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

‘Any news of DI Weber?’

‘Not good,’ Spencer said mournfully. ‘She’s got a really bad infection and a fever. She’s not responding as they’d hoped to the antibiotics. Should I send her flowers — or maybe chocolates, do you think?’

‘Nice idea, but probably not for now. Has someone else taken over the Griffith investigation?’

‘Not yet. No one available. I’ve got to plough on.’

‘Anything on Caris?’

Spencer sounded as if he was struggling to stay awake. ‘No. It’s like a UFO beamed her up. Her mam’s in bits, keeps phoning me. So does Morgan. I’ve nothing to tell them.’

Swift could only hope that Spencer hadn’t mentioned UFOs to Ms Murray. ‘Could you do something for me?’

Spencer sounded panicky. ‘Me? What?’

‘It’s nothing complicated. I followed up some information that Gwyn Bowen gave me. Afan Griffith was involved in a climbing accident years ago. A woman died. I met her son today. He told me that Afan had been paying him money for years by standing order, by way of making up for the loss of his mother. His name’s Trevor Wright. He discovered the full details of the accident earlier this year and stopped the payments. He admitted that he was angry with Afan. He told me he was working the day Afan died, but you need to check his alibi.’

‘This guy turned down the money?’

‘He accepted it for some time, but yes, he did. I suppose if you have information on Afan’s bank account, you’ll see that’s the case.’

‘Why would anyone turn down money? Doesn’t add up to me.’

Spencer was clearly stuck. ‘That’s not the issue. Wright’s resentment is. You need to check him out.’

‘Okay. What’s his name again?’

He could hear Spencer’s brain lurching into low gear. ‘Trevor Wright. His mum was called Drusilla Knight. You can google her. Have you got those names?’

‘Hang on. Yeah.’

‘Wright works in Cardiff, at Castle Wines. You need to verify that he was there when Afan died. I suggest you get onto it straightaway. Could you text me the outcome?’

Spencer sounded cautious. ‘Am I allowed to do that?’

‘Why not? Tell you what, do a thumbs up emoji if the alibi checks out, thumbs down if it doesn’t.’

Spencer repeated the instruction. Swift pictured him drawing a thumb and shook his head as he ended the call. He’d arranged to call in on Morgan Callender, in the hope that he might have information about the nightmare situation at Tir Melys that Caris had alluded to. He retraced his route to Roath. He was alarmed at the news about Sofia Weber. He’d read that osteomyelitis was a rare, serious condition and could be fatal. He’d only just met her, but she was an ally and she’d become a friend.

* * *

Morgan Callender was wan and sickly. The blinds were still down in the flat and the air smelled unpleasantly sweet. The small space was untidy, strewn with clothes and dirty dishes. The young man couldn’t sit still and paced up and down while they talked.

‘Something’s happened to Caz. I could tell the police thought that too when they came round. How could she go missing on a Sunday morning?’

‘Did Caris get any phone calls before she left here on Sunday?’

‘No. No one phoned her.’

‘What about the call she took as I was leaving?’

‘That was her work, asking if she could do an extra shift this week.’

‘Did she seem worried about anything?’

‘No.’ He leaned against a wall. ‘If anything, she was happier than she’d been in a while. We talked for ages after you left on Saturday, and we were both more cheerful. We agreed that I needed to leave here as soon as possible, and we’d find somewhere to live together in Bristol, like you suggested. That way, Caz wouldn’t be too far from her mam. Caz was going to tell her mam the truth when she got home. We said we’d start looking for jobs and a flat this week.’ He sank to the floor and put his head in his hands. ‘What am I going to do now?’

Swift went to the mucky sink and poured a glass of water. He took it across to Morgan. ‘Here, drink this. I need you to help me, if you can.’

Tears flowed down Morgan’s cheeks. He took the glass. ‘How can I help, stuck here?’

Swift sat on a dining chair and pushed aside the remains of a takeaway Chinese meal on the table. ‘When I was leaving here on Saturday, Caris mentioned a problem at Tir Melys. She said that she wished she hadn’t got Afan involved in it. Have you any idea what she was referring to?’

Morgan said, ‘No. The only thing we ever talked about concerning Afan was this place.’

‘What about the other people in the community? Did Caris ever have arguments with any of them?’

Morgan sipped water. ‘The police asked me that. I couldn’t think of anything. She liked some of them better than others. She got on with Bruno and Suki . . . and Afan, of course.’ He started crying again.

Swift gave him time. He cleared the table and other surfaces of dirty mugs and dishes, put them in the sink and filled it with hot water. He found a cloth and wiped the table clean.

Morgan said dully, ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I hate mess. Indulge me. Go back to those times you went to Tir Melys with Caris. Did she clash with anyone?’

‘You reckon someone there has done something to her?’

‘No idea, but it’s worth considering. So try and remember. And could you open a window while you’re doing that?’

Morgan stood up and opened a skylight. Cool, clean air washed in. He perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘Caz sort of kept to her work when she was there.