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

was it. These cases must be linked by something or someone from the past. What was it Andi said about this town? Everyone knows everyone else’s business. Well, someone knew the connection between the Havers, Daggs and Thompsons. He just had to find that person. Or maybe it wasn’t a person. Maybe it was a place.

He leaped up and opened the door. “Charlie?”

The sergeant came running. “Yes, sir?”

“What’s the history of the chapel? Why is it there?” Vega felt, for some reason, this was the key to everything.

Charlie looked blank. “I don’t know, sir. I don’t think the Daggs built it, I think it was the previous family, the Whilleys. But they’ve all been dead for years.”

“Right.” Vega felt deflated. He had one more question for Charlie. “Do you know who Daniel Ellis is?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, sir. Never heard of him.”

PC Matt Beaufort appeared behind Charlie Rollins.

“Inspector? Have you got a minute?”

Vega spread his hands in resignation. “Sure, why not? What is it?”

“Walter from the pub is in the interview room. I think you should hear what he has to say.”

“OK, Constable, I’ll be right along.”

Vega clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “Go home, man.”

But Charlie didn’t move. “You know who could tell you more about that chapel, sir?” he said. “Clara Bell. She knows just about everyone’s history in town. And she’ll know that Daniel Ellis if he’s from Coffin Cove.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Andi couldn’t imagine eating. There was an acidic burn of stomach bile at the back of her throat and her head was pounding. She felt chilled and shivered uncontrollably. She wanted to lie down and rest but was terrified that Nadine’s glassy dead eyes would haunt her thoughts and dreams. So she struggled to stay awake, propped up at the galley table, absently petting Bruno’s head and grateful for the warmth of the dog’s body as he snuggled up to her.

Walter had arrived with Bruno when Andi got back to her apartment, after giving her statement. Walter took one look at her and told her to pack a bag. Minutes later, Harry arrived.

“You can stay on the boat for a few days,” he said gruffly, while Andi threw a few things in a bag and packed her laptop. “You can have my stateroom. And Bruno’s coming with us. He likes it on the boat.”

Andi hadn’t argued. The last place she wanted to be was this apartment. She didn’t think she could ever stay here again. She thought for a moment and picked up Terri’s photo and slipped it into her bag. She called Jim and told him where she was going. He agreed it was the best idea all round.

Harry followed her down the steps, and then, with a hand on her shoulder, gently steered her away from the trash cans where Andi had found Nadine that morning. Andi couldn’t look. There was nothing there. The forensic team had finished a few hours before, and Andi guessed they were at the Haverses’ house. The news of Dennis and Sandra’s killings were like a gut punch. Andi had been too shocked to speak. Suddenly, her quest for a story seemed childish, even obscene. Three senseless deaths in one horrific night, on top of the murder of Ricky Havers.

Andi couldn’t think of any connections. She felt tired of it all. She felt like she’d unearthed something larger and more sinister than she’d ever imagined possible and somehow unleashed this evil. She didn’t know what the “something” was. Logically, she knew none of this was her fault. But as she buried her face in Bruno’s fur, she just wanted it all to go away.

Harry stood with his back to her, slicing and throwing garlic, onion and vegetables into a large frying pan on the galley stovetop.

He poured her a glass of wine without asking and put it in front of her.

“What are you cooking?” Andi asked, as the aroma of spices filled the cabin. Andi searched her mind for the last time she had smelled food like this and could not remember.

“Halibut cheeks,” Harry said.

“What?” Andi looked at him, confused.

“You asked what I’m cooking,” he said. “It’s OK. You’re still in shock.”

“I didn’t know halibut even had cheeks.” Andi managed a smile.

“Best bit of the fish,” Harry said as he put a plate of food in front of Andi. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

They both ate their meal in silence, as it grew dark outside.

From the cabin window, Andi watched as the moonlight threw a shaft of shimmering light over the ocean, and the gentle rhythmic ripple of waves comforted her a little.

“It has a calming effect,” she said to Harry. “Being on the water, I mean. Is that why you live out here?”

“Hephzibah rents my house,” Harry answered. “As much as I love my sister, there’s no way I want to live with her. She has too much stuff.”

Andi laughed.

“The boat suits me,” Harry continued. “I have everything I need.” He looked at her curiously. “What about you? That little apartment. It’s OK, but I thought it was temporary . . .”

Andi looked down at her plate and fiddled with her cutlery. She hadn’t been hungry, but somehow the plate was empty.

“It was. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I promised Jim I’d stay for another year, but now . . . I don’t know, I just keep thinking I’ve fucked up somehow.”

She felt the tears come and wiped her hand over her face.

“How have you fucked up?” Harry demanded.

Andi looked up. He was serious.

“Well, in my continuing obsession for a good story, I published details of the investigation I wasn’t supposed to, I practically accused Charlie Rollins of killing Ricky Havers, I didn’t find out anything for Sandra Havers and now she’s dead, and so is Dennis and poor Nadine.”

“Are you