HELL'S HALF ACRE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 2), JACKIE ELLIOTT [best ereader for graphic novels .TXT] 📗

“Never heard of them,” she said.

As Nadine left the office, one of the junior clerks barged in. “Sorry to interrupt, Mayor Thompson,” she said.

“Yes?” Jade was getting short-tempered now.

“Jim Peters phoned from the Gazette, Mayor, and said to remind you about the interview at ten.”

Jade sighed. She’d forgotten. She thought for a second about cancelling but then nodded at the clerk. “Thanks, I’ll make sure I’m free.” She might as well get it over with. She’d agreed to the interview, and she liked Jim Peters. The Gazette had been neutral throughout the campaign and refused to print anything negative or mean-spirited about either candidate. Since she’d been in office, Jim had printed positive articles about her progress, urging the community to give their new mayor their wholehearted support. So she owed him an interview, at least, she thought.

“And close the door, would you?” Jade called out at the retreating clerk, hoping, finally, for some peace and quiet.

Chapter Seven

When Katie arrived at the gravel pit, she saw a small red truck already parked. Mr Gomich was waiting for Katie. As she drove closer, she could see he had a companion. She had hoped he would bring other members of the historical society, but her heart sank when she saw the other person was Clara Bell.

Clara had retired as museum curator just as Katie returned to Coffin Cove, but the couple of times they had met, Katie had felt the elderly lady’s hostility. Maybe she was upset because she’d had no support from the city, Katie had wondered aloud to her father. “And now I have a budget and the promise of brand-new facilities? I’d be annoyed too,” she’d said.

“More like she’s a grumpy old bag,” Lee had replied.

Maybe Clara knew something about the mysterious chapel, Katie thought as she waved and smiled. Harry Brown had told her earlier that Clara helped him with locating all the old mining tunnels.

Clara Bell was one of Coffin Cove’s “characters”. She lived out of town on the original homestead her family had claimed back in 1846, just as the Treaty of Washington divided off United States territory, allowing the British control of Vancouver Island. She lived off the grid still, with electricity from a diesel generator and water from a well.

Clara was a forbidding figure. She’d been old when Katie was little. She looked no different now, except her wild mane of hair was white. Her face was smooth, with few wrinkles giving away her age, and her dark eyes were sharp and piercing. And at the moment, Clara was glowering at Katie.

Katie tried to stay positive. This was a learning experience, she thought.

Mr Gomich greeted her enthusiastically.

“Hello there, Katie! I’m excited about our adventure this morning. I’ve brought Clara with me. She’ll be a huge help — there’s very little she doesn’t know about our local history.”

“That’s wonderful.” Katie smiled at both of them, ignoring the sullen expression on Clara’s face.

“Is that a map?” she asked Clara. The old lady was holding a roll of yellowing paper.

Wordlessly, Clara marched over to the truck and pulled down the tailgate. She spread out the paper. Katie was surprised to see it was a hand-drawn map. She could see the gravel pit marked, a few trails and some other symbols which meant nothing to her. Katie didn’t know much about map-making, but it looked to scale.

“Did you do this?” she asked Clara. “It’s amazing.”

“I mapped all the area,” the woman said, in a friendlier tone. “See that there?” She pointed at the map. “That’s your house, Hell’s Half Acre.”

Katie smiled. Her mother hated it when the elders in the town called their home that old name. Katie had heard the stories about gangs and parties but had never taken much notice. She thought her mother was being oversensitive.

“You ever walked much in the bush?” Clara asked her. Her voice was gravelly, as if she were a heavy smoker, and she was abrupt.

“No. Just that trail. From our house to the beach. Dad always told us there were abandoned mineshafts and it was too dangerous.”

“He was right,” Clara said. “The shafts are here and here. The chapel is between them, in a clearing right here.” She was gesturing at her map, but Katie was looking at her, amazed.

“So there really is a chapel?” she asked.

“’Course there is. Why else are we here? Some damn goose chase?” Clara snorted, as though Katie was the most ignorant person she had ever met.

“It’s just I’d never heard about it until the other day. And the story about the priest and the coffin.”

Clara looked at Katie as if she were mad and then threw back her head and laughed.

Katie was getting annoyed now, but at least her lack of knowledge had broken the ice with the irritable old woman. When Clara stopped laughing, she took Katie’s arm.

“Come on, I’ll show you, dear, and tell you the true story. This way,” she called over her shoulder to Mr Gomich.

“That’s just an old wives’ tale,” Clara explained to Katie. “There was no priest, and no coffin bobbing out to sea. Coffin Cove got its name from the shape of the bay. It’s a recent name. The natives who lived here long before we arrived had their own name.”

“And the chapel? Who built it?” Katie asked.

“Noah Whilley. The great-grandfather of the most recent Whilley. Poor little Art Whilley lived on your property before your uncle conned him out of his inheritance and all the hell-raisin’ started.” Clara looked sharply at her. “Your mother knew all about that. But maybe you’re not like her, eh?”

This was news to Katie. Lee had always been vague about her uncle’s story, and Nadine never spoke about her past. What did Clara know?

But before she could ask more, Clara was striding through the