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

the older trailers and raise the rent for everyone — by a substantial amount. The problem was, he could only legally do that when new tenants moved in. Plus, the current owner was quite happy with the way things were. He wasn’t selling.

Andi believed, along with several residents, including Summer Thompson, that Dennis intended to drive out tenants. The Smoke Room, run by his useless but predictable son Ricky, would soon attract an undesirable clientele. The ploy worked. Despite a petition organized by Summer Thompson, the Smoke Room opened, and immediately half the tenants at the trailer park gave notice to move out.

Andi could see a new “For Sale” sign at the entrance to the trailer park.

Dennis got what he wanted, Andi thought. But how did Ricky’s disappearance fit into all this? Was Dennis involved at all? For the first time, Andi doubted Dennis had anything to do with Ricky’s disappearance and murder. She thought of Jim’s words: why dump the body right here in Coffin Cove?

Andi walked back towards the car. She’d go back to the office and do some research on Dennis’s business activities. Maybe that would throw up some leads. And maybe Jim would get something from Clara Bell.

As she took one last look around the strip mall, Andi thought she saw a slight movement in the second-floor window of the last store on the block. She walked over and peered through the dirty window of the old bookstore. The owner had just left the store as it was, with books still on the shelves. Andi could see the books were curled up from damp and covered in dust and grime. Nobody had been in there for years. Maybe it had been the light, she thought. But then she heard a noise, like a chair scraping across a floor. Andi tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, Andi walked around the unit to the parking lot at the back. She hadn’t noticed before, but behind the piles of debris was a narrow metal staircase leading up to the second storey of the bookshop, and at the top of the steps, there was a second entrance.

On closer inspection, Andi saw the grass and weeds had been trodden down around the foot of the rusty staircase. Looking around, she could see there was a small pathway, much like an animal trail, leading away through the overgrown parking lot, towards the trailer park.

Someone living here? Andi wondered. Squatters? She had to look.

Nervously, she climbed the metal steps and peered through the glass pane of the door. She saw a filthy couch on one wall of a small room. Pizza boxes and beer cans were strewn everywhere, and something that looked like a brown liquid was oozing under a small door at the far corner. She didn’t want to go in.

Definitely squatters, Andi thought, and wondered how long they’d been there. Could they have witnessed Ricky’s disappearance? Had Charlie Rollins missed this too?

Then Andi caught sight of a green light blinking from a box in the corner. She looked again. Was that a laptop? Was there power in this decrepit living space?

Andi had her face near the dirty pane. As she focused on the laptop, thinking it might be stolen, a man’s face appeared, like a jack-in-the-box, right in front of her. She screamed and almost lost her footing. The man had wild eyes and matted hair. Andi didn’t wait for introductions.

She turned and took the steps two at a time. The man had flung the door open and was screaming after her. Andi was fast, but then she realized the man was coming after her.

Tripping over the garbage, Andi kept upright and headed for her car. It was the fastest she’d moved in a long time, and she felt the scar on her thigh pull.

Not fit at all, she thought, as she panted and slowed. All at once, she felt a hand clamp on her shoulder and spin her around. She was face to face with the man, and all Andi could register in her mind was the stench. He was still screaming, incoherent words, as Andi struggled to get free.

“You killed him! Killed him . . . the night . . . the night . . .” He was almost chanting. Andi pulled free and ran to her car.

He followed her, still spewing obscenities and, as far as Andi could make out, accusing her of killing someone in the night. She fumbled for her car keys as the man loped towards her, his arms flailing.

“You’re spying on me . . . watching me . . .” He was spitting and foaming from his mouth and getting nearer. But to Andi’s relief, another vehicle screeched into the parking lot and distracted his attention.

The man ran in the other direction, to Andi’s relief, but someone grabbed the man from behind and tackled him to the ground.

“Are you alright?” a woman’s voice asked Andi, full of concern.

“Yes, thank you . . .” Andi saw it was Sergeant Diane Fowler.

“Oh, Miss Silvers, glad to see you are unharmed.” The sergeant’s tone changed from concerned to icy. “You’re lucky we were doing a drive-by.”

“Thank you, Sergeant, I appreciate your help,” Andi said sincerely, realizing the sergeant must have read her article. She was trembling.

“Not at all, Miss Silvers,” Fowler said, not bothering to disguise her sarcasm. “Always glad to be of service to a member of the free press.”

Andi said nothing. She watched Sergeant Fowler walk back to her colleague, the young constable who’d inadvertently helped Andi get her scoop, and helped him restrain the squatter, who was now howling like a captured wild animal.

Andi got into her car and sat for a moment, letting the adrenaline subside and wiping her face with tissues. She fought an urge to cry. Then her phone rang. It was Jim.

* * *

Diane Fowler looked in disgust at the handcuffed man.

“Great. A babbling crackhead. We don’t have time for this,”