The Killing of Honey Gable: Traditional Cosy (A St. Ives Book Club Mystery 4) by Nadine Doolittle

Author:Nadine Doolittle [Doolittle, Nadine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatineau Hills Publishing
Published: 2022-04-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

PROVING IT WAS impossible. A reality Avery quickly realized when she was typing up the minutes of the Prince Regent meeting and took a detour to conduct an online search for Mitchell Goldfarb circa 1972 and came up empty.

It had only been three days. It was too soon to give up hope, she told the group, but the tools at their disposal were limited. Even the trusty Haldimand Herald archives were a dead end. No one wanted to say it, but it was also probable that Mitchell Goldfarb existed in a region of Ward Briscoe’s dementia and not in real life.

After a lengthy discussion over more drinks, they concluded that the face at the bus window was most likely Paula Whitaker. She lived closest to the forest and could get there and back in time to join Gretchen and Chrissie at the Hall. It must have been a huge relief to them when she reported the boy was not inside.

Unravelling the role Jasper played in the mystery was not as straightforward. He was smitten with Honey Gable. Why would he protect her killers?

If they were killers ... Elliot wasn’t so sure of that. He said he was exercising an abundance of caution which was sensible. Accusing Summer Breeze of murder before they had proof could lead to all sorts of problems. Unfortunately, proving their guilt lay in tracking down Mitchell Goldfarb.

And so it went, around in circles, Avery thought as she prepared to enjoy the butter tart she had bought from the bakery. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and other than the book club minutes, she hadn’t written a word for days. She needed the consolation of liquid sugar and pastry.

A movement at the front window caught her eye. She was in the kitchen, setting the tart on a plate when she caught sight of the small man standing on the sidewalk outside of her house.

He must have followed her home from the bakery.

Avery hid behind the curtain and watched as he slowly approached her neat and welcoming front porch that offered no protection. She wasn’t even sure if she had locked the door behind her when she came in. Of course she hadn’t! No one in St. Ives locked their front door. There was no need when surrounded by gossipy neighbours. They were better than an alarm system.

The small man hesitated on the pathway to her door and held up a piece of paper, as though checking the address. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. He knew she was watching him. This was a performance to lure her out.

It worked—that and the desire to put an end to the suspense. Avery couldn’t abide suspense. She opened the door.

“Are you lost?”

He beamed and waved the paper, cheerfully dismayed that he’d been caught.

“I’m looking for Avery Holmes. I was given this address by Doris Kilherne at the bookshop. Are you she?”

“I am and you didn’t get my address from Doris. This might be a small town but its residents are not stupid.

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