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

‘Afan said — and the other climber, the man who was with him, confirmed it — that he’d been distracted for a split second. There were some teenagers fooling around on the shore nearby, just past an outcrop of rock. One of them started yelling with pain because he’d trodden on a sharp shell and cut his foot open. They were out of sight, but the shout was enough to distract Afan and — Sod’s Law — in that moment, the woman who was climbing lost her footing and fell. She missed the crash mat and landed on rocks.’

Swift was shocked. He pictured the scene — the sea behind, the sun and breeze, the woman poised on the rocks above, young people larking about on the shore. Then, in seconds, a broken body. It was a trauma that would slice deep and stay with you.

Toft stood, walked around the sofa and adjusted a vase of flowers on a table. Then he perched on the sofa arm. ‘I was so sorry for Afan. He was in bits about it. There was an investigation and an inquest, of course, and the verdict was accidental death. Up to that fall, Afan had done everything right and by the book. Conditions were dry and chilly, which meant that the friction between hands, feet and rock was at its best. Bouldering in good conditions is equivalent to cycling with the wind at your back, and the rocks were medium difficult, suited to what Afan knew of his group’s abilities.’

It sounded as if Afan had gauged the conditions well, paying the same attention to environment and weather as Swift did to wind forces and tides before he launched his boat. It was what Swift would have expected of him. ‘It sounds like really bad luck. That can happen when you take any physical risks.’

‘True, but there’s understanding that and the emotional impact of a death on your watch. Also, we discovered during the investigation that the woman who died had exaggerated her levels of experience. She’d done some indoor bouldering but almost none outdoors. That was very foolish of her, because there’s a lot more to anticipate and contend with in outdoor work. Indoors, you have colours and markers to guide you. Outdoors, holds and footholds are far less obvious, and you have to think much harder, coordinate your breath and movements. In a way, you have to learn a whole new set of skills. If Afan had been aware of that, he’d have given her an easy route. There are plenty around here.’

‘Did that help Afan? He’d acted properly but she’d misinformed him. It wasn’t his fault.’

‘It didn’t seem to. In the end, he’d altered his stance and been distracted, even if the reason for that was beyond his control. A good spotter gives the climber the confidence to focus one hundred per cent on the moves, and that’s how Afan usually was, utterly reliable. We’d spotted for each other and I had complete trust in him. He should have been focused and ready with outstretched arms to guide the student to the pad and away from hazards. And he was, but for that bloody stupid teenager yelling his head off. Worst of all, if that wasn’t bad enough, we found out that the woman who died was a single parent with a ten-month-old baby.’ Toft leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. ‘Afan was gutted. He left the club, never came back and later I heard that he’d gone abroad to work. That’s why I said I was surprised that he’d come back here, with those awful memories. I was pretty shaken up by it, I can tell you. These things leave their mark. I left the club too. I’ve never climbed since or taken responsibility for any group activity. I swim and walk.’

‘Who was the woman who died?’

‘Her name was Dru Knight. She’d moved back to Cardiff from London to live with her mam while she was pregnant. The grandmother minded the baby while she worked. She was employed in a carpet shop.’

‘Do you remember the names of the other members of the two groups?’

Toft rubbed his forehead and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s more than twenty years ago. I recall a Jimmy. That’s all, I’m afraid. It was a busy club and lots of people came and went — students from the university, all sorts from all over. I’ve tried not to dwell on it down the years. It’s painful talking about it, even now. I have to fetch the family from church, if that’s all.’

Swift drove to a car park near the beach, bought a hot dog from a stand and sat on a wall, catching mustard on his finger as he ate. A dense sea mist had drifted in, bathing everything in a swirling grey vapour. He didn’t mind the warm, light drizzle it carried. The little pulses of rain on his face were refreshing. A woman appeared from the mist, walking with her hands in her pockets. She passed in front of him, glanced in his direction and smiled. For a moment, he almost exclaimed Ruth! The same tawny hair and hazel eyes. Same delicate beauty. She carried on, walking away from him and within seconds, she’d vanished into the grey. He wanted to follow her, talk to her, find out if she was anything like the woman he missed. The impulse was strong. He resisted it and closed his eyes, disturbed. The emotions were still there, damped down like embers that might flame up if they were sparked. He waited until his breathing quietened. When he opened his eyes, the mist seemed to have thickened and the world was utterly silent. Perhaps he’d imagined the woman. He rubbed his eyes, went back to the car and forced himself to reflect on the matters queuing in his head.

There was Caris. He was impatient to learn about the