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

at present. The loss of the dog seems to be affecting her as much as anything. She’s got his ashes, apparently. Sleeps with them under her pillow.’

There was a crash. Spencer had dropped a plate of sandwiches on the floor. Sofia shook her head. ‘He’s a pendafad, but he’s my pendafad. Well . . . I have to get back to the station. I can’t leave this complex case to the tender mercies of Spence. It’s been good to work with you.’

‘You too. Maybe we can meet when you’re in better health.’

‘Maybe we can.’ She put her good hand out and smiled. ‘Take care, Lone Ranger. It’s been interesting.’

He saw her out to her cab. The fleeting sun struck her hair and gleamed on dark gold strands as she climbed in carefully. Her coat snagged in the door and she had to yank it in. Her eyebrows danced. He waved as the cab departed. He was caught by a pang, a sensation of loss.

The day grew gloomy as the afternoon wore on. A sharp breeze whipped the trees. Swift walked Amira to the Bridge Arms. She was wearing a thin wool coat over a linen dress and shivered.

‘This must be a shock after the warmth of Lyon,’ Swift said.

‘Certainly is. But sadness chills you too, doesn’t it?’

‘It does.’

‘I haven’t had a drink yet,’ she said at the pub door. ‘Will you have one with me before you go, to toast Afan?’

The pub was quiet, the fire glowing warmly. They sat beside it with their glasses of Malbec. Swift could see how Amira had matured in the years since he’d last seen her. She was more composed, but she still had the open, frank expression that he remembered.

‘This is good wine. I needed it. Afan loved absinthe but I’ve never developed a taste for it,’ she said.

‘I haven’t drunk it in years. Probably not since I last sat in a bar with Afan.’

They sat quietly for a while. ‘I’ve been going over everything,’ she said, regarding him with her almost black, cat-shaped eyes. ‘Afan was beset by other people’s problems. They all came to him for help: Morgan and Caris, Bruno, Kat, Elinor with her marital woes and then Caris again, with her story about Guy and Gwyn. It demonstrates what a good, kind man he was but my goodness! He was just trying to live a simple life, but they wouldn’t let him.’

Swift agreed. ‘He was too kind, too willing to listen. If he could have concentrated on his bees and mead, he’d still be with us. But unless you’re a hermit, hiding out in the chapel, there’s no such thing as a simple life. Wherever there are groups of people, there are problems. Jealousy, cruelty, rancour, betrayal — Tir Melys had its fair share.’

‘More than its fair share, I’d say. Oh, Ty, you came here expecting to have a pleasant break with an old friend and see what you stepped into!’

‘Hmm.’ Typical of you, Ruth had said. Nothing can ever be straightforward. Have you ever thought that trouble seems to follow you around? Not that he expected any sympathy from that quarter these days. Although, to be fair to her, she had accepted his wish to discuss the wedding with Branna.

‘How did Guy get Caris alone so that he could stab her?’ she asked.

‘I’ve heard the outline. He decided that she posed too much of a risk after he heard her saying that she couldn’t keep quiet about Gwyn.’ He paused. ‘Although Caris carried a lot of angst and guilt about that, I’m not sure that she would have gone public. She had too much to lose, just as Gwyn had, and her overriding instinct was to protect Morgan and her mother.’

‘So she died needlessly.’

‘Quite possibly. Guy phoned Caris while she was on the train back from Cardiff, sounding guilty and remorseful. He told her that he needed to make amends and was trying to work out the best way forward. He said he was desperate not to do anything to impede the adoption, because it meant everything to Elinor. He begged Caris to meet him and talk it over. She agreed. He picked her up on the edge of town and said he’d like to speak to her in the chapel, where it would be private and quiet. He promised to have her home in time to cook lunch. He must have put on a good show of appearing genuine and repentant. In the chapel, he stood near the hermit’s chamber and then pushed Caris in and stabbed her.’

Pain crossed Amira’s face. She took a drink of wine. ‘How ironic, that Elinor found her body.’

‘That was a traumatic time for Elinor. Bryn had just announced that the Merchants were planning to sell Tir Melys. Despite all her efforts and sacrifices, her covering up for Guy, she saw the chances of adopting a child slipping away. Then, after a row with Guy, she found Caris. Even then, she tried to protect him and make Gwyn a suspect.’

‘Will Peter and Guy get long sentences?’ Amira asked.

‘Hard to predict. The minimum for murder is fifteen years. Elinor’s mental health will be taken into account. She told me that I must find her “unhinged”. She was driven to the edge and I’m not sure she’ll come back from there.’

‘And Gwyn Bowen?’

‘She’s on bail. Who can tell how things will go for her? Guy failed her when he had a duty of care so that will be considered. But in the end, she was a criminal.’

‘Such a sad young woman.’

‘I’m sad for her, but sadder for the victims. I’m sorry for the loss of Caris but it’s Afan I grieve for.’ It hardly seemed to matter now, but he’d wondered which of the many problems Afan had wanted to talk to him about. Given the