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

“We were just catching some fresh air. We’ll see you inside shortly,” I said without smiling.

“Right. Yes. Of course.” Bronwen knew I had left her no choice but to walk away.

“Sorry about that,” I said to Pam, “she can be a bit much.”

"It's fine, honestly," Pam grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Right, this is enough of this talk. We should be celebrating Melissa, and I'm certainly not going to thank her for leaving me with that damn campsite to sort out.”

“Oh, will you be taking it over then?”

“The solicitor hasn’t gone into the details of the will, as yet, but I was down as someone to sort out her affairs. Her parents died, and there is no other family left…other than the baby she had."

“Well, if you ever want a cuppa or someone to talk to, you can find me at Bramble Cottage. It’s on Bryn Road off the high street.”

“Thanks, that would be good. I’ll be back and forth over the next few weeks, I suspect.”

The crowd was now thinning, and people were making their way back to their homes. I headed back to mine and tried to settle down with a book. Yet, I couldn't focus. My mind was restless, refusing to let go of Melissa's murder and the lies I was uncovering. Whenever I tried to switch off, my mind just turned back to who could be responsible. If there was one thing that Pam's bombshell had shown me, it was that you never knew what secrets people were harbouring. Maybe Peter was hiding his own secrets. Either he was a murderer, or something else was going on.

After a few hours of going round in circles, I decided there was only one thing for it. I needed to confront Pete and tell him I knew he lied about where he was that night. I needed to walk Shadow anyway. We could pop in on the way.

We made our way out of the other end of the village and up towards the fishermen cottages. The sun was low in the sky and was obscured by clouds coming together. A mist was forming out at sea and would soon roll into the beaches.

When I reached Pete's cottage, I took a deep breath and banged on the door. No answer. I tried again. Still nothing. Shadow began whimpering and looking up at me with puppy dog eyes – probably disappointed that it looked like he was going to miss out on a treat. I don't know why I was so sure that Pete would be in. Yes, it was a Sunday, but that didn't mean much on Bwytheney, especially for people like Pete, who could work any day of the week. He was probably out on a job. Or at The Bell Inn, ready and waiting for quiz night.

As I turned away to continue my walk, I spotted his small van parked a little further up the road. I didn't expect it to be there. Frowning, I turned back and tried knocking again. Shadow was now laying down in front of the door, refusing to move, pawing at the wood. I looked through the window onto the lounge. There was no sign of anyone. I don't know what made me do it. Sometimes I can get a bit stubborn when I get an idea in my head. Or perhaps it was the way Shadow was behaving. But I went around the side of the house. Pete's was the first in the row of cottages, and a gate led onto the small back yard. It clicked open, and I walked in. The kitchen window was on this side of the house. Stretching on my tiptoes, I tried to peer in. I put a hand up to block the reflections that made it difficult to see, and that's when I saw him. Pete's body was lying still on the ground.

Chapter 11

Pete was dead. If it wasn’t bad enough that I had possibly been thinking the worst of a person as he lay on his floor, not breathing, the police were treating it as another murder. One of Emma’s half-eaten cupcakes was found near the body, and it was believed that it had been laced with poison.

Emma was obviously distraught, although no one suspected her. She sold dozens of those cakes every day, and with the preparations for Melissa’s celebration, there had been hundreds of them lying around. Anyone could have got their hands on one.

But it did raise the question as to whether someone wanted to frame Emma. You also had to wonder what the connection was between Melissa and Pete. The village was aghast at the thought that there was a serial killer in their midst. I think most of them just thought they were random attacks, but I knew they had to be connected somehow.

Tonight, however, was book club night. It was a chance to drink some wine and let off steam. Even Jo was able to make it with one of the other island vets on call and covering.

Emma swilled her red wine around in the glass, "So, not that I want to speak ill of the dead or anything, but who do we reckon Melissa was having an affair with?"

“Emma! Have you had one glass too many already?” I asked.

“To be fair, everyone is talking about it,” said Caz.

She was right. It didn’t take much for a whisper to turn into a rumour and gossip in this place.

“I reckon it’s Matthew Jones." It wasn't like Jo to join in the gossip, but nothing this big had happened in Bwetheney for decades.

“Nah,” I said, “He was at home with Bronwen that night. She told us in the café, remember?”

“Ah, so you are investigating then?” teased Caz.

I poked my tongue out at her knowing there was no point in denying it.

“Anyway, that’s a really out of date rumour,” I