Chapter 13
‘Have a seat, love, thanks for coming. I can’t offer you tea or anything. I’m a bit whacked this time of evening. Just about all I can do to wash up my dinner plate and take my tablets.’
‘That’s fine.’ Swift sat near Ms Murray, in the corduroy-covered armchair of a three-piece suite. Her chair was positioned beside a grey oxygen cylinder and a mask attached to it lay in her lap. The back room was tiny, with faded embossed wallpaper and a three-bar gas fire inset to a tiled fireplace. Half a dozen houseplants cheered the restricted space. The back window had been replaced with French doors. They stood open onto a small square patch of paved yard, bounded by a pocked, frost-damaged brick wall. The yard was crammed with tubs of bright flowers: dahlias, pinks, zinnias, cosmos and love-in-a-mist. An empty washing line stretched across the yard and a rabbit stared disconsolately from a hutch by the back wall.
‘So, Ms Murray, why did you want to see me?’
She was a woman who’d once been well-built but had shrunk with age and illness. She must have been in her late fifties, but her face was a worn seventy. Her skirt and short-sleeved blouse were much too big, with the shoulder seams drooping down her arms, where flaps of skin hung. She had a kindly expression. She’d have been a buxom, pretty young woman. Caris had inherited her cheekbones. She raised her mask to her face and took a puff of oxygen.
‘Call me Lori. I don’t like going behind my Caris’s back, but truth is I’m ever so worried about her.’ Her voice was listless and faint.
‘If I can help, I will. You said that you heard me at the door the other night, asking about Afan Griffith.’
‘That’s right, and I heard Caris being downright rude to you,’ she said apologetically. ‘I didn’t bring her up to behave like that.’
‘I’m used to it. You’ll have seen from my card that I’m a private investigator. People often dislike my questions and it’s a difficult time for anyone associated with Tir Melys. It struck me that Caris is stressed out.’
‘She is, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t mind her manners. Caris was very fond of Mr Griffith. She was crying here when she heard he’d been found dead. She’s been on edge all week.’
‘Afan was my friend. I’d come here to visit him. I heard from people at Tir Melys that he and Caris got on well.’
‘They did. I was thrilled when she volunteered there and got so interested in gardening. We’ve nowhere to grow things here, although she does wonders with the little space we’ve got, and I love the tubs.’ She gestured to the back yard. ‘It was good for her, going there and meeting new people, learning new things. And she gets to bring home loads of lovely fresh fruit and veg. Eggs, too and sometimes cuts of lamb or chicken. That’s a real help, what with me being on benefits now. I can cook if I sit on a stool in the kitchen and take my time. I make big soups and stews. I might be a bit buggered, but I can still cook up a storm when I put my mind to it!’ She paused, swallowed and continued. ‘Caris could only get a part-time job at a warehouse when she left school and she doesn’t have much of a life, stuck here with me. She’s my youngest and the others have all moved away, got their own families. I’m glad of her help but I don’t want to hold her back. She’s only eighteen, she should be having some fun. Anyway, Tir Melys was good for her until Morgan Callender, her boyfriend, started tagging along there with her.’ She shook her head and took a sip of water from a glass on the small table beside her.
‘You didn’t like Morgan?’
Before she could reply, there was a huge cheer and Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’ burst into the evening air, accompanied by a loud chorus of voices.
‘Oh God,’ Lori said. ‘That’s next door, having a karaoke evening. I can’t complain, ’cause I used to go in there regular when I had a voice. Could you close the doors, love?’
Swift closed the doors. The music was still audible, but slightly muffled.
‘Ta. I miss my karaoke. My favourites were “I Will Survive” and “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”. They still invite me in sometimes, but I couldn’t even hum now and no point in being a party pooper. I’ve got heart failure, see. Had to give up work five years back and I don’t get out much now. Actually, it might be nice to die belting out Gloria Gaynor, instead of parked in my chair, staring at the rabbit, both of us bored stiff. Do you like karaoke?’
‘I have a dim memory of a bar in Soho a long time ago and singing “Space Oddity”. I was very drunk, so I’m sure it was awful.’
They both laughed and Lori said, ‘Doesn’t matter, it’s the fun that’s important. Where was I?’
‘It sounded as if you didn’t like Morgan Callender.’
She paused for a moment. ‘It wasn’t so much that I didn’t like him. I was sorry for him — you had to be, with his family — but he’d latched onto Caris and he dragged her down. She was always worrying about him, texting him to ask if he was all right. He was ling di long — lacked direction in life. Caris is no go-getter, but she’s a lovely girl, got a spark to her and she gets stuck into things. I never understood the attraction. Morgan’s nothing much, and I reckon Caris could have had her pick of what little talent there is in this place. Morgan just used to hang around her. I knew a chap like that when I was young. He sort of sucked up other people’s energy, the way I suck oxygen out of this canister, God help me.’
Lori had a good turn of phrase and he filed ling di long for future use. He considered how to put his next question. ‘Were Caris and Morgan more than friends?’
Lori grinned, showing a set of startling white dentures. ‘Judging by the noises that used to come from upstairs now and again, I reckon so. I’m no prude, but let’s just say that I used to turn the telly up.’
Swift smiled back. ‘Caris told me that she and Morgan were just mates.’
‘Really? That’s an understatement. When I saw them together, they seemed very lovey-dovey. She was moping about here after he legged it. She really misses him, I can tell, but she won’t talk about it.’
‘Tell me what Caris said about Morgan’s disappearance.’
Lori sucked in oxygen, taking slow breaths. ‘Summer Nights’ belted out from next door — tell me more, tell me more — and Swift saw a cigarette butt fly over Lori’s wall and land on top of the rabbit hutch.
‘Not much,’ Lori said at last. ‘She said that Morgan had had enough of his brother and he’d gone to London for good. When I asked her if they were staying in touch, she said no and went quiet on me, so I didn’t push it. I’m enough of a pain to her without nagging. She’s entitled to her own life, but I don’t like to see her fretting. To be honest with you, I was glad that Morgan was off the scene. I thought she’d get over him and find herself someone with a bit more to offer apart from a sad story.’
Lori still hadn’t told him why she’d wanted to see him, other than being worried about her daughter. He was interested in why Caris had lied to him and the police about her relationship with Morgan. It might be best to stick with the thread that led to Callender for now. ‘Tell me about Morgan’s family.’
‘Where to start? Rough as sandpaper, the Callenders. The mother died, leaving the father, Terfel, with the two boys. Terfel’s weak and hopeless, always out of work — Morgan takes after him. The older boy Calvin’s always been a nasty item. Big fellow, handsome and a charmer when he wants, but rotten through and through. People round here have always known that he terrorised Morgan and the father did nothing to stop him. Don’t ask me why Calvin’s that way, he was just born bad. A rotten bully, he is. I’ve noticed Morgan all cut and bruised sometimes, and that’s just the damage you could see.’ She paused for a puff of oxygen. ‘Morgan’s weedy and skinny, no match for his brother even if he’d wanted to put up a fight. He stayed over here a lot, just to have somewhere safe to lay his head, even before he and Caris were an item. I used to worry that Calvin would kill him one day and I’d tell him that he needed to get away, but I never thought he’d have the bottle to do it. I’m glad he
did, but sorry for Caris. She might have gone with Morgan if it wasn’t for me tying her down. As it is, she says they’re not in touch because Morgan needed a clean break from here. Too many bad memories. And now Mr Griffith’s dead, another friend of hers has gone and she’s so unhappy.’
There it was again, the theme of bullying. It ran through this investigation like a refrain. ‘Are you worried about Caris because she’s depressed?’ He couldn’t imagine why Lori would want to talk to him about that.
‘Sorry, I’m going round the houses. I’ll try and get to the point. It’s not just that Caris is upset about Morgan and now Mr Griffith. I’m worried about what she’s up to. She’s been away a lot of weekends for months now since Morgan left. Leaving on Friday, not back till Sunday usually, depending on her shifts at work. She took off late this afternoon. Spence rang from the police earlier, wanting to talk to her but she’d already gone.’
Sofia would have got him to call as the good cop to bring Caris in. ‘You know DS Spencer?’
‘His mam lives at the end of this road. He went to school with my eldest. He’s a nice lad, always willing to lend a hand. Takes his mam out every Sunday to the carvery for a roast dinner. She’s a friend so I get to hear all about it! He’s got a good heart, has Spence.’
Lori seemed far away, so he said, ‘You were telling me about Caris going away at weekends.’
‘That’s right. She told me that she’s visiting her aunty Becca in Cardiff, said that she’s not well and she’s helping her out. Becca’s on her dad’s side and we’ve never had much to do with each other. She’s a bank manager and a bit up herself, so I was surprised when Caris said they were in touch. When I asked what was wrong with Becca, she said something vague about her having an operation. It sounded funny but Becca’s on her own, so I reckoned she must have asked Caris to give her a hand. Anyway, Becca rang me week before last, when it was my husband’s anniversary — he died eight years back. She asked how Caris was doing, said she hadn’t seen her for ages. She sounded fine and dandy, said she’d just been on holiday to Lanzarote.’ She gasped, rested her head back and used her face mask.
Swift waited until she had recovered. He listened to ‘Billie Jean’ being hollered on the other side of the wall. ‘Did you speak to Caris about Becca’s phone call?’
She shook her head. ‘I was going to, but in the end, I felt really awkward and I flunked it. I was a bit gobsmacked, to be honest. I mean, Caris has never lied to me, not about important things anyway. What if she’s caught up in drugs or doing something illegal? I can’t think of any other reason why she’d fib. And where’s she staying, if she’s not at Becca’s? Who’s she got mixed up with? When I heard you asking her why she’d borrowed money from Mr Griffith, I thought it must be for drugs. That’s what you hear, don’t you — that people beg, borrow and steal to feed their habit. I’ve read about the big drug problem they have in Cardiff, and how easy is it to buy them there. And that might be why she’s been so moody too, if she’s taking those awful things. When I saw on your card that you’re an investigator, I reckoned you might help me find out what she’s doing. Whatever you charge, I’ll pay you if it buys me peace of mind. I can’t sleep at night, wondering what’s going on.’
The obvious reason for Caris’s lie didn’t seem to have occurred to her. It couldn’t be easy, sitting here all day, worrying and imagining the worst. ‘Have you considered that maybe Morgan is in Cardiff and Caris goes there to see him? It seems odd that her trips away started after he left home.’
Lori’s eyes turned to saucers. ‘But he’s in London. Caris said he went to London and she’s not in touch with him.’
‘Maybe London’s a red herring. If Morgan wanted to put his family off the scent and make sure that his brother left him alone, he could have said London but headed to Cardiff.’ Swift was sure that whatever was going on involved Cardiff, and he now believed that Afan had been part of it.
Lori was having a little surge of energy and her pale cheeks were slightly flushed. It would be down to the relief of sharing what had been on her mind.
She said, ‘Oh, like a double bluff. You could be right. Listen, I always go through pockets before I do a wash. I found this in Caris’s jeans pocket when I was putting them in the machine. I’m not that familiar with Cardiff, so I googled the road. It’s in an area called Roath. Nowhere near where Becca lives, but that’s no surprise now.’
She handed Swift a Co-op receipt for a shop on Ninian Road, Roath. It was dated a fortnight ago and listed the sale of sliced ham, cheddar cheese, milk, teabags and a chicken biryani.
‘This tells us that Caris does go to Cardiff. Whether or not to see Morgan is another question,’ Swift said.
Lori’s face had drained of colour again. ‘Hang on, if she’s seeing Morgan, why wouldn’t she just tell me, instead of making up stories? I don’t understand. I can keep a secret. I wouldn’t tell a soul. Who is there to tell these days anyway, except Reg?’
‘Reg?’
‘The rabbit.’
Swift looked out. Reg had vanished, presumably to curl up and ignore the flying fag butts from next door. He turned back to Lori. ‘I can see you’re exhausted. All this worry is bad for you.’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, Mr Swift, that’s not all of it. I found something else and it baffled me. There was a note signed by Afan in another of Caris’s pockets — this one was in the old trousers she wears to Tir Melys. I read it, put it back, and left the trousers in her laundry bin. I didn’t want her to know I’d seen it. I popped into her room again just before you arrived. The trousers are still there, but no note.’
‘Can you remember what it said?’
‘It wasn’t a long note. He said he was disappointed, and this wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d offered help. He said they needed to meet and sort out the situation. He hoped that the arrangement could continue, but he was doubtful. Something along those lines. I do remember one bit where he said, “It’s not how friends behave towards each other.” That upset me, because it was sort of sad, and I wondered what Caris could have done to make him write that, especially when she spoke so fondly of him.’
Swift was wondering too. ‘Was the note dated?’
‘No.’
‘When is Caris due back?’
‘Sunday lunchtime. She said she’ll make me dinner and then she wants to go to the harp concert at Tir Melys. She enjoys those. She’s going with Gwyn, her friend who runs the bookshop. Will you try and find out what’s going on?’
‘I’ll try, but I don’t want your money and you need to ask Caris yourself. Have an honest conversation with her when she gets back and tell her that you found the shopping list and the note. There’s no other solution, really. In the meantime, if I hear anything that might throw some light on the situation, I’ll contact you. Does that help?’
‘Yes, I suppose it makes sense. Otherwise I’ll just be worrying myself sick.’
‘Is it okay if I keep this receipt?’
‘It’s not doing me any good, love.’
‘One last thing, have you got a photo of Caris, or even better, one of Caris with Morgan that I can have?’
She got up slowly and shuffled out of the room. There was a crash from next door, hoots of laughter and the party struck up ‘Delilah’.
Lori came back with a small photo in a light Perspex frame. ‘Here. I took that of both of them out in the yard last year.’ She sank down and swayed in her chair, tapping the fingers of one hand on her knee and moving the other in time with the music. ‘You can’t beat Tom Jones for a belting song. My mam went to school with his sister.’
‘Can I do anything for you before I go?’
‘No, you’ve been ever so kind, coming here and listening to me going on. And on a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve better things to do.’
He pictured supper chez Kat. ‘Nothing better, believe me.’
She smiled faintly. ‘I’ve forgotten my manners too, what with my stupid worrying. I’m very s
orry about Mr Griffith. From what Caris told me, he sounded such a nice man. It’s hard, losing friends.’
‘Thank you. I’ll see myself out.’
‘I’ll stay up for a while, listen to the music and sing along in my head. Not much point trying to sleep, is there?’
Swift smiled. ‘Not unless you’ve got earplugs.’
He sat in the car and checked trains to Cardiff the next morning. He debated whether to call or text Sofia. It was gone nine and he didn’t like to disturb her. It could wait. He hoped that she was at home with her feet up, getting some rest. He could contact her from the train tomorrow.
He drove back to Tir Melys past fields of sheep. They were blurred, ghostly shapes in the dark. He’d moved Afan’s keys, tucking them behind a stack of tins at the back of the dresser. Maybe they unlocked a secret in Cardiff.
Chapter 14
The train to Cardiff was packed, standing room only by the time it left Holybridge. Swift’s carriage contained a group of about thirty excited girls, all teenagers who’d swarmed from the valleys, heading for the weekend delights of the capital. Swift just managed to get a seat and was jammed in next to an odoriferous toilet with the door hanging open and paper strewn on the floor. He sat, overwhelmed by cheap scent, wishing that he’d chosen to drive. It was a warm, sunny day and the girls yelled and laughed, tottering up and down the carriage on strappy sandals and spiky heels. They flicked their long hair, flirted with three boys who sat in a nervous huddle, and swapped cola, chewing gum and lipstick. They were all dressed in skimpy outfits that revealed acres of glowing skin. Swift listened to their carefree chatter, feeling ancient.
‘I never told him that, that’s a lie an’ he’s no right sayin’ it!’
‘I don’t like this colour, Daisy, haven’t you got somethin’ else?’
‘My dad said I’ve got to be back by midnight. I said why, d’you reckon I’m gonna turn into a pumpkin?’
MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective Book 8) Page 17
