MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective by GRETTA MULROONEY (free reads .txt) 📗

‘No. Afan once mentioned that he’d been orphaned but he never talked about any other family members. He seemed . . . alone in the world.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Was it one of those typical male friendships, then? The kind where you do manly activities and never talk about anything personal?’

Her words rankled, partly because they’d touched a nerve, but he snapped back, ‘It was a friendship. Friendships are varied and different, they’re not all cut from the same cloth.’

She seemed to approve of his reply. ‘So, back to when you arrived here. What time was that?’

‘Just after three o’clock. Afan wasn’t around, but I assumed that he was working.’

‘So you went for a walk along the coastal path this morning because you thought that Mr Griffith might have contacted you?’

‘That’s right, and I needed a phone signal. I wanted the exercise as well. I hoped that Afan would have left me another message. It seemed out of character, the way he just took off when he was expecting me, and without trying to phone me or leaving a note.’

‘Can you send me the emails you had from him?’

‘I will, but there’s no Wi-Fi or phone signal here so it’ll have to wait.’

DI Weber shook her head, sounding testy. ‘This place would drive me bonkers, being so cut off.’

‘It’s part of the attraction for the people who live here.’

‘If you say so.’

‘It’s what they say. Any idea what was used to stab Afan?’

She shifted her injured arm and winced. ‘Not yet. But there was little bleeding and whoever did it zipped his cagoule up for him after stabbing him.’

‘The murder was planned. The blue bowl and mug by Afan’s head — that crockery is made by Suki Mehta, who lives here. It’s used in the kitchen and I believe she sells it.’

‘She does. I’ve got some at home. Gave me a bit of a shock to see the same bowl I have my soup from.’

‘I checked the communal kitchen cupboards when I got back here. Crockery sets usually come in even numbers and there are twenty-three mugs and bowls.’

‘Okay, thanks. Of course, I presume it’s also used in some of the homes here.’

‘Probably. Afan has a set in the dresser. There are four mugs, bowls and plates.’

‘Okay, thanks. DS Spencer tells me you’re ex-Met. Did he get that right?’

‘Yes. I’m a private investigator now.’

‘Hmm. In London?’

‘Mainly, but wherever the work takes me.’

‘And you’ve no idea what Mr Griffith wanted to discuss with you?’

‘No. I never got the chance to talk to him. There’s something else you need to be aware of. I’m sure that the paperback resting on Afan’s hands was on his kitchen table yesterday afternoon when I arrived. It’s a distinctive colour.’ He told her about returning to the cottage late the previous night and glimpsing a fleeting figure. ‘That could have been the killer, fetching the book.’

DI Weber said, ‘Risky.’

‘Risky and strange.’

‘So if this literary killer did take the book, they didn’t have to break in?’

‘No. They leave their doors open here.’

‘Of course they do. You’ve only been here about twenty-four hours, but have you picked up on any animosity towards Mr Griffith?’

‘Quite the opposite. He seems to have been well liked. He was a quiet man when I knew him in France. Kind, too. He hadn’t changed, from what I’ve gathered. He kept bees, made mead, loved walking and often used the coastal path.’

‘Sounds idyllic, but someone didn’t like him. What can you tell me about the set-up here? I live fifteen miles the other side of Holybridge. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve not been here before.’

‘The website is instructive, but it doesn’t tell the full story. There’s the farmhouse, where the Merchants live, and the smallholdings. When I read about it online, I assumed that the smallholders owned their houses and land. But the Merchants own the place and the stewards, as they’re called, are tenants on five-year leases. Jasmine seems to be top dog. Kat Glover had unrequited feelings for Afan.’

‘She’s the mannish woman with the Pippi Longstocking pigtails and the weepy eyes?’

‘That’s right.’ He’d decided not to mention the argument he’d overheard between the Merchants for now. DI Weber could do her own legwork. He added, ‘They sometimes have volunteers who work here. One of them, a Morgan Callender, went missing a while ago.’

‘Thanks, I’ll check that out. Right, I’ll leave it there for now.’ She lifted her right foot and rotated the ankle carefully, wincing slightly.

Swift shifted on the back-breaking stool. ‘I’ve been staying in Afan’s cottage. The bed is much more suitable than the guest accommodation here. Is it okay if I continue to stay there?’

‘I don’t see why not. You can’t go back there until later, when Spencer and forensics have finished the search. And to reiterate, you don’t tell anyone about the location of the body in the cairn, or the presence of the crockery and book.’

He didn’t like being patronised. ‘I do understand how a police investigation works.’

She reached for her stick and said, ‘Yes, but it’s a while since you were a proper cop.’

If she was setting out to annoy him, she was succeeding. ‘Being a private investigator doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my previous training. I rely on it. If you bother to check me out, you’ll see that I’ve racked up some successful investigations. Sometimes, I’ve solved crimes when the police have failed.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Don’t get uppity with me. You could be Holmes, Morse and Maigret combined for all I care. I’m running this investigation, so my rules apply. I could kill for a coffee. What’s it like here? Is it a proper job or something they make from acorns?’

He couldn’t help smiling. ‘It’s ethically sourced from Colombia