COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1)

by JACKIE ELLIOTT

  He must have a good lawyer. In any case, the information was scant, and she wasn’t sure what she was looking for, anyway.

  The omelettes at the Steveston Hotel were Brenda’s favourite. She ordered from the waitress who had worked the breakfast shift forever and thanked her for the coffee.

  While she and Harry waited for Nikos to arrive, she told Harry again, this time in more detail, about her suspicions about Hilstead and what she had found in Adrian’s desk.

  She coloured a little and stumbled over her words as she described her snooping, but Harry touched her arm.

  “You did the right thing, Bren. Nikos and Adrian will thank you. Hilstead is bad news.”

  Before Brenda could ask what he meant, Nikos Palmer arrived at the café. As he shuffled towards them, Brenda hoped her face didn’t show her shock at seeing how frail her former boss had become. Nikos wasn’t ever a big man, but his personality used to fill every room he was in. Now, he seemed shrunken and small — fearful, even, Brenda thought.

  If Harry was surprised, he didn’t show it.

  “Nikos!” He stood up and grabbed the old man’s outstretched hand.

  “Harry. Good to see you, man. And Brenda. You two ask me here to invite me to your wedding?” Brenda was pleased to see the humour in his eyes, and she hugged him.

  “No way, Nikos, I’m holding out for someone better!” she laughed.

  “Ah, did you hear that, Harry? You’d better smarten up!” Nikos, a first-generation immigrant, had never lost his accent. He was full of energy and drive and swept everyone along with him.

  Remembering that enthusiasm, Brenda felt twenty years fall away as she listened to Nikos and Harry retell old fishing stories and exchange banter.

  After they had eaten, Harry ordered another round of coffee. Nikos slapped his hand on the table.

  “So! If you two are not getting married, why did you drag an old man out here this early in the morning, eh? What’s going on?”

  Brenda looked at Harry and took a deep breath. She told Nikos her concerns about numbers that didn’t add up and the file of receipts and documents she’d found in Adrian’s office.

  “I’m worried about Steve Hilstead, Nikos. Maybe Adrian doesn’t know what’s going on,” she added, gamely attempting to shield the old man from his son’s involvement.

  Nikos patted her hand.

  “Brenda. I asked you to keep an eye on my son. Not to cover up for him.”

  He turned to Harry.

  “This Steve Hilstead. What do we know about him? Why would Adrian trust him?”

  Harry shook his head.

  “I don’t know why he would trust Hilstead. Remember that year I delivered the biggest catch of my life?”

  Nikos nodded and laughed. “Remember? You never let me forget.” He puffed his chest out and pretended to swagger, imitating young Harry.

  Harry smiled. “OK, maybe I was a bit cocky back then,” he admitted, “but do you remember the packer that was buying fish for cash? It was even called King of Cash, remember? They were buying directly off us and then selling to the processors.”

  Nikos bent his head for a moment. “I’m getting old, Harry, I don’t remember.”

  “Well, remember what you told me then?” Harry persisted. “You told me that if they were buying a fish for a dollar and then selling it for a dollar, they were washing cash, remember?”

  Nikos nodded slowly. “I do remember that.”

  “Well, that was Steve Hilstead. And his father, I think. He wasn’t just washing cash, he was selling coke. He even paid some of the guys in coke. Rumour was that he was paying off a DFO guy, because he never got busted.”

  “And this same guy is working with my son?”

  “Same guy. But it was years ago, Nikos. Things might have changed.”

  Brenda interrupted. “I’m not sure he has changed.” She told them what she had found the night before.

  “And that’s not all, Nikos. Adrian is paying the guys less and less. Some of them are really struggling, so Adrian has bought their licenses and quotas and sometimes shares in the boats. They have to rent the quotas back, and now, if they have to pay Hades a share to cover boat costs, some of them are literally fishing for nothing. They can’t even cover their fuel bill.”

  Nikos nodded.

  “I hear things still, Brenda. Some old guys still phone. I know that Adrian has been squeezing them. I don’t know why.” He sighed. “But I suspect he’s spent his way into trouble. I warned him against opening the bistro. Makes no damn sense!” Brenda could see Nikos was agitated.

  “It’s my fault,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I should have spent more time with him when he was young. Iris spoiled him. He wanted nice things, fast cars. He doesn’t love the work, not like I used to.”

  “We just want to protect your legacy, Nikos,” Brenda said. “For you and Adrian.”

  “Ah, Brenda.” Nikos had tears in his eyes. “Hades is not my legacy. My son is. I must help him.”

  The three of them sat in silence for a moment while Nikos composed himself.

  “I will talk to my son,” he said at last. “But I must have proof, not just suspicions. Can you get that for me, Brenda?”

  She nodded. “I can do that. But I don’t know what to look for.”

  “It’s not illegal to import fish,” Harry said. “It’s only illegal if the fish have come from a closed area, or if they are being passed off as something else.”

  “How will I know?” Brenda asked. “All I have is paperwork and numbers that don’t match up.”

  “The only way to know for sure is to have the fish tested in a lab. You would have to get scale samples. And you’ll have to do it fast, before it’s sold. Hilstead is not stupid, he won’t want illegal fish hanging around.”

  “It won’t be his neck on the line,” Brenda pointed out. “It’ll be Adrian that takes the fall if they get caught.”

  Harry nodded. “It’s a sweet situation for Hilstead. He gets a backhander, I’m sure, for taking the fish, and Adrian takes all the risk.”

  “I’ll do it,” Brenda said. “I’ll find a reason to get into the storage unit, and I’ll get samples. Then we’ll know. Hopefully, we can stop it before Adrian gets into trouble.”

  “You sure, Brenda?” Harry asked. “Steve Hilstead is a nasty piece of work. Where he goes, trouble happens.” He told them about the suspicious death at the fish plant the day before.

  “You don’t think Hilstead is involved?” Brenda said, feeling worried.

  Harry shrugged.

  “I’m not saying that. I just know that he’s bad news. So be careful.”

  “You would do all this for Adrian?” Nikos asked.

  “Of course I will,” Brenda said, squeezing his hand, knowing that she was doing this for Nikos, not his son.

  “Thank you, Brenda. I must go,” Nikos said, struggling to his feet. “Please be careful. And you—” he turned to Harry — “make an honest woman of her, will you? You’ve left it far too long!”

  Harry laughed and got up to shake Nikos’ hand. “Oh, she can do much better than me, Nikos.”

  Brenda hugged the old man, and she and Harry watched him walk away, his shoulders stooped, as if he were shrinking inward with age and worry.

  “I should go,” Brenda said, “I’m late for work.”

  Harry paid the bill, and they stepped outside.

  “One thing,” she said. “Who was it they found dead in the fish plant? Do you know yet?”

  When Harry told her, Brenda looked at him wide-eyed. “That’s the name on one of the receipts in that file!” She told Harry how she had found the name and on impulse called the number.

  “Well, you know now why you didn’t get an answer,” Harry said. “You were calling a dead man. But I wonder how Mason was involved with Hades? Maybe they were paying him to protest and screw up the Herring fishery.”

  Brenda let that sink in as they walked back to the dock. Harry jumped on his boat and s
tarted her up. Brenda helped untie the lines and threw him the ropes, same as she had done years ago. Above the throaty roar of the idling engine, she shouted, “Thanks for coming over, Harry.”

  There was something else at the back of her mind, that she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t grab it out of her recesses of her memory. She shook her head.

  Never mind, she thought, I’ll get it.

  Harry waved and shouted back, “I’ll call you when I get back,” and with a last smile, he climbed up into the wheelhouse, and the Pipe Dream chugged away from the dock.

  Brenda watched as the boat slowly made its way beyond the breakwater, and then heard the engine kick into gear as the boat gathered speed and slipped away on the horizon.

  It had been wonderful to see Harry again, she decided. And they could surely help Nikos and Adrian get Hades back on track. But as she slowly walked towards the office, she couldn’t shake a weird feeling that there was something more ominous going on.

  As she reached the doors of Hades and entered the familiar lobby, decorated with black-and-white photos of the glory days of the fishing industry, she caught the thought that had been eluding her.

  She remembered where she had heard the name Pierre Mason before.

  And she knew what she needed to ask Harry.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Andi waited impatiently at the RCMP detachment. The previous evening, she had gone to the press conference and listened as the official press liaison officer confirmed that the deceased was Pierre Mason and that his death was under investigation. Andi hadn’t expected to get any more information. The press conference was sparsely attended, but she knew that it wouldn’t be long before the media arrived. Pierre Mason was a controversial figure. Sure enough, on her way to the detachment, she saw a couple of media vans just arriving into town.

  A young constable told her that someone would be along shortly to speak to her and showed her into an interview room, where she sat on a plastic seat at a desk in the middle of the room. He offered her some coffee, and Andi accepted.

  It was horrible coffee, lukewarm and served in a styrofoam cup, but she drank it anyway. Half an hour passed. She was about to leave and make an appointment for another time when the door swung open, and a tall man in jeans and a sports jacket came into the room, holding a notepad and a file.

  He was youngish — forty, maybe, Andi guessed. Dark hair and complexion, with brown eyes. Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, she thought.

  “Hi, I’m Inspector Vega.” He held out his hand. “Andrea Silvers, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but you’ll understand that we’re pretty busy at the moment.”

  “Andi,” she replied, and smiled back. She understood.

  “So you have something to tell me about the deceased?”

  Inspector Vega took a seat, grabbed a pen from his inside pocket and waited for Andi to tell her story.

  She told him first about her encounter with Mason at the Fat Chicken, two nights previously. Vega listened, making notes. He waited until she was finished before asking questions.

  “Why do you think he felt the need to threaten you with legal action?”

  “Well, I guess he wasn’t happy with the articles that Jim did last time,” Andi said, shrugging.

  “Mason was cleared completely of any involvement with Sarah’s death. Why would you be pursuing the same story?”

  Andi was irritated. “I’m not pursuing the same story, I’m pursuing the story of why he is — was — in Coffin Cove.”

  Vega checked his file.

  “Yet you and Jim went out to interview Sarah’s mother and grandfather?”

  “Yes.” Andi felt herself redden.

  “Why would you do that, if you’re not pursuing the same story?” Vega asked, fiddling with papers in his file. “Could be upsetting for them, couldn’t it, having someone ask painful questions about the past?”

  “Well, I am curious about who might have killed Sarah — you guys still haven’t solved the case, right?” Andi shot back. “They might be glad that Sarah hasn’t been forgotten.”

  Vega ignored her.

  “OK, do you know the significance of the picture Mason emailed? Recognize any of the boats?”

  “No, I don’t,” Andi answered. Technically it was true. She hadn’t recognized any of the boats, Jim had. But she wanted the chance to investigate further, maybe get an interview with Harry to get a head start on the police investigation.

  “And the cell phone you turned in, did you see this, er . . . Brian McIntosh drop it?” Vega looked up from his notes.

  Andi nodded. “Yes, I saw it hit the ground when he ran off.”

  “Were there any calls? Before you turned it in?”

  “Just one,” Andi lied again. “I answered it, and that’s how I found out the phone was Mr Mason’s.”

  “Sure?”

  Andi shrugged. “It was the only one I heard.”

  “Right then, Miss Silvers . . . Andi. Thanks for all your help. And if you think of anything else, please let me know.” Vega handed her a card and got up, indicating that the interview was over.

  Andi shook his hand and Vega showed her to the detachment entrance.

  “Oh, Miss Silvers,” he called after her, as she walked away, “be careful about digging up old stories. Don’t want you to lose another job, do we?” He smiled and disappeared back into the building.

  Andi stared back at his disappearing figure. She was getting tired of people investigating her.

  She checked her phone. She didn’t feel like going to the office just yet. The interview with Inspector Vega had left her feeling unsettled. He had an unnerving way of looking through her, she decided. She hadn’t exactly been untruthful, she’d just omitted a couple of details, and it wasn’t her job to do their investigation for them.

  She needed to clear her mind, so she went back to her apartment to work on her story wall.

  She had two victims now. Two violent deaths in the same town, and connections between the two victims. Even if Mason hadn’t killed Sarah, he was seen with her before her death, and she had been to the forestry protests at least once, according to Hephzibah.

  Andi pinned up the picture that Mason sent her. Why would Mason send her a picture of Harry’s boat? She squinted at the picture again. He’d obviously scanned an old photograph, because the edges were ragged and there were crease marks through the centre. But Andi could see not two, but three distinct vessels. They knew that one was the Pipe Dream — they would have to identify the others.

  Talk to Harry re: picture, she scribbled in her notebook.

  Ask Hephzibah/Jim about Brian M.

  Talk to Tara McIntosh.

  Check Mason’s background — Black OPS.

  Find out about Hades.

  She thought for a minute and then wrote:

  Find out about Slippery Steve.

  She had a weird feeling in her gut about that guy.

  * * *

  Jim wasn’t alone at the office. Andi could hear his voice and another man’s, a voice that was vaguely familiar, when she pushed open the door.

  Fuck, she nearly said out loud.

  Instead, she forced herself to smile.

  “Gavin. What brings you here?”

  Jim smiled at her — sympathetically, she thought. Gavin got up and strode towards her, and for a second, Andi thought he might try to hug her. She stiffened, but he held out his hand.

  “I’m here for the murder,” he said cheerfully. “How are you, Andi? You look well. Small town life must agree with you.”

  Andi took the outstretched hand, and as she felt the warmth of his skin and looked into his eyes, the last months fell away. She remembered how much she’d missed his touch.

  “I’m fine,” Andi muttered, not wanting Gavin to detect how she was feeling.

  “How did it go at the detachment?” Jim asked, to Andi’s relief.

  “You’ve been talking to the police?” Gavin asked. “Find out
anything about Mason?”

  Andi sighed inwardly. Jim didn’t know how devious Gavin could be when he was after information. She straightened up and shot Jim a look which she hoped would stop him divulging any information.

  She needn’t have worried. Jim just shrugged. Of course, Andi thought. Jim was a professional. He wouldn’t fall for Gavin’s charm. She gave herself a mental kick.

  She’d wondered what she would feel if she ever saw Gavin again. And now she knew. Disgust. With herself, for practically swooning like a teenager, just because he touched her hand. How ridiculous.

  “Just returning some lost property,” she managed, and then turned to Jim. “Do you have that DFO contact? For the sea lions?”

  Jim looked at her, not understanding.

  “I’m going to interview the DFO officer about those dead sea lions,” she explained.

  “Dead sea lions?” Gavin laughed. “Sounds important. Don’t let me hold up the investigation.”

  He reached out and took Andi’s hand again. “It really is good to see you. I’ll be here for a while, following up on Pierre Mason’s murder. Perhaps when you’ve done with your wildlife piece, we could get a drink?”

  Andi pulled her hand back.

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  Jim scribbled a number on a piece of paper and intervened with perfect timing.

  “Here,” he said to Andi, “DFO contact.” He turned to Gavin. “Nice to meet you. Feel free to use a desk if you need to during your stay.”

  Gavin politely acknowledged Jim’s offer and, to Andi’s relief, left the office.

  “Sorry,” Jim said. “Didn’t have a chance to warn you. Seems strange for an editor to cover this story. You’d have thought he’d send a staffer.”

  Andi shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “But he won’t be getting any information from me.”

  “Certainly not your sea lion scoop,” Jim said, with a straight face.

  Andi laughed.

  “How did it go with the RCMP?”

  Andi told him about her interview with Inspector Vega, not telling him she had withheld details, or that Vega had done some checking up on her.

  “We’re not likely to get much information from them,” Andi said. “Although I do have a connection with the investigation.” She told Jim about Terry, the photographer.