Death Plays a Part (Cornish Castle Mystery, Book 1)

by Vivian Conroy

  LeFevre met his probing look with a level gaze of his own. ‘I think it’s a good idea to have a lawyer present. It’s not just the post-mortem results that I got in. His fingerprints have also been found on the knife. That combined with several people I questioned today testifying your father and Haydock were at each other’s throats about the castle …’ LeFevre clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘I could decide to hold him.’

  Oliver seemed to want to argue, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and removed himself a few paces to place the call to the lawyer.

  Guinevere said to LeFevre, ‘You’ve been busy. Any other news besides the fingerprints on the knife? More from the post-mortem that is revealing? And I suppose if you’ve been to Haydock’s office, you’re checking his finances and so on? To see who profits from his death?’

  LeFevre seemed to want to snap that it was none of her business, then he said in a weary tone, ‘Yes, and most things I learned today strengthen the case against Lord Bolingbrooke. Haydock had a whole plan worked out in which the castle played a central part. His wife benefits from his death, but she wasn’t here last night so she can’t have killed him. Several witnesses place her at a charity event fifty miles from Cornisea.’

  ‘I see. And his daughter?’ Guinevere asked. ‘Will Leah get the law firm now?’

  LeFevre pursed his lips. ‘I don’t suppose she would kill her father for that. She was a partner already. What more could she want?’

  ‘Well, he did seem to order her about and belittle her. Maybe she wanted him to stop that?’

  LeFevre studied her. ‘Do you really want to accuse a daughter of killing her own father just because it can get Bolingbrooke off the hook?’

  Guinevere felt her face flush. ‘No, you misunderstand.’ Oliver would hate her for even thinking Leah could be involved.

  LeFevre raised a hand to stop her protests. ‘You come from the theatre world, right? I was in an amateur theatrical company when I was studying. Comedies foremost. Make the people laugh. Nothing made them laugh harder than authority being fooled. People in charge being led astray. I don’t intend to be laughed at in this case. I’m not arresting anybody for the sake of the arrest, but I’m also not letting Lord Bolingbrooke walk just because someone asks me to. Someone who also lied to me.’

  ‘I lied to you?’ Guinevere asked, bewildered by the suggestion and his insistent tone.

  ‘No, your friend, young Bolingbrooke.’ LeFevre pointed at Oliver, who was done with his call and came back to them. ‘You didn’t tell me the other day that Haydock had made a plan with you, behind your father’s back, to deliver the castle into his hands.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Oliver said, turning red in the face under this outright attack. ‘Haydock made that plan. Yes, he approached me via email while I was in Australia, but I told him he could stuff it. I wasn’t working with him to do anything.’

  ‘But he must have known, as most people around here know, that you don’t support your father’s wish to keep the castle in the family. You would welcome a sale.’ LeFevre waited a few moments before adding, ‘If the decision was yours.’

  ‘But it isn’t mine.’

  ‘It would be if your father was dead.’

  ‘Then Haydock should have killed my father last night instead of vice versa.’ Oliver’s eyes sparkled. ‘What’s your point, Inspector? That I killed Haydock to protect my father? In such a way that all suspicion would immediately fall on my father? Trust me when I say I could do better than that.’

  LeFevre raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. ‘I’m only pointing out that I wasn’t aware of Haydock’s offer to you when we spoke last night.’

  Oliver sighed. ‘I never took it seriously so it had completely slipped my mind. How did you hear about it anyway?’

  ‘Like I said, I was at Haydock’s office this morning. I wanted to talk to his daughter, his staff, and perhaps look over some paperwork. The secretary told me that Haydock’s daughter had left in a rush, as if she was really upset. The secretary let me into Haydock’s room. There I found the safe in the wall wide open and lots of documents spread out on his desk. The correspondence he had with you about the castle was right on top. I didn’t have to lift a paper off a stack to be able to see it.’

  LeFevre seemed to want to emphasize he had not been going through papers without permission, but the information had just been there for the taking.

  Oliver said with another sigh, ‘Leah found out what her father had been planning and rushed off to speak to me about it.’

  ‘You met with her? She wanted to know if you were involved in her father’s killing?’

  ‘No, not at all.’ Oliver leaned back on his heels. ‘She was worried about how it might look. She hadn’t known about Haydock’s plans before and was upset that he had wanted to go that far to get the castle. But I already knew what a toad he was, so why would I feel any different than I did before?’

  LeFevre nodded slowly. ‘Did Leah Haydock tell you anything else that might be useful? It seems people talk among each other here while they should be turning to the police with their information.’

  ‘Well, it’s easier to confide in a friend than to tell something to an ambitious inspector who might use it to get someone in trouble.’ Oliver gave him a hostile look.

  LeFevre said, ‘You know I tested your theory last night. I thought it was quite a good idea, only the information from the post-mortem about the stab wound’s angle goes against it. Nevertheless, I’m open to all suggestions. Just try me.’

  ‘Do you already know what the plant material on the ground of the cell is?’ Guinevere asked.

  LeFevre shook his head. ‘They’re on it, but it didn’t have priority.’

  ‘No, establishing my father’s fingerprints on the knife did,’ Oliver scoffed. ‘Rushing out here to arrest him just because some secretary suggested there’s preferential treatment.’LeFevre ignored him and said to Guinevere, ‘I’ll find out and I’ll let you know.’

  Guinevere smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’

  LeFevre nodded curtly and then walked away to the gate.

  Oliver hissed to Guinevere, ‘Thank you … You don’t have to play nice to that insolent chap.’

  Guinevere held his gaze. ‘Don’t you see we need his help? He’s the only one who can clear your father. He’s been working hard all day to find possible leads, checking alibis and looking into financial records.’

  ‘And everything leads back to my father,’ Oliver said with a grimace. He threw his head back and stared up at the blue skies overhead.

  Guinevere asked in a whisper, ‘Why didn’t you mention to LeFevre that Leah had been at the air hole? He asked explicitly if she shared anything relevant when we met.’

  ‘Leah was going to call him herself. It would look better if she confessed of her own accord, not like I’m telling on her. I don’t want her to get into trouble. For all of her life she has cringed when she was near her father. You heard her when she said that even having a pasty reminds her too much of family gatherings where she didn’t fit in. She never felt like she was good enough for him. I used to hope that maybe as she loved singing so much it would be strong enough to pull her away from him, but when she agreed to come into the business …’

  Oliver shook his head. ‘Haydock was even worse than my father trying to force his dream onto me. Parents should give their children some freedom, but they rarely do. You should be happy there’s no one to interfere with your life.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Guinevere said cynically. ‘I’m happy every single day that I have no one to interfere with my life.’

  She wanted to turn away from him, but Oliver caught her arm. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that … You said your parents died when you were a baby and … it must be hard missing them.’

  Guinevere held his gaze. ‘Can you miss something you’ve never had?’

  ‘Yes,’ Oliver said with insistence, ‘Because you see others who have i
t and how happy they are and you know that happiness could have been yours as well, only it isn’t.’

  Guinevere looked down, pulling her arm free. How could he know that unless he had experienced it himself? Oliver’s mother … When had she disappeared from his life?

  And why had he never started a family of his own?

  Bolingbrooke rushed out of the castle, wearing an old-fashioned felt hat with a bird’s feather. He carried a walking cane in his right hand.

  ‘What do you need that for?’ Oliver asked with a suspicious look.

  ‘Cachet.’ Bolingbrooke made a fake bow at him. ‘I have to look the part. The wrongly incriminated nobleman. Soon to be proven completely innocent.’

  Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘Just as long as you don’t use that cane to bash the inspector’s desk to make your point. You would be charged with assault and held for sure.’

  Bolingbrooke strode past them. ‘I won’t even dignify that with an answer.’

  He joined LeFevre at the gate, and the two men left.

  Oliver sighed. ‘I should have gone with him to prevent a scene at the station, but I don’t want to treat him like he’s a child. Or like the incapable old man Haydock wanted to turn him into. LeFevre should never have found out about that. What if he starts leaning towards a plea of temporary insanity? My father losing it when he believed Haydock threatened everything he loves?’

  ‘Leah did say,’ Guinevere said pensively, ‘that Kensa Morgan fought with Haydock, that he left her house on the mainland banging the door almost off its hinges. Maybe we can discover what that fight was about?’

  ‘If Kensa had a motive for wanting Haydock dead, she won’t just tell us.’ Oliver tapped his foot on the stone below.

  ‘Would Tegen know anything about it? About her mother’s financial situation for instance?’

  Oliver considered it. ‘I don’t think Kensa would share anything, but on the other hand, Tegen is independent enough to have a look.’

  Guinevere thought of Tegen’s assertion she had found out about her brother being in law school by accident, seeing something meant for her mother. Did that mean she was consciously looking for information? ‘Behind her mother’s back?’ she queried.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Oliver suppressed a grin.

  Guinevere tilted her head. ‘You like her,’ she concluded.

  Oliver frowned at her. ‘Tegen is a fixture around these parts. In a small community you know each other and you’re sort of … well, attached to each other even though you know about all the weird stuff. Like you’re attached to your bunions just because they’re part of you.’

  Guinevere had to laugh. Then she said, ‘Shall I go ask Tegen what she knows? She seemed interested in my London life, the theatre and all. I might be able to win her confidence and get something useful out of her.’

  Oliver checked his watch. ‘Around this time Kensa sends Tegen into the harbour to get fresh fish for dinner. If the guests want it, they can eat at the B&B, but since Emma’s Eatery opened up, not a lot do any more. Rumour has it Emma’s fish dishes are a lot better than Kensa’s. But she keeps trying. Kensa is an islander or at least she was married to one. Emma is an outsider. That matters a lot.’

  ‘Apparently not to the tourists, who just want the best dinner.’ Guinevere tapped her foot on the stones. Relationships on the island fascinated her, how everybody was tied up with everybody else and forced to cooperate to some extent for survival. Kensa liked things to be the way she wanted them. That had been clear at the re-enactment. She asked, ‘Can Kensa have pushed her son to get a legal degree and form this business owners’ association so she’d have a hold on the other business owners? To regain power, so to speak, that she was losing to Emma’s Eatery?’

  ‘Could be. But you don’t get a legal degree overnight. And would Lance really just let his mother decide what he has to do with his life? He’s been away from here to study. I don’t think he wants to come back to Cornisea to stay. What would he do besides catering to his mother’s whims?’

  Guinevere nodded pensively. ‘Maybe Tegen knows more about that too. Till later then.’

  ***

  Guinevere and Dolly met Tegen as she was carrying a basket full of fish on ice from the area where fishermen were cleaning their catches. Guinevere looked in and whistled. ‘You must have a lot of guests tonight.’

  ‘Fully booked,’ Tegen said. She wrinkled her nose. ‘If there’s anything I want to get away from, it’s the constant stench of fish. Even in bed I can still smell it – it gets into my hair and my clothes.’

  Guinevere studied her. ‘Couldn’t you have gone on a holiday with your friends from school?’

  Tegen grimaced. ‘They’re all going with their families. To all-inclusive resorts in the Caribbean. I’m the only one stuck on this stupid island with my mother.’

  She leaned back on her heels. ‘Mum said that was going to change soon. She even promised me that by Christmas we’d be going skiing. But I have no idea why we would be doing that.’

  ‘Skiing?’ Guinevere echoed. ‘Somehow I can’t really see your mother on skis.’

  ‘Me neither, but she was serious about it. I saw her looking in a catalogue one night to order ski clothes. She was looking at all these bright colours, you know, like she’s still twenty.’ Tegen grimaced. ‘It’s embarrassing when your mother acts that way.’

  ‘And you have no idea why? Was she seeing someone?’

  Tegen’s cheeks turned red. ‘How did you get that into your head?’ she spat, but her voice was uncertain.

  Guinevere shrugged. ‘She’s been a widow for three years now. She must get lonely sometimes.’

  ‘She’s used to it. My mother doesn’t date. That’s weird, you know, to have a dating mother.’

  Guinevere said, ‘But you do want her to be happy, don’t you? Maybe running the B&B on her own is getting too much for her. If she had someone to help her, she might also give you more freedom.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Tegen said. ‘What is it to you anyway? Are you trying to work out the murder so Oliver will like you?’

  Guinevere felt a flush creep up. ‘I just want to make sure I can continue my summer job here.’

  ‘Sure.’ Tegen rebalanced the weight of the basket with fish against her. ‘Bye then.’

  Guinevere exhaled and looked down at Dolly. ‘That went well.’ She looked around her. ‘I’m in need of a sugar boost.’

  Emma’s Eatery also had a sign saying ice cream was sold there and Guinevere went inside. The eatery had authentic low oak beams, a seaside view over the fireplace, and cute crocheted pillows on the long benches along the walls. A woman in her forties with reddish hair and freckles was rinsing glasses behind the counter. ‘Can I help you?’ she called to Guinevere.

  ‘Yes, I’d like some ice cream. Two scoops. Double chocolate and blueberry.’

  ‘Excellent choice.’ The woman moved over to the ice-cream counter and grabbed a spoon she dipped in hot water before moving it smoothly through the thick ice cream. ‘We make it all ourselves. From regional milk and fruit.’

  ‘Wonderful. So you’re Emma?’

  The woman nodded.

  ‘I’m Guinevere. I’m working here for the summer. I’d love some of those postcards for my friends.’ Guinevere pointed at a turnable rack beside the counter that held postcards with watercolour views of Cornisea.

  ‘My husband is the painter,’ Emma said with a smile. ‘He has more blues and greys in his kit than any other painter I bet. He can do the same view ten times over and it will still look different on each card – individual.’

  ‘Yes, I love these.’ Guinevere selected a few. ‘Do you also sell stamps?’

  ‘Certainly. Just tell me how many you need. I’m putting your ice cream in this holder here. Napkins in that container.’

  ‘Thank you. Ten stamps, please.’

  Among the postcards Guinevere spotted the same blue leaflet she had picked up at the train station and remembered she had wanted to see who
was credited for the play. Kensa claimed to have done all the work for the re-enactment by herself.

  She picked one out of the rack and looked it over. Just the historical society mentioned. No individuals. That didn’t seem to help at all.

  She put it back and handed her postcards to Emma, who put them in a paper bag with the stamps, then rang up her total on an old-fashioned till. Emma said, ‘Has Lord Bolingbrooke been arrested? I saw him with the inspector.’

  ‘He had to make a statement at the station,’ Guinevere said and quickly changed the subject. ‘You have a lovely little café here. But I suppose in winter nobody comes to the island. How do you manage?’

  ‘We have a second café on the mainland. That’s our focus in winter. And we’ve thought up activities, you know, to make the winter season better. Like doing a Christmas fair with stalls here in the harbour and in the castle’s yard. People coming over and following the way up lit by lanterns. But Bolingbrooke didn’t want to cooperate.’ Her voice pitched in indignation. ‘He’s always spoiling everything.’

  ‘Would it help if you had some sort of organization to set up activities?’

  ‘Like a tourist board, you mean? We did talk about it but we’re worried it will cost money. We don’t want to put in a whole lot upfront, not knowing how it will pan out.’

  ‘I understand. I work in a theatre in London so I know how hard it can be to get people to come to you. To you specifically while there is so much on offer.’

  ‘Have you worked out a way to do it?’ Emma asked eagerly.

  Guinevere took a deep breath. ‘Well, we had some choices. Do something really popular that we had never done before. Stick with what we were doing and loved. Close down even. We decided to find people who loved what we did and ask them to put in money for the renovations. After we open again they can be the first to come and see our play.’

  ‘The historical society did their best, I suppose, having thought up this re-enactment of the Branok trial. His secret stash is legendary.’

  ‘Oh, yes,” Guinevere said. “I saw a mention in passing about some treasure he had?’