MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective Book 8) by Gretta Mulrooney

Author:Gretta Mulrooney [Mulrooney, Gretta]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thrillers, suspense and mysteries
Published: 2021-03-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

It was high time he had fresh drinking water. The next morning, he took the enamel bucket and found the natural spring behind the Merchants’ house, following the track behind the high beech hedges that screened their home. He heard the water before he saw it. It was in a small copse of holly and birch trees and came from a pipe set into a stony ridge with a lipped saucepan hanging beside it. He drank some from his hand. It was beautifully cold. He filled the bucket and as he walked back with it, he saw Elinor Brinkworth drive away in the Land Rover with Frankie curled up in the back window. Dr Brinkworth might be at home, polishing his PhD.

He placed the bucket by the sink and made his way over to Cuddfan, the Brinkworths’ house. There was no answer when he knocked at the door, so he followed the brick herringbone path around the side of the house to an egg-shaped timber building with a mossy green roof and full-length windows, painted a sunny orange. He could see Guy Brinkworth inside, seated at a bench. He was wearing an LED headband and goggles, his head bent over his work. Swift had prepared his excuse for visiting and tapped gently on a window. Guy looked up, removed the headband, pushed the goggles to the top of his head and opened the door.

He said discouragingly, ‘Can I help you?’

‘I hope so. I’d like to buy Joyce, my stepmother, a piece of jewellery for Christmas, and it would be good to get her one from an individual jeweller, rather than something mass-produced. So, as I’m here and you make jewellery . . .’

‘Oh, I see, a paying customer. Well, you’d better step in.’

Inside, the studio was bright with natural light and furnished with two identical workbenches and height-adjustable upholstered chairs, one black and one red, at either side of the room. The walls were covered with fitted drawers in graduated sizes, racks of tools, organiser boxes and flexible lamps. Glass-fronted display cabinets contained a wide selection of bracelets, rings, necklaces, earrings, pendants and brooches. They gleamed and winked in the light.

Guy stood staring down his nose, with his usual peevish expression. He wore a twisted silver torc around his neck.

Swift smiled. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your work. I must be a nuisance. It seemed too good an opportunity to pass up, given that I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.’

Guy was just a tad more gracious, even if he still sounded grudging. ‘Of course. I was working, and consultations are usually by appointment, but you’re here now. What did you have in mind?’

Swift hadn’t a clue. He pictured Joyce, his stepmother, who liked gaudy, floral outfits and brightly coloured accessories. ‘My stepmother likes wearing brooches. Do you make those?’

‘I can make anything you like. Your heart’s desire, as they say. Here, take a seat.’ He pulled a chair out. ‘My jewellery ethos is based on the Bauhaus style — beauty and practicality.

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