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Canterbury Cove Book I: Small Town Secrets

by A.C. Laker

313 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1138; ISBN 1-55395-423-8; US$26.00, C$29.95, EUR21.50, £15.00

Canterbury Cove had always been a peaceful town except for the underlying hatred between business owners thought harmless enough, until devastion hit. Murder, kidnapping and brutality develop from greed, lust and Small Town Secrets.

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About the Book      About the Author      Reviews      Sample Excerpts      Catalogue Info

About the Book The local club owners of Canterbury Cove have been feuding for years. Harmless, everyone thought, just as long as they kept to themselves. Then what happened to their small quiet town? It wasn't enough the local Real Estate Tycoon and shyster, Donald Garrett, found brutally murdered and dumped in a local garbage bin belonging to The Whalers Watch nightclub owned by the seedy Robert Stanley, but his wife was also in line to be murdered. What's more, Katy Beal kidnapped and Stacey Kompton beaten to near death? Jordan Hinkley, the young newly elected Sheriff, wasn't sure how to deal with this, his small, laid back rural town suddenly engulfed in a wave of crime. He was relieved when ex-Sheriff, Bulldog Dobson, offered to help solve this outburst. During their investigation,the plot thickens when blackmail becomes evident. Mac Jonson, also an ex police officer, finding suitable accommodation at Ocean Retreat Bed & Breakfast, falls fast for Katy Beal, the proprietors' daughter. His job as Private Investigator brought him here to Canterbury Cove in search of extorted funds, and the arrow pointed directly at Garrett. A relationship develops between Katy and Mac. However, Mac is constantly haunted by the presence of her very recent ex-long time lover Nicky James, the loser of Canterbury Cove. In addition, to add to everyone's grief, Katy finds a vital clue to the murder of Donald Garrett and is kidnapped and held prisoner in the dark basement of an old abandoned gas station south of town. Yet more devastation hits when Stacey Kompton, the local night club singer, is brutally beaten and left for dead. What is it she knows that would cause her such misfortune? As the investigation continues, more and more dirty little Small Town Secrets are revealed and unraveled in this first book about Canterbury Cove. For more information, please visit www.anything-paper.com

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About the Author

A.C. Laker was born in England in 1943. Came to Canada in 1967 from New Zealand. Has always had a passion for writing, painting and creativity in general. Well traveled as a single parent. AC lives at home with her husband and two cats on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. A proud parent of one daughter and grandparent of one grand daughter, AC continues to write, paint and draw and has more Canterbury Cove novels in the works.

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Reviews

Here are just a few of the comments made by people who have read Canterbury Cove Book I:

"Great read, I haven't read a book for a long time and that was just what I needed to set me reading again."

"I've just finished your book, it was awesome. When is the next one going to be for sale?"

"The book was really good. It was a couldn't put it down read. Surprise ending too!"

"I looked forward to reading Canterbury Cove every evening, and want to know what happens next."

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Sample Excerpts

SATURDAY MORNING 4:45 a.m.

A body slammed forward as the garbage dumpster lifted into the air, purged from beneath the dirty depths of nightclub garbage like a phantom. Joe the Sanitation Engineer gaped in horror and returned the bin to the ground with a loud clatter leaving a defunct hand and shoeless foot piercing the air. He'd worked this route for twenty years and had never seen the likes of this.

Jumping posthaste from the cab, tripping over himself in his rush to the bin, he clambered onto the forklift and peered in. Cold, abysmal eyes would become the source of his nightmares. The blank uninhabited face branded into his mind. The dirty-gloved hand he slammed to his mouth successfully arrested the nausea that pushed upward, causing a sensational burning in his throat.

Seconds later he swept the same-gloved hand across his forehead leaving a dirty sweaty trail. Panic set in and he shivered.

"Radio, radio stupid," he said as he clambered back into the cab wrenching the two-way from the visa as he did so.

"Hello - HELLO - damn." He clicked the switch on and off frantically.

"HELLO!" He called again, "never anyone around when you need 'em." He could hear the early morning news blaring out over the radio in the background. Someone had left the two way switch on again! Impatiently throwing the microphone down in despair he jumped from the truck turning towards the telephone across the street in front of The Coffee Stop Cafe. Too bad it didn't open for another half-hour or so, he could go with a good strong coffee right about now laced with a good shot of brandy. Old Joe ran as fast as his stocky structure would allow. Reaching the phone booth breathless, he leaned against the glass for a minute until his laboured breathing eased.

The buttons on the telephone appeared unusually small, or his fingers were inordinately large he couldn't decide as he shakily pressed 911. The old heart hammered loudly in his ears.

Superficially it took forever but an efficient, unfamiliar voice answered on the first ring. "Fire, Police or Ambulance how may I help you?"

"P.p.olice, Sheriff's office Canterbury Cove, please," he stammered nervously. He couldn't understand all this new fangled stuff, fire police or ambulance. He found himself talking to some stranger on the other end...He liked it the way it was a couple of years ago when a person knew who was going to answer the phone.

"Just one moment please," the adept operator said while transferring Joe's call.

"Come on!" He cried impatiently because everything was taking forever.

"Canterbury Cove Sheriff's Office," Shelly Blake answered cheerily.

"Shelly that you? Thank God you guys work early. And I know who's on the other end."

"...Yep, twenty four/seven what's up there Joe?" Shelly sensed something amiss as she interrupted Joe's anxious chatter. Usually quite laid back, she detected panic in his voice; the old Sanitation Engineer always had a joke to tell and time of day for everyone.

"I found a b.b.ody in the dumpster at Whaler's Shelly. No kiddin'!"

So when he told her this, she thought it to be another of his jokes.

"A body, c'mon Joe it's not April 1st, what's really the problem?" She laughed. Joe was known for his sense of humour, "and a body in the dumpster at Whaler's is a good one Joe. But whoever heard of murder in Canterbury Cove?"

"Shelly I swear I wouldn't joke and waste your time about somethin' like that, I'm not jokin' now girl, there's a body in the dumpster at Whaler's. Now, would you get someone down here FAST?" Joe could feel the bile rising in his throat again. He felt clumsily into his pocket for his Rolaids.

"Okay, okay Joe, I'm sorry, holy cow Joe, it's just that you . . . well you know..." Shelly hadn't dealt with homicide. She presumed it was homicide. People didn't usually climb into dumpsters and die. Well, no one ever had in this town. "Do you know who it is Joe?" She swallowed the panic now rising in her throat.

"It's Donald Garrett," Joe said quickly "just hurry Shelly," and he hung up the phone. Once back at the parking lot, he paced back and forth in front of the container, not daring to look in again but rather trying to waken from this nightmare.

"Donald Garrett - Lordy, Lordy. Why did I have to find him? Who the hell would want to do this? What crazy bastard would do this?" He fretted, consuming the remaining Rolaids.

"Garrett? I know tons that would want to do it. But who'd be crazy enough to go ahead and do it, is another story," Sheriff Jordan Hinkley answered quietly from behind.

The old driver swung around to confront the young stocky sheriff, "How'd you get here? Didn' hear no car pull up," he asked looking around for Jordan's Jeep.

"That's because I was walking, trying to lose some of this weight, and get away from the car radio for a few minutes." He patted his small paunchy belly with strong, square hands, "and they caught up with me on this little piece of technology," Jordan resigned with a sigh, swinging the cell phone under Joe's nose.

"Can't go anywhere these days Joe, soon they'll be putting nasty little devices inside our bodies so we can't hide." He smiled, exposing straight white teeth.

"Yeah, yeah I know what you mean. Fire, police or ambulance - now why could'nit stay as it was?" Joe complained.

Jordan nodded not understanding what Joe was talking about. "Now, what've you got here then? Nightmare on Main Street 'sounds of it," he laughed, his blue eyes full of mischief, not realizing just how shook up old Joe was. Jordan Hinkley, like Joe, couldn't resist a joke. But Joe wasn't in a joking mood right now.

"M.me? I don't have nothin'; i.it's that Garrett guy, in there. Aint a funny sitiation Jordan, not funny 'tal, see there you look, you won't laugh then." Joe pointed to the garbage dumpster, garbage scattered around the bottom of it.

"He looks a real mess he does someone did a good job on him, dog's dinner.

But one I wouldn't feed to my dog. I didn't touch nothin'. Everyone knew what a real bastard he was, but I never thought it'd come to this, did you?" Joe paced about nervously, staring at the ground. He stopped to stare into Jordan's eyes, waiting for an answer.

Jordan shook his head silently gaping at the two human projections. The shoeless foot clad in a black silk sock, and part of a tanned lower leg. A forearm, its hand pointing coldly into the air, fingers encrusted with diamond rings and blood. A gold Rolex watch hanging loosely on the dead wrist had stopped at one forty seven a.m. The glass was cracked.

"Hang tough Joe, I'll just call for back up then have a word."

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RETURN VISIT

Knowing how much Donald and Son hated each other, Bulldog put Donny on his personal list of suspects.

Deciding he'd go back that same evening and check on Noreen - he'd felt bad enough leaving her in the condition she was in - he picked up the phone and dialed Ben Levine's number.

"Ben? Bulldog. Hey, I wanted to ask your advice. Noreen Garrett, would it be feasible to commit her to some kind of detox center?" Bulldog waited while he listened to Ben's comments as he asked why.

"Because she could be a danger to herself, she's alone it's quite logical she might drown or somethin', she's always sittin' in that pool pissed as a newt. You know that. Right now I'm goin' out to check up on her. Maybe you should come to the house and see for yourself. See what you can do about getting her somewhere, sure thing she'll be sittin' there."

When Bulldog arrived at the house he knew right away something was wrong. The pool lights were off, which they never were. The front door was ajar and the house was in complete darkness. The garage door stood wide and Noreen's car that had been there earlier was gone. Bulldog knew she'd been in no condition to drive and wondered what was going on.

He dialed Jordan's number on his cell phone. "I'm at Garrett's; I think you'd better get up here, somethin's not right." He hung up then knocked loudly on the door.

"Noreen, it's me, Bulldog" he called "just wanna make sure you're okay. Noreen!" he called louder. When there was no response he thought she might have passed out back in the pool so immediately rushed to the pool house. One of these days that woman will drown herself in that pool he thought, sure he'd find her one of these days floating in the pool, face down. "Noreen!" The French doors were ajar so he entered and closed them. "Noreen!" but there was no answer. He went through the pool house to the family room he saw right away she wasn't on the sofa so continued to the main area of the house. He didn't have to wonder for too long where Noreen Garrett was.

The contorted heap lying at the bottom of the stairs was Noreen Garrett; he could see the blood soaked carpet where her head lay. Kneeling beside her he carefully turned her over, "Noreen" he whispered, and afraid she might be dead he tried to find a pulse. There was barely a beat but it was there! Noticing her short quiet intakes of breath he sighed, she was still alive! Bulldog pulled out his cell phone and called Jordan in the cruiser, hoping he was already on his way. "Jordan get up here and call the ambulance. Get Mac too if you can." Bulldog turned back to Noreen, "My God girl, what happened to you?"

He left her and moved cautiously up the stairs, was the perpetrator still in the house? He moved slowly pulling his gun having it at the ready. He didn't enter the rooms but once he noticed the mess in the master bedroom, he returned quickly to Noreen.

He tried to rerun his idea of the situation through in his mind, whispering to himself. "It could have been an accident; it looks like she lost a shoe at the top of the stairs. She could have tripped and fallen backwards, knowing how she's always drunk that's not a remote possibility. But there's a bit of a mess up there." He finished to himself.

Jordan barged in through the open front door, "I'm over here," Bulldog called from the bottom of the stairwell. "Did you call the ambulance?"

"On its way. Now what's going on here?"

"Well, it could have been an accident, it could have been..."

"...Not murder, don't tell me murder."

Bulldog smiled sardonically, "No son; she's still alive. Check around upstairs, few things need to be checked if anything happens to her. Don't touch anything, no cause for alarm yet I suppose until we find out whether she was pushed, or fell. Have to wait 'til she wakes up. Might only be a few hours once they get her to the hospital."

"Donny Junior," was all Jordan Hinkley said.

"What do you mean Donny?" Bulldog asked Jordan as they watched the ambulance disappear down the driveway minutes later rushing Noreen Garrett to the hospital. "Barely hanging in there," he said.

"A couple of weeks ago I could've sworn I saw Donny Garrett driving out south of town in Stanley's old green truck the one Nicky sometimes drives, didn't think that thing was running, but it's been a few years since I'd seen him so I wasn't a hundred percent sure though."

"Let's go take a look," Bulldog led Jordan up the stairs to the master bedroom chaos. "Can't do too much 'til we find out what went on. For all we know, she could've done that. Best thing to do would be lock the house, make it a crime zone and wait."

"Couldn't get hold of Mac, but no doubt he can make something of all this mess what with his city experience and all. Not saying you aren't a good cop Bulldog, you're the best. But murder's a city thing, don't you think?"

"He quit the force, dog shot, and couldn't work without him. Don't blame him there. And glad I'm not a cop anymore." Bulldog looked towards his truck. Bailey stood in the back waiting to go to work. Bailey wasn't a true cop, but with a little coaxing and a lot of loving from Bulldog, he was a partner and always a friend and protector, even without the cajoling.

"Looks like it could be robbery, but all we can do now is consider it a fall. She was still drunk. Smell it a mile away."

Jordan and Bulldog left the residence; locking all doors and windows securely behind them Jordan spread tape across the front door, to await Noreen's return.

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Catalogue Information

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