Evan and Elle - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,34
so he pulled up and watched and sure enough, they carried something out on a stretcher. Poor devil. Do they know who it was?”
“Not yet,” Evan said. “They’re still checking out missing persons, vehicles left parked overnight, hotel guests who didn’t show up last night . . .”
Mrs. Williams put her hand to her mouth. “Oh esgob annwyl! Deary me!”
“What is it?”
“Mair told me that Elen Prys was worried because her husband, Glyndaff, hadn’t come home last night.”
“Glyndaff Prys?”
“You know Prys-the-Farm down beside Llyn Gwynant on the way to Beddgelert? You know the white building you can see from the road?”
“Oh, right.” Evan paused, thinking. “Maybe I should go down and talk to her. This Glyndaff Prys—is he the sort of bloke who often stays out all night?”
“Oh no. I don’t think so. He’s a good family man by all accounts. They’ve got five grown children, all fine young people. And they go to chapel . . .”
“Thanks, Mrs. Williams,” Evan said. “I’ll go down right away.” He looked longingly in the direction of the kitchen.
“But you never had your breakfast.” Evan could have hugged her. “Can’t you stop for a bite to eat first? I’ve got the kettle on the boil and Evans-the-Meat made some lovely sausages this week . . .”
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea,” Evan said.
“And have your breakfast, too,” Mrs. Williams insisted. “Ten minutes won’t matter, will it? And it is supposed to be your day off.”
Evan succumbed. “I suppose you’re right. Ten minutes won’t make much difference.”
Fifteen minutes later Evan was on the road, feeling full and content. Amazing what some rashers of good bacon and sausages could do for the soul!
Ty’r Craig was a square, solid farmhouse, well maintained with newly whitewashed walls and a good slate roof. It was nestled on a narrow strip of land at the bottom of a narrow valley. Rocky cliffs rose sheer on both sides, blocking the sunlight this early in the day. Two black-and-white border collies rushed out barking as Evan got out to open the gate.
“Meg, Gel, come here at once,” a shrill voice called and the dogs obeyed, throwing suspicious looks at Evan as they slunk back to the farmhouse.
Mrs. Prys was a round, middle-aged woman with the brown, leathered face of a farmer’s wife. She wiped her hands on her apron as she greeted Evan.
“I know you. You’re the policeman from up in Llanfair,” she said. “You’ve come about my husband, have you? It’s not bad news, is it?”
She went on wiping her hands, twisting the apron nervously as she spoke.
“No, it’s not bad news. Have you reported him missing yet, Mrs. Prys?”
“Not officially like. I’ve told a few friends and the word gets around, doesn’t it? But I didn’t like to call up the police and maybe make a fool of myself.”
“Has he ever done this sort of thing before—stay out all night?”
“When he was younger, once or twice like when Wales beat England in the rugby at Cardiff Arms Park. But he’s not the type. And he was only going to his club meeting.”
“Club? What kind of club?”
“He belongs to a men’s social club in Porthmadog. They meet once a month to play darts, dominoes, that kind of thing. They’re mostly older farmers like Glyn.”
“Have you called any other members of the club?”
She looked down at her feet. “I don’t rightly know any names. Glyn never talked much about what he did and I didn’t like to ask him. He’s a very private person, Constable Evans.”
“Do you know where this club meets?”
“Oh yes, I know that right enough. They meet at a pub called the Old Ship right by the harbor.”
“I know it,” Evan said. “I’ll get on the phone to HQ and they’ll send someone out right away, Mrs. Prys. Don’t worry. He’ll turn up.”
“I hope so.” She choked back tears and started fiddling with her apron again. “I’m sorry. I’m that upset, I didn’t even offer you a cup of tea. Why don’t you come inside—the kettle’s on.”
“Thanks, but I just had my breakfast, and I’d like to get on this as soon as possible. We’ll find him for you.”
The dogs escorted him back to the gate and sat there, tongues lolling in silent laughter as he drove away. He was tempted to drive straight down to Porthmadog and take a look for himself, but he reminded himself sternly that he had no right to go poking his nose into other officers’ territory.
When he got back