COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1), JACKIE ELLIOTT [most recommended books txt] 📗

“She suspected. Look.” Steve pulled out his phone and showed Adrian the video of Brenda rummaging through his desk.

“You have cameras in my office?” Adrian said in shock, looking around the office wildly.

“For our own protection.” Steve replaced his phone in his pocket, noticing as he did that he had two voicemails. “If we didn’t have them, I wouldn’t know about Brenda’s snooping, in here or in the plant.”

“You have cameras in the plant too?” Adrian threw his hands up in panic, realizing what Steve was saying. “You knew Brenda was in the freezer? That wasn’t an accident? Are you fucking insane?”

“She has a bump on the head, no big deal. She didn’t find anything, maybe a few illegal salmon, but I got rid of them. And she’s resigned. Now, if she says anything, she’s just a disgruntled ex-employee who broke safety rules in the fish plant. Your problem, Adrian, is not Brenda.” He leaned over and brought his face very close to Adrian’s. “This is the problem you need to focus on now. I need you to listen to me very carefully and then do everything I tell you.”

Half an hour later, Steve left Adrian sitting at his desk. He smiled at Amy and her new colleague, who both beamed back at him, and went to the bistro to get another coffee and make some phone calls in private.

He hoped that he hadn’t underestimated Adrian. One useful thing about Adrian, Steve thought, was his attachment to money and the nice things it could buy. Greed was such an easy character flaw to manipulate.

He sat at the bistro, once again admiring the decor. All paid for with a combination of poaching and drug running, a fact he’d left Adrian slowly digesting. He’d explained, as if to a five-year-old, he thought, rolling his eyes, the next steps that had to happen. Adrian had listened, for once without interrupting, and nodded his agreement when Steve told him that Nikos could no longer own any part of Hades Fish Co. “Myself or my associates will be the new majority shareholders,” Steve had told him.

Adrian was smart enough not to ask about the associates. He didn’t need to know yet. Steve needed Adrian to get Nikos in line before he knew who his new business partners would be.

Steve checked his phone. He still had two voicemails. He listened to the first one and swore under his breath. This was what you got for dealing with fucking idiots. Why the fuck would anyone talk to reporters?

His hand shook a little as he sipped the coffee the waitress had just put in front of him. It wasn’t the caffeine giving him the jitters, he knew that. One more obstacle he’d have to deal with. He checked the time. If he hurried, he could get the lunchtime ferry. It would be quicker to take a floatplane to the island, but he could pay with cash if he took the ferry. Cover his tracks.

Steve drained his coffee and ordered a sandwich to go.

He listened to the second voicemail as he waited.

“Mr Hilstead, this is Jonathan Dunn of Dunn and Grant Associates. There has been a change of plan. Our mutual friend requires the transfer of assets in Hades Fish Co. to be completed no later than a week from today. This is quicker than first discussed, but our friend has a large contract that needs to be fulfilled and he is keen to funnel this business through his new company. We drew the paperwork up for your convenience. Please pick it up from my office and get the necessary signatures. One week, Mr Hilstead, one week.”

Steve closed his eyes. Focus, he thought, breathe.

“Mr Hilstead?” The waitress was standing in front of him, holding a cardboard box. “Your sandwich?”

He opened his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, “put it on Adrian’s tab.”

One thing at a time, he thought, one thing at a time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Christina!” Gerry Roberts shouted from behind his desk. “Christina!”

Nothing. She’d gone home.

Gerry got up and walked to his office door and opened it.

He was alone in the office. Nobody popped their head around the door to say goodnight these days or invite him for an after-work drink. How had he fallen this far?

Gerry Roberts looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly. He needed a drink. He thought of the empty vodka bottle back at his apartment, and even though he’d promised himself that it would be the last time, he knew he would stop at the liquor store on the way home. Not the liquor store in his neighbourhood. He would drive to the other side of town, even though it was fifteen minutes out of his way.

Last time he picked up a bottle from the usual place — was it yesterday? The day before? He couldn’t remember. But he recalled clearly the comment from the fat woman behind the till who always asked too many questions. “Back again, eh?” she said, with a wink. “You know you can buy a bigger bottle? Right there,” and she held out a flabby arm and pointed at the Supersize Saving option for his preferred brand. He’d grabbed the bottle in the brown paper bag and slammed down the exact amount of cash. He’d left the store clutching his booze and muttering under his breath, humiliated. Sat in his car, he hesitated for a moment, then unscrewed the cap from the bottle and took a fiery swig. Then he backed the car out of the parking bay, still angry enough to jam his foot on the gas but aware that being stopped by traffic police with alcohol on his breath would be his undoing.

When he got home that night, like most of them, he didn’t bother to take off his shoes or jacket. He sat in the small living