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

He’d felt part of a family at last.

Lily’s father Anthony listened gravely as Matt described his job and his daily tasks. He hoped, he said, for something more exciting than just the petty thefts he was dealing with at present. They often sat on the back porch of the house, while Lily and her mother chatted for hours over tea or went shopping. Matt knew he could confide in Anthony.

When Matt finished talking, the older man got up from his chair and disappeared into the house for a moment. He returned with a wooden box and handed it to his son-in-law. Matt examined it. Around the sides and on the lid were First Nations carvings, depicting different animals. Matt turned it around in his hands, admiring the artwork.

“For me?” he asked.

Anthony nodded. “Yes. It’s a bento box. Keep it in the hallway. When you come in from work, empty in your wallet, your warrant card, your badge, anything to do with your identity as an RCMP officer. With those items, empty your soul of the stress and hardships you’ve experienced in the day. Take on your role as a husband and partner with renewed calm.” Anthony paused. “It doesn’t mean you can’t lean on Lily for support — she’s a strong woman, like her mother. But if you bring home your workday — especially the horrific things you’ll see and hear in your chosen career — it will wear away at your marriage and your heart, understand?”

Matt nodded. He did. Already, he’d had a few evenings when he couldn’t shake off a melancholic mood after a particularly hard day. Lily and he hadn’t argued, but he could see how the stress might affect their relationship.

“And one more piece of advice, if you’d indulge an old man.” Anthony smiled, but then became serious again. “Try to see all the people you serve, both the victims and the criminals, as human beings. Even those who have committed terrible acts against others have a story to tell. They are all sons and daughters and have been loved by somebody at some time in their life. Everyone deserves a little dignity. See the humanity in your daily work life. What you see as excitement will mean tragedy for someone else.”

Matt pulled into the parking lot, smiling at the thought of his father-in-law.

Within minutes of entering the detachment, he was on his way out again. A dead woman had been found by the dumpsters at the Fat Chicken.

Matt was the first on scene. He found Andi Silvers trembling in shock. He gazed down at the dead body of Nadine Dagg and tried not to gag.

As Inspector Vega and the IHIT team arrived, Matt recalled his father-in-law’s words. He knew now that he disagreed with Anthony Dupre about one thing. This day in his career as a police officer, he failed to find any humanity at all.

Chapter Twenty-Six

He eased along the trail. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight filtering through the tall firs to guide his way. He was light on his feet and could recall the path enough to avoid gnarled roots and deep ruts.

When he got nearer, he saw a pinprick of light and smelled a cigarette.

That’s good, he thought. When he’d asked for this meeting, he’d wondered whether the man would remember how to find this place. They hadn’t been here since they were children.

Once, the place was a refuge, a sanctuary. Not anymore.

He was in the clearing now.

The full moonlight threw shadows across the mounds of stones, making them appear like crouched animals waiting to pounce. A hunched figure sat on the crumbling wall of the chapel with his back to him. The tiny glow of the waiting man’s cigarette moved as he inhaled and then blew out smoke.

He moved quietly, stealthily, feeling with one hand around his belt.

It wasn’t until he was close enough to touch that his prey jumped and jerked his head round.

With one swipe, he pulled the blade of his hunting knife neatly across the man’s throat and watched as the expression of shock on the man’s face dimmed and faded, as a cloud moved across the moon and the clearing was in darkness once more.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Andrew Vega sat on the end of Andi’s bed. He wasn’t sure how to start this interview. He looked around the tiny studio apartment. It was L-shaped, and around one corner was the small kitchen and dining area. In the middle, an overstuffed chair piled high with laundry, and against the wall, a bookcase which clearly wasn’t big enough to house Andi’s library, as there were stacks of books all over the floor. She also had an eclectic assortment on her bedside table. Vega smiled inwardly. It was one thing he and Andi had in common. His own condo was full of diverse reading material, but his living space was neat and orderly. He disliked chaos.

Andi sat hunched miserably on her pillows, hugging her knees. Vega could hear the hum of activity outside the apartment. There was so much to do, and they were still in the early stages of the Ricky Havers investigation.

Thankfully, the coroner was already on the island, so it hadn’t taken long before she’d arrived and taken charge of the crime scene and the body of poor Nadine. She’d officially deemed the death as a homicide.

“Her throat was slit,” the coroner said. “Competently too. One nice clean slice. No signs of hesitation or sawing.” She made a back-and-forth gesture across her neck, which made Vega feel slightly sick.

Now, the parking lot at the back of the Fat Chicken was full of highly trained forensic search specialists collecting evidence, taking photographs and bagging and tagging every fibre, fluid sample and anything else the scene could offer. Then they would send every exhibit to the Case Receipt Unit,