White Lies (16 page)

“I’ll do my best.” He took a large plate and a fork.

* * * *

“Well.” Dafydd took a breath and let it out in a long sigh, patting his engorged stomach. “You’ve no telly, no video and I don’t want to play Monopoly. What else is there to do to pass the evening away?”

“We could look at the stars.”

Dafydd went to the window. “It’s still cloudy.”

“We could sing songs like we used to do in the Fiddler’s Elbow.”

“Happen I’ve got a crick in me’ voice.”

Meinwen copied his sigh. “I’m all out of ideas. How about an early night? You must be tired, driving all that way.”

“An early night?” Dafydd smiled. “I’m not tired though. How about a bit of exercise to work some Chinese calories off?” He reached over to fondle her knee.

“If that’s your idea of an erogenous zone, the answer’s no.” Meinwen moved his hand away and stood. She began gathering up the empty tin trays. Most were empty but one tray of mushroom foo yung was hardly touched. She carried it all through to the kitchen and put the leftovers in the fridge.

“Don’t be like that.” Dafydd entered the kitchen behind her and gave her a hug from behind. He nuzzled into her neck. “We used to be easy lovers. No strings. No hang-ups.”

Meinwen closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his hot breath against her neck. He moved one hand from her waist to cup her breast and she felt an involuntary jerk between her legs. Dafydd might not be the most skillful lover in the world but he was at least a reliable friend and confidant. She opened her eyes and lifted his hand from her breast to her lips to kiss the calloused, dark palm. She twisted round to face him, staring into his brooding dark eyes. “You don’t hang about, do you?”

“Life’s too short,
cariad
.”

He bent to kiss her, his lips like a forgotten childhood treat revisited, comforting and familiar. She slipped her arms under him and up, the bony plates of his shoulder blades like ridges of stone beneath her palms, her breasts pressing against his chest. His erection pressed against her stomach. She shifted, pulling the dressing gown open to free the heavy shaft. “Do me now. Right here.” Her words were whispered against his cheek but he heard them well enough, cupping he bottom with both hands to lift her onto the work surface next to the sink.

She lifted her buttocks one at a time as he pulled at her panties, her teeth grazing his neck, then shuffled forward to the edge of the counter, impaling herself on his substantial cock.

“Ow!
Cachi
. You could have warned me.”

“Sorry. I thought you were ready.”

“Not quite.”

“Should I get off again?”

“No it’s okay. I’m just...” He twisted slightly and she felt his cock slide farther in, the tip gliding over her g-spot, coming to rest barely short of her cervix. “That’s better.”

“You’ve grown.” Meinwen clenched her pelvic floor muscles as Dafydd pulled out an inch or two then returned, building a rhythm that would satisfy them both. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Chance would be a”–his eyes rolled as all the muscles in his legs stiffened, one hand gripping her bum cheeks tight as he shot his seed into her–“fine thing.” He let go and relaxed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It happens to us all.” Meinwen kissed him, catching up his hand and pulling it under her skirt. “Make a fist.”

She spent the next fifteen minutes masturbating with his hand, pulling his other in to utilize his fingers inside her as she rubbed his knuckles tight against her clitoris. Eventually she gasped, sighed and let his hands go, smiling all the while.

“Thank God for that.” Dafydd rubbed some life into his fingers. I thought they were going to drop off.”

“I could go on for hours.” She pulled his head down for another kiss. He tasted of heat and sex and spicy beef. “But I mustn’t be greedy, must I? Seven is enough to be going on with.” She slid off the counter. “Now I don’t know about you but I could murder a cuppa.”

* * * *

It was some hours later when she woke on the sofa, a cushion where Dafydd’s lap had been when she’d closed her eyes. She rose slowly, stretching her arms and legs and massaging the crick in her neck. “Dafydd?” She stood, moving through the kitchen to the conservatory at the back. “Dave?”

The glow of a cigarette announced his presence in the garden. She slipped into her Wellington boots to join him. “What are you doing out here?” She kept her voice low, guessing it was two or three in the morning.

“I came out for a cigarette. I know you don’t like it in the house.”

“Thanks.” She tucked her hand into his. “Aren’t you cold?”

“A bit.” He pulled the dressing gown tighter around his body. “I’m suffering for my vice.”

“Aye, so you should.”

“They are herbal.”

“Not the sort of herbal you can buy in Holland and Barrett’s, though.” She shivered and looked up. “At least the rain stopped. I can see a good few stars. Look! There’s Leo, and Ursa Major.”

“Oh yes,” Dafydd followed her gaze and pointed at a faintly pink smudge. “Is that Mars?”

“Yes.” Meinwen squinted. “You should be able to see Jupiter but there’s too much light pollution.” She twisted to look over the house. “That’s odd. I can see the reflection of blue lights on the spire of St. Pity’s.”

“The police.” Dafydd took another toke of his cigarette. “There’s a few of them over in the cemetery.”

Chapter 13

Meinwen made her way indoors to the bedroom where the dormer window looked out over the front of the house. “We’re too far back. I can’t see what’s going on.”

“Probably a mugging.” Dafydd paused at the doorway. “You can never trust cemeteries. They always smell funny. Like sour lilies.”

“What are you talking about?” Meinwen turned. “There are bound to be flowers in a cemetery. It stands to reason. You have to put flowers on a grave to cover the smell of decomposition. All graveyards smell the same.”

“Not proper graveyards. Proper graveyards smell of Sunday mass and history. They have proper gravestones with lichen on and yew trees with trunks as thick as your granddad.”

Meinwen turned again to stare out of the bedroom window, her face pressed against the cold glass. “I can’t see what’s going on. We’re at the wrong angle.” She opened the window, leaning out as far as she dared. “There are a couple of police cars and lights in the cemetery. Torches, I think.”

“Perhaps there’s an outbreak of body snatchers.”

“Don’t tempt fate.” She watched as a white van passed on the road. “That’s the coroner. They must have found a body.”

“In the cemetery?” Dafydd stood behind her, one hind resting lightly on her hip. “They’ll be spoiled for choice.”

“I’m going out to look.”

“You’ll never get anywhere near. Look! They’re already setting up a cordon.”

“That’s from this side. I can go in from the church side. I can pretend I was taking a short cut.”

“In your slippers?” Dafydd caught her arm. “Don’t be so impetuous. You could get arrested.”

“Me?” Meinwen pulled out of his grasp, annoyed he didn’t trust her judgment. “They wouldn’t arrest me. I know all the coppers in Laverstone. I only want to get close enough to see who’s died.”

“And put yourself in danger too?” Dafydd followed her down the stairs. “Listen. If you go wandering about in there, you’ll be messing up their crime scene. You could be leaving prints, eradicating other people’s prints and tracking stuff into the cemetery that shouldn’t be there. Whatever you do, you’d be making their job harder.”

Meinwen paused, plucking a piece of fluff from the sleeve of his dressing gown. He was only thinking of her safety. It was sweet, really. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“Yes.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll just nip up to the barrier, then. See if I can have a word with the officer in charge.”

“They won’t tell you anything.” Dafydd huffed as she pushed past him and clattered back down the stairs. “They’re not allowed to, are they?”

“Not officially.” Meinwen boiled the kettle and made a large travel mug of strong white tea. She added two sugars and pulled her coat off the rack, pleased to find it had dried since she came home. She let herself out of the door and hurried down the path. There were lights on at the Rectory as she passed, the dark, almost sinister silhouette of the parish priest cast onto the curtains.

Once on the road she had a clearer picture of what was going on. It must have been a slow night for the emergency services. Three police cars, two ambulances, the coroner’s wagon, one of Laverstone’s two fire engines and Inspector White’s battered old Beamer. She was almost surprised Harry Bird hadn’t turned up with his burger van. She strode up to the yellow police tape hastily erected as a cordon.

“Stop right there, madam.” A young uniformed officer held up a clipboard in his left hand, his right hovering over a holstered Taser.

“It’s all right, officer.” Meinwen flashed a card. “I’m expected.”

“Not with a library card you’re not, madam.” He stood in front of her to bar her progress. “If you’re not on the list you’re not getting in.”

“This isn’t a night club, you fool.” Meinwen glowered at him. “Where’s Inspector White? He’s expecting me.”

“I very much doubt that, madam.” The officer stuck the clipboard under his arm and thumbed his radio. “Six-five-seven to control?”

“Go ahead, six-five-seven.”

“Would you tell Inspector White there’s a civilian here who insists he’s expecting her?”

“Roger, six-five-seven.”

There were a few minutes of silence during which the young officer looked anywhere but at Meinwen. She studied the cars, trying to deduce what had happened. A death, obviously. More like murder if White and his crew were here. Perhaps one of the gravestones had fallen onto someone or one of the mausoleums collapsed. That would explain the ambulances and fire engine. It would serve them right if it had been vandals pushing the stones over.

“Ah, Miss Jones. How did I know it was going to be you?”

“Inspector?” Meinwen gave him her warmest smile as she pulled the mug of tea from her pocket. “I thought you might need this.”

“Miss Jones, you’re a lifesaver.” He took the mug and motioned her to one side, near the high iron railing guarding the cemetery. She noticed he kept her on the outside of the police tape.

“It’s the least I could do. It’s still cold out, at night. Especially after all the weather we’ve been having.”

“Quite so.” White peered at the lid for a moment before twisting it and lifting the mug to his lips. “Ah. You remembered the sugar.”

“I did. I also remembered your wife wanted you to cut down.”

“She just worries about me.”

“Quite rightly too. You’re not getting any younger, Inspector, and diabetes is a real threat these days.”

“No one used to get diabetes in the old days.”

“That’s because they didn’t eat as much convenience food, fast food and snack food as people do now. Did you know there’s as much sugar in a fast-food bowl of porridge as there is in a whole caramel bar? And almost as many calories as there are in a burger?” She shook her head. “I was shocked to hear that.”

“I’m sure.” White took another sip. “If it’s not diabetes it’s cholesterol. If it’s not cholesterol it’s fat and if it’s not fat it’s high blood pressure.”

“Unless you’re like that unfortunate chap in there.” Meinwen motioned at the cemetery with an upward nod.

“No. Poor bugger.”

“What happened?” She pointed back along the road. “I’ve been watching from my bedroom window. I couldn’t see any actual details, of course.”

“Ah.” White looked down at the cup, his mouth a taut line. He seemed to come to a decision and lowered his voice. “I suppose a kindness deserves a trade. This is strictly confidential, mind.”

“Of course, Inspector. You know you can trust me.”

“Right, yes. It looks like a brief struggle followed by a murder. I say looks but we haven’t ruled anything else out yet.”

“Anything else?” Meinwen shook her head, puzzled by the phrase. “What was the cause of death then?”