MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective GRETTA MULROONEY (epub e reader TXT) 📖

They opened the door, confirming his hunch that he’d found what lay behind Afan’s ‘cloak-and-dagger’ comment to Amira. He closed the door quietly, locked it again, and pressed one bell randomly. There was no intercom, but after a short wait the door opened, revealing a tiny Japanese woman in a red minidress, with a slice of toast in her hand.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I’m calling on Morgan Callender and I can’t remember which number he lives at. He is expecting me.’

‘Number six, top floor,’ she said, turning away and vanishing down the hall, leaving him to close the door.

So much for home security. Swift stepped into a white-painted hall with cream and blue mosaic floor tiles. A noticeboard on the left-hand wall had information about bin collections and recycling. There was a post rack below it. A large fire extinguisher hung further down the hallway, beyond the brown-carpeted stairs.

Swift climbed the stairs. The house was well maintained with no tell-tale scuffmarks on the carpet or the white walls, and there were metal stands containing houseplants on the landings. Each flat had a different-coloured front door and through the arched landing windows he saw a small, lawned back garden with an apple tree hung with bird feeders in the centre. If he’d known that Afan was a landlord, this was the kind of handsome property that Swift would have expected him to own.

Flat six had a bottle-green front door. He rang the bell and the young man in the photo opened it.

‘Hi, are you Morgan Callender?’

The slight youth blinked rapidly. He wore blue flip-flops, jeans and a thin vest. ‘Who let you in?’

‘My name’s Ty Swift, I’m a friend of Afan’s. I wanted to speak to you. I expect Caris is here. We met at Tir Melys.’

Caris appeared behind Morgan, eyes wide. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘If you let me come in, I’ll tell you. I’m not here to cause you any trouble. You should hear me out.’

Morgan turned towards her. ‘Caz?’

She hesitated and then shrugged. ‘You’d better come in then.’

It was a studio flat, built into the eaves. Just one good-sized room, painted cream with skylight windows. There was a mattress on a platform in the far corner and a fitted kitchen area with glossy white cupboards. Swift spotted jars of Tir Melys honey and a couple of bottles of home-made wine on the worktop. The living space was furnished with a small glass-topped table and two chairs, and two sofas covered in batik throws. Caris sat on one of the sofas, her legs tucked beneath her. She glared at Swift. He sat on the other sofa. It sagged beneath him.

‘Well, Caris. The police have been trying to contact you. Have you responded to DS Spencer’s message?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Don’t you think you should?’

She ignored the question and asked, ‘How did you find us?’

‘Through a shopping list. I visited your mum last night and she gave it to me.’

She sat up straighter. ‘What do you mean, a shopping list?’

‘A receipt from the Co-op on the corner of this road. Your mum found it. I took things from there and asked around.’

Caris picked up a cushion covered in jewelled mirrors and squeezed it. ‘Sod it. I forgot she goes through my laundry. You’d no right, going to see my mam and bothering her.’

‘Actually, she phoned me and asked me to visit. She found the card I’d given you in the rubbish bin. Let’s face it, you’re not very good at covering your tracks. I wouldn’t apply to join MI5 any time soon.’ He smiled, keeping it friendly.

‘I don’t believe you. My mam wouldn’t have called you,’ she said, but she sounded uncertain.

‘Why would I lie about it? Not everyone tells as many fibs as you do. Phone your mum now if you like and ask her.’

Morgan had perched beside her. He was better-looking than his photo suggested, if you liked the nervy, emaciated type. His large eyes were arresting, a deep, shining brown. He muttered, ‘What’s going on, Caz?’

‘This is the guy I was telling you about who was asking questions. He found Afan’s body. I expect he charmed my mam into blabbing. She gets so desperate for company she’d give Jack the Ripper a cuppa if he called by.’

‘She doesn’t know much, though, does she?’ Swift said. ‘She’s worried about you and imagining all kinds of things.’

Caris scowled at him. ‘Now you’ve found us, what do you want?’ She was wearing a short floral dress with an elasticated neck that sat just below her shoulders. Now and again she fingered a silver necklace with an oval emerald pendant that nestled against her creamy skin.

Swift shrugged his jacket off. It was warm at the top of the house and no windows were open. The flat was tidy but smelled of bodies and cooked breakfast. He wasn’t sure what these two were up to, but they were on edge and he didn’t want them to throw him out. ‘I’m honestly not here to pry into your lives. I don’t care what you’re doing, unless it has something to do with Afan’s death.’

Morgan relaxed a little but Caris eyed him and said, ‘Go on.’

Morgan was an easier target, so Swift focused on him. ‘I assume that Afan owned this house, and that’s why you were anxious to find out about what would happen to his estate after he died.’

‘That’s right,’ Morgan said.

‘Did he come to an arrangement with you when he found out you wanted to get away from home? I understand you were tormented by your brother, Calvin.’

Morgan put out a hand and rested it on Caris’s knee, rubbing the tiny yellow flowers on her dress hem. He turned to her, an unspoken question, and she nodded.

He said, ‘Afan knew what my life was like back