky’s body, the inspector in charge of the investigation will not provide the community with the information they need: was Ricky Havers murdered? And if RCMP had responded immediately, would Ricky Havers be alive today?”

Andi had been careful not to name Charlie Rollins. But she’d felt the frosty reception to her article as Hephzibah poured her coffee. The fishermen, who usually waved and smiled, kept their heads down. There was a definite chill in the air, Andi thought.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered to Hephzibah. “They complain all the time about theft and petty crime, how Charlie should get off his backside and do his job, and now they’re upset?”

Hephzibah shrugged. “You know what it’s like. We can complain about our own, but an outsider — well, that’s another thing entirely.”

“I’m still an outsider?” Andi asked, surprised.

“Just down from my house a couple moved in back in the early eighties. Harry still calls them ‘the new neighbours’,” Hephzibah said with a smile. “Don’t worry. You wrote the truth. It’s your job. They probably secretly agree with you, and when you find out what happened to Ricky, you’ll be the hero of this.”

I don’t want to be a hero, thought Andi, I just want to give Sandra some closure.

Standing in front of the Smoke Room at the small abandoned strip mall, Andi did not feel like a hero, and she knew she wasn’t any nearer to finding answers for Sandra.

She wondered if she should call Andrew Vega. Explain why she’d written the article. He’d probably think she was trying to make a point after their argument on the phone. Was she? Why did it matter what he thought anyway? Better to focus on helping Sandra.

After striking out with both Katie Dagg and George Gomich, she’d decided to start again where the mystery had begun. She didn’t expect to find anything to help her, but she thought the location might inspire some creative ideas. Maybe coming back to the start might shake something from her subconscious, something she’d overlooked.

Andi peered through the window of the Smoke Room. It was hard to see anything because the windows had some kind of plastic coating on them, which allowed people inside to see out but blocked the view from outside.

Andi could make out a long counter and a few tables and chairs. She assumed all the inventory had been removed.

Not for the first time, she wondered at Dennis Havers’ motivation to set up a pot store right here in the strip mall. When Andi first arrived in Coffin Cove, two small businesses were struggling to stay open in the ugly low-slung block of storefronts.

They were all boarded up now. Dennis Havers had purchased the strip mall for pennies on the dollar. The previous owners had died with no heirs to take over. Gradually tenants moved out as the building fell into disrepair, and the lawyers in charge of probate stopped answering the phone. When property taxes were delinquent two years in a row, the City of Coffin Cove put the strip mall up for auction. There was only one bidder: Dennis Havers.

He didn’t clean up the old site or make any repairs. The flat roofs on three stores sagged. The parking lot at the back was overgrown with weeds and brambles. Soon it became a dumping ground for old shopping carts, stained mattresses and rusting appliances.

The Smoke Room had been the first business to open in the strip mall with Dennis Havers as landlord. It was controversial. Behind the strip mall was Coffin Cove trailer park. Twenty-eight trailers sat on permanent rental pads, in a nicely landscaped four acres. There was a children’s play area, a barbeque and picnic area, and from the east corner, a view of Coffin Cove bay. The monthly rental payments were inexpensive, and it was Coffin Cove’s only option for low-cost family housing.

Dennis had been trying to purchase the park for years. The rumour was he wanted to replace a few of