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

might be interested in getting rid of the bookshop and buying into Tir Melys. I understand the shop isn’t doing that well and you’re struggling.’

She was offended. ‘Oh, I see. I’m not sure that’s anyone’s business but mine.’

‘I’ve found that Bryn makes everything his business. I expect he’ll be in touch. That was quite an evening on Sunday, wasn’t it?’

She shifted in the seat. ‘I thought you’d come about Caris?’

He’d been cruel, keeping the news from her, but he’d wanted to confuse her, and he suspected her of her own heartless acts. ‘That’s right. I’m afraid I have bad news about her.’

‘Oh.’

‘She’s dead. Her body’s been found.’

Tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘Oh, God, no! Where?’

‘In the chapel at Tir Melys.’

‘Was she murdered?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Poor, poor Caris. And her mam. It’ll destroy her mam.’

‘Yes.’ Her shock appeared genuine. He waited while she cried, removed her glasses and wiped her eyes.

‘When was she found?’

‘Last night. Elinor found her.’

Something changed in her expression. She retreated into herself. It was as if she’d pulled on a mask. She said, ‘I can’t believe this. Afan and Caris both dead.’

He hoped she’d put her glasses back on. She looked vulnerable without them and he didn’t want to think of her in that way, or gaze into her lovely eyes. ‘Is this the room where Afan had his Welsh lessons?’

‘What? Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘Just wondered. I seem to have been retracing his steps everywhere I go. It’s strange but somehow right.’

She pressed a tissue to her eyes again. ‘Do the police have any idea why Caris was in the chapel?’

‘I’m not sure. Will you be able to tell them anything?’

She stared at him. ‘You believe I know something about Caris’s murder?’

‘Honestly? At the moment, I’m not sure.’

She cleared her throat. ‘All I can say is that I was expecting to meet Caris at her mam’s on Sunday to take her to the concert, but she didn’t come back.’

Swift wasn’t sure of his ground. This young woman had come up with a way to distract him and had sent him off course to Ogmore. Time to switch tracks on her. He gestured to the throws. ‘You and Caris had the same tastes. She had these pretty throws in Morgan Callender’s flat in Cardiff. Did you buy them together?’

Her lips parted in surprise. He watched as she struggled to digest the comment.

‘Cardiff? I don’t understand. Morgan’s in London.’

‘No. He’s never been in London. He went to Cardiff when he left town, and Caris spent weekends there with him.’

‘How could he be in Cardiff? He wanted to be far away from his brother. I don’t get it.’

Swift touched the weave of the throw. It was soft and fine. ‘No. But then, you and Caris had grown apart of late, hadn’t you? Not quite the close friends you once were. You told me that you hadn’t seen that much of her recently. She kept a major part of her life from you. You fell out, of course, about what you were up to with Elinor Brinkworth. That’s the problem with getting involved in tangles with people. It can backfire.’

Those eyes like pale grey moonstones stared at him. To his relief, she put her glasses back on. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

He’d keep it light and conversational. ‘Well, Gwyn, I’ve been puzzled about two young women who visited Elinor and owned her expensive jewellery. I saw the price tags when I was in her studio. Caris can’t have been earning big money at a warehouse. I’ve heard that you’re in financial trouble with this shop and like Caris, you have responsibility for a sick parent. Yet you could both wear beautiful, exclusive pieces. I had a long chat with Elinor last night. Very cosy, in front of Afan’s stove. The story she told me wasn’t a cosy one, though. It was sad and desperate. What you experienced when you were at school was terrible and I’m sorry for you. No child should undergo that, carry the memory of it through life.’

The silence stretched. A tourist coach rumbled past outside. Swift saw a boy in a baseball cap with his nose pressed to the window.

Gwyn found her voice. ‘What did Elinor tell you?’

‘A lot.’ I wish I was more certain about how to decipher it. ‘I can understand that you hate Guy after what he did, or rather failed to do. Bryn Price mentioned that you didn’t achieve your potential at school. Now I understand why.’

She said in a frosty tone, ‘I don’t want to talk about that. It’s my private business, no one else’s.’

‘Gwyn, you’ve made it other people’s business through your actions. There’s no privacy after murder.’

She clasped her hands together. ‘I haven’t murdered anyone!’

‘Maybe not, but what you’ve done has contributed to someone deciding to commit murder. You have to talk about what happened to you at school. To the police, if not to me. For now, though, if it will help you make up your mind, I’ll play you what Elinor told me about your experience.’

He found the edited section on his phone and played it. She listened to the tear-laden voice, staring at the phone as if it was alive.

Gwyn came here for the first time with Caris last January. I’d ordered a design book, and she delivered it because she was interested in seeing the studio. She didn’t stay long, and I thought it was odd, the way she took off suddenly. Caris came to see me a week later and asked if I’d meet her and Gwyn at the bookshop. It was all a bit mysterious, something about Gwyn needing to talk to me. I went and had a coffee with them in Gwyn’s flat. Gwyn told me that she’d recognised Guy, and that