When the body of well-liked and respectable Glenda Roberts is discovered at the bottom of a former slate mine, now a busy tourist attraction, pandemonium erupts in the North Wales town of Llanelen. Penny Brannigan finds herself drawn into the investigation when jars of her house-brand hand cream are found among counterfeit inventory Glenda and her sister were selling. Police are convinced that the mine operator whose asthmatic son suffered an almost-fatal attack due to the merchandise is responsible for Glenda's death. But Penny's not so sure. A visit to Glenda's mother only deepens her conviction that a hidden family secret is the real reason for the murder.
Release date:
April 14, 2015
Publisher:
St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages:
304
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Glenda Roberts was having a good day, but that was about to change; things would soon take a definite turn for the worse. She had about six hours left to live. But right now, she had some errands to run.
"Hello, Penny," she said with a broad, practiced smile as she pushed open the door to the Llanelen Spa, letting in a frosty blast of January air. "Just dropping something off for Victoria. Is she in?" Glenda brushed a few stray silver wisps from her forehead. She had always thought her hair her best feature and now, although she'd gone grey, it was as sleek and glossy as it was when it had been the colour of a burnished chestnut. A lengthy session with stylist Alberto every six weeks in the hair salon of the Llanelen Spa saw to that. A meticulous trim kept her one-length bob sleek and deceptively simple while an artful silvery tint gave her the distinctive look of a young person with premature grey hair.
Penny Brannigan shook her head. "No, sorry, she's away for the day. Not expecting her in until tomorrow."
"Oh, well, no problem. I'll just leave this with you, if I may." She held out a large brown envelope. "It's her sheet music for the concert."
"Right," said Penny, taking it from her. "The concert."
"Yes," said Glenda. "The St. David's Day concert. March first. We're holding it down the Llyn Du mine this year. It's going to be brilliant, and you won't want to miss it, I can tell you." She waved her arm in a sweeping, circular motion above her head. "The acoustics! You've never heard anything like it. Why, Pavarotti himself performed there a few years ago." She smiled again and took a step back. "I'll drop by in a few days with the posters. Victoria said you'd put up a couple in the Spa."
"Oh, right. Posters. Well, we'll make sure Victoria gets this." Penny handed the envelope to receptionist Rhian Phillips and turned her attention back to Glenda. "How's your mother, by the way? I haven't seen her in ages."
"Oh, you know Mum. Just keeps ticking along. I keep telling her she'll outlive us all." She shrugged. "Mum says when you get to her age, all your friends are either in care homes themselves or they're no longer with us. She misses them all terribly and it does get a bit lonely. She doesn't get many visitors outside the family. If you get the chance, do pop in and see her. She'd like that."
She pulled out her mobile and checked the time. "Oh, where did the morning go? Must get on. These concerts don't organize themselves, unfortunately, and I've got a few more stops to make before lunch. Thanks, and we'll see you later. And don't forget to buy your tickets for the concert. Seating is limited-only about a hundred tickets available. Seriously, don't miss out. There's going to be a special guest singer and a ticket will get you into the reception afterward. Or the after-party, as I like to call it. You can rub shoulders with all the VIPs."
A moment later, with a swish of her mid-length tailored red coat with its smart row of double-breasted black buttons, Glenda was gone.
"A St. David's Day concert down the mine," said Rhian. "Whoever heard of such a thing? My grandfather used to work there." She nodded at the door. "He'll be gobsmacked to say the least, when I tell him they're holding a concert in that miserable place. 'What the hell are they playing at?' is how he'll put it."
"I'd heard that people actually get married down there, which really amazes me. But the concert thing is new to me. I hadn't heard that before. And who are these VIPs she's expecting?" said Penny. "And Pavarotti? Really?"
"If she says so." Rhian shrugged. "I wonder how much the tickets cost."
"And think about the logistics. How on earth will they get all the instruments and performers down there, never mind the audience?"
"Oh, and about the posters, Penny. I'd be very surprised if Victoria said we'd put them up here in the Spa. Put them up where? We don't clutter the place up with advertising."
* * *
Glenda dropped off a couple more packets to other musicians, ducked into a couple of shops and then decided to treat herself to a coffee and maybe a slice of walnut cake at the local café. The air was fragrant with the distinctive, welcoming aroma of freshly ground coffee as she settled into a corner table to enjoy her brew and check her e-mail. She pulled out her phone and a slow, troubled frown spread across her face as she read the first message. She massaged her arm gently as she deleted it and then moved on to the next one.
The shipment she'd been expecting would be delivered that afternoon. Great!
She replaced the phone in her bag and pulled out the spreadsheet that recorded all the details of the concert. It was going to be wonderful and so was the reception afterward. A special musical guest had signed a performance contract and although this singer would take careful handling, she should prove worth it. Tickets were selling well, even though they were priced beyond the budget of most citizens of Llanelen, and all in all, the St. David's Day concert promised to be a night to remember.
She leaned back in her chair and cupping her mug in both hands, took a warm, comforting sip. She might have taken a bit more comfort in it had she known she had about five hours left to live.
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