Read Murder on the Tor: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 3) for Free Online Page B

broke pieces off a bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, giggling at Libby’s horrified double take. “Your chocs are wonderful, Mrs F, but sometimes a girl needs, like, a proper bar of chocolate.”
    As the first photograph opened, Libby studied the set of amber beads, arranged on a table alongside other artifacts. She compared them to the ones she found on the Tor. They were identical. Alongside the necklace, Libby recognised a sharpened stone as a spear head. Max had added a note. Found the photo online. Looks like the beads came from an excavation near the Tor about forty years ago. Libby smiled. Miss Bakewell had a few more questions to answer.
    Max’s second photo showed the Tor rising from a mist that ended just below St Michael’s Tower, blocking out half the hill. Libby said, “The Tor looked like that when Bear and I were there.”
    “Spooky,” Mandy said. “Makes you shiver.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    2,000 years
    “Did you bring the necklace?” Libby and Mandy cradled mugs of coffee in Max’s living room, while Bear stretched across as many feet as possible, grunting with pleasure. Libby placed her mug out of reach of the dog’s tail and unzipped a small pocket in her handbag, pulling out a silk jewellery pouch that once contained a silver brooch. The amber stones felt warm against her skin. “I’ve been terrified of losing them. I kept moving them around, hiding them in different places. In the end, I decided my bag’s the safest place. I never go anywhere without it.”
    Max agreed. “It would take a better man than me to part a woman from her handbag.” Libby laid the beads on the coffee table.
    “More than 2,000 years,” Mandy murmured. “They just look old and dusty, really.”
    Max had spent the previous evening googling amber beads. He shared his findings. “Amber’s a strange medium. It’s actually tree resin, compressed for hundred of years. Sometimes, it traps insects or flowers, preserving them inside the amber for ever.”
    Mandy giggled. “Or until someone takes the DNA and makes dinosaurs. Like in Jurassic Park.”
    Max grinned. “I’m not sure the science of that idea holds water, but amber’s been valued as a precious stone for hundreds of years. It’s even thought to have healing properties.”
    “I’m not surprised folk are fascinated.” Libby picked up the beads and with a sigh, slid them back into the silk pouch, zipping them in the side of her bag. “I wish I could hang on to them, but I suppose I should find the real owner and hand them back. At least they aren’t part of a hoard of gold or diamonds, or Miss Bakewell would really be in trouble.”
    She laid Max’s Myths and Legends book on the table. “I was up all night reading this. Glastonbury seems to have as many legends as ancient Greece.”
    Mandy grabbed it, skimming the text. “Well, the Tor’s pretty cool, with that old ruin on top. St Michael’s Tower,” she read. “Never knew that was its name.” She pointed to a sticky note. “What’s all this about a curse?”
    “It keeps cropping up.” Libby took the book and thumbed through the pages, pointing to other marked areas. “Here, you see, and on this page. Look. Amber beads figure in the tales of King Arthur and Guinevere. Guinevere was King Arthur’s young wife, but she fell in love with Lancelot, one of the twelve knights. According to the story, he travelled far and wide, searching for the Holy Grail, and on the way he found a dozen “perfect gems” which he gave to the beautiful Queen. She hid them from her husband, for fear he’d suspect her love for Lancelot, but forgot where she’d left them.”
    “You’d think she’d take care of a present like that.” Mandy put in.
    Remembering something, Libby scanned her notes. “Look, she was only a teenager. Not even as old as you. I suppose girls were as forgetful then as they are now.” Mandy made a face. “Present company excepted,” Libby added.
    “Are you going to finish the