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

‘Yes, you don’t strike me as the kind of man who’d ever lack something to do. Are you staying into next week?’

‘If that’s okay. It’s good to be around the place and people Afan knew.’

‘Of course. Your work doesn’t need your attention? We hear that you’re a private investigator in London.’

‘That’s right. I run my own agency. There’s nothing that can’t wait for now.’

‘Well . . . An interesting career. You must have some fascinating stories to tell. Maybe you can regale us with some over supper.’

He couldn’t tell from her bland expression if she was being sarcastic. ‘I have worked on some intriguing cases but I tend not to use them as party pieces. In the end, they’re about people’s losses and grief.’

Peter piped up. ‘I guessed you’d be principled about it.’ There was a definite hint of sarcasm there.

Jasmine reached out and touched one of the bike’s handlebars. ‘It’s strange, seeing you with that bike, instead of Afan. We all miss him.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘He had a calm, reassuring presence that uplifted the community and he was that rarity, a good listener. I found him easy to talk to. He’s much missed, isn’t he, Peter?’

‘Oh yes,’ Peter echoed, ‘very much so.’

She gave a watery smile. ‘Are you coming to my little concert on Sunday? I wondered if I should cancel it because of Afan’s death, but then I decided to carry on and hold it in his memory. He loved listening to traditional Welsh airs, so it will be a way of honouring him. “The Ash Grove” was one of his favourites, so I’ll play that at the end. We’ve sold thirty tickets and it’s always an enjoyable evening.’

He’d better curry some favour and he appreciated her gesture to Afan. ‘Of course I’ll come, thanks.’

‘Lovely. See you then, if not before. Don’t be a stranger at supper.’

‘We’d better get going or you’ll be late for your appointment,’ Peter told her.

He watched them walk away. Jasmine had a hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. I found him easy to talk to. Had Jasmine confided in Afan about her and Peter’s financial troubles? Maybe that was what Caris had meant when she’d said she hadn’t been the only one asking him for money.

He cycled to the point near where Kat had stopped the Land Rover on Monday night, and saw an overgrown track leading to a field of lavender. He bumped the bike along the track and laid it at the base of a hedgerow of blackthorn and spindle. He sat on the warm ground and stretched his legs out. The lavender had been harvested and pruned but he could still smell its rich scent.

When he checked his phone, he saw that he’d had an email and a missed call from Amira Brodeur.

Dear Ty, of course I remember you. This is terrible news about Afan and I am so sad. Why would anyone want to kill him? Was it to do with the person he was trying to help? There was something difficult going on. I tried to call you. Here is my phone number. Ring me any time.

It was almost one o’clock, so nearly two in Lyon. Amira might be taking a lunch break. He called the number she’d given.

‘Hi, Amira. It’s Ty Swift. I got your email. Is this a good time to call?’

‘Hello, Ty. Yes, it’s okay. Let me just close my door.’ He heard footsteps and then she picked up again. ‘This is the most awful news. What happened?’

He explained the circumstances. ‘Afan was stabbed in the chest. I found him when I went for a walk on the coast path.’

‘So you didn’t get to meet with him?’

‘No. We hadn’t spoken for many years.’

‘My God, I still can’t believe this. What do the police think?’

‘It’s early in the investigation. I’m helping them as much as I can. They’re still waiting for forensics. When did you last have contact with him?’

‘About eight weeks ago. We weren’t in touch regularly — perhaps a couple of times a year on the phone, and then occasional emails in between. Afan told me all about his beekeeping and making mead. It sounded wonderful and I was so pleased for him. He’d found peace and a way of living that meant a great deal to him.’

‘Yet you said in your email that there was something difficult going on.’

‘The last time we spoke, Afan said that he was helping someone who was in a very problematic situation. He said . . .’ She paused. ‘He said that it was a bit cloak-and-dagger and it had to be, because of possible consequences for the person concerned.’

‘Did he give you any indication of who this person was? Male or female? Someone at Tir Melys?’

‘I’m so sorry, no. He was being very circumspect, but he hoped that he’d helped this person to find a way out of a problem. Then we went on to talk of other things. Was that the difficulty he wanted to talk to you about?’

‘Possibly. Cloak-and-dagger doesn’t sound like Afan.’

‘It doesn’t. I was surprised. But he said that secrecy was crucial regarding this situation. He said that it was a relief just to mention it to me, but he couldn’t talk about any details.’

‘And he definitely said that it was a person, singular?’

‘Yes, I’m sure of that. Ty, Afan had no family. Who will take care of his things?’

‘There’s a solicitor in Cardiff who’s his executor. The police have been in touch with him. He had very little at his cottage here. Amira, do you know if Afan sold his apartments in Lyon and Brussels?’

‘I think he did.’

‘Afan’s will leaves his estate to charities against bullying. Did he tell you that?’

She took a breath.