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

or aunts, perhaps? They may come for the service and be more than Christine can put up. In that case, as I said, I have a spare room.” She wasn’t trying to sound forward, and yet, she was. For some reason, she felt crazily attracted to the man and wasn’t ready to let him sail out of her life quite yet.

“No, if Christine is full up, I guess there’s a place here in town? I wouldn’t want to put anyone out.”

“You can stay with me!” Grace Marley called over, leaping out of her chair. “That is, we run a bed and breakfast. Sleepy Glen, just at the southern edge of Main Street.”

“There!” he asserted, pointing at Grace. “You see? Just as I thought.”

The disappointed sighs were audible in the room. One look at Grace told everyone the flush on her face reflected the optimism of victory. Her husband, David, had run off with their daughter’s best friend, and Grace was in the midst of a heart-wrenching divorce.

As if Grace’s interruption wasn’t enough, the other women sitting at the nearby tables dragged their chairs up to Lucy’s table, and chattered to Greg like magpies. She knew defeat when she saw it.

Standing, she announced over the din, “I’m leaving now.”

No one noticed or said a thing, so she picked up her bag and, with a short wave at Sally, she left for home.

5

Lucy pushed open the precinct door, and the smell of government wafted over her. She’d never been comfortable in this atmosphere—too many rules and even more injustice. She preferred the freedom of the press side of the counter, but to feed that, she had to deal with the bureaucracy.

“Is Brendon in?” she asked Peter Filkins, a deputy since he became an Eagle Scout in the eighth grade.

“I take it you mean Sergeant Colt?” He had used that tone she despised so much.

“Peter, is he here or not?”

He frowned at her unfriendly retort, and she spotted his hesitation whether to respond to her request.

“I’ll see if he has time to talk with you.” His pale hands pushed away from the counter and he went in search of his superior.

Brendon poked his head around the corner moments later. “You want to see me?”

She nodded and walked toward him. He held open the gate in the wood half-wall. She followed him down the short hallway and into his office. Her mind flitting back to that moment, that tactless slip, before she shook her head to rid herself of the image. This is business! The wall adjoining the hallway was glass so he could keep an eye on things, but the remaining three were made of concrete block. Lucy had to force herself to keep from shuddering at the cold, utilitarian atmosphere.

“Sit down.” Brendon gestured to the chair opposite his.

“I wanted to know if the coroner has released his report?” She came right to the point, unsure how much he was likely to share with her.

“Off the record?”

“If we must.”

“We must. Brendon reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a folder. It was close at hand, which probably meant he’d been referencing it often.

“The coroner has confirmed the cause of death to be asphyxiation. Obviously, due to the rope being found tied around her neck. There are scratches, some bruises—most likely from trying to avoid being pushed over the edge by the perpetrator while they tried to strangle her. Oh, and she was two months pregnant.”

“Whaaaat? Angie? Geez, she must have been forty-one or so.”

“Forty-three, to be exact. It’s not unheard of, so I’m told, to fall pregnant at that age.”

“I wonder if she was aware of it.”

“We won’t know unless we hear it from someone she might have told.”

“The father…” Lucy mused. “Personally speaking, do you have any idea who that could have been? I’ve heard stories that her love life was anything but boring.”

“Really? Who?”

“Have you met Greg Dewhurst?”

“Who’s he?”

Lucy took a few minutes to fill him in on the conversation she’d had with Greg at the bakery.

Brendon chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I think we need you on the force,” he teased.

Lucy blushed.

“What do you know about her ex-husband?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that. You’re the fount of all knowledge.”

“No, seriously. You have records. When did they get divorced? Where does he live? Has he been in trouble? Were there custody battles over Christine?”

“Well, ol’ Sean. It’s been a while since we saw him around here. Always was a bit of a troublemaker. They divorced a couple years ago, and it didn’t take him long to hook up with one of her old salon customers. They live a couple of towns south of here, but I haven’t seen him around. As for the rest, I have no idea.”

“Don’t you think you should have a talk with him, at least?” Lucy persisted.

“Another good idea.” He stood and took his hat from a hook, and pocketed his keys.

“What? Now?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Well, I’m not quite ready.”

“You? What does that matter?”

“I’m going with you, of course.”

“Heh! In a cat’s eye. I don’t think so.”

“Hey. It was my idea.”

“This is official business, Lucy, and I don’t mean newspaper business. You would be impeding an investigation.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve done nothing but help up until now.”

“I’m not going to argue.”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest in determination. “Will you promise to let me know what you find out?”

“Luce, I work for the police department, not you.”

Her stubbornness was often hard for him to deal with, but it was also one of her best qualities.

She jumped to her feet with a small stomp. “And just who do you think you work for? The community!” she spat out. She marched out of his office without looking back.

With one unladylike shove on the door, she was out on the street and heading toward her car. Pulling around the block, she found a vantage point and put the car into park and waited; she didn’t have long to wait either. Brendon emerged, climbed