MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective by GRETTA MULROONEY (ebook reader for laptop txt) 📕

‘It’s not true, then?’ Bryn asked. He sounded as if he was enjoying himself.

Jasmine had rallied. ‘It certainly isn’t, and I’ve no idea where such a lie has come from. This community is dear to our hearts. Really, Bryn, you must trust us more than that.’

‘I’d say I’ve worked out how much I can trust you.’

Guy tilted his glass at Jasmine, a little smile on his lips. His hair was loose and flowing down his back, enhancing his androgynous air. He was wearing a chunky silver and gold ring with a zigzag topaz stone and a matching plaited necklace. ‘As you always say, Jasmine, respect is our watchword at Tir Melys.’

Jasmine tugged her hat down. ‘Exactly. Now let’s eat, although I have to confess, I haven’t much appetite.’

‘Homity pie was one of Afan’s favourites,’ Kat whispered.

They were all silent while they helped themselves to the food. Swift tried some of the gooseberry wine. It was almond-coloured, light and refreshing.

‘The police were asking me about my pottery, where I sold it.’ Suki said. ‘They counted my crockery and asked how many of each item I usually had. Weird.’ She was wearing a sari this evening, white polka dots on black cotton, with a white T-shirt under the folds.

‘Were they all accounted for?’ Swift asked.

‘Yes. What was that about? Why did you ask?’

‘I just wondered,’ he said easily.

‘I told them I broke a couple of pieces in the kitchen a few months back,’ Kat said.

‘Most of us have some of your pottery,’ Elinor told Suki. ‘Terry, our social worker, admired it when he came last week. I told him it’s for sale in Davis’s in Holybridge. He really liked it, didn’t he, Guy? He said he was going to buy a set.’ She smiled brightly at her husband. Frankie was in place on her lap, subdued.

Guy finished chewing and said in a bored voice, ‘I couldn’t say, I didn’t take much notice. I try to ignore Terry’s irritating voice as much as possible, especially when he mispronounces words. If he says “perogative” instead of “prerogative” and “mischeeveeus” instead of “mischievous” again, I’ll start howling. And don’t get me started on his atrocious grammar, getting “their/they’re” and “your/you’re” mixed up in his reports.’ He spelled the words aloud. ‘Apostrophes are too high a mountain for Terry to climb. It’s hard to believe that a dullard like him is responsible for deciding if highly educated people should adopt a child. I wouldn’t let him make a decision about Frankie’s welfare.’

‘His heart’s in the right place and he’s very kind and understanding,’ Elinor said.

Guy snorted. ‘What an accolade about a supposed professional. But then, your standards are lower than mine, Elinor, and you think that emotions rank higher than intellectual rigour.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . . so stupid of me . . .’ Flustered, Elinor dropped her fork on the floor. Frankie barked and she shushed him.

‘Best to engage brain before you speak,’ her husband advised. ‘Returning to the subject of Suki’s pottery, I don’t suppose her sales are at the top of her agenda on a sad day like this.’

‘At least Elinor’s got a brain, Guy, instead of a head full of spite,’ Bryn said.

Swift would never have put Guy and Elinor together as a couple, but perhaps it was a case of polar opposites attracting. He was skinny, with girlish, prissy features, and a long nose that he used for looking down. She’d piled her plate with food, whereas he had small portions. Swift couldn’t help remembering the rhyme, Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean.

Elinor rubbed her fork on her paper napkin. ‘It was horrible, being questioned by that detective, having to give an account of where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. Why is it that the police make you believe you’re a suspect even when you’re completely blameless?’

Bryn folded his arms. ‘Is anyone completely blameless? I doubt it. Most of us have things we’d rather keep quiet about. I bet even you have, Ty.’

Swift said, ‘Of course. Most of us have committed some kind of petty misdemeanour: sticking a postage stamp upside down, beeping a car horn without good reason, parking on the pavement. Luckily, not many of us commit murder.’

Jasmine cleared her throat. ‘We all need to gather here at the Bivium at ten tomorrow morning. The police are coming back to fingerprint us. DI Weber seemed to find it odd that we didn’t have next of kin details for Afan.’

‘He was born in Cardiff,’ Kat said hoarsely. ‘I remember him saying that and I told the sergeant. I asked Afan once if he wanted a Mother’s Day card because I had a couple of spares, but he said he was without a mother to send one to. That was ever so sad. I really felt for him.’ She was picking at her food and pushing it around the plate.

Bruno threw her a withering glance. ‘Is it sad, necessarily? Afan was in his forties. Lots of people have lost a parent by the time they reach that age, and from what I knew of him, he wouldn’t have been maudlin about it.’

‘You didn’t know him like I did, none of you did,’ Kat said meaningfully.

Guy sniggered. ‘In your dreams.’

Kat pointed her knife at him. ‘You couldn’t stand him. You weren’t fit to clean his shoes.’

Bryn tapped his glass. ‘Now now, children, play nicely at a time of mourning. What will our guest make of us?’

Jasmine spoke quietly. ‘Yes, this isn’t a time for bickering. Please show respect for Afan and our visitor. We should all bear in mind that Ty has had the biggest shock today and he’s dealt with it very well indeed.’

Swift concentrated on his pie. Even when she was trying to