Hephzibah was one reason Summer had stayed in Coffin Cove. Greta died years ago, and just before she did, Summer promised her she’d always watch over Hephzibah. In latter years, it had been the other way around. Hephzibah had supported both Summer and Jade.
She was quite the mother figure to many of the townsfolk, and Hephzibah provided a friendly ear for anyone’s problems. She also heard all the gossip. And that was why Summer was here this morning.
“So the body was definitely Ricky Havers’?” Summer didn’t waste any time with small talk. If Hephzibah was taken aback, she didn’t show it.
“Yes, the police issued a statement. Andi Silvers was in here this morning, heading up to the Daggs’ to get more info from Katie. But I doubt she will. Apparently, the place is crawling with cops.”
“Must be murder,” Summer said flatly.
“Yes. Andi says so. Not official yet, but why would all these police be here?” Hephzibah said. “They informed Dennis and Sandra before the press conference. Can’t imagine what they’re feeling.”
“Guilt?” Summer remarked cynically, and then, “Sorry, totally unfair. Nobody deserves that pain.”
But a place in Summer’s heart remained hardened towards Dennis Havers.
Like all of Coffin Cove, Summer had believed Dennis Havers was corrupt. But there was little that anyone could do to stop the shady real estate purchases, the awarding of city contracts to his inner circle for a price and the collection of extra repair fees from his commercial tenants which amounted to a protection racket. But Dennis owned so much of Coffin Cove and had been one of the major employers for so long, it went against most people’s financial interests to oppose him.
If Dennis had been elected once again, Summer would have been one of his tenants in the trailer park. Dennis was just waiting for the sale price to decrease, as the owner grew more desperate. It had been part of Dennis’s plan, Summer believed, to drive out as many tenants as possible, and squeeze the owner’s cash flow until he could negotiate the sale price he wanted. Setting Ricky up in the marijuana store wasn’t outside the law. Weed was legal. But Dennis had known that Ricky would never be content with selling his official inventory.
Summer had organized a petition against the Smoke Room. It was nothing more than a gesture, really. The city council gave her a few minutes to make a presentation, but Summer could see by the bowed heads and embarrassed squirming that Dennis had “persuaded” the council members to reject her proposal to close the Smoke Room.
Summer was making her own arrangements to move when Jade came to visit. She knew her daughter had been miserable in Coffin Cove. Undiagnosed dyslexia had blighted her early school years. She’d never been part of the in-crowd during her teenage years. It had been difficult for Jade, a quiet bookish girl, and she’d made her escape to college, intending never to return. Summer hadn’t known, until the previous summer, the trauma her daughter experienced at the hands of Ricky Havers.
The thought of it now made Summer clench her fists in rage. Her beautiful daughter. Defiled by that entitled piece of scum. Jade had been strong enough to confront Ricky. Summer remembered that night. But even in death, Ricky was still making Jade pay.
Jade had been very quiet when she came home the previous evening. She’d told Summer about the discovery. She hadn’t mentioned where Ricky was found, except it was on Dagg’s property. When Summer heard that, she felt as if an icy hand was clutching her heart. She said nothing to Jade, except to squeeze her hand and whisper, “Don’t worry. It’s all over now.”
Jade had nodded, but Summer could see the anxiety in her daughter’s face. And she didn’t believe it herself.
Having been lost in her thoughts, Summer lost her appetite for muffins and finished her coffee in silence when Hephzibah hurried off to serve her customers. Summer watched the ocean transform from pewter to blue as the morning clouds scuttled across the sky, and wondered what she could do to protect her daughter.
Even though the sun was out, and the half-hour walk home usually made Summer perspire, she shivered in the breeze, unable to shake a sinister chill. When she reached the gate to the cottage, she stood for a moment looking out over the bay. The ocean was so pretty and calm in the sunshine, but all Summer could see were scenes from the past, playing out in her mind. She and Coffin Cove shared a dark, menacing history.
Summer tried to enjoy the blue sky. She took a few slow, mindful breaths of cool air.
The dark clouds of the past were rolling in.
* * *
As Summer lifted her face to the sun and stretched her palms outwards and upwards, as if worshipping Mother Nature, a man watched her from a distance. He’d been watching the cottage for hours. He’d seen Jade Thompson, the mayor, leave early. Her face was drawn and tense as she drove past him, oblivious to his presence. He’d even lifted his hand in greeting, as if he was just an early-morning walker. But he need not have worried. She was preoccupied. But still beautiful, he’d thought. He’d then seen Summer Thompson walk down the hill. He wanted to follow her but stayed hidden near her home. He didn’t need her recognizing him yet. As he gazed at her back as she walked away from him, he thought she too, like her daughter, looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Still a handsome woman, the man thought. Thicker round the waist, and she still favoured that bohemian look. He snorted to himself. Summer had never been a hippie. It was just a convenient part she played. It must still work for her, he supposed.
He hung around a little longer hoping Summer would return. He was taking his time, getting reacquainted with his old stomping ground. He’d reveal his presence soon enough. In the meantime, he’d gather information on some of his favourite people. He was getting ready to leave when Summer walked up the hill, her head down. He turned away from her and bent over, as if picking something up or tying a shoelace. She walked straight past him. She stopped at the gate and looked over the bay for a long time. He was fascinated. Could she sense him? Summer had always been very astute.
He watched her turn and walk back indoors. Long after she disappeared from view, he watched for her, hoping to catch just one more glimpse.
Chapter Seventeen
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Jim said.
“Right, then.” Andi felt a buzz of anticipation. She lived for this, teasing out the threads of stories, chasing down leads and exposing the truth. This time she had extra motivation. Andi had looked into Sandra Havers’ eyes and seen raw pain. No mother deserves to live like that, not knowing what happened to her son. Andi had made a promise and intended to keep it.
Earlier, Jim had raised his eyebrows when he saw the brief article Andi had written, but nodded his approval. She pressed “send”. On Friday morning, the residents of Coffin Cove would know they were in the midst of a murder inquiry. Thanks to PC Matt Beaufort and his loose tongue, Andi had her first scoop in a long while.
Andi felt a small pang of guilt but pushed it aside. The police should be held accountable. Charlie Rollins barely moved from his desk to put up a “Missing” poster to help find Ricky, and even Vega had swept aside any suspicion of foul play. Now it was too late for Ricky Havers. The best Andi could do for him and Sandra was to find out what happened.
Andi smiled at Jim, grateful for his support.
They pushed two desks together and spread out the contents of Andi’s file.
Andi had cleared a wall. She liked to have a visual representation of her investigations. It helped her “see” connections. And so she created a story wall. Jim didn’t mind it either.
“All right. For the moment, the start of all of this is Ricky’s disappearance.”
She pinned a picture of Ricky in the middle.
Jim looked at her with raised eyebrows.
Andi explained. “His disappearance wasn’t the start. Like all good stories, we’ve joined in the middle. The plot started way before then.”
Jim nodded. “Fair enough. So what have we got? Facts first — we’ll go ove
r the theories in a minute.”
As if she were telling a story, Andi walked Jim through the known facts of Ricky’s disappearance. She pinned pictures and their own articles on the wall to illustrate her points.
There wasn’t a lot of material.
“Nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, there was no evidence of a struggle. Ricky didn’t have a car. If he left of his own free will, he didn’t take any clothes. He didn’t take any money, and he hasn’t used a credit card or his bank account since. It’s as if he just vanished about nine months ago, and then turned up dead in an old ruined chapel.”
Jim said, “OK, what about the theories? What have we missed, what have the police missed?”
Andi laughed without humour.
“For a start, Charlie Rollins was in charge of the investigation. I talked to him a few days after Ricky vanished, and all he said was, ‘Ricky’s a grown man. He can leave Coffin Cove when he wants.’ He put up a few posters in the end, but basically did nothing until Sandra started rattling cages and they forced him to. Even then, he just made an appeal for people to come forward if they knew something. He still, to this day, has done nothing.”
Jim nodded.
Andi carried on. “And you know what I find strange about all that? Dennis Havers was the mayor. You’d have thought Charlie Rollins, however lazy he is, would have put some effort into finding the mayor’s son. Don’t you think?”
Jim shrugged. “It looks like a complete dereliction of duty. But we have the benefit of hindsight. Charlie didn’t know there was anything to worry about at that point. It was a reasonable assumption that Ricky had left for personal reasons and was just fine.”
“What if . . .” Andi stopped. She walked over to the wall and taped up a piece of paper with Charlie Rollins’ name on it. “What if Charlie Rollins did nothing because he knew there was nothing to worry about? Maybe someone told him not to waste his time looking.”
“You think Charlie Rollins was complicit in Ricky’s death?” Jim dismissed that. “No way. Charlie’s an idiot, but he’s not a killer. I don’t buy that.”
“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying maybe someone told Charlie not to worry, Ricky was fine, he just didn’t want anyone to know where he was?”
Jim took a deep breath. “I guess it’s possible. I assume you’re going with Sandra Havers’ suspicion of Dennis?”
Andi said, “Let me put it this way. If Ricky hadn’t been operating the Smoke Room, don’t you think he would still be alive and well and smoking dope in Dennis’s basement?”
Jim shook his head. “Uh, no. You’ll have to do better than that, Andi. These are conspiracy theories at best. A more plausible explanation would be Ricky dealing illegal drugs through the Smoke Room and stepping on someone’s toes.”
“Then why not just beat him up? Why spirit him away and kill him in the bush? Drug dealers don’t usually plan elaborate crimes, do they?”
Jim didn’t answer.
Andi carried on. “I think Sandra’s right to be concerned about Dennis. And I also think there’s a connection between Ricky Havers and Jade Thompson. Or Summer Thompson.”
“Wait here.” Jim left the office and went into a small storage room. He came out carrying a cardboard box. He set it down on the table and looked at Andi.
“Now, I’m not saying I agree with you — yet. I think you have a lot of theory and not enough evidence — hardly any, in fact. But I know you have good intuition for a story, and I know you read people well. I’m inclined to think the simplest explanation is usually the best. Ricky pissed off another drug dealer. They dragged him off and for whatever reason, he ended up in the woods, and because Charlie Rollins is an idiot, nobody found him until now. But—” he held up his hand to stop Andi interrupting — “but . . . I did some digging. I checked in Dad’s archives to see if there were any stories linking Summer Thompson and Dennis Havers. And I also did a search on Art Whilley and Daniel Ellis.”
Andi’s eyes widened. “The company documents! You snooped,” she said accusingly.
“I supervised,” Jim said calmly. “I’m your supervisor and it’s my job to supervise you and your . . . er . . . source documents. Did Sandra give them to you?”
Andi nodded. “I thought she must have persuaded some friend in the RCMP to do a search or something. I didn’t know how to use them — if I could use them without getting her into trouble. Or me.”
“Or us,” Jim said. “Well, thankfully, you exercised good judgment. You’ve benefited from excellent supervision. Now, let’s see if we can approach this from another direction.”
He pointed to the box. “Let’s go through this and get everything relevant up on that wall. Ready?”
They worked until Jim’s eyes hurt and they had filled the wall with a visual timeline of Ricky Havers’ disappearance. They’d made connections between persons of interest and identified gaps in their knowledge and questions that needed answering. They had a list of people to interview.
But it still looked chaotic to Jim. He grabbed a blank piece of paper and a marker pen and scribbled down five words. Then he held it up for Andi to see.
“We have to answer these questions before we can write anything,” Jim said.
Andi read aloud, “Who, what, why, when, where.” She gestured to the wall. “The ‘who’ part of this is somebody up here, I’m certain. The ‘what’? What killed Ricky? Only the police and forensics can answer that.”
Jim shook his head. “No, you’re confusing the ‘what’ with the method of killing. I’m thinking more about the connection between the ‘what’ and ‘why’. What was the motivation? Why Ricky? What motivates people to kill?”
Andi held her hands up and counted off her fingers, “Love, sex, money, power, anger, revenge.”
Jim nodded. “And why Ricky? Because of drug dealing? Then it would be money and power. But we know they left the cash in the register at the Smoke Room, and as far as we know, the inventory was left alone as well. Also, why not kill him on the spot? Why take him? And — this is the one question which bugs me — why did Ricky end up at the chapel site, a few kilometres away? If someone wanted him dead, why dump him in Coffin Cove?”
“It’s remote,” Andi pointed out. “It’s not a well-known trail, and it’s on private land.” She guessed where Jim was going with this but was playing devil’s advocate.
“Exactly. It’s hard to get to. The person or persons would risk being seen. I know it’s just the Daggs and one neighbour up there, but there’s plenty of old logging roads around here and lots of places in the bush to dump a body. Including mineshafts. If a body was dumped down a mineshaft, it would never be found.”
“And that also brings us to ‘when’,” Andi said. “Surely if a body was dumped months ago, there would be nothing left. What about bears? Cougars? So Ricky was either killed recently, or his body was kept somewhere and then left at the chapel.”
Jim nodded. “Either way, I believe the chapel is significant. And another thing, Andi — I think it blows up your theory about Dennis having anything to do with Ricky’s death. Why leave his body right here in Coffin Cove?”
Andi nodded. “I guess so. I still think Dennis is connected, but maybe it’s got something to do with his past? Someone getting to Ricky because of some shady deal that went wrong. Leaving Dennis or someone else a message?”
“Possible, for sure. But I think the location is the key. So I’m starting there.” Jim rubbed his eyes and looked down the list. “I’ll take Clara Bell,” he said. “She’s eccentric, but she liked my father, so she’ll probably talk to me. She knows local history and the entire area. And first thing tomorrow, I’ll have a coffee with Charlie Rollins. See if I can pry something out of him. But he’s waiting for a pension, so I doubt he’ll confess anything.”
“OK. I’ll take Katie Dagg. I couldn’t get near her today, but I’ll try again. I’m curious why she took a hike out there in the first place. If the location is significant, or the killer
wanted a message sent, then he or she had to be confident the body would be found.”
“Good point. Not many people go traipsing through the woods, there are too many old mineshafts. You have to know where they are.”
“OK, boss.” Andi yawned. “I’m bushed, so I think I’ll call it a day. I need an early night. Tomorrow night is the belly dancing display and Cheryl’s expecting a crowd.” She pulled a face.
Jim laughed. “As senior reporter for the Coffin Cove Gazette, I expect you to attend.”
“I thought you were the senior reporter?” Andi retorted.
“No, I’m supervisor to the senior reporter, remember? And you’d better get off. You’ll need an early start. As soon as your inspector sees the headline tomorrow, he’ll be trying to shut you down.”
Andi grimaced. “I know. Still, all is fair in love and war, right?” She gathered up her purse and said goodnight.
* * *
Andi didn’t usually worry about a story after she’d submitted it. But although she was tired, she couldn’t sleep that night.
She flung back her bedcovers, padded over to her kitchen area and drank a large glass of water.
Damn it, she was concerned about Andrew Vega’s reaction to her short article. If she was entirely honest with herself, she’d written it in a fit of self-righteous pique after their phone conversation the other day. Andrew had been so patronizing. She hated being talked down to, as if she was naïve about the potential impact of her investigation.
As Andi sat in the darkness, she had to admit she’d used Constable Beaufort’s inexperience for her own ends. Just to get back at Andrew. And that wasn’t right.
What was wrong with her? Why did she care what he thought of her? Hadn’t she had enough of trying to please men? She’d spent so much energy — to no avail — to get Gavin’s attention, and that had ended in disaster. She couldn’t make that mistake a second time. Problem was, she really liked Andrew Vega, and she was certain he liked her back. But that would likely change when he read her article tomorrow.
HELL'S HALF ACRE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 2) Page 13