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

the time. When she was little, Jade’s favourite was Charlie Chaplin. He made her laugh until she couldn’t stop. Summer used to do an imitation of the way he walked and doffed his hat whenever Jade felt sad after a hard day at school. Summer also used to pretend to swoon, like Chaplin’s leading ladies, her hand held dramatically to her forehead as she dropped onto the couch. Jade would rush over, joining in the pretence, and pat Summer’s cheeks or wave imaginary smelling salts under her nose, until Summer grabbed her daughter and tickled her, both of them collapsing with laughter.

That’s what I need, smelling salts, Jade thought, not understanding why she couldn’t pull herself out of this deep sleep. Why was it so dark? Was it the middle of the night?

Her eyes opened, and she realized she was sitting up, and for a minute she had a rush of panic. Did she fall asleep at her desk? What was that smell?

Everything smelled musty and damp, like dirt. Jade wanted to cough and tried to bring her hand to her mouth. But she couldn’t. When she moved her hand, something dug into her flesh, and she cried out. Was she still dreaming?

Gradually her eyes got accustomed to the dark, and her groggy mind began to clear.

She remembered the phone call, just before she was about to leave the office. It was from Mr Knight. She remembered his calm, measured voice, asking if she could spare a minute and meet him at the fish plant?

She hadn’t wanted to go to the Fat Chicken. She’d been so worried since Ricky Havers was found. She just wanted to go home, but she knew they expected her at the belly dancing display. Nadine had reminded her about six times. But a quick visit to the fish plant seemed a welcome distraction, just for half an hour, and besides, it was work, wasn’t it?

She’d left the office without telling anyone. Nobody would miss her for a while, she was sure. She’d walk down to the fish plant and when the meeting was over she would take a stroll along the boardwalk and think about what she was going to say to Inspector Vega. She couldn’t put this off any longer. The guilt was tearing her apart.

When she got to the fish plant, it was deserted. Only the gulls called to her and pecked and fussed in the evening air. The ocean lapped lazily around the pier, and Jade thought how beautiful this place could be, what potential this waterfront lot had, once the derelict fish plant was finally torn down.

Jade tried opening the door to the plant, but it was locked. Of course it was, she remembered, it was dangerous. They didn’t want kids running all over it and getting hurt.

She wandered round to the other side of the building, wondering if Mr Knight was waiting for her there.

Nobody.

Maybe she’d got the day wrong? Maybe he meant tomorrow evening, and she’d misheard, maybe deliberately, because she didn’t want to go to the Fat Chicken?

She sighed. Couldn’t put it off any longer. Mr Knight would call again.

She heard something, she couldn’t think what it was now. Maybe a gull shrieking? And then the crunch of footsteps running, someone saying something to her, but she couldn’t hear. It all went dark.

Then confusion. It felt like ten people were pushing and pulling her and whispering in her ear. It got darker and colder and then someone — a man — put their lips to her ear and said two words.

And then nothing. And now? Where was she? Why had this happened?

Jade began to cry. And then she tried to scream. But her voice seemed muffled, as if she were shouting into a pillow.

What was it that man had said to her?

“Daniel’s girl.”

Who was Daniel? She wasn’t Daniel’s girl! They had the wrong person.

Or had they? What if this was payback for Ricky?

Jade hung her head, and as she cried, she felt an overwhelming urge to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Vega stood at the front of the room.

“OK, people, I need your attention. It’s been a long day and it’s not over yet. We’re going to put together what we know so far, the limited amount of forensic data we have and information we’ve gathered from interviews and statements so far.”

He paused and looked around the room. His team had been working since the early hours of the morning. On a normal day, most of their shifts would be over. But this was not a normal day, and eyes looked expectantly back at him.

He continued.

“We’ll eat on the go — pizza and coffee are on the way, courtesy of Hephzibah’s.”

There was a murmur of appreciation in the room. Nobody had managed to eat so far that day, and given the scenes they had all witnessed, Vega knew that most of the officers wouldn’t have much of an appetite. But he needed everyone to bring their best to this case. And officers who were too tired and hadn’t eaten were not on the top of their game.

Vega continued. “Right, we have two crime scenes. Two more crime scenes. Both are homicides, and we’re treating them as one investigation at the moment, with potential links to the Ricky Havers case.”

Vega pointed to the board. Stuck to it were the unpleasant but necessary pictures of the dead victims taken at the respective crime scenes.

“First, Nadine Dagg — throat slit, found at the back of the Fat Chicken pub. Time of death was after midnight, we believe, but probably before three in the morning. Not confirmed yet, but we’ll have that soon. Over here are Dennis and Sandra Havers. Found this morning by their housekeeper, Joanna Campbell. Dennis shot in the head at his desk, and Sandra shot in her bed. Both shot