Murder On Bwytheney by Elizabeth. Newby (phonics story books TXT) 📗

I mean, what did we really know about him? Not a lot – he avoided my interview for months. There hadn't been a murder on this island for over forty years, and just six months after Pete's arrival, one of the residents is hit over the head and killed. And every time I mentioned Melissa, Pete acted strange, changing the conversation or falling off ladders. Hadn’t I told Pete that Melissa could do with his help just a few hours before she was murdered? Maybe he went over there, and something happened. Would that make it my fault? Guilt seeped in.

But I could only be certain of one thing. There must be a reason why Pete would lie about his whereabouts on the night of the murder. He no longer had an alibi. It was time to dust off those research skills and discover more about the mysterious and quiet Peter who joined our shores just a few months ago.

Chapter 10

Bwytheney had its own small church that dated back to the eighteenth century. The graveyard to the side of it was scattered with names that were still familiar on the island. There was upset and frustration within the village that a funeral could not be held for Melissa. But with the police having no suspects as yet, they were unwilling to release the body. It was Linda from the Post Office that came up with the suggestion of holding a celebration of life ceremony. Reverend Owen had agreed it could be held at St. David’s church.

Emma had, of course, put on a wonderful spread with a variety of sandwich fillings and cupcakes. I helped her out serving teas and coffees to the many island's inhabitants who had shown up and a few people who had travelled from the mainland.

Everyone now had a cuppa in hand, and I wandered outside to look out over the sea. The sound of crashing waves travelled on the breeze, and the sunlight sparkled a thousand stars across the water. It really was a beautiful place, and the thought it could be hiding a killer in its land sent a shiver down my spine.

The last few days, I had been consumed by Melissa's case. My research hadn't turned up much, but I could not get Pete's lies out of my head. I had tried to look into his social media, but it seemed he was as quiet online as he was in real life. Although he was on Facebook, his profile was locked down and private. I could see that he once lived in Liverpool and there were a few friends but nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it all seemed to match what he had told me. But there must have been a reason for lying. And I couldn't help noticing that here we were at a celebration of Melissa's life, and Peter was nowhere to be seen. There had never been a hint they were close friends or anything, but that's not how we did things on the island. Peter had been there long enough to know that. You showed up for events like this. Everyone else was here. Was he the murderer, or was there an innocent explanation for all this?

“You look miles away.”

My head spun around, unaware that anyone had approached. A vaguely familiar woman was standing there, her face looking strained.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

“No, it’s fine. I was just soaking up the view. It never gets boring.”

“It’s certainly special. I can see why Melissa never wanted to leave. I’m Pam, by the way.”

Pam looked of similar age to Melissa, although she was rounder and softer. Her cheeks were fuller, and her hair was twirled up in some kind of bun, grey wisps peppering the mahogany tones. She pulled her chunky cardigan tighter around her as if she too felt a chill pass over her, despite the warm air.

“I’m Cara,” I smiled, “your face is familiar. Did you know Melissa well?” I asked.

“We were friends from teenagers. We met when our families holidayed at the same place in Snowdonia and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. We’ve done a few holidays together, plenty of bars and clubs, and of course, I came over here a few times. She was quite frankly my best friend.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. It just seems crazy. The island is so quiet and friendly and then this. I was sat in her kitchen earlier that day. It still doesn’t seem real.”

“It’s unbelievably sad. I always hoped she would have more children, but it wasn’t to be.”

I frowned, “More children?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters much now. It’s probably the saddest thing about all this. Back in 1994, Melissa had a baby boy. No one knew. She came and stayed with me and kept it quiet. She was still very young, you see, and islanders weren't ready for a teenage mum. But to think there's a child out there somewhere that doesn't know their mum has just died, that she never got to see that baby again…"

The woman let out a sob.

I pulled out a tissue from my bag and handed it to her, “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sorry, I know it’s silly to think like that, but I keep going through all the what if’s, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it too. What if I had made Melissa come to the quiz night? What if I had stuck around at hers? What if there was something wrong and I had picked up on it?”

A voice broke the moment, "Hello, ladies. What are we doing out here?"

I turned to see Bronwen stood not far behind us. Neither of us had heard her appear. I couldn’t help feeling it was insensitive at the very least. She was always trying to poke her nose in