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the other girls there. If there was ever a time when I needed a steaming hot black americano and a fat slice of salted caramel chocolate brownie, it was now.

I pushed the door open and heard the familiar tinkle of the bell above the door. It was there for the quieter days when Jo was on her own and busy in the kitchen out back. But today, quite a few of the locals were gathered around their teas, talking about the murder.

“Hey Cara, Caz is at our table over in the corner. I’ll be there in a sec. Just going to make sure Dilly is okay to take over,” said Emma.

Dilly was a local teenager who Emma had taken on to help out in busy periods. She mainly worked weekends and holidays.

I made my way to the back corner. It was our favourite spot having windows on both sides, perfect for people watching. Shadow curled up under the table, on guard for any crumbs that might fall his way.

“How you doing, Caz?” I said as I sat myself down.

"I'm okay, thanks. It's all a bit of a shock. The kids won't stop talking about it, of course. So, Phil has taken them out of my hair for a bit."

Emma placed our coffees and slices on the table and slipped into one of the other seats, “Jo’s working, I think. Gosh, it’s been crazy in here today. Everyone is talking about it.”

"Not surprising, really. It's not as though this kind of thing normally happens around here. My notifications haven't stopped. Everyone's emailing the blog, asking what happened."

“Have you written anything about it yet?” asked Caz, sipping her coffee.

“God, no. I mean, what do you even say? I’ll have to address it at some point.”

"Well, the big question is whodunnit?" whispered Emma.

“Not one of the locals, surely? It must be a visitor to the island,” said Caz.

“I’m not sure that makes sense,” I replied, “I mean, what motive would they have? That their shower was muddy?”

“Who knows what drives someone to murder?” said Caz as she took a bite of her brownie.

“Motives for murder tend to be jealousy, greed and revenge. I’m not sure showers or any other camping problems are really something people take revenge for. No, I’m afraid my money is on a local. Horrifying thought, I know.” I placed my coffee back on the table.

“Ah, of course,” exclaimed Emma, “the crime fiction books! I bet you have to research all sorts when writing them.”

“Hey, you should look into it, find out who the killer is amongst our midst.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that—”

“Oh yes,” said Emma, “it makes perfect sense. You write about crimes. Your blog means you've got to know more about these islands and who lives on them than anyone else. Plus, you have incredible research skills – you've dug up all sorts for your blog."

“Total sense,” added Caz, “didn’t you used to be a journalist? Don’t they investigate stuff like this? And you could write about it on your blog too. Come on, Cara. You know the police round here have few resources. Just think of it as a little blog project—”

At that moment, we were interrupted, "Hello, girls, shocking news about Melissa." It was Bronwen Jones. We all knew her, everyone knew everyone on Bwytheney, but she wasn't someone we would sit down with for a chat. We were in our thirties and Bronwen was in her fifties. I suspected she just wanted to gossip with someone.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, “Did you see or hear anything, you know, being next door to the campsite?”

"Didn't hear a thing. It was such a shock when flashing blue lights started shining through the windows. I'd been watching a box set, and Matthew was working in his office. Neither of us saw anything. Such a shame, a woman struck down like that."

“Can I get you anything, Bronwen? Or has Dilly sorted you?”

"Oh, I'm all sorted, thank you. I was just picking up some treats for Matthew. I think he deserves something sweet after his rescue efforts yesterday."

“He sure does,” I replied, “I put the article up yesterday and linked to your B&B.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. You didn’t need to, but it’s appreciated.”

Caz stared at Bronwen with a fixed grin on her face. There was an awkward silence.

“Right then, I best get going. Bye.”

“Bye, Bronwen,” I said.

“She couldn’t be more obvious,” said Emma, “she’s in here trying to get all the tit-bits of gossip to pass onto her crocheting ladies. They’ll be meeting later today.”

I laughed, “It’s human nature. We’re all talking about it.”

“Talking of gossip…”

“Don’t you be holding out on us, Caz. Spill. Now.”

“Well, I heard that our local hero Matthew is actually having an affair. I kind of feel sorry for Bronwen. Always after the gossip and doesn’t know when it’s about her husband. If Phil even dared to think about…”

“Wait, what? Matthew Jones is having an affair? Who with?” asked Emma. She turned to me, “Did you know about this?”

"Not a whisper," I shrugged, and we both looked at Caz.

“Oh, I don’t know any details. Just that he’s been seen with someone a couple of times up in Brynness. But you know what it’s like around here. Rachel’s cousin’s wife’s sister said…. There’s probably nothing in it.”

Brynness was a small village further north on the island, nestled in Bwytheney's hills. Most people headed out there for the walks and views.

“Well, as much as I would like to stay here gossiping with you two, I have things I need to do,” I said, standing up. Shadow stretched and came to my side.

“Yes, you’ve got a murder to investigate,” teased Caz.

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.”

Chapter 6

Turning left onto the high street, I headed towards the post office. But I couldn't shake what Caz and Emma had been saying. Yes, I was once a journalist. But it was such a cut-throat business, and I didn't have the ruthless streak required to stick it out long-term. I cared

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