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 JAGGED
 
COAST
 A mystery novel by Larry Tyler 
 
Larry Tyler – Jagged Coast - 2
JAGGED COASTI'm very interested in your comments, critiques…Also, you may want to check out The Silent Treatment by Larry Tyler on Scribd
 
Larry Tyler – Jagged Coast - 3
CHAPTER ONEFrank Rupert got lost twice on his way from his state office building in Augusta to Adeline Carr'soffice in Bar Harbor. The first time was in Ellsworth where everyone gets lost, by the car dealership. Hesimply zigged when he should have zagged, so he turned around the first chance he got and corrected hismistake. The second time he got lost was in Bar Harbor itself, where he drove around the block twice,crawling down the clogged main street for a full half-hour, inching past the T-shirt shops and souvenir stores. His secretary wrote the address down, but her handwriting was notoriously dreadful. The sevencould have been a one or maybe even a two and the eight could have been a six or a nine. Virtually any building on the street could have been the one he was looking for.He spent ten minutes driving up and down Farrington Avenue, searching for the Carr Institute, buthe couldn't even find so much as a small window sign to guide him. He spent another ten minutes huntingfor a knowledgeable pedestrian, and finally flagged down a letter carrier.It was ten-thirty instead of ten by the time Frank knocked at the door of the Carr Institute, whichwas actually a house. He listened to the dull, floppy sound of footsteps shuffling to the door and could tellthe person was barefoot. The door flung open and a woman stood there. Her hair was bright red—red outof a strawberry Kool-Aid box, Frank figured—and was swept back from her face, held in place bysparkling blue barrettes, flaring away from her face in an unruly tangle. She looked like her head was onfire. The T-shirt she wore was several sizes too big and Frank caught himself wondering—in spite of himself—whether she was wearing shorts under it. Her fingernails alternated between red-and-whitestripes and a white star on a blue background. Frank centered the knot on his tie, gave her a brave smileand said, "Good morning. I’m Frank Rupert, Maine State Office of Licensing for Treatment Facilities.I'm looking for Ms. Adeline Carr.""And found her," Adeline said. She shoved her hand toward him and he politely shook it."Yes, Ms. Carr. Well, I'm very sorry I'm late," Frank said. "I suppose you gave up on me.""No. Not yet," Adeline said. "Come on in.""Well, actually, Ms. Carr, this visit should be conducted at your office."Adeline swept her hand broadly toward the room behind her. "Right here.""This is your counseling office?" Frank asked."My home, my counseling office, my sanctuary, my mortgage burden, all wrapped up into one."She put her hand behind his shoulder and pulled him in.For a parlor, the room was unusual; for a counseling office, it was surreal. In her thirty some oddyears, it seemed quite likely that Adeline Carr had never thrown anything away that she owned. But whilethe room was undoubtedly cluttered—and crammed with eclectic clutter—the clutter was not cheap. Itwas clutter an antique dealer would kill for.Frank sank into the overstuffed chair Adeline directed him to and his five-foot-seven frameseemed even smaller. "Did they explain to you the purpose of my visit?" he asked."They?""My office.""Oh, you mean to say 'we' don't you? Someone from your office called last week and said amistake had been made when they issued my counseling agency license, and they said you would have tocome here to inspect the program.""Yes, that was my supervisor who called, Bob Enfield.""And who is it exactly you represent?" Adeline asked."The state.""Well yes, I understand that, but what portion of the state? You said you were from the office
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