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

‘Why was that?’

‘I’m not sure. Afan had this way of showing that although he was quiet and kindly, he didn’t tolerate bullshit. If Guy started being unpleasant while Afan was around, Afan would just fix his gaze on him and Guy would grind to a halt. I’m blabbing on now, like Elinor. I’d better go and let you turn in. I’m a bit of a night owl and I have to remember that most people aren’t.’

Swift said, ‘Thanks for calling in. If Kat spots you, at least you won’t get into trouble for visiting me. You don’t usually lock your doors here, but are there any places on Tir Melys that are kept locked — that you’d all have keys for?’

Suki shook her head. ‘Nowhere, no. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh — probably something and nothing. By the way, who is Giles? I heard Jasmine refer to him.’

‘Giles is the Merchants’ son. He’s in London. He lived here for about two years when they bought Tir Melys and he made it clear that he couldn’t wait to get away. He resented the move from London. It was probably unfair to uproot a teenager in that way. He and Peter don’t get on too well. Giles is a bit of a mummy’s boy. Anyway, he headed back to London as soon as he was eighteen. He rarely comes here — in fact, it must be three years since I’ve seen him, and all he did then was moan about the weather and the lack of broadband. He’s nothing like his parents.’

‘Not a country lover?’

Suki smiled. ‘Not at all. Giles is a city dweller, through and through. Sharp dresser, likes the good life. He owns a business, some baking enterprise.’ She got up and reached for her coat. He saw sadness in her eyes. ‘Thanks for the chat. It’s good to be able to talk about Afan with a friend of his who doesn’t live here. Different perspective.’

‘Any time. Night now, don’t get too wet.’

He stood at the door and watched her hurry home. Had she called in for more than a chat and a glass of mead? He’d sensed some subtext beneath her friendly approach. He suspected that she was someone who controlled herself well. He locked up and rinsed the glasses, recalling Afan’s clear gaze in meetings. He’d turned it on a couple of unfortunate colleagues who’d tried to bluff their way through badly prepared briefings. His friend had been a good example of the power of silence. Perhaps Guy Brinkworth had had reasons for resenting that power.

He considered the keys in Afan’s wardrobe. They might be important. He decided to tuck them away in a more secure place until he found what they unlocked.

He opened a window. The moon was high and full, and the rain was clearing. The sky was bright with stars and he could see Venus, casting its dazzling silver light in the heavens.

Chapter 7

Swift enjoyed a solitary breakfast the next morning, and his heart sank when Elinor appeared with Frankie just as he was finishing his coffee. She seemed startled and a little feverish. Her hair was a snarled, uncombed mess.

‘We overslept, didn’t we, Fwankie? And naughty Daddy Guy went out on his bike without waking us. The social worker’s visiting later this morning for the next phase of our adoption,’ she told Swift. ‘I do hope Guy will be back in time. He was late once before for one of these appointments when he’d gone cycling, and it doesn’t give the right impression. He sat through the interview all sweaty and a bit pongy, to be honest. I could see Terry wrinkling his nose although he didn’t say anything. He’s very open and friendly, but you can never guess what a social worker’s thinking and making notes of. Are you okay after your awful shock? Have you had enough to eat? Can I get you anything? The eggs will be fresh from the hens this morning.’

‘I’ve eaten, thanks. You get your own.’

With Frankie under one arm, she helped herself to a brimming bowl of porridge and four slices of toast piled with strips of bacon and brought it to the table. She saw Swift looking. ‘I’m an anxiety eater. I wish worry made me go off food.’

He made no comment. She’d become enormous if her stress levels didn’t diminish soon. She and Guy would be like an old-fashioned sideshow act — the Fat Lady and the Thin Man. He watched as she ate greedily. Her acerbic husband didn’t appear as eager to be a parent as she did, cycling off as a passive-aggressive ploy and a means of sabotage.

Elinor started to talk about the adoption again and seeing how nervous and anxious she was, he listened for a short while. She explained that this stage of the process was where they had to talk through why they wanted to adopt, the kinds of children — ‘infinks’ — that they would best be able to care for, and their overall strengths and suitability. She was drawing up a list of these aspects and she kept leaving it on the table, hoping that Guy would contribute. He just said it was mumbo-jumbo and why wouldn’t a married couple, well-educated with a good income and living in idyllic surroundings, be suitable? Swift wanted to ask her if she’d considered the possibility that her husband didn’t in fact want children, but that would be a painful conversation and it was the social worker’s job. He assumed that Terry must have spotted the problem.

When she drew breath, he excused himself, saying he had things to do. Elinor continued a monologue to Frankie while Swift fetched milk and bread from the kitchen to take back to the cottage. When he left the room, Elinor was staring into space while