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

Angie and casually mentioned what he did—you know, for old time’s sake. Maybe he was trying to impress her, hoping she’d reciprocate for a little romance, who knows? I will say that for him to tell you what he did is completely against professional ethics and probably against the law, whether she’s dead or not.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But he had the look of someone who might have been very professional at one time. He would know that. Why would he seek me out? He spoke to me and asked me to confirm my identity, but I got the impression he knew very well who I was.”

“Who would benefit from him telling you all that, assuming it wasn’t true?”

“I have no idea. The only person connected would be Christine, but I saw her with a brand-new Cadillac. She was trying to hide it and get away from me.” Lucy forced herself to think objectively, like the reporter she was.

“Hmmm…what did Christine do for a living?”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure. Her mother said that Christine and she had been having some problems and that Christine was always short of money. The last update Angie gave me regarding her daughter’s car was that it was falling apart. Imagine my surprise seeing her loading up a new one.”

“What does that tell you?”

Lucy’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Christine’s lying…about something. I don’t know how much or why, but her statements to me don’t add up.”

“Where did you get the information about Christine’s situation?”

“From Angie.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait. Are you saying that Angie intentionally lied to me?”

“Did she?”

Lucy ate only a few more bites of her dinner and then leaped up to rinse her plate.

“I wash, you cook, remember?”

“This time, I’ll let you,” Lucy allowed. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Lucy…” Jon cautioned. “Be careful.”

25

Lucy’s hands were shaking as she ran out to her car and retrieved her laptop. She raced back inside, jumped onto her bed and fired it up, opening the spreadsheet. She added in the new characters, including the guy from the diner, and Kathy, too. She also deducted some characters and changed her knowns and unknowns. Unfortunately, almost everything she thought she knew, now went into the unknown column.

Color coding from dark to light, she arranged the names according to her personal estimation of likelihood of guilt. She inserted a new column and arranged the names by clusters of who were closest friends and likely to know one another’s personal business.

It was late when she finally wrapped it up for the night. She showered and prepared her wardrobe for the next day, eager to set off early. She needed to be somewhere.

The alarm woke her, and Lucy slid into her favorite pedal pushers that she’d embroidered up one leg. A baggy sweatshirt with a polar bear applique completed her outfit. She skipped up the stairs and knocked, and Jon opened the door a few moments later.

“Why don’t I just keep the door unlocked? That way if you want to get started before I’m up, you can just leave me something simple for breakfast.”

“You read my mind, Jon, thank you. Scrambled eggs okay this morning?”

He nodded. “I could get away with just toast, if you want the truth. I’m at a crucial point in the book and I have a feeling you have some errands?”

Lucy blew him a kiss and buttered toast for the pair of them, adding a side of blackberry jam and hot tea for him. “I’m off!”

Waverly seemed somewhat different in the morning light—less depressing was a good way to describe it, in Lucy’s opinion. She made her way to Angie’s ex-husband’s house and stepped right up to the front door.

“Good morning,” she greeted him when the door opened. “Not sure if you remember me, but I was a friend of Angie’s and I wondered if I might ask you a question. I would’ve called, but didn’t have your cell number.”

He peered over his shoulder and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind himself. “What kind of question? I don’t want to be dragged into this.”

“I appreciate that. Did Angie like boating?”

Cocking his head at the odd question, he eventually shook it. “Not a bit. She couldn’t swim, you know. Wouldn’t even sit on the beach where the tide would eventually come in.”

“I know it sounds strange, but that was a tremendous help. Thank you.” She turned toward her car.

“Not Christine, though,” he called after her. “She swims like a fish, even though I don’t know how she learned. Angie wouldn’t take her near the water.”

Lucy gave him a thumbs-up and happily got into her car and headed back to Wellington. Her fear and anxiety now dissipated, she boldly walked into Sal’s and ordered her usual. The women’s banter eased down in volume as they each surreptitiously looked in her direction as though she was some sort of zoo animal. She’d had enough.

Lucy stood, and banged a spoon on the Formica of her table for attention. “Good morning, everyone! Let’s not beat around the bush here. I’ve been where you are, you know. If you have a question, come and join me, and I’ll answer it for you. I’ll save you a bit of trouble, though. No, I did not kill anyone. No one. Yes, I am getting a divorce, but it is Mark’s idea. Actually, he left me some time ago, but it was only recently that I realized it. She’s a teacher where he works, so if you want more info on that, call the school. Tell them you’re a busybody from Wellington Village—that should get you straight through to the superintendent. I don’t know who broke into my house and, at the moment, given that there are bloodstains on my basement floor, I’m not too keen on moving back in. A kind friend has taken me in, and I’m living in a separate apartment—with locked doors so there’s no hanky-panky going on. I don’t know for sure who