Murder on the Hour Read Online Free Page A

said Catrin, as she sank reluctantly back into her seat. “You were practically accusing me of having an affair with your husband.”
    â€œThere’s just no one else I could think of that fit the description,” said Tegwen, with a forced, shallow laugh.
    â€œHave you spoken to Brad? He’s the one you should be talking to, not me. But since you have asked me, then no, I haven’t heard anything.”
    â€œIt’s just that you spend time at the Spa, and I thought you might have picked up something there. The place is filled with women, and they, well, they do talk.”
    Catrin shook her head.
    â€œNo, I haven’t heard anything. But I think you should talk to Brad and hear what he has to say.” A gloomy silence settled over them and in its awkwardness they finished up their coffees and gathered up their things, just as the café began to fill up with the after-school crowd.
    â€œI’d offer you a lift home,” Tegwen began, “but I have to pick the girls up from school.”
    â€œOf course you do,” said Catrin stiffly. “No worries. I’m fine on the bus.”
    Normally, there would have been a quick hug and an exchange of “see you soon,” but Catrin plunged out through the café door and did not look back.
    As she waited for the bus, words from the conversation tumbled round in her mind like clothes in a dryer. She’d been feeling uncomfortable with Tegwen for some time. They just didn’t seem to connect the way they used to. Catrin was tired of listening to the endless complaints about the daughters and husband. And to her, of all people! Didn’t Tegwen realize how much she longed for a family of her own? And although she’d never said anything, Catrin sensed that Tegwen disapproved of the improvements she was making to her physical appearance and the way she was taking better care of herself—especially the weight loss. She was always going on about how hard it was for her to lose weight, and her complexion was looking very dull and the skin on her neck was starting to sag and Catrin had to reassure her that she looked as good as, if not better, than other women her age.
    When is it time to end a friendship, she wondered. When the things you don’t like about someone begin to overwhelm the good things? And then the answer came to her. When it just isn’t fun anymore.

 
    Five
    Two weeks before Antiques Cymru was scheduled to visit the town, Haydn Williams received a telephone call. The advance team was going to be in the area and was interested in the item of furniture he had described in his submission to them. Could he make it available for a pre-show inspection? Certainly he’d replied.
    â€œCome in. Never mind the shoes,” Haydn said. “Come in, do.” The evaluator from the television program entered his warm kitchen with its flagstone floor. A black and white Border collie, asleep in his basket beside the Aga, roused himself and stood up to greet the visitor.
    â€œThat’s our Kip,” said Haydn. “Don’t mind him. He’s very friendly, aren’t you boy?” Kip wagged his feathery tail and the stranger gave him a friendly pat.
    â€œI’ve just made a pot of tea, if you’d like some,” Haydn said.
    â€œIndeed I would. That would be most welcome. Thank you.” He held out his hand. “Daniel Casey.” Haydn handed him a mug of tea and then gestured to a door on the far side of the kitchen. “Just through here,” he said. “There’s a little anteroom.”
    Daniel Casey stood for a few moments, examining the well-proportioned, finely crafted piece of furniture with his eyes. It stood just a little over three feet tall, with a graceful silhouette that included an angled top.
    After taking several digital photographs from all angles he turned to Haydn. “It’s a lovely English fall-front walnut bureau. I’ll have a