Murder by the Book: A Suspenseful, Small Town Cozy Mystery by Joy Patrick

Author:Joy Patrick [Patrick, Joy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mermaid Sisters Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-08-04T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

The idea that Big Bill Boone and his alleged treasure was somehow all tied into the case sounded nuts—but did intrigue Grace. Still, no matter how much she wanted to believe it, she knew it was nothing more than a tall tale.

It had been six days since Gerald Buchanan had passed. Six days since the case began. Two days since the attacker had arrived and attempted to kill Grace. Two days since her unknown rescuer had come to her aid. And still, nothing made sense. Even though Grace wasn’t much of a barfly, she decided to step out and clear her head at Reed's Pub and Grill, one of three bars in Sweet Cove.

Located seaside, not far from where Big Bill Boone had supposedly first touched down in Sweet Cove, Reed’s boasted a view of the ocean and was known as the proverbial seaman’s watering hole. Adorned with netting, rusted compasses, and various types of nautical accoutrement, it was a quiet place and the perfect spot to sip a drink at the end of the day.

“Just a beer,” Grace requested from the bartender before taking a seat near the window. As the sound of Gordon Lightfoot’s Brandy wafted from the jukebox in the corner, Grace reviewed the facts. A dead rich man. A ticked-off son. A corporation that screwed people out of their real estate. Grace sighed. And a pirate’s treasure chest.

Grace shook her head. As she closed her eyes to think, she felt a presence slipping onto the barstool a few spots down from her. It was none other than Chuck Flynn himself.

She jolted out of her reverie. “Mr. Flynn.”

Chuck grunted, gave a brief nod, and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. “Heard about that madman at your aunt’s place,” he said.

The memory of that night was fresh in Grace’s mind. The way she saw it, it probably always would be. “I’m all right. Just a few bumps and bruises.”

“Didn’t ask if you were all right,” Chuck said flatly. “Just saying that I heard about it.”

“Gotcha.” Grace smirked and took a sip of her beer.

“Tell me,” Chuck said. “Has that wiseacre cop been asking you and your aunt a bunch of questions about Gerald Buchanan?”

Grace looked at him suspiciously. Sizing him up, she saw that Chuck was a bit nervous and fidgeted on his stool. “One or two. I take it he’s done the same with you.”

The comment prompted Chuck to flare his nostrils. “Big city cop in a small pond,” he said. “He might’ve thought that was a good idea, but small towns don’t run like big towns.”

“So, you’re implying,” Grace said, “that Sherwood is a bit out of his depth.”

“Maybe more than a bit.”

“You seem a bit more surly than usual, Chuck.”

“I’m an old man,” he said. “Being surly is a rite of passage.”

Grace waved her hand through the air. “Oh, you’re not that old. I bet you could still throw a pretty mean punch if the situation called for it.”

As though the statement embarrassed him, Chuck cleared his throat, averted his gaze, and switched subjects.

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