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

Dan and I had been thrown together in student halls during our first year at the University of Liverpool. For the following two years, we chose to live together, after which he moved to Manchester and I headed for London. But we had remained firm friends. It was an unlikely friendship. There was me, the creative and artsy writer, and then Dan, the computer geek driven by data. But secretly, we were fascinated by what the other did. And, of course, we were connected by a sense of needing to know the truth. It was this that drove me to follow a career in journalism. I wanted to investigate and expose the truth, show where wrongs were occurring in the world. I did it in story form, and Dan…well, Dan sometimes used his IT skills to do the same, although it wasn't always above board. I think it added a little excitement to his life too. There are only so many grey suits, office blocks and screens anyone can take.

His door flung open almost as soon as I knocked on it, and I was embraced in his hug. I laughed, “Hey Dan, how are you?”

"I'm good. But then I do not have to dodge a serial killer," he teased.

We walked into the open-plan space at the heart of the flat. Dinner was already on, and Dan poured me a large glass of red wine.

“Have they arrested anyone yet?” he asked.

“Nope. I don’t think they even have a suspect. All they say is that they have some leads they’re following.”

“Do you have a suspect?”

I smiled. He knew that I could never resist a little bit of investigation. However much I told myself that it wasn’t really my idea to start looking into the murders, it was inevitable that I would.

“As a matter of fact, I do. It's a bit far-fetched, but I'm hoping a visit to the library tomorrow will prove I'm on the right track."

“Ooh, intriguing.” Dan was pulling a lasagne out of the oven and plating it up. There was something comforting about the cheesy aromas as they wafted my way. Dan seemed to be naturally good at cooking. He hadn't touched his oven until a year ago instead, living off takeout. But there's only so long you can get away with that, and we weren’t getting any younger.

“So, tell me this theory. You know I love a bit of island gossip.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. Dan was not your usual IT geek. Rather than being shy or retired, he was vivacious and lived for knowing all the juicy details of anything that was going on.

“Do you remember Gregory Albright? Lives in the big country house?”

“Oh, you mean the landed gentry?” Dan pushed his shoulders back, crossed one leg over the other and sipped at his wine like he was the queen sipping tea. “Yeah, I remember him. Well, to be precise, I remember the house better. But you don’t think it’s him, do you?”

“Mmm-hmm. Like I said, it's far-fetched, but it's my current theory."

“Ooh, scandalous. We love a bit of scandal. Go on, tell me more.”

“Well, on the day Melissa was killed, I went to see her. Gregory was just leaving her property in a foul mood, driving away and kicking up dirt. When I asked her what was going on, she told me that he had wanted to buy her campsite, but she had said no.”

“Hmm…so you reckon it was for money. I mean, I can see that land could be worth a fortune if it was built on.”

“Exactly. And when I started digging into Gregory, I discovered he's in business with this other guy. They built some holiday accommodation in Liverpool, and there was a stink about it. You know the sort of thing, accusations of paying people off, dodgy dealings—”

“Ooh, now this is getting exciting. This is right up my street.”

“No, Dan. Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“You know what!” I laughed.

“I can just do a bit of digging. Some of it will be legal.”

“And the other bits?”

“Well, okay, not entirely.”

“I’m trying to solve a crime, not commit one.”

"No one ever needs to know, promise. Come on, you know me. I've got myself covered. No one will ever know. And I might find something to help you. You were friends with Melissa. She would want you to find out what happened…”

I sighed. I knew there was no stopping him, and if I was honest, I was intrigued. Something told me Gregory was not all he pretended to be. “Okay, but it stays between you and me.”

“Course. So, what about the second murder? Any theories on that?”

“That’s why I need to go to the library tomorrow.”

“Okay, I'll let you get away with being cagey for now, but tomorrow you have to tell all. I’m going to crack on and look into our Gregory now. I bought you some of those bath bombs you like if you want to head for a soak?”

“You are the best friend ever!”

“I know. Now, shoo and let me get on.”

Bath bombs with natural oils were one of the few luxuries I allowed myself. But it wasn’t something you could pick up on the island. Sometimes I would order them from the mainland, but Dan would often send them to me. I suspected that he also enjoyed them and bought them for himself, but I let him pretend. A lay back and let the hot water and scents envelop me, lulling me into a relaxed state, something I hadn’t felt for weeks. I didn’t realise how much the murders had been playing on my mind.

“Cara! You gotta come and look at this.” Dan’s voice shocked me awake. I must have drifted off, and judging by the water's temperature, it was for more than five minutes.

“Hold on,” I called back before climbing out and wrapping a towel around me. I wandered into the guest bedroom, which also served as Dan's office. I never could work out why so