Chapter Nineteen
Audrey stepped into Dr. Bradley Comstock’s dental office.
The walls were painted a soft coastal blue, with framed photos of lighthouses and boats lining them.
It was warm, inviting—almost enough to distract from the fact that she was about to willingly sit in a chair and have someone prod around in her mouth.
She tried to push aside the memory of Katie gushing about how “sexy” the new dentist was—Katie had gone as far as claiming he could make a root canal enjoyable.
Audrey rolled her eyes at the thought, but as Melanie, the receptionist, called her name with a cheerful wave, she was struck by how everyone in the office seemed downright delighted to be there.
Melanie greeted her at the counter. “Audrey! So good to see you! How’s your grandmother doing?”
“She’s great,” Audrey said, handing over the clipboard of completed forms. “Settling in here okay?”
Melanie’s face lit up. “Absolutely. Dr. Comstock is a dream to work for. Kind, patient, and—well, let’s just say there’s never a dull moment with someone so … I was going to say charming, but why not just say it, so hot!”
Audrey laughed softly, thinking Katie wasn’t the only one who’d been captivated. “Sounds like you love it here.”
“I do,” Melanie said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “And you’ll love him, too. Trust me.”
Audrey followed Melanie back to the treatment room, where Dr. Comstock was waiting. When he turned and flashed her that dazzling smile, Audrey mentally cursed Katie for putting the idea in her head.
He was handsome.
Annoyingly so.
“Ah, Audrey,” he said, extending a hand. “Maggie Holbrook’s granddaughter, right? We met at the bridal shop.”
“That’s right,” Audrey said, shaking his hand before settling into the chair. “You have a good memory.”
He chuckled, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Hard to forget the Holbrooks. Your family seems to be the heart of Halibut Cove—connected to just about everyone.”
Audrey smiled, but her thoughts were already turning over. “Well, small-town life, you know. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“True enough,” he said, adjusting the overhead light. “I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive about moving here. I thought Halibut Cove would be sleepy, quiet—a safe place to settle down. I didn’t expect to walk straight into a murder investigation.”
Audrey tilted her head. “I know. I can’t believe someone around here deliberately poisoned Chips Hogan. It’s got everyone on edge. Anymore suspicious deaths and they could rename this town Cabot Cove.”
Dr. Comstock looked puzzled. “Cabot Cove?”
“Murder, She Wrote? Jessica Fletcher? Never mind.”
Dr. Comstock nodded and smiled, leaning forward to begin his work. “Open wide for me.”
As he scraped at her teeth with precision, Audrey tried not to squirm. He was thorough but surprisingly gentle, the sharp tools clicking against her teeth with expert rhythm. When he picked up a small mirror to inspect his work, he glanced at her. “Does that feel all right?”
Audrey mumbled a response, and he set the tools down to rinse her mouth with the water tube, holding the suction close so it wouldn’t overflow. “Spit into the cup for me.”
She obeyed, wiping her mouth with a tissue. “So, do you usually handle cleanings yourself? Or do you have a dental hygienist?”
He grinned as he picked up the polishing tool. “I like to do the first cleaning for new patients. Helps me get to know their teeth.”
Audrey gave him a skeptical look. “That’s a bit unusual.”
“Maybe,” he said, the whir of the polisher filling the room for a moment. “But I figure, if you’re going to trust me with your smile, I should at least take a good look myself.”
Audrey wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
Instead, she let him finish polishing before he rinsed her mouth again, his movements careful and efficient.
He leaned back, setting the tools aside, and said, “All done. Your teeth look great. You do have a loose filling that should be fixed at some point, but it’s not an immediate concern. ”
“Thanks,” Audrey said, sitting up in the chair.
“So, speaking of suspicious deaths, how much do you know about the old man who drowned recently?” Dr. Comstock said, his tone casual as he pulled off his gloves. “There’s a lot of buzz that his death might not have been an accident.”
Audrey frowned. “Griffin? I thought the police ruled it a drunken accident.”
“Maybe,” he said, tossing the gloves into the trash. “But I’ve heard a few of my patients talking. You know how rumors spread.”
Audrey narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing.
Then he added, “Your grandfather—Wes Holbrook. Is he still around?”
Audrey blinked, caught off guard. “No, he passed away a few years ago. Why do you ask?”
“I’d heard of him,” Dr. Comstock said, almost too casually. “He was well-regarded, wasn’t he?”
“He was a great man,” Audrey said. “But I didn’t think anyone outside Halibut Cove would know about him.”
He shrugged, giving her that charming smile again. “I’ve heard his name mentioned a few times since I got here. I guess small towns have long memories. Funny thing, though—my family spent some time up this way years back. Maybe that’s why the name stuck with me.”
Before Audrey could reply, her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and saw a text from Maggie.
Courthouse. Clyde’s trial. You’ll want to see this.
The courthouse was already bustling with activity when Audrey arrived, finding Maggie waiting on the steps. Maggie grabbed her arm and hustled her inside.
“Hurry up,” Maggie said. “Oliver’s in there putting on quite a show.”
Inside the courtroom, they slipped into the gallery. Clyde Peterson sat at the defense table, arms crossed and scowling, while Oliver stood in front of a witness, his tone confident and his movements animated.
“So, Mr. Harper,” Oliver said, addressing the wiry man on the stand. “You’re saying Clyde Peterson wasn’t the aggressor?”
“That’s right,” Harper said, nodding emphatically. “Clyde was minding his own business, and the other guy came at him.”
Mark Haskell, seated at the prosecution table, stood abruptly. “Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.”
Judge Baxley, seated behind the bench, gave Oliver a pointed look. “Mr. Holbrook, rephrase your question.”
“Of course, Your Honor,” Oliver said smoothly. “Mr. Harper, did you see Clyde Peterson throw the first punch?”
“No, I didn’t,” Harper replied.
“And what did you see him do?” Oliver asked.
“He tried to back off,” Harper said. “But the other guy kept coming at him …”
“So Clyde had no choice but to defend himself,” Oliver suggested.
Mark stood again. “Objection. Leading the witness.”
“Sustained,” Judge Baxley said, her tone sharp. “Mr. Holbrook, stick to the facts.”
Oliver raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll do my best, Your Honor.”
The questioning continued, with Oliver poking holes in the prosecution’s case while Mark Haskell objected when necessary.
Finally, Judge Baxley banged her gavel. “We’ll adjourn for lunch. Court will reconvene at one.”
As the courtroom emptied, Maggie nudged Audrey. “Let’s grab some sandwiches and crash Oliver’s meeting with Clyde.”
They found Oliver in a private meeting room, going over notes with Clyde. Maggie strode in with a bag of deli sandwiches, earning an exasperated look from her son.
“Mom, this is a private meeting,” Oliver said.
“Nonsense,” Maggie replied, setting the sandwiches down. “You need to eat, don’t you?”
Audrey stifled a laugh as Clyde scowled, eyeing the sandwiches suspiciously. “What do you want, Mrs. Holbrook?”
“I want answers,” Maggie said, sitting down. “Did you hire your nephew Troy to pick up a package of deadly nightshade in Hadley Point?”
Clyde leaned back, crossing his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“We know a package of nightshade was shipped to a PO box connected to your family,” Maggie said. “And now Chips Hogan is dead from ingesting it.”
Clyde smirked. “You’ve got nothing.”
“If not you, who was Troy working for? Who did he deliver that package to?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Audrey could tell he was lying.
He knew way more than he was letting on.
“Look, Mrs. Holbrook, I’m a jack-of-all-trades. I’ve done odd jobs for just about everyone in this town. If someone’s willing to pay, I’ll provide a service. Whatever that may be.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Even murder?”
“Now you’re out of line,” Clyde seethed.
Oliver frowned. “Mom, we’re in the middle of a trial here. Now is not the time for this.”
Maggie was undeterred. “I think someone hired you to order that nightshade, and you had your nephew pick it up for you and deliver it to the person who later used it to poison Chips’s clam chowder. Who was it?”
Clyde shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about. Go on. Prove I had anything to do with Chips’s murder—or Griffin Mead’s.”
Audrey’s ears perked up. “Griffin?”
Clyde shrugged. “Everyone thinks he was drunk and fell off the dock. But what if he didn’t? What if someone wanted him out of the way too? What if there’s some kind of serial killer running around loose in Halibut Cove?”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you getting this from, Clyde?”
Clyde’s smirk deepened. “You’re asking me? You should ask your son.”
Oliver groaned. “Clyde, eavesdropping isn’t a good look. Yes, I got a call from Jill earlier. The autopsy results are in. Griffin Mead didn’t drown accidentally. Someone drugged him and pushed him into the water.”
Maggie gasped. “What?”
“The coroner found Clonidine in his system,” Oliver clarified. “It’s an incapacitating agent which can be absorbed into the mouth or swallowed. Causes drowsiness, low blood pressure, sedation, possible unconsciousness. Griffin wouldn’t have taken something like that willingly.”
Clyde leaned forward, his tone mocking. “So, what’s next, Mrs. Holbrook? You gonna pin that one on me too?”
Audrey watched her grandmother’s face carefully, noting the determination that flashed in her eyes. Maggie wasn’t done—not by a long shot.