MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective , GRETTA MULROONEY [books to read now .txt] 📗

Tir Melys website again but didn’t glean any new information. He was curious about the Merchants’ finances, so searched for Giles Merchant. This threw up a number of candidates, but based on Suki’s information, the most likely was a website for a business called Scrumptious, operating from Putney. It was a cake-making outfit and featured a photo of a beaming Giles Merchant in a chef’s hat, balancing two iced sponge cakes in either hand. He resembled his father but had his mother’s imperious gaze.

Hi, I’m Giles and I set up Scrumptious Cakes in 2012. We deliver delicious cakes, cupcakes and other sweet treats throughout London. Our clients are individuals, businesses and events organisers. We’ll tailor our cakes to your needs and make suggestions if you’re not sure what you want. All our goodies are made to order by our highly skilled bakers, using only the finest ingredients.

Go on, get in touch. We bet you want to!

There were photos of beautiful cakes in all shapes, sizes and colours, themed for engagements, weddings, birthdays and anniversaries. Beneath them were links to YouTube videos of cakes being made and decorated, with some recipes thrown in. Swift watched one. The theme was a rainforest, and it was visually striking in emerald-green, blue and red icing, topped with multicoloured trees and butterflies. He recalled Jasmine’s worried comment, Giles needs the help, and we don’t have a lot of choice. Perhaps Scrumptious wasn’t as successful as the publicity suggested. He sent himself a link to the website and sat pondering. He decided that he wanted to talk to Caris Murray. It seemed odd that both she and her boyfriend had volunteered at Tir Melys and had met Afan, and the two men were now gone, one of them dead. In Swift’s experience, odd was always worth pursuing.

At the counter, Sam told him that wrapping the sandwich up was no problem. ‘It’s not that you didn’t like it, then? Our food’s highly rated.’

‘I’m saving it for later, thanks. Did Afan seem bothered about anything recently?’

Sam was assembling a brown cardboard box. ‘I don’t think so. He’d come in, ask for his usual, put a record on the jukebox and use a computer.’ He handed the food across.

‘Thanks.’ Swift was about to go, and then turned back. ‘What music did Afan play?’

‘His favourite was Motown. He always chose Martha and the Vandellas, “Dancing in the Street”.’

Swift was gladdened to hear that something about Afan hadn’t changed. He went back to the jukebox and selected the record. Sam smiled at him and raised the glass of water he was drinking in a toast. ‘Lechyd da! To Afan.’

Swift opened the café door and almost fell over DI Weber, who clutched at her arm protectively, losing her grip on her stick. Swift caught it for her and handed it back.

‘Thanks. I expected to see you,’ she said. ‘You’d been to the bookshop before me too.’

‘A DI doing all the legwork?’

She frowned at him. ‘I hope you’re not meddling.’

‘It’s natural to care about a friend who’s been murdered.’

‘Hmm. Well, while we’re passing the time, I can inform you that you’re not a suspect. Are you going to be back at Tir Melys later this afternoon?’

‘I can be.’

‘There’s things I want to discuss. I’ll see you at Mr Griffith’s place around half four. Have the kettle on. Now, I don’t usually ask men to open doors for me, but I’ll make an exception today.’

On his way back to his car, Swift stopped at the organic grocery where he bought orange juice, two cartons of vegetable soup, some tins of baked beans and apples. The mini fridge at Afan’s had just two compartments, so he had to limit his supplies. He could get bread and milk when he needed it from the kitchen at Tir Melys. He didn’t want to have to eat in the refec all the time and be beholden to the community, and he particularly didn’t want to fulfil Jasmine’s expectation that he’d dine with them daily. It was useful to get a handle on the general dynamic and relationships of the community and observe them close up. If Afan’s killer was at the table, he didn’t mind breaking bread with them now and again, especially if it helped to catch them, but he was no martyr and he couldn’t face nightly suppers.

The road back curved around the coastline. Swift stopped the car in a lay-by and gazed out at the hazy horizon and a wide stretch of sandy beach. The unpredictable weather and brisk breeze meant that it was almost empty. As often happened with sudden death, Afan’s was causing him to reflect on the years that had slipped by so quickly, years without contact, and his life during that time. Losing Ruth, then meeting her again and helping her during her difficult marriage. Setting up his own investigation agency, discovering that Ruth was pregnant with their child and then finding out that Branna had hearing loss. The death of his close friend Cedric, the deaths of others, both friends and victims and his failed relationship with Nora. He was tired and unsure, wondering if he had taken wrong turnings.

He pictured his daughter playing on a sunnier beach, running towards the waves and shrieking when they rolled over her legs. She’d be chanting, ‘Silly old sea, you can’t catch me!’

Tears ambushed him. He blinked and drove on.

Chapter 8

There was a round plastic food box by the cottage door, with a note on top. Swift expected to find that mother hen Elinor had left it and would have signed Frankie’s name alongside her own, but when he unfolded the paper, he saw that he had a different benefactor.

Thought you might like this chicken hotpot. It’s my trusty standby recipe and Afan really loved it. Just needs five mins in microwave. Enjoy! Kat xx

He put his supplies