HELL'S HALF ACRE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 2), JACKIE ELLIOTT [best ereader for graphic novels .TXT] 📗

Andi looked at her, trying to imagine this petite, smartly dressed woman revving up a muscle car and tearing down a track in a cloud of dust.

“What? I don’t look like a racer to you?” Terri laughed, seeing Andi’s expression. “Anyhow, you haven’t come to chat about the old days with me, have you?”

Jim shook his head.

“We’re investigating the death of Ricky Havers. We think the community deserves answers,” he said simply. “Answers we didn’t get from the police. And we think the chapel where Ricky was found is significant.”

Terri set down her coffee. “I didn’t even know it was there until . . . well, until they found the remains. But Katie Dagg, my neighbour, found him. She was doing some research for her new job at the museum. She must have been terrified, poor kid. I used to babysit her when she was little.”

“You know the family well, then?” Andi asked, sitting back and letting Terri talk. She knew from experience when to just let the conversation flow.

“Not really well. Just Katie. Doug and I couldn’t have any children of our own, so we loved having her to make a fuss over. Katie was a sweet kid, and she’s grown up to be a lovely young woman.”

Jim steered the conversation back. “Do you remember the family who lived there before the Daggs?”

Terri nodded. “I remember Art Whilley. He was living alone at the old cabin when I married Doug. He was an odd man. A loner. Doug knew him well, and Ann, my mother-in-law, helped Art when he was a child. He was a very smart boy, she used to say. But the other boys at school bullied him terribly, and Ann was sure they abused him at home. But back then, there was very little anyone could do. Folks turned a blind eye to that sort of thing.”

Jim nodded. “I know. We let people sort out their own business, didn’t we? Didn’t think we should interfere with families. Goodness knows how many kids suffered.”

“The parents died before I moved in. Art . . . well, things were wild at that house. We called the place ‘Hell’s Half Acre’. The bikers who used to race at the gravel pit hung out there. The parties got out of hand. And one day, there was a fire. Doug rushed over, but he couldn’t save Art. The poor man died in the fire. Doug was cut up about it. I think he was Art’s only friend growing up.” Terri stopped and stood up. “I have some old photographs. I found them after Doug’s mum died. Let me get them, and I’ll make us some more coffee.”

Andi’s phone buzzed. She checked her messages and saw one from Andrew Vega. She didn’t read it, just tucked the phone back in her pocket.

Terri came back with three more cups of coffee and an envelope.

“Ann, my mother-in-law, she never threw anything away. She was a schoolteacher in Coffin Cove and had hundreds of pictures of the children she taught. We had mountains of paperwork to go through when she died, but I never could bring myself to throw away photographs, especially if Doug was in them.”

She pulled out some crumpled photos and handed them to Andi. “See, that’s Doug there, and beside him, that’s Art Whilley.” The photographs were faded but in colour, and Andi saw a well-built blonde man standing with his arms crossed, leaning on a red car. He was grinning broadly at the camera. On one side of him was a thin, pale man, with almost white hair, looking in the photographer’s direction, but not smiling, and on the other was a tall dark man with long hair. He was scowling. In the background was a younger man, laughing.

Andi peered closer at the picture.

“Is that Lee Dagg?” she asked, pointing at the scowling man.

“No, that’s his older brother, Wayne,” Terri said. “The blonde one, that’s Art. And it’s his Mustang. And that’s Daniel Ellis in the background.”

Andi saw Jim stiffen slightly. Probably because these were familiar names.

“I didn’t know Lee had a brother,” Andi said, handing back the pictures.

“Yes, Wayne owns the house. Lee and Nadine are just tenants, of sorts.”

“I thought you said the Whilley family owned the house? What happened to Art?”

Terri sounded sad. “Oh, it’s a tragic story. Art died in the fire, Wayne disappeared and Daniel died too.”

“What?”

“OK, you have to understand that Coffin Cove back in those days was, well, lawless. There was a real drug problem, and we were overrun by bikers. Even Doug was in a gang. I put a stop to that nonsense when we got married, but some of them were involved in some nasty stuff. The cops didn’t take much notice of the town, we didn’t have a detachment back then, and they were an hour away. So we were basically left to fend for ourselves.”

“Art doesn’t look like gang material,” Andi remarked, picking up the picture again and looking closely.

“Art was different. I mean really different. I told you Ann thought he was abused when he was little? His mother, Barb, was a monstrous woman, apparently. Ann couldn’t abide her, and my mother-in-law rarely had a bad word to say about anyone. She said Barb never fed Art properly, so Ann would call him in to eat with Doug. That’s how they became friends.”

“What are you all talking about?”

Andi looked up and saw a man, with his arms folded, much like the photograph, stood in the doorway. He was older, with faded tattoos on his forearms. And unlike the photograph, he wasn’t smiling.

He nodded at Jim. “You be careful what you say,” he told Terri, “she’s a reporter.”

Andi inwardly groaned. That damn article again.

Doug sat down. Andi could see he was careful, making