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

he was in excellent condition, chasing Patch was a challenge. The little dog, far more sure-footed than Brendon, scooted over the rocks and seemed unaffected by the stiff wind coming in from the east. When Brendon paused for a few moments to catch his breath, Patch let out another annoying bark. Brendon’s mood grew dark. This escapade could easily have a capricious ending, although the fact that Patch was dragging his leash and seemed intent on running in one particular direction suggested otherwise. To be on the safer side, Brendon touched his shoulder mic and updated the precinct on his location.

“In pursuit,” he told them.

“Please specify,” came the response.

He winced and briefly added, “The dog known as Patch, belonging to Angie Potter, who cannot be located.”

“Sir? Please verify.”

“You heard me,” he shouted and renewed his chase, making a mental note that donuts were off of his daily menu for the time being.

Patch was ahead of him, but motionless. Brendon stumbled along the path until he came to where the animal was now turning circles, his incessant yapping more furious than before.

“Okay, Patch, what’s so important?”

The dog ducked its head and with a few leaps, headed into the brush of the forest line where he stopped and appeared to wait for Brendon.

“I’ve come this far,” Brendon muttered, and with a heaving chest, picked his way into the trees where the dog stood.

That was when he spotted the body. Brendon dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one. He tapped his mic, reported in, and asked for backup to the scene, along with medical personnel. Bending low, he peered into the folds of the victim’s jacket and hoodie to get a look at the face. As he feared, it was the missing Angie Potter…with a blue nylon rope wrapped around her neck.

2

Lucy spied a candidate for a walking stick and took a few minutes to break off the unwanted prickling branch nubs. “Next time, don’t leave yours behind,” she chastised herself and tapped the new support into the muddy path, getting a feel for its balance.

She tugged at the waist of the flowered skirt and frowned at the mud on her shoes. She used her new tool to scrape off the worst of it and then slid them across a tuft of damp seagrass. Then she admired the saddle shoes she’d discovered at the Second Time Around clothing resale shop. Easily the sturdiest shoes she owned, in her opinion. Satisfied, she hummed Where The Boys Are in her best imitation of Connie Francis and proceeded along the coastal path.

When Lucy took the turn in the path, she heard voices in the near distance. Abruptly interrupting her solo, she paused and pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears, hoping to hear better. Leaning from left to right, she peered between the trees and was instantly curious. Police stood in a cluster, she could sense the tension and stress of the group who were talking using a fair amount of hand gesturing. Invigorated by her natural sense of inquisitiveness, she leaned into her steps to get closer.

“Hold it right there,” came a command. A wall of male body stepped out of the tree line to block her path.

“Geez, you scared me!” She jerked backward in surprise. To her enormous dismay, she had to look almost straight upward from her diminutive five-feet-two to find the familiar face of Sergeant Brendon Colt.

“You’ll have to turn around, Lucy. No place here for you.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Police business.” He used the gruffest voice in his repertoire.

“You don’t intimidate me, Colt. What’s all the hubbub?”

There was a slight drop in his shoulders. He must have realized his bluster was being tested. Why does it have to be Lucy? he mentally moaned. If I could take back that one kiss…

“Luce…” he began, hating himself for using the nickname he kept private in his mind.

“Luce? What are you hiding?” She stuck her hand inside the zippered neckline and brought out the press card she kept secreted on a lanyard. “You know the rules.”

Brendon sighed. “It’s too early, Mrs. Diamond.” He emphasized her proper name.

“Early? For what? Don’t tell me you’ve found something worth investigating?”

Just then, Patch ran up to her, his paws stretching upward to plant on her thighs. He whined.

“Where’s Angie?” Lucy challenged.

Without thinking, Brendon shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the gathering.

“No!” Lucy gasped.

“Go home, Lucy. There will be more people coming, and we need clear passage.”

“Brendon, don’t brush me off here. Is there a body up there? Is it… Angie?”

“I cannot confirm the identity of the victim.” He used his official voice.

Lucy crossed her arms and smiled at him, a challenge set deep in her eyes. “So, there is a body up there. Patch is here with me when he’s never away from Angie. Brendon, let me put it to you this way. Either you let me up there to get the details for the paper, or I’ll go back to town and drop a few comments at Sal’s Sweets, and before long, the whole village will be traipsing up here through the mud and all over your crime scene.”

“Lucy, that’s not fair. Don’t you want to know who killed Angie?”

“Murder? You think she’s been murdered?” Lucy felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She and Angie had known one another for years and, while their friendship was confined to the occasion of getting her hair cut, Lucy still felt a part of Angie’s inner circle. Her mind spun through potential suspects like a slot machine. Who had Angie complained about the last time I saw her?

Brendon wanted to kick himself. Luce had always owned a soft place in his heart, although he refused to acknowledge it. After all, she was married to Mark, whether she was happy about it or not. Brendon secretly hoped she wasn’t so happy. “Okay, but only if I have your promise that you won’t announce it, not in Sal’s or in that