Mari slipped the last batch of burnt butter biscuits onto her cooling rack and nodded with satisfaction. Thank goodness she had the young lads next door that could take some. There was something satisfying about baking but without the grandkids around, she didn’t know what to do with the amount she made. She frowned as she boxed up the lemon fingers. If she was going to bake for those poor lads next door then she shouldn’t just do sweet stuff. Perhaps she should make some sausage rolls or cheese pinwheels. She tensed at the sound of a knock at the door. She never got callers. No-one bothered to visit this clump of houses just outside Brynteg. She opened the door and blinked. Her visitor was tall, dark, slim and gorgeous. No-one like this ever came here.

“Good morning,” he said with a practised smile. “I am Lord Maldwyn.”

Mari stared. “Pleased to meet you, your… graceship?”

Lord Maldwyn’s smile didn’t flicker. “It’s a courtesy title. I rarely use it. You may call me ‘sir’ or Lord Maldwyn. And you are Mrs Mari Hewson, I believe. May I come in?”

Mari hesitated. Who went around calling themselves a lord? Still, the suit Lord Maldwyn was wearing looked expensive and if she didn’t get him inside then Nellie from the other side of the workshop would come out and cause bother. “Come in if you must, sir.” She stood aside as Lord Maldwyn stalked past her. “The living room is on the right.” She watched the cat-like grace of her unexpected guest as he turned into her small room. It didn’t soothe her nerves. “Would you like a tea or a coffee?”

“Do you have any Earl Grey tea?” Lord Maldwyn asked.

Mari shook her head. “Just the stuff from the supermarket, but it’s a good cuppa.”

“A pity. Then black coffee would be acceptable, no sugar,” Lord Maldwyn stood in the centre of her living room and let his eyes drift over the photos on the wall above the fireplace.

Mari waved a hand at the sofa. “Take a seat, um, sir,” she said before retreating to the kitchen.

She must be mad, letting a strange man into the house, Mari thought as she switched on the kettle and opened the cupboard. And who drinks Earl Grey these days? She looked at her selection of mugs. Well, Lord Maldwyn might have an expensive suit, but he could make do with one of the plain mugs. He hadn’t earned a nice one yet. She spooned the coffee into the mug and arranged some lemon fingers and ginger snaps on an equally plain plate. If he wanted fancy then he shouldn’t have come here. She made herself a nice cup of normal tea, loaded up the tray and returned to the living room.

Lord Maldwyn was still standing, peering at the pictures. “Your husband is dead, isn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Mari pressed her lips together as she placed the tray on a side table. “Here’s your coffee and some biscuits, sir.”

“And your daughter moved abroad with your grandchildren? That must have been hard.” Lord Maldwyn picked up a ginger snap. “You must have time on your hands.” He took a delicate bite of the biscuit and then looked at it. “This is excellent.”

“Thank you,” Mari said, sitting in her favourite chair. “And I manage to keep myself busy.”

Lord Maldwyn looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m sure you do.” He took another bite of his ginger snap and savoured it. “Though I hope that you will spare me a little time.”

Mari took a small sip of her tea and said nothing. Lord Maldwyn may be wearing shiny shoes but that didn’t mean that he got to order her around.

“The young gentleman who have rented the workshop next door, Alyn, Gryff and Leo Hobson, are known to me.” Lord Maldwyn took a pensive bite of his ginger snap, crunching the last bite. “Young men can make mistakes if someone isn’t around to watch out for them.” He smiled thinly. “They rarely appreciate the voice of experience.”

“They’re good lads,” Mari said. “And they’re working hard. I saw the state that they brought that Volvo into the shop and it’s already being stripped down.” She took a gingersnap for herself. “And they work all hours. I’m sure that they’ll do well.”

Lord Maldwyn looked at her steadily as he picked a lemon finger from the plate. “I trust that they’re not being a nuisance,” he said.

“Not at all,” Mari said. “They’ve caused no trouble whatsoever.”

“Unlike the previous tenants.” Lord Maldwyn took a small bite of the lemon finger and sighed. “You really are an excellent baker.”

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“It’s no secret that the last tenants were trouble, but I’ve seen no sign of that with the lads.” Mari sat up straighter. “I speak as I find, and I’m happy that they’re here.”

“That is good to hear,” Lord Maldwyn said. “In fact, it’s a relief. I have a certain fondness for them, or at least an obligation.” He took a sip of his coffee and then looked at it quizzically and set it carefully back down. “Your baking is better than your coffee. No matter. Please take my card.” He pulled out a small, thick rectangle, rich with gold embossing. “You may contact me at any time. I would be upset if anything untoward happened to the brothers, so please let me know if there are problems.” He pulled a pen from inside pocket and flipped the card over. “And this is the number of Phil Hobson. He’s a distant cousin of the young gentleman and also has their best interests at heart.” He handed over the card to Mari. “If you cannot reach me then you should call Phil. He’s also an excellent accountant if you find yourself in need of such.” He took another bite of the lemon finger. “This is truly excellent.”

“Thank you,” Mari said, looking down at the card. “I mean, thank you sir.” She jumped at the knock on the door. “Excuse me.”

Mari paused in the hall. She hadn’t had two visitors in one day since her daughter left. Now she had some sort of expensive lunatic in her lounge and whoever this was. It was Carwyn.

“Can I come in, Mari?” he asked. “I’ve got something for you.”

“That’s nice,” Mari said. “But it’s not quite the moment…”

“It’s okay, I’ll only be five minutes.” Carwyn pushed past her, holding a box at chest height. “Mam said that you weren’t busy these days.”

“That’s kind of her,” Mari said tartly. “I didn’t realise your mam knew so much as I haven’t spoken to her in months.” Not that it mattered. Carwyn’s mother had more informers than the CIA.

“You know my mam,” Carwyn said, walking into the living room with Mari trailing helplessly after him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same thing.” Lord Maldwyn’s voice was icy. “I’m merely assuring Mrs Hewson that her tenants are unlikely to cause problems, unlike their predecessors. In addition, I wished to provide her with my contact details.”

Mari stared at him. It sounded like he had swallowed a dictionary. “And I’m grateful for the thought,” she said. She glanced at Carwyn who looked furious.

“Well, I’ll be keeping a close eye on the place,” Carwyn said. “And I won’t tolerate any trouble at all. I’ll be on the lookout for any shady characters. And I have your contact details as well.”

Lord Maldwyn narrowed his eyes and then nodded. “I’m sure that we have an understanding.” He turned to Mari. “Thank you for the delightful refreshments, Mrs Hewson. Your baking is truly exquisite. However I must reluctantly tear myself away from you as I have much business to conduct.”

“Quite,” Carwyn said. “I heard about that business near the mine at Minera.”

“Though it’s nothing that concerns you,” Lord Maldwyn said. He turned to Mari and clasped her unsuspecting hand. “I hope to call again when you have better company.” And to Mari’s shock, he raised her hand and brushed a gentlemanly kiss over it. Before she could find her voice, Lord Maldwyn strode out of the living room, down the hall and out of the front door like a Cavalier going to war.

“That was unexpected,” Mari said. She turned to Carwyn. “Do want a tea while you’re here?” After a lifetime of offering refreshments to everyone with ten yards, she couldn’t stop herself from offering, but right now she just wanted a moment to clear her head.

“I can’t stay long so I’ll have to say no,” Carwyn said. “But, well, they were clearing some stuff from the evidence lockers and this box turned up. It’s some of your husband’s effects.” He handed over a plain cardboard box. “I thought that I’d drop it off in person.”

Mari took the box and sank down into her chair. “I thought it was all cleared. They even said that I could get rid of the boxes in the workshop.”

“That was two separate investigations,” Carwyn said. He sat slowly down on the sofa opposite her. “Your husband died in a car crash, and I don’t think that I’ve told you how sorry I am. It must have been hard.”

“As I’m sure you know, he died along with his secretary on his way to their romantic weekend,” Mari said. It had been the talk of the neighbours for weeks and she was almost immune to the sting now. “I got over him quickly enough.” She set the box on her knee. “But I thought the workshop was all part of the same thing.”

“There may have been a connection through Miss Jones, the secretary,” Carwyn said. “But it wasn’t worth pursuing.” He frowned. “Are there still boxes in the workshop?”

Mari nodded. “I couldn’t face looking into them,” she said. “But the ones that the police opened were just full of old clothes.”

“They were fronting as a textile recycling centre,” Carwyn said. “I don’t suppose that there’s much left there.” He hesitated. “Be careful, Mari. Not everything is as it seems. Those Hobson lads and Lord Maldwyn, well, they’re not… they’re not normal.”

“That Lord Maldwyn was absolutely not normal,” Mari sniffed. “He acted like he should be wearing a cloak.” She pulled the lid off the box and flinched. “I’m pretty sure that this didn’t belong to Jerry.” She pulled out a feminine scarf.

“It’s Hermes,” Carwyn said. “It’s supposed to be expensive. You should sell it and get some money back.”

“I wouldn’t lower myself,” Mari snapped. “I’ll hand it over to the lads in the workshop and they can use it to wipe up dirt.” She sniffed and grabbed for a tissue. “That is, if it’s not too dirty for them.”

Carwyn shook his head. “You never change.” He stood and patted her shoulders. “I don’t like Lord Maldwyn, but there won’t be any trouble if he’s keeping an eye on the workshop. Just… just be careful. I’ll see myself out.”

Mari stared down at the crumpled tie that the police had thought worth keeping in a box. Then she sniffed, stood and started clearing up the plates and mugs. There had been a recipe for chorizo tortilla in her magazine last week. She had some chorizo that needed using up, and it would be nice for the lads in the workshop as a change. After all, it was better to try a new recipe than sit around moping.