COFFIN COVE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 1) JACKIE ELLIOTT (books to read for teens TXT) 📖

one box off the shelf. It was heavy, and she couldn’t manage to get the lid open while she balanced the box with her other hand, so she slid it onto the floor and tugged off the lid.

It was salmon, she could see. Russian, probably, she thought. Not illegal to buy salmon from Russia, but it was a complete gamble when it came to quality. Nikos had built his reputation on the quality of his product. Fish, looked after and frozen properly, could be thawed out and cooked a year later, and taste just as good as the moment it came out of the ocean. Nikos demanded that his fishermen look after their catch too, paying a top price to get the best product. But fish that had been in a sea container for a week? That had probably thawed slightly and been refrozen? And then passed off as Canadian-caught?

No wonder they had been getting complaints, Brenda thought, shaking her head. She bent over the box, shaving a few scales from the frozen fish with a tiny knife she had brought with her, wiping the silvery flakes into small plastic bags.

She put that box back and pulled another four from the shelf at random.

When she heard the door to the plant creak open and slam shut, she relaxed a little, relieved for once that the plant supervisor was disinterested in his work.

No way would Nikos let anyone poke around the plant, she thought, crouching down on her knees to take more scales from another box.

Brenda finished her delicate task, taking care not to damage the frozen fish. She struggled to her feet, and bent down to pick up a box, to replace it on the shelf.

As she raised her head, she felt a rush of air behind her.

“Wha—”

Brenda didn’t finish. She felt an instant and searing pain on the back of her head. The pain was so bad that vomit rose into her mouth, making her cough and spit and sink back to her knees. As she hit the concrete floor, everything went black.

Chapter Twenty

Steven Hilstead ordered some iced water from the waitress. He watched appreciatively as she walked away, a trim figure in a sleeveless black dress.

The one thing that Adrian got right was this place, he thought. Although he never would have dared without a push from me.

The bistro had been his idea, Steve decided, shaking his head with contempt. Adrian was still tied to the past, under Nikos’s shadow.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, never had to work for anything.

Nevertheless, he conceded, Adrian was definitely becoming more responsive to taking the odd risk.

The waitress returned with the water. Steve waved away her offer of a menu. He purposely avoided ordering alcohol. He’d seen Adrian getting loose-lipped after a couple of cocktails. He’d been embarrassed for him. That wasn’t the proper way to conduct business, he thought.

He tugged at the sleeves of his new suit and adjusted his cufflinks.

This is the real me, he thought, a businessman. Dressed properly.

One thing he admired about Adrian was his style. Steve liked the bistro. Upmarket. The perfect place to entertain powerful clients.

Hilstead checked his watch, pulled his phone from his inside pocket and turned off the ringer. His client was due any minute, and he didn’t want his phone ringing during the meeting. Everything must be entirely professional, he thought.

He had taken care of everything. He’d made sure that Adrian was in a meeting with the plant supervisor for at least two hours. By the time he appeared, the main business would be done, and they would be on to phase two. Adrian would be irritated, but that was no problem. When he hinted at the money to be made, he’d have Adrian eating out of his hand again. Steve smiled to himself.

A few small hitches, but everything was going to plan.

A small bald man dressed in mismatched pants and jacket, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and carrying a shabby attaché case, came in and waited for the concierge to greet him.

After a few words, the concierge showed him to Steve’s table.

“Hello?” Steve said, surprised. “Can I help you?”

“I believe we had a meeting scheduled?” the man said with a pleasant smile. “May I sit down?”

“Er, I was expecting—”

“Yes, I know you were,” the man said smoothly. “I’m his lawyer, Jonathan Dunn, from Dunn and Grant Associates. I believe my colleague Duncan Grant represented you recently, correct?”

“Yes.” Steve tried not to show his annoyance and managed a smile.

“May I sit down?” Jonathan Dunn didn’t wait for a reply, he took a seat and gestured “no” with a polite nod to the waitress who was hovering to take an order. “Now, Mr Hilstead, we are here to discuss the matter of your debt to my client and our mutual acquaintance.”

“Well, actually, I thought we were here to discuss my business proposal.” Steve interrupted, no longer smiling. This wasn’t what he’d expected. How dare he send this shabby little lawyer?

“More of a business idea than a proposal, don’t you think?” Jonathan Dunn replied, irritating Steve further.

“It’s an opportunity to make . . . to make a lot of money.” Containing his anger, Steve lowered his voice and spoke urgently. “Has Mr Nguyen read my proposal?”

“Indeed he has, Mr Hilstead. But he has some concerns, the first being that he makes it a policy not to go into business with someone who owes him money. He simply feels that it’s bad energy when there is such a wide power differential. And second,” he continued, raising a finger as Steve opened his mouth to object, “second, your proposal involves Hades Fish Co. When I did a cursory search, I found that you are not even on the board of directors, Mr Hilstead. How do you propose to partner with Mr Nguyen, when you do not