Katie couldn’t make out her mother’s reply, she just heard doors slamming. She’d heard enough, anyway. She knew about her mother’s affair. Everyone knew. Nadine didn’t even try to hide it.
Katie stayed where she was. Her parents’ relationship had deteriorated past the point where a nice civil chat mediated by their daughter would do any good at all. Especially as Nadine really seemed to dislike Katie.
Katie sat up on her bed and looked around her bedroom. It hadn’t changed since she was last living here. She had a single bed with a patchwork quilt, a large chest of drawers and a vanity unit with a large oval mirror. None of the furniture was new when she got it. Even when she was a child, she liked old stuff. She and Lee had found everything in old antique stores and they’d both worked on restoring the furniture together. They’d had so much fun. She didn’t remember her mother being involved at all.
Katie looked at the old photos she’d taped to the edges of her mirror. There were pictures of her and her friends from school, poking out their tongues and pulling faces at the camera, and all the photos her dad took of her at her graduation, her first car, every significant event in her life, but none of her and Nadine. Not one. There was one picture of her mother, a recent one, posing for the camera in her belly dancing outfit.
Katie winced. She was ashamed of her embarrassment. Maybe that was why Nadine was so hostile? She’d picked up on Katie’s disapproval. Maybe she thought Katie and Lee were ganging up on her? Maybe she should show some support for her mother and go to the belly dancing display at the pub?
But she didn’t want to. It had been an awful few days. She’d had trouble sleeping. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that skull hanging in front of her. She shuddered. She wished she could turn back the clock and not go on that hike at all. There was only one positive thing about it all. A kind young constable said to her, when he came to take her statement, “I know it was awful for you, but now Mr and Mrs Havers will at least be able to grieve for their son. It is an end to it, even if we wished it could have ended another way.”
Katie was trying to hang on to that.
She heard a car door slam and then another. Her father’s car left the driveway and Katie sighed with relief. Her warring parents must have called a truce. It looked as if Lee was taking Nadine to the Fat Chicken.
The house was finally quiet. Katie pulled herself together and grabbed some laundry off her floor. She wandered into her parents’ bedroom and picked up their laundry basket. If she did some housework it would help, and maybe keep the peace for a while.
In the laundry room, Katie sorted out clothes. She dug her hands in her jeans pocket, and her fingers closed around a piece of stiff paper. She pulled it out.
Damn. Another reminder. It was the business card that man had given her. The one who’d suggested she research that silly story. The man who started it all.
* * *
Andi was exhausted. She felt overloaded with information. Jim had dropped her off at the mall to pick her car up. Neither of them had said much since leaving Doug and Terri’s home. Jim leaned over as Andi got out the passenger seat.
“Andi, I’m not sure where all this information leaves us. I need to think it over. I’m not certain Doug South told us everything. Let’s talk about this tomorrow at the office. I have an idea, but I don’t know. You’ll think it’s crazy. But for now, you concentrate on the belly dancing tonight.” He’d grinned at her.
Shit. The bloody belly dancing. She’d forgotten.
But here she was, sitting at the bar, waiting for the festivities to begin.
Harry sat on a stool opposite her. He raised a beer glass. “Our intrepid reporter,” he said — a touch sarcastically, Andi thought. She moved around the bar to sit next to him.
“Not you as well,” she grumbled. “Everyone in this bloody place complains about Charlie Rollins all the time, but when I write an article, people act as if I’ve betrayed the town.”
Harry nodded. “I know. Life’s so unfair.”
Andi rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
Harry put his pint glass down. “Seriously, I agree Charlie’s only one notch above useless, but he needs his pension, Andi. His wife is sick, and they’re struggling.”
Andi looked at him, her heart sinking. “Shit. I didn’t know.”
Harry shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t do his job properly. Forget it, Andi. The article is out there now. But the good news? If you write a scintillating piece about Nadine’s belly dancing, everyone will forget.” He grinned at her. “C’mon. Cheer up.”
Andi managed a smile. Then she saw Hephzibah waving at her.
“I’m going to sit with your sister. Coming?”
“Nope. I’ll get a better view here.” Harry winked at her.
Nadine and her two fellow dancers shimmied and sashayed more or less in time with the music blaring from an old stereo system. The audience whooped and cheered, and the dancers shook and jingled their tassels for an encore.
“Good lord,” Hephzibah said, “that’s quite the outfit Nadine’s wearing. Or nearly wearing. I wonder what the mayor thinks of her half-dressed assistant?”
Andi looked around the pub. “Doesn’t look like she’s here. You’d think she would make the effort for the first event of the Heritage Festival.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Hephzibah said, as Nadine bent over an unsuspecting elderly man and jiggled her breasts, to the loud approval of the men in the crowd.
Andi felt a pang of sympathy for Nadine. She remembered how hard her mother had tried to get Andi’s father to pay attention to her, in the end even starting arguments. Now Andi knew more about Nadine’s past, the women seemed less of an evil adulteress and more like a woman trapped in an unhappy marriage, trying to capture some happiness. Why was it all so bloody complicated?
Andi remembered the message Andrew Vega had left. He wasn’t angry, he just sounded tired and disappointed. Why didn’t you call me before printing that article, Andi? I thought we had a better understanding than that. Call me when you get the chance.
“Hey, look over there.” Hephzibah nudged Andi. “It’s the mysterious handsome stranger.”
“Who?” Andi looked where Hephzibah was pointing and saw a tall slim man wearing an expensive-looking jacket and looking bemused at Nadine’s performance.
“He’s a developer,” Hephzibah said. “Walter’s sure he knows him. He’s deciding whether or not to develop the fish plant.”
“Wonder whether Nadine’s helping to seal the deal,” Andi murmured. “He can’t keep his eyes off her.”
Hephzibah laughed. “Another drink?” she said, pointing at Andi’s empty wine glass.
“God, yes. They’ve not finished yet.”
Half an hour later, Nadine and her dance team ended their performance. Walter looked pleased as the bar emptied out slowly. Cheryl was cleaning down tables and chatting with the remaining customers.
Andi looked around for Harry and saw him leaving. She waved and he raised a hand in response. Hephzibah left too, and Andi promised to see her for coffee in the morning.
Andi just wanted her bed now. She saw Nadine sitting on a stool at the bar and hoped she had a ride, because she knew she’d drunk far too much to offer to drive her home. But Nadine’s head was down and she seemed intent on texting someone, so Andi let it go.
At least the evening took everyone’s mind off Ricky Havers, Andi thought, as she left the bar and walked around to the steps up to her apartment. Except Sandra and Dennis, of course.
Andi spent a few minutes on her laptop, making some notes about the belly dancing. Before she went to bed, she pulled out the photograph Terri South had given her.
Andi shook her head. Would any of this help her keep her promise to Sandra? She hoped so.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dennis Havers closed the bedroom door as quietly as possible. Sandra was finally sleeping. After Inspector Vega had brought Ricky’s belt buckle and other items
for them to identify, she’d held it together remarkably well. He, on the other hand, had been shocked enough to feel light-headed. But when the police officers left, Sandra was first inconsolable and then hysterical. When Sandra read the article in the Gazette, Dennis had been worried enough about her state of mind to call their doctor. He’d administered a sedative, and eventually, Sandra allowed herself to be taken to her bedroom, where Dennis undressed her and covered her thin shoulders with the duvet.
He’d sat with her, gazing at her frail arms and hands that clutched at the pillow, even as she slept. She hadn’t been out of the bedroom since.
Before Ricky disappeared, Sandra Havers was an immaculate woman. She loved being the mayor’s wife, and whatever other problems the Haverses had in their marriage, she’d never let Dennis down when it came to her public role.
She was good-looking too, Dennis thought. She’d kept her figure with hours and hours of yoga and maintained an expensive grooming regime, including weekly visits to the spa and salon in Nanaimo.
Dennis had bitched about it at the time, but over the last months, he’d seen Sandra disintegrate. She wore only jogging pants and sweatshirts. She rarely put on any make-up, and she only had her hair done when Dennis arranged for a lady to come to the house.
The first days after her son vanished, Sandra had been confident they’d find him. They were an influential couple. Dennis was mayor, he was a powerful businessman. They’d put out feelers, call in favours and find their precious boy. She made phone calls, drew up lists of places to search and cajoled members of the multiple committees she served on to spend hours putting up posters and knocking on doors.
It was her main — no, her only — topic of conversation. Where might her son have gone? Maybe he’d fallen, hit his head and lost his memory? Maybe he’d had a girlfriend who broke his heart, and he’d run away? Maybe he’d been abducted?
At first Dennis had indulged her. He’d even attempted to help her. But all along he’d fully expected Ricky to come back, his tail between his legs.
Dennis looked at the closed door and knew it was only a matter of time before she found out. Tomorrow, he’d have to answer Inspector Vega’s questions.
He went downstairs and sat in his study. He looked around. Everything in this room was carefully chosen to reflect his status. Each leather-bound volume in the bookcase, covering one whole wall, was a book he imagined a powerful man would read. He’d never even opened one. The chair he sat in had been ordered from Eastern Canada and upholstered in the softest blood-red leather. The desk was handmade from first-growth fir, with yew inlay and just enough gold leaf to exude class. Dennis loved this room.
He especially loved gazing out the picture window. He could see the entire town. His 180-degree view took in the pulp mill at one end of the bay and the craggy cliffs at the other. He could look down on the roofs of his constituents when he was mayor and imagine them to be his subjects. Sometimes, he stood smoking a cigar and counted each property and business he either owned or leased, calculating in his mind his net worth.
Now, he looked out at the ocean, still blue in the late afternoon sun, and wondered why he’d never gone fishing like other men in Coffin Cove. Daniel, his very best friend, had been a fisherman. He’d loved being on the water.
“There’s nothing like it, Den. Being out on deck as the sun comes up, that time in the morning when the sea is calm. It’s the most beautiful thing in the universe,” Daniel had told him, with wonder in his voice.
Daniel had been like that. Unworldly. He loved the ocean. And he loved Summer Thompson.
Oh, why was he thinking about Daniel now? He’d pushed that memory out of his mind. Yet when he saw Jade for the first time, smiling and handing out campaign leaflets, he could hardly breathe. It was as though Daniel had risen from his watery grave and come back to mock him. At that moment, Dennis lost the will to fight the election. Oh sure, he’d gone through the motions, but when the results were announced, he didn’t care. He was done with Coffin Cove. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Since Ricky had gone, his entire life had fallen apart.
He bent down and pulled out the bottom drawer. He found a bottle of bourbon, a cheap one. He kept it hidden, offering important visitors the limited edition single malt from the crystal decanter. Dennis looked at the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, unscrewed the lid and took a gulp, straight from the bottle. Why the fuck had he done that? Pretended he liked the expensive booze, when really, he preferred cold beer and cheap liquor?
Everything in his life was a pretence. Especially over the last months.
Dennis reached into his desk drawer again and pulled out a manila envelope. He opened it and pulled out the single sheet of paper. It was the results of a DNA test he’d had done a year or so back. It proved Ricky wasn’t his son. He’d always had an inkling. Ricky and Sandra were always close. Ricky irritated him. The boy was arrogant and self-centred. More than once, Dennis had to placate an angry father after Ricky had molested his teenage daughter.
“Just teenagers experimenting,” Dennis would say, as he pressed an envelope of hundred-dollar bills into the man’s hand, intimating his lawyer would drag the poor girl’s name through the mud if the matter was taken any further. It usually did the trick.
Doris, Dennis’s mother — a vinegary, mean woman, who’d always hated Sandra — first told Dennis she was convinced Ricky wasn’t his biological son. The information gnawed away at him until he confirmed it once and for all.
He wasn’t prepared for the rage he felt when he saw the results. The fury and humiliation were all-consuming. How dare Sandra deceive him? How dare she spend his money and spoil that lazy piece of shit who never worked a day in his life?
So Dennis laid his plans.
He set Ricky up with a business he knew the pothead would jump at. His very own weed store? It was like all Ricky’s dreams come true at once. For all of Ricky’s adult life, he’d only showed interest in two things: screwing and weed. And Dennis figured he would kill two birds with one stone. He wanted to buy the trailer park behind the strip mall, but the price was too high. A few months of the Smoke Room and Ricky’s pothead friends partying day and night, and most of the decent tenants would leave. With substantially decreased revenue coming into the park, Dennis was sure he’d get a great deal. And Ricky? Dennis was certain of one thing: Ricky was stupid enough to think he could make some cash on the side with illegal drugs, probably hooking up with that scumbag Kevin.
Dennis was right. He had ears everywhere and knew Ricky was trying to muscle in on another patch. Dennis made a few phone calls, and it was all set up: two thugs for hire would snatch Ricky, smack him around a bit and teach him a lesson. When they dumped him back, Dennis would confront Sandra and Ricky with the DNA results.
Of course Ricky wasn’t his flesh and blood! There was no way he, Dennis Havers, would father such a pathetic loser. Then he’d send them both packing.
They’d have to manage without their lavish lifestyle and access to Dennis’s bank account.
At first, he’d thought the plan had worked. One day, Ricky disappeared. Even Sandra wasn’t unduly worried. Then she started making phone calls to his friends and driving up to the Smoke Room to check every couple of hours. Dennis took no notice, expecting Ricky to be dumped on the doorstep any day soon. But another week went past, and then another. Then Dennis made some calls. But his thugs swore they hadn’t touched Ricky. Couldn’t find him, they said. He was already gone.
Dennis made more calls, but the answer came back the same. Nobody had seen Ricky. The word was he’d started doing business with a new organization, but nobody knew who they were, not even Kevin.
As Sandra intensified her search and involved the police, Dennis became paranoid. Had Ricky found out about Dennis’s plan? Had he taken a once-in-a-lifetime business deal and just left? Dennis knew he wouldn’t let Sandra suffer. Ricky loved his mother. There was no doubt in Dennis’s mind. So he must have been taken against his w
ill. Who took him? Why?
The rumours spread through Coffin Cove. Dennis heard the gossip — it was payback, some said, for all the shady deals Dennis had done over the years. That reporter, Andi Silvers, suspected him, he knew. She’d even asked him outright during the election campaign.
“Did you have anything to do with the disappearance of your son, Mayor Havers?” she’d asked in the middle of an interview, with all his staffers present. Dennis had just stared at her, too stunned to reply. Eventually the awkward silence became too much, and Andi was asked to leave, but Dennis saw the triumphant smirk on her face.
He took another swig of Jack Daniel’s. The study was in shadow now. The sun had slid down behind the house, and Dennis could see the lights from Coffin Cove, turning his old empire into a fairyland.
He got up from his desk and staggered slightly as he removed a picture from the wall, revealing his safe. He made himself concentrate as he turned the dial. The steel door clicked and opened smoothly.
Steadying himself, Dennis emptied the contents of the safe on his desk. Without bothering to close it up or replace the picture, he sat back down again. He picked up a clean sheet of headed notepaper and started to write. When he was finished, he reached over to a roll of cash he’d just taken out of the safe and peeled off several bills. He stuffed them in the envelope, sealed it and wrote “Joanna Campbell” on the front. The housekeeper. She deserved it. He knew she’d find it tomorrow. He sat back in his chair and let his thoughts flow as his intoxication increased.
He thought again of that day with the reporter. When Andi Silvers left, his staff fussed over him, promising to make Jim Peters fire her immediately. But Sandra had surprised him most. She had flung her arms around him.
“You mustn’t feel guilty,” she sobbed. “It’s not your fault! You’ve been the best dad and husband. Ricky loves you, wherever he is, and I’ll always love you.”
He’d rubbed her back and soothed her.
He’d been a shit of a husband. He’d been screwing Nadine the whole time they were married. Nadine. She’d been his mistress, his dirty, vulgar secret, for years.
HELL'S HALF ACRE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 2) Page 18