Rubies Among the Roses

by Vivian Conroy

  ‘Told who what?’ Guinevere’s heart pounded fast. The blood droned in her ears now. ‘What can’t you tell the police?’

  If Max had done nothing wrong, he could be open about it. Why had he said it would break things? What things, between whom?

  Max shook his head. ‘It’s personal.’ He started to walk away from her.

  Guinevere rushed after him. ‘You can’t say that much and then leave me hanging.’

  Dolly came after them and jumped up at Guinevere, yapped, and ran away again.

  Guinevere focused on Max. ‘Please …’

  Max stopped and looked at her. He lifted his right hand and brushed two fingers over her cheek. ‘I do want to tell you. So you can understand. I need you to understand. But it will put you in an impossible position. Or can you promise me you won’t tell Oliver or anyone else about this?’

  Guinevere stood and stared into his chocolate eyes. ‘If it’s not … illegal,’ she said with difficulty.

  Max laughed softly. ‘It’s not a crime if that’s what you mean. It’s … something that had better not come out right now.’

  He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. ‘You’re right that I have told you too much already to let it hang. Come on and I’ll explain.’

  They fell into step side by side. Guinevere barely noticed the surroundings. She wanted him to tell whatever he had to say so she could know in how much trouble she was for having promised, more or less, that she wouldn’t share this with anyone else.

  Max said, ‘It might sound like insanity to you, but it made perfect sense to me when I thought up the plan. Of course I didn’t know him yet, then. What a pompous ass he really is.’

  He took a deep breath and continued, ‘It took me weeks to get in with Wadencourt. To get into this assignment. To convince him he had to hire me and not somebody else. I offered him a cheap price; I even claimed an interest in artefacts. I read up on things to impress him.’

  He scoffed a moment, his features tight. ‘I wanted to be there when he made his big find. I wanted to see him happy, rewarded for his efforts. Not just in this case but for all the years before. I wanted to be a part of his success. And not for my career, not for this.’ He lifted the camera a little, then let it fall back to his chest on the straps. ‘No matter how important my photography is to me, this is more important.’

  Guinevere studied his expression, waiting to hear more. She had no idea where this was going.

  Max said, ‘I wanted to take the opportunity where he was relaxed, happy, himself, to talk to him. About something private. You see …’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Wadencourt is my real father.’

  Guinevere halted abruptly. She didn’t know what she had expected, but certainly not this. The idea of suddenly finding your father took her breath away. She had never known a father, not even in a name on her birth certificate. She had no idea what it was like: amazing, terrifying, or just a major deception?

  She said, ‘He’s your father? And he doesn’t know?’

  ‘No, of course not. He married another, not my mother. He has children with his wife. I can’t just barge into his life and say, hi, I’m your son.’

  Guinevere bit her lip. Did her own father maybe have children with another woman? Would her entry into his life, if she could ever find him somehow, be painful and unwanted?

  Weren’t some things better left untouched?

  Should she be glad she had nothing to go on and couldn’t start some quest that would in the end leave all parties involved damaged?

  Max said, ‘I needed to pave the way first and …’ His face contorted. ‘I guess now I will never have a chance to tell him. He’s so mad about all that happened here and … Why did the ruddy goblet have to be damaged?’

  He hung his head, reaching up to rub his eyes.

  Guinevere put her hand on his arm. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘No.’ Max looked at her with burning eyes. ‘Not my fault, but I’m paying the price for it. I worked hard to prepare for this trip, this moment, the day I could tell him. Now it has all slipped away from me. I’ve got nothing left.’

  Guinevere thought quickly. The unbolted door. Yes. ‘Last night you wanted to tell him? Before he had the goblet?’

  ‘Yes. I had always thought I should say it when he had it. That seemed better because then he would be in a good mood and might not … freak out or something. I got to know his temper and … I wasn’t eager to see how he’d take it. But as we travelled over here, I had second thoughts. I was afraid that he would think I was telling him after the find because I wanted a part in it. More of a part than as photographer, you know. I was afraid he would start accusing me of being a gold digger or something while all I wanted was to get to know my father.’

  Max swallowed. ‘So I wanted to tell him last night. I had seen he had left. I had also seen Bolingbrooke had bolted the door, walking away chuckling. He obviously wanted to play some childish prank on him, locking him out. Automatically I went there to unbolt it so he could get in again, and then it struck me I could go out and tell him, just like that. That it was the best moment ever, the eve of his big find, that he couldn’t accuse me of anything predatory, but that he might be in a good mood anyway. It all seemed perfect. So I did go out but I couldn’t find him right away and as I walked looking for him, I got scared.’

  He looked at her. ‘I know you’ll be disappointed in me now but … I couldn’t do it. I knew he’d reject me, say it was all lies, that I couldn’t even be his son and he had never known my mother and …’

  Guinevere’s heart clenched. If anyone had defamed her mother like that, she would have been so mad, so heartbroken.

  Max said, ‘Just picturing such a scene I knew I couldn’t take it. I would fly at him and beat his arrogant face. I might be taken in for assaulting my own father and …’

  Having already been in trouble once for having beaten someone badly, Max had probably thought that a new incident would land him in serious trouble.

  Max said, ‘I went back to the castle. I lay awake half the night wondering if I had done the right thing and what I had to do in the morning, whether I could make up an excuse to leave early, let him find another photographer to be there in his crowning moments.’

  Guinevere listened intently, feeling the emotion quiver in his statement. It quivered inside of her own chest, as this story came so close to home for her. In Max’s place wouldn’t she have done the same things, made the same mistakes? Wouldn’t she have experienced the same terrible mixture of emotions, sucking her into a whirlpool?

  Still, one thing she couldn’t really understand. ‘When Wadencourt found the goblet defaced, you were so … harsh about it. Like you enjoyed it.’

  ‘I have to give myself some sort of attitude, right? I can’t show how I really feel about him. Nobody would understand, least of all him. He doesn’t want me; he never did.’

  Guinevere’s heart ached for Max’s loneliness and she wanted to reach out for him but she wasn’t sure how he would take it. His remark about assuming an attitude of not caring proved he wanted to stand strong, not show weakness.

  To focus on something factual she asked softly, ‘When you went back to the castle, did you bolt the door?’

  ‘What?’ Max looked at her with wide-open eyes. ‘Oh, uhm, I don’t know for sure. I might have.’

  Guinevere nodded. If Max had bolted the door again, it was strange it had been unbolted when Cador had seen it early in the morning. But then again, Max might not remember correctly what he had done. He had no doubt been upset and not paying close attention.

  Max said, ‘Wadencourt should never hear of this, you understand? I don’t want him to know. He will … deny everything, defame my mother. I should never have tried to contact him, get onto his team. It was a terrible plan.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. He’ll never guess of his own accord. And I need not tell as long as the investigation doesn�
�t require it.’

  ‘You would actually sell out my secret for the investigation?’ Max sounded bitter. ‘Great. As if all of this wasn’t bad enough.’

  ‘I don’t think it will be necessary.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry for you, Max. I really am.’

  Max looked into her eyes. ‘My mum will kill me if she ever finds out about this. You know how mums are.’

  ‘Not really. I never knew my mother.’

  ‘Sorry. I …’ Max held her gaze. ‘I’m thinking of me all the time. I learned how to when I was little, you know. My mother found a husband, had a family in which I was always second best. Anyway, that’s how I felt. That they loved the children they had together more than they ever loved me. I thought that was bad. But I have no idea how it is when you don’t have anybody left.’

  He put his hand over hers and squeezed. ‘Thanks for listening to my story.’

  ‘No problem. Thanks for telling me.’ Guinevere felt the warm wind on her face and it was as if it blew a little of the weight on her shoulders away. Max had wanted Wadencourt to find the goblet, be happy, be open to his revelation that he was his son. The find this morning had robbed him of his chance to get to know his father. Everything was spoiled now. Max was just a victim of the situation, like Wadencourt and like Jago.

  He could even work with them to help them solve the case!

  She asked, ‘Do you know if Wadencourt knew anything about chemicals?’

  ‘Chemicals?’

  ‘Yes, ways to … maybe make things look older? The goblet was treated with a chemical, and the police found a bottle with some chemical liquid in Wadencourt’s room.’

  Max’s eyes widened. ‘That can’t be. I mean, why would he have taken the stones off the goblet he wanted to find? That makes no sense.’

  ‘Maybe it does, in a way. The goblet was hidden on the premises of the castle. Bolingbrooke had already said that if it was found, it would be his. Your father might have feared that he would lose his find. Maybe he decided then and there he wanted the stones for himself. Maybe he even decided he was entitled to them?’

  Max scoffed. ‘That would be like him. He had put time and energy into it, would want a reward. But deface the goblet? He is a fanatic about his work, his career. I doubt he could do it.’

  ‘Well, the police will have to look into it.’

  ‘And his behaviour this morning?’ Max asked. ‘The moment he took the goblet from the statuette and realized the stones were not there? Was that a bit of nice acting? I can’t believe that. His frustration and disappointment were real.’

  Guinevere nodded slowly. ‘It seemed so. But how can you ever know for sure?’

  Max shook his head with determination. ‘Wadencourt wasn’t playing that. I can’t believe he took the stones. Where would he have put them?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Guinevere looked up to where the castle sat high over the island like a sentry. ‘Maybe the police have already found something?’

  Max stood beside her with his feet planted apart. ‘That would solve it then.’

  ‘Not all of it. Who killed Jago?’

  ‘Killed?’ Max repeated. ‘I thought he took a fall? He had been drinking and he fell.’

  ‘LeFevre told us the head wound stemmed from a blow with a blunt object.’

  ‘Does he know what object?’

  ‘No, they’re still working on that.’

  ‘My father,’ Max said slowly, ‘is ruthless when he wants something. Just as ruthless as he was in the past when he didn’t want me and pushed my mother and me from his life.’

  He was suddenly pale and stared down at the sand.

  Guinevere said in a whisper, ‘Do you think he could kill?’

  Wadencourt might have treated Max badly but he was still his father. Nobody wanted to experience that the man he had recently found was … a murderer?

  Max looked at her. His voice was hoarse when he said, ‘If he believed he could save his precious goblet by it? Yes. I think he could kill.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘So what did you learn from the enigmatic Max DeBurgh?’ Oliver’s voice asked behind her.

  Guinevere gasped, raising a hand to her throat. ‘You startled me.’ She kept walking up to her room in the tower.

  Oliver said, ‘Well? I saw you walking on the beach. Took quite some time.’

  So he had spied on them with his binoculars. He had seen their body language as they were at it, how she had touched Max to show her sympathy for his situation. But she wasn’t going to explain anything to Oliver about Max’s confession that Wadencourt was his father. She owed it to Max to keep his secret.

  She shrugged and said, ‘I couldn’t just fall all over him with questions. I had to beat about the bush a bit before I could ask about last night. Max did go out for a walk, but he came back quickly. He doesn’t recall whether he bolted the door or not.’

  Oliver asked, ‘Did he see Jago while he was walking?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I also asked if he saw Vex around, but he isn’t sure. After all, he hardly knew what Vex looked like at that time.’

  Oliver hmm-ed. ‘Max might have met Vex before.’

  Guinevere turned to him. ‘How? Where? And what for? You’re making wild allegations. I don’t think Max has anything to do with it. He lost his assignment and his chance to be in the papers with this find.’

  She expected cynical laughter from Oliver, but to her surprise he nodded. ‘I suppose so. He had nothing to gain by defacing the goblet. Unless he figured he could sell the stones.’

  ‘And where are the stones now?’

  ‘Yes, isn’t that what we’d all like to know?’

  Her phone beeped. Guinevere pulled it out and accepted the call.

  ‘LeFevre here. I want you to know that the jewels offered by the lady weren’t the ones missing. Only a family heirloom sold off away from town where people know her.’

  It sounded like the lady in question had given the explanation to LeFevre and Guinevere could perfectlypicture Lady Serena’s haughty face as she listened to the story. She didn’t ask if it had been Lady Serena though, as she knew LeFevre would say she had no need to know. And it didn’t matter either. The jewellery in question was unrelated to the goblet. Those stones were still missing.

  She asked to make sure, ‘So the stones taken off the goblet haven’t been recovered?’

  ‘Not yet. I heard my men found several interesting things at the castle.’

  ‘Several? I only saw a bottle of liquid being taken away from Wadencourt’s room.’

  LeFevre hmmm-ed.

  ‘What else did you find?’ Guinevere asked. Would it be enough to accuse Wadencourt? Would Max’s father be arrested?

  LeFevre said, ‘Can’t tell you. Interest of the investigation and all.’

  ‘Only tell me if your men found the book anywhere, the book that Jago borrowed from Meraud to show to someone.’

  ‘No, not so far. But I’ll tell you if we come across it. In turn, keep me posted on anything important you learn.’

  Guinevere felt a slight flush come up as she realized she had learned something quite big but wasn’t about to reveal it to the inspector. After all, Max’s blood bond with Wadencourt seemed to have nothing to do with the theft or Jago’s murder.

  She put the phone back in her pocket.

  Oliver asked, ‘And?’

  ‘The lady selling the jewellery has nothing to do with the case here.’

  ‘But if it was Lady Serena, it could mean she’s in financial trouble,’ Oliver said. ‘That would make it even more important for her to prove the goblet belongs to her family. If she could lay her hands on it, she could lend it to museums and get a handsome fee for it.’

  ‘But it’s defaced now.’

  Oliver’s expression fell. ‘Yes, that does seem to exclude her.’

  They stood in front of the door leading into Guinevere’s bedroom. Oliver stu
died her face. ‘Did Max DeBurgh tell you anything I need to know for the case?’

  Before she could reply he added, ‘Can I trust you to tell me the truth?’

  Guinevere’s heart began to pound. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you seem to be a little infatuated with him.’

  His word choice made her heartbeat speed up even more. ‘I’m not! Stop making suggestions like that all the time.’

  ‘Come on. I saw how you touched each other on the beach.’

  Her face flushed. She had just been trying to show Max she understood how he felt. It wasn’t as if they had hugged each other or …

  Why did she even need to defend herself to Oliver? He had been in the wrong, keeping an eye on them as if there was something special to see. ‘You had no right to spy on us. And I only feel sorry for Max.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Oliver echoed. ‘For a vain snob who thinks he’s the next award-winning star?’

  ‘You don’t understand, but I’m not going to discuss this with you. It’s nearly dinnertime and I want to change.’

  Guinevere went into her room and snapped the door shut in front of Oliver’s nose.

  He tapped on it. ‘Gwen! I don’t want you to be charmed by a suspect. Can we discuss this like grown-ups?’

  She didn’t reply, and after a while it seemed that Oliver walked away.

  She exhaled, blood droning in her ears. She had successfully evaded his question. For now.

  Oliver might start asking about it again, the next morning.

  Could she really deny, without blinking, that Max had told her anything important?

  It would be a lie, and if Oliver ever found out about that …

  She had to make sure she didn’t lie outright.

  But even then …

  Oliver’s friendship had made it easier for her to adjust to her new life here on Cornisea. She had believed she could rely on him and he on her. If she started to keep things from him now …

  But Max’s real relationship with Wadencourt was a private matter, right?

  Max had asked her to keep it to herself.