Murder On Bwytheney by Elizabeth. Newby (adult books to read .txt) 📕

about the people in my stories and didn't want to drag them through the mill. I loved writing, and I loved telling stories, but journalism wasn't for me. The blog, however, had been a different story, and it was entirely within my control. Life was now comfortable. Settled.

But I couldn't deny that there was an itch inside. Of course, in an ideal world, I would be the next Agatha Christie and would have a publishing deal. But that would mean sending off my writing to be judged and I wasn't quite ready for that. However, I did love a good puzzle and getting lost in research. And maybe life had become a little too sedate for a woman in her thirties. No doubt, writing about it on the blog would increase traffic to the site bring more business for The Nord Isles. But could it be done without hurting people?

I skipped up the steps into the post office and found a queue waiting to be served. Of course, with Linda breaking the news in the pub last night, everyone was probably here to see what they could find out from her. My letters needed to go, though, so I joined the end of the queue.

A minute later, the door opened, and Gregory lined up behind me.

“Morning, Cara.”

"Morning, Gregory. Where did you get to last night? You missed all the drama."

Gregory's fingers drummed on the A4 brown envelope, and he stretched his neck to see how many people were waiting in front of us. "Oh, I had a headache start and decided to give it a miss and walked home. Just as well, from what I've heard."

“Yeah, it was a late one. Things were crazy for a couple of hours after Lisa came bursting in to tell us.”

“It’s awful. Do the police have any leads? Have they said anything?”

“I don’t think so. They interviewed me this morning but they weren’t giving anything away.”

“They interviewed you? Why would they do that?”

“Oh, I saw Melissa earlier in the day. Have they talked to you yet?”

“No, I suspect they’ll want to talk to everyone in the village at some point.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Hey, did you say that you walked home last night? That’s not like you. Did Sam have the night off?”

Sam was the local driver and taxi man. If you needed safely delivering home after a night at the pub, were heading to a mainland airport, or needing to be driven anywhere else, then Sam was your man. Gregory used him often. Many joked that he kept whisky in his pocket and sipped at it throughout the day, so much so that Sam was a part-time employee. I'd never seen him drinking anything except ale in the pub. But now and again, there was a tang about him.

“Ha, pulling my leg again, right?”

“Right,” I laughed.

“Actually, you’re half right. Sam had other plans. Not usually an issue as I can drive myself, but my damn car isn’t starting. I’ve been waiting on Nick to come and take a look. Decided to take a leaf out of your book and walk to the pub. It’s probably what gave me a headache.”

We both laughed. It was something I had become known for on the island – walking everywhere with Shadow. But the exercise did us both good, and most places were within easy reach. It just seemed pointless to keep a car while living on the island. When I first moved here, money was tight, so I sold my Renault Clio and hadn't bought another car since.

“Hey, do you want me to post your letter for you? Save us both standing around here while everyone gets the juicy details from Linda?” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, that’s very kind, but no. It's okay. I really need to make sure this goes urgently." Gregory tucked the envelope inside his jacket and held it close to him, "Important business papers, you know how it is. I can send yours for you, though."

“Thanks, that would be great. Peter’s coming over in a bit to put up some shelves. They just need to go first class.” I handed him some money to cover the cost and headed back out on to the high street.

Between my conversations with Caz and Emma and then Gregory, my head was spinning with thoughts about Melissa's murder. I had a dreadful feeling that it was someone local, someone we all knew. If I'd been asked yesterday morning whether anyone had a grudge against Melissa, I would have laughed them off. But in the last twenty-four hours, I had witnessed two local men acting out of character when it came to Melissa. Gregory had just lied to me about his car not working and then there was Pete's frostiness when I mentioned her.

Maybe Caz and Emma were right. I might need to look into it for my own sanity. The police would be running their own investigation, but there was no harm in me doing a little digging of my own if only to quieten the questions and suspicions racing around my head.

Chapter 7

Pete arrived at mine with a carload of wood. Not only had he been working on my oak bookshelves with their live bark edge, but he also had something for Shadow – a handcrafted bed with carvings of dog toys and bones in the side. It was perfect and big enough for Shadow to stretch out as he often did. He deserved a treat. No one else has ever stuck by my side in the way Shadow does. It’s true what they say about them being your best friend.

“Do you fancy a brew?” I asked.

“Oh, go on. It’s about time I took a break.”

“Your blog post went live this morning, by the way.”

“Ah, that’ll explain the extra calls I’m getting today then!”

Shadow's bed was now taking shape, and Pete only needed to finalise a few details on the shelving before fixing them to the wall.

“Have you got any other jobs on