The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,54

the worst possible news of all.

A few moments later they had been shown into a small sitting room on the ground floor and asked to wait.

They could hear voices coming from upstairs and soon the sound of hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. Emyr entered, his face a study in apprehension mixed with a dash of hope. As he looked at them his expression changed to fear.

“Hello,” he said, struggling to maintain his polite composure. “You’ve come with news and from the looks on your faces, it isn’t good.”

Davies nodded at his sergeant.

“Mr. Gruffydd, I’m afraid we do have bad news,” Morgan began. “Earlier this morning we recovered the body of a woman and, pending formal identification, we have reason to believe it’s that of your missing fiancée, Meg Wynne Thompson. We have come to suggest that you prepare yourself for the worst. And I am sorry to have to tell you this, sir, but the indications are that she met with foul play.”

Emyr sank into the nearest chair and looked at them.

“But who? How? Where did you find her? Where was she? Had she gone back to London?”

“Mr. Gruffydd, I’m sure you must have a lot of questions, but we can’t answer all of them yet. What I can tell you is that the body of a young woman answering her description was discovered this morning buried in the local cemetery.”

“But that’s incredible … how could that have happened? It doesn’t seem possible!”

“Well, it did happen, and that’s what we have to work on. Of course, this means we have a different kind of investigation on our hands now, and I’m sure you’ll give us your full cooperation. In fact, it would be very helpful to the investigation if you would agree to look at the body, with a view to identifying it.”

“Yes, of course. Absolutely. That goes without saying,” said Emyr. His face collapsed as he tried to deal with his emotions, and then, as the chilling reality struck home, he was blindsided by what to do about his father.

“Oh, God! What am I going to tell my father? He’s so near the end now, should I tell him or not? This will break his heart. Which would be better for him—to die knowing, or not knowing?”

The two police officers looked at each other and then Morgan leaned forward.

“Why don’t you ring the doctor and see what he has to say?”

“She,” said Emyr distractedly. “The doctor’s a she. And she’ll be coming out later to look in on him.”

“Oh, right, well, I’d ask her what to do, if I were you. She’ll know what to do for the best.”

The two police officers got up to go, leaving Emyr with his head in his hands.

“Just one more thing, Mr. Gruffydd,” said Davies. “We’ll need to re-interview members of the wedding party and get their fingerprints. We have their names and contact numbers, but we will need to speak to you again on a more formal basis, just to start clearing things up and eliminating people. I’m sorry, but I’m sure you understand there are certain procedures we have to follow.”

Emyr looked up at them, nodded slowly, and started to rise. “No, we’ll see ourselves out,” said Davies. “Stay where you are. And please know that we are very sorry we had to bring you this bad news.”

As the officers made their way through the main hall, they caught a glimpse of a woman they took to be Rhys Gruffydd’s nurse, making her way toward them. As she approached, she seemed startled to see them but recovered her composure quickly. About the same age as Morgan, she wore her fair hair pulled back in a ponytail with two long pieces at the front hanging down on each side of her eyes. They were long enough to get in the way, but not long enough to stay tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a light purple tunic with matching trousers.

“I’m looking for Mr. Gruffydd,” she said. “His father needs him. Now.”

“In there,” Morgan said, gesturing toward the sitting room.

Moments later, the nurse emerged and started quickly up the stairs, followed by Emyr.

“It’s my dad,” he said as he turned to look back at the officers. “He’s taken a turn for the worse.”

As the officers made their way to the car, Davies turned to his sergeant.

“What is it with these girls today?” he asked grumpily. “Why do they all wear their hair hanging in their eyes like that? And why do