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

wore them. My hands were full and my view was blocked. I literally stepped on her.”

“Oh, heavens.”

Lucy nodded. “I know. When I looked down, I had to use my foot to move the bags aside and then, well… there she was, her head lying in a puddle of blood. I thought I was going to pass out. I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.”

Sheila leaned forward, entranced by the story. “Oh, how horrible for you, my child.”

“You see, I didn’t tell you this part, but someone tried to break into the house a few nights before. I was in the tub when they broke the sidelight in the front door and left me a note, telling me to leave Greg Dewhurst alone.”

“Were you dating Greg Dewhurts?”

“Dewhurst. No, Mom, of course not! I’m married to Mark.”

“But you’re dating the sergeant.”

Lucy opened her mouth to object and then stopped, realizing something. Wellington was a small town and had its own set of truths on every topic—legislated by the gossips at Sal’s and I’m Not Here. So, no matter what had happened, there was truth, and there was the village version of truth. Lucy wondered if her personal ethics of honesty were clouding her mind from the facts of what had truly happened? Were motives due to gossip? Did Mark leave because he’d heard something that was pure speculation?

She was momentarily hopeful, but the reality was, he made the decisions that led him through the steps he’d taken. The gossips, as lethal as they might seem, were often closer to the truth than anyone realized.

“So, you’re saying that whoever broke into my house might have actually thought I was seeing Greg Dewhurst?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I don’t see him as your type, but then stranger things have happened. I have to admit, I didn’t think you and Mark suited each other either.”

That caught Lucy’s attention. “Really?”

“None of us did.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got no backbone. You’re stiff and bossy. It was never going to work.”

Lucy was silent as she considered her mother’s opinion. “Stiff and bossy?”

Sheila shrugged. “Hey, I call ’em as I see ’em.”

“But you’re my mother.”

“Which is why I know.”

“Remind me to forget next Mother’s Day.”

Her mother looked serious and she sensed an awkward moment coming. “Very funny. Look, Lucy, you have three major things going on in your life right now. First, your marriage is on the rocks. The second is probably related, and that’s Brendon and you having a relationship which is hardly innocent. Third, you’re involved in a murder, and even if you didn’t do it, there are likely to be people, or a person close to you, who did do it.”

“What do you mean by if I didn’t do it? Of course I didn’t,” she bit back, incensed.

“Then you have a fourth problem because people are beginning to whisper. After all, you’ve been in the middle of everything that has happened.”

Lucy’s hand clutched at her chest. “I had no idea,” was all she could manage.

“I knew you’d be coming, eventually. You’ve always had a breaking point.”

“You sure know how to depress a person, Mom.”

“Be honest, your life isn’t looking too rosy at the moment.”

“Okay,” Lucy concluded, rolling to a stand. “I think I’ll take off now. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

“Where are you staying? Surely not in that gruesome house?”

“No. Brendon doesn’t think it’s very safe there.”

“I don’t have any room here, and you know Tina’s situation.”

“I wasn’t asking, Mom, but thank you for letting me know.”

“Don’t get snitty with me.”

“I’m not.” Lucy kissed her mother’s forehead on her way out of the small house. “I’m just beginning to realize where I stand. Bye, Mom.”

“Any time,” Sheila called after her as Lucy left.

She had no idea where to go. She couldn’t go back to her house. Something else was bound to happen. Sal was still sweet, but Lucy was aware of how much the townsfolk were talking, and that it could affect Sal’s business. She wouldn’t do that. Brendon’s was out of the question. After all, she was in the middle of a divorce.

She drove back to her house. The front door still had the wood nailed over it. It looked chalky, and she realized that the deputies had likely dusted it for fingerprints. She backed off, standing in her front yard, and assessed what was left of her life. She’d never felt so alone.

“This will pass,” a voice said behind her.

She spun around.

Mr. Smith stood at the edge of her yard. “You look lost.”

Turning back to survey her house, she nodded. “It’s all I have.”

He came closer. “That’s not true. That’s just stuff. You’ve got a lot going for you. Don’t regard this as an ending, but a new beginning and you’re in charge.”

“I can’t sell the house,” she pointed out. “There’s been a murder in there. I’d have to disclose that to any likely buyer, if knowing that doesn’t scare them off, they’d have an issue with the price and expect a ridiculously big discount.”

“You’re in a fix, feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Maybe, but maybe I deserve it.”

“Tell you what. I’ve got an apartment in my basement. My daughter used to stay there. It’s like a separate house. Bring a few clothes, your laptop, and come stay with me. I’ll leave you alone to write and ask that you do the same for me. I’m in the middle of a book, and you’re just at the beginning.”

“Me? No, I’m not writing any book.”

“Yes, you are. You’re just about to begin. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do, and now is the best time to take the plunge. Your heart is heavy, and your emotional keg is full. You can’t do anything else.”

She smiled at him. “That’s very generous, but right now I don’t have the money. I have to figure out how to stay here. I’m going to need my money for the lawyer.”

“Don’t think I said anything about charging rent. Can you cook?”

“Sure.”

“I happen to be in the market for a cook. Tired of