Murder on the Hour (9 page)

Penny and Emyr stood to one side, watching as the last of the gear was carried out. Emyr's black Lab Trixxi wandered around sniffing boxes and just generally trying to be helpful. Michael Quinn, the art appraiser, gave her a friendly pat and then walked her over to Emyr and Penny.

“Thank you for hosting us today,” he said. “We all enjoyed ourselves very much, and for me, personally, it was especially rewarding.” He gave Penny a broad, friendly grin which she returned.

“That was really something, wasn't it, when Florence pulled those sketches out of that tatty envelope,” she said.

Michael laughed. “We see the most amazing things. We had one woman bring in a very valuable ceramic bowl. Said she kept it in the laundry room and used it to collect all the bits and pieces she pulled out of the kids' pockets before she put their clothes in the washing machine.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers and assumed a comfortable, casual stance. “Interested in art, are you?”

“I am,” said Penny. “I'm a watercolour artist and belong to a local sketching group. We enjoy our rambles and
plein-air
painting.”

“Oh, that's great,” said Michael.

“And you?” asked Penny. “What do you do when you're not appraising sketches and drawings?”

“Oh, I teach art at Bangor University,” he said.

“Any particular period?”

“I'm a bit of a generalist. I like Irish artists of the twentieth century, but I'm also partial to the Hudson River School.”

“Oh, I love that, too!” exclaimed Penny. “The way they capture the light. Have you seen the collection at the Met in New York? Wonderful.”

“I did see it a couple of years ago. Made a special point of it.” The two chatted together for a few minutes until Emyr caught Penny's eye.

“Penny, I've got something on this evening,” he said, “so if you'd like me to run you into town, we'll need to be on our way.”

“Oh, I'd be happy to give her a lift,” said Michael easily. “I'm going that way. It's no bother.”

“Well, if you're sure,” said Penny. “It would save Emyr having to make a special trip. I'll just make sure I've got everything.”

A few minutes later they were on their way, chatting easily, on the drive into town.

“If you're not in a hurry, could I buy you a drink?” asked Michael as they entered Llanelen. “Yes, I'd like that,” said Penny. “It's been a long day and we've earned one.”

He parked outside the Leek and Lily and held the pub door open for her. Although there weren't many people in, Penny and Michael were immediately struck by how quiet it was. The usual pub conversation din was muted as people either drank silently or spoke in soft voices. The atmosphere was subdued and somber. Penny and Michael exchanged a quick, questioning glance and then approached the bar together.

“It's awfully quiet,” said Penny to the woman behind the counter.

“We've had a bit of a shock,” she said. “What can I get you?”

“A white wine for me, please,” said Penny. “Mine's a small Irish whisky, no ice,” said Michael. The barmaid turned her back while she poured a glass of wine and dispensed a measure of whisky then set the glasses down on the bar. “That'll be six pounds thirty, please.”

“What kind of a shock? What's happened?” asked Penny as Michael held out a ten-pound note.

“There's been a murder.” She moved to the cash register, rang in the sale, and returned with Michael's change. “Catrin Bellis's been killed,” she said as she dropped the coins into his hand.

“Oh, no,” gasped Penny. “How awful! I saw her just this morning.” She turned to Michael. “She was at the Antiques show getting a quilt appraised.”

As the barmaid drifted away to serve another customer Penny picked up a napkin from the bar and placed it under the base of her glass.

Michael gestured at an empty table with a questioning eyebrow and Penny led the way, sidling round the table to sit on the upholstered banquette. She'd expected Michael to take the chair on the other side of the table, but he slid in beside her. She shifted down a little to put a bit of space between them and they turned toward each other.

“So you knew her did you?” asked Michael, when they were seated.

“Yes, we saw a lot of her lately at our Spa. My friend Victoria and I co-own the Llanelen Spa.”

“Do you really?” said Michael. “That big old building by the river? I've admired it many times. It was derelict for years but I always thought there was something really handsome about it and hoped the right people would come along to restore it. I was really pleased when the sign went up that a renovation was underway.”

He raised his glass to her. “Well, cheers. Well done, you.”

“You must come in and see what we've done with it, then,” said Penny. “I'd be happy to show you around.” She wondered if she should ask if he had a wife or girlfriend who might also like a tour. As if sensing what she was thinking, Michael spoke.

“Look, just to get this out of the way so we know where we stand, I was very happily married but my wife died quite suddenly two years ago.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” said Penny.

“And you?” asked Michael. “Is there anyone special in your life I should know about?”

“No,” said Penny. “Not now. There was someone but we called time on it a little while ago. I think both of us had hoped it might turn into something more, but it just seemed to have run its course.” She shrugged. “I should probably call him, though, and tell him that Catrin was at the
Antiques Cymru
.”

Michael fixed his bright blue eyes on her over the rim of his glass as he took a small sip of whisky. “And why would you have to tell him that?”

“Because he's a senior police detective and he's probably investigating this case. The police always like to piece together how the victim spent the last twenty-four hours of their life.”

“I see. Do you need to phone him now? I can step away, if you'd like a bit of privacy.”

“No, I'll leave it until I get home.” Penny fingered the stem of her wine glass, wiping away the condensation. “Speaking of home, do you live in Bangor?”

“I do. Not too far from the university.”

“A bit of a drive then, from Llanelen.”

“Not too bad. I come here fairly often. The fellow who runs Snowdonia Antiques is a good mate.”

“Oh, right. It's just that I was wondering … you see we have a small sketching club and we like to bring in special guest speakers every now and then. Artists or photographers who have accomplished something and it would be great if you'd consider being one of our speakers. You could talk about the Hudson River School, as I'm sure most of our members aren't all that familiar with it.”

“But you were,” said Michael. “Why is that?”

“Oh, I have a degree in art history,” said Penny.

“And your accent is Canadian, yes?”

“Good for you. Yes, it is. Most British people think it's an American accent and I know it's hard to tell the difference.” Michael laughed. “I know you're Irish, not British, but you know what I mean,” Penny ended.

“I do know what you mean and at least you'll not mistake my accent for anything British.”

“Your accent is positively charming.”

“Is there a soul in the world who doesn't like an Irish accent?” he said, exaggerating it.

As the din around them rose, he leaned forward and lowered his head so he could hear her response. He smelled faintly and subtly of luxury soap, with an expensive scent. He smiled then sat back and made soft eye contact and in that moment she felt a magnetic pull toward him. She wiped her hands on the napkin and leaned back against the banquette.

As they finished their drinks Michael asked her if she had a favourite restaurant nearby and if so, could he take her to dinner.

“I think I'd rather go home,” said Penny. “It's been a very long day. I was at the Hall by seven thirty this morning and, to be honest, I'm exhausted. I can feel myself starting to fade. And you must be exhausted, too.”

“Fair enough,” said Michael.

“But it's a lovely offer,” said Penny, “and I hope we can do it another time. I'd like to hear more about your work at the university.”

“Then let me give you my number and you can text me.”

“Great! I will.” She entered his number in her phone and then gave him an open, encouraging smile, which he returned.

Penny basked in his presence for a few more minutes as they finished their drinks. They had just about reached the door when a group of men entered, Haydn Williams among them.

“Excuse me a moment,” Penny said to Michael. “I see someone I know and I just want a word in case he might have heard something about Catrin.” She stood to one side to let the men pass. They found their seats and one of them went to the bar to get the drinks in. From their casual banter and genial smiles it was apparent they hadn't heard about the murder, and Penny decided she didn't want to be the one to tell them.

Michael raised an eyebrow and she shook her head.

“It didn't feel like the right time.”

“Well, let's go. Tell me where you live and I'll drive you home.”

Penny directed him to her cottage and he switched off the engine. They sat facing straight ahead in a closed silence wrapped in tension as Penny wondered if he would try to kiss her. She hesitated and then said, “I hope you don't mind, but I'm tired and I can't stop thinking about Catrin. Not the right time to invite you in.” She smiled at him and reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the lift and the drink.”

“No problem,” said Michael. “I hope we can get together again soon.”

“I'd like that,” said Penny.

As Michael reversed his car and drove off she let herself into the cottage. Her grey cat, Harrison, came running to her and wound himself around her legs. She bent down to pat him, scooped him up, and nuzzled his neck. He purred loudly as she held him and carried him into the kitchen. She set him down on the kitchen floor and reached into the cupboard for his dinner.

When he'd been fed, she made herself a cup of tea, then settled herself into a comfortable chair and rang DCI Gareth Davies. He had just returned to Llanelen, and said he'd be with her in about twenty minutes.

 

Thirteen

Penny gave her sitting room a quick tidy up. Finally, a car's headlights shining on the window announced his arrival. She opened the door and offered him a coffee.

“So you saw Catrin at
Antiques Cymru,
” he said when they were seated. “What time would this have been?”

“Late morning. Eleven thirtyish, I suppose.”

“Was she with anybody?”

“No,” said Penny. “She was on her own. She had a quilt that was being appraised when I walked by, so I stopped to watch. I think it was valued around three or four hundred pounds. Can't really remember the amount, but not a lot. I think she was disappointed it wasn't more. The appraiser didn't spend too long with her, and didn't choose it for filming.”

“Quilt? What kind of quilt? What did it look like?”

“It was handmade and had a pattern of turquoise triangles on a white background. It looked like it would be really pretty on a summer bed.”

“And you didn't see her after she finished with the appraiser?”

Penny shook her head. “Just briefly. I think I asked her if she was going to stay and watch some of the appraisals but she said no, because she had the bulky quilt to carry around. And she said she had to get home because someone was coming to view a room. She'd decided to let out a room, apparently. She said it was for a bit of company, but I got the feeling it was more about money.”

Davies took a sip of coffee. “Yes, the poor woman who came to view the room found the body. Awful shock for her.”

“I wonder what will happen to the house,” said Penny. “Catrin lived there with her parents, and was an only child. Maybe she made a will. I hope she did. I have no idea who her nearest relative would be.”

“We think it might be a cousin,” said Davies. “But we haven't established that yet. In fact, we haven't even found someone who can identify the body.”

“I expect someone will turn up,” said Penny. “There's bound to be an aunt or uncle or cousin nearby. Her father was a local butcher, I believe. Sold the business not long before he died, and then his wife died soon after him.”

She stifled a yawn.

“Do you have any idea yet why she was killed? She seemed like such an innocuous person. Why would anyone want to kill her?”

“It could have been a robbery gone bad, I suppose. She might have let someone into the house who then tried to rob her and panicked.”

“You do hear about people being killed for a ridiculously small sum,” said Penny. “But I can't imagine she had much money. She'd recently started working at the chemist on the makeup counter and from what I hear, was very good at it. Women liked her.”

“People will kill to get a few pounds to buy drugs,” agreed Davies. “But I don't think that's what this was. In that kind of scenario, there are signs of a struggle. There's an argument and a fight. In this case, there's none of that, and it looks to me as if there was something personal about it. I think she knew her killer.” He shrugged. “When you've been looking at murder as long as I have, you just get a sense of it. I expect this will be my last case.”

“Oh, you've made your retirement decision, then?”

“Yes, this just feels like the right time to go, so I'm planning to pack it in by the end of July. Not sure what I'll do after that, but it'll be good not to have to face any more late nights.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of which. I'm sure you're tired, too. It's been a long day for all of us.”