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

well, have a talk with me. I don’t know how long you’ve been in town, but are you aware of the recent murder of one of our own, Angie Potter?”

“Why?” Bertha barked.

“Oh, just wanted to make sure you knew the whole story, so to speak.”

“Mighta heard somethin’ about it,” the woman said, crossing her arms over her heaving breasts.

Lucy glanced at Brendon and continued, “His talk was…how shall I say this? Ah yes, confrontational.”

Brendon’s expression darkened. “You,” he said, pointing at Bertha, “stay there until I get back. I want to talk to you. And you”—he pointed to Lucy—“step outside with me.”

Bertha’s face registered indignation, she glared at them and tore a chunk out of her donut. Lucy meekly followed Brendon outside.

“What does confrontational mean exactly?” he demanded.

She swallowed. “I’ve been doing some research on Greg. He struck me as an unlikely character to just show up in town right after Angie’s death.”

He rolled his eyes. “Here we go. What kind of research?”

“Databases that reporters use.” She skimmed over that part, knowing she may have just blown up Len’s access if Brendon found out about it. “Anyway, I found something, and he’s onto me. So, now he’s suspicious, he threatened me, and told me to stay out of his business.”

Brendon’s head cocked. “You’d better tell me what you found?”

“The man who has been using the name Greg Dewhurst is actually Greg Davis, and he’s from Portland, Maine.”

“And?”

Her eyes snapped upward. “You knew?”

“Of course.”

Her mouth hung open, stunned by his admission.

He laughed. “You can tell Len I know he’s in our database. Just don’t quote me and don’t make me sorry, okay?”

Lucy nodded. “Apparently we aren’t the only ones who know his real name. That woman in there came searching for him.”

He nodded. “I noticed. So, what did Dewhurst say?”

“Told me to stay out of his life.”

“That’s it?”

“He didn’t verbalize specifics, let’s say that, but it was plain he was threatening me.”

Brendon kicked the pavement with the toe of his boot and stared off into space. “I’ll take care of it.”

Lucy put her hand on his arm. “No, Brendon, let it go. He didn’t hurt me, and it’s not the first time I’ve been threatened as a reporter. Let’s just keep the tone low, and we won’t drive him to push the issue.”

“I don’t know…”

“Have you already reported that he’s using an alias?”

“Police business.”

“C’mon, Brendon. This isn’t fair.”

“It’s the rules.”

Lucy reached behind her to pull open the door to the bakery, the handle decorated by a strip of jingle bells. “Okay, have it your way.”

“Hey!” He put his hand over hers, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed inside the bakery. “You take care, huh? Do you have someone who can come and stay at the house with you?”

“Who? My pregnant sister?”

“How about Len?”

She tutted. “Seriously? I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

“I hope so. I have a bad feeling about that guy.”

“I know. Me, too.” Lucy yanked on the door as Brendon reached over her head to hold it open. Inside, they returned to the table where they’d left Bertha.

The table was empty.

Sal called out. “You lookin’ for that big woman you left there?”

Brendon nodded, looking around the rest of the bakery, his gaze landing on the ladies’ room door.

“She’s not in there. She went out the back door as soon as you two left.”

“Dang it!” Brendon slapped his hand on his thigh. “I should’ve known better than to leave her.”

“You can probably catch her, Brendon. A woman that size can’t move too fast. Here, slide out the back door and see if you can find her.”

He weaved through the ovens and counters, and soon, the back door slammed shut. Lucy shrugged and decided to leave the chase to Brendon and his deputies. She was tired, scared about Mark missing, and stymied by the whole incident. She packed up her things, preparing to leave when the back door opened and Brendon returned.

“Missed her,” he grumbled to Lucy.

Lucy bit her lip. A woman like Bertha would be hard to miss. “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ve not seen the last of her. She’s here looking for him, and he no longer has a boat.”

Brendon’s eyes lit up. “You’re right. But she does by the look and smell of her!”

He was out the front door before Lucy realized what he was saying. It was no accident that Bertha had shown up.

Greg had undoubtedly called her.

18

The bride wore a long dress of pearlescent pink, the edges embellished with narrow white lace. She had on matching shoes, and Tina’s hair was long enough to make the perfect braided coronet high on her crown.

It was a balmy day, and in the distance, a line of dark clouds threatened, but everyone was in high spirits. It was as if the entire village needed an excuse to celebrate, and Tina’s wedding was the perfect opportunity.

The first four rows of white folding chairs had been borrowed from the funeral home, but there weren’t nearly enough to seat everyone who showed up. The overflow either stood or brought their own lawn chairs, making the wedding event look more like a rock concert than a celebration of two lives joining together.

As the matron of honor, Lucy had searched the stores for just the perfect dress to complement the bride’s. She’d finally found what she wanted—a beautiful creation with wide pink-and-white horizontal stripes and puffy white lace sleeves. A few eyebrows rose as she preceded her sister down the aisle, but most people simply nodded and smiled, completely accustomed to Lucy’s Bohemian tastes in attire.

A few of the kids from the high school band volunteered to play a quintet of Mozart, and it somehow matched the proceedings perfectly. Scott was waiting for Tina at the altar created from Mrs. Burns’ white rose arbor. Potted palms sat on either side, and the Rev. Cunningham, dressed in his standard cleric suit with the stiffened white collar.

Lucy was having problems with the heels of her shoes. They wanted to sink into the