Death on the Coast, M Comley [book club books TXT] 📗

sooner they could get on with the business of finding her killer.

The ladies returned to their crafts and general chitchat. All except for Jenny, who wheeled her chair close to Lucy.

“May I have a private word, Lucy?”

It was a rare request, and Lucy had the distinct feeling that Jenny had something important to say. “Of course. Let’s go to the back table.”

No one seemed to notice them changing their positions, and Lucy held her breath as Jenny began to speak.

“You know I sometimes get these…visions…”

“Yes.” Lucy nodded enthusiastically. “Go on. It’s about Mark, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes. I want you to know he’s safe, Lucy. I can’t tell you where he is, but I do know he’s safe. I hope that helps you with some of the worry.”

“Thank God. Nothing more? Can’t you give me a clue, Jenny?”

“I’m sorry, but no. If something comes through, I’ll let you know. You know I will.”

Lucy swallowed her disappointment, but nodded and thanked Jenny, and watched her wheel away with sadness.

“You okay?”

Lucy looked up to find Grace standing in front of her, appearing concerned. “Hello, Grace. I’m as well as can be expected.”

Grace glanced over her shoulder and then pulled out a chair to sit next to Lucy. “I know this is probably nothing you want to deal with, but you’ve been sort of asking about him all along. That stranger who said he’s come for Angie’s funeral.”

“You mean Greg?”

“That’s him,” she nodded. “Well, he’s checked in at our place. His boat went down…”

“Yes, I heard. It’s in drydock, actually. He insists he’s going to repair it,” Lucy told her. “But go ahead.”

Grace looked around again and then leaned in. “He paid in cash, Lucy. Never a check. No credit card. Just cash. I even took it to the bank to be sure it wasn’t counterfeit. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but there’s just something about him I don’t trust.”

“You’re not the only one, Grace. He’s up to something, if you ask me. And poor Kathy…” She stopped short, biting down on her tongue for almost spilling the beans.

Grace nodded. “I know all about it. Don’t worry. She’s been calling Sleepy Glen about every three hours, asking to speak to him. I think she’s lovesick, Lucy. I know it’s none of my business, but that’s how she sounds. Kind of desperate. I pass along messages, leave them in writing in his box, but I don’t know if he’s calling her back. She hasn’t come in to see him, that much I can tell you.”

Lucy reflected on Grace’s conversation, and it bothered her, too. She patted Grace’s hand. “Keep me updated, would you?”

“Of course,” Grace said in a rush of breath. “I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, telling you, but now I’m glad I did. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“You do that.”

Lucy’s instincts were on fire. Something wasn’t making sense, and she was afraid her concern over Mark was blurring her focus. She’d have to get some time alone and think it all over. She decided to leave and stop by Christine’s, as she’d promised the ladies she would.

Lucy’s car banged through the chuckholes left by the storm as she headed for Christine’s. She just cleared the curve and was slowing down to turn into the drive when she noticed someone entering Christine’s front door. She’d recognize that tall, blond-haired man anywhere. It was Greg, and now he and Christine were alone.

What were they up to?

14

Like so many sea widows before her, Lucy sat on the bluff above the ocean and looked out over the water. She’d hiked up to the Ocean Trail to clear her head. In many ways, it was where things had begun for Mark and her as a couple. Teenagers were no strangers to the forest hideaways and the romantic tint of waves. Many a pimply-faced boy had offered to throw himself off the cliff onto the rocks below so that his sweetheart would pledge herself to him forever and make his dreams come true that night on a bed of seagrass and sand. She and Mark had been one such couple.

She wished she knew what had gone wrong. Lucy felt as though some invisible tie between them had been severed and she was floundering in the dark, seeking the ends to tie back together.

She couldn’t imagine where he’d gone. Surely, he knew if he stayed away too long, he’d lose his job. Where would that leave him, or didn’t he care?

Standing, Lucy moved up the path toward where Angie’s body had been found. She hadn’t been up there since the storm. The landscape had taken a direct hit as it was high. The grasses were literally blown flat, their slender stalks fighting to straighten in the sunlight.

That was when she spotted it. Something glinted in the light. Lucy squatted over it and bent low. She parted the leaves of the stub of seagrass and spotted the object. It was glass, a round shape from the look of it. She knew it would be considered evidence and she shouldn’t touch it. She scooted around it, trying to get a better view, then marked the stump with a stick and a tissue that she removed from her pocket. She’d need to get Brendon up there as soon as possible to retrieve it. The winds could be fierce up there. Whatever it was, it needed attention.

She pulled out her phone. To her consternation, there was no signal. Glancing around, she had no choice but to climb higher, hoping that altitude would put her in line with the cell tower. Walking nearly three quarters of a mile, she tried again and, this time, she was successful.

“Brendon, it’s Lucy. I’m up on the bluff where Angie was found. Higher, actually. I had to walk farther up the hill to get a signal. Anyway, I think you should come up as soon as you’re able and bring an evidence bag. I believe I’ve found something. I’ll wait for you here.”

He