Rubies Among the Roses

by Vivian Conroy

  Wadencourt jumped to his feet and hissed at Bolingbrooke, ‘All because of your stupid notion I was after your wife. I was never after your wife. You were a jealous ass. And for that you’ve ruined the biggest chance of my life. At last people would have seen I knew what I was talking about. That I was right! And now I’m left with nothing. Nothing.’

  Bolingbrooke inched back under Wadencourt’s ferocity. ‘I had no idea the thing was hidden here.’

  He looked past Wadencourt at LeFevre. ‘I also want to file charges against him for ruining my good name with his pointless allegations. I didn’t know the whereabouts of this goblet, and I had no idea that he was even coming here to look for it. I’ve done nothing to deprive him of anything. Let alone of glory that he never had and never will have.’

  Wadencourt took a swing at Bolingbrooke, who just avoided his fist.

  His lordship then wanted to hit back, but LeFevre pulled the angry historian away before his nose got busted and said, ‘Let’s settle this quietly, gentlemen, shall we? I’m going to the station with Mr Wadencourt first and we’ll talk. After that I’m coming back here for your side of the story.’

  ‘And what about me?’ Lady Serena called. ‘I brought you out here to act on my behalf.’ She wasn’t wearing her riding outfit of the other day, but a peacock blue, knee-length skirt and matching jacket. On the lapel a brooch with small stones caught and reflected the sunlight.

  ‘I’m a civil servant,’ LeFevre said sharply, ‘not a private detective. I act on everybody’s behalf and in the order I see fit. You can also come to the station if you want to make a statement. But no more pushing and shoving or screaming along the way.’

  Lady Serena huffed in indignation as if scenes like those were far beneath her. She glared at the others present, muttered something like ‘what are you looking at?’ and stalked away.

  LeFevre went after her with a distraught Wadencourt, clutching his precious notebook against his chest.

  Guinevere pushed a hand to her face. She wasn’t sure if she should … right now… If it was related at all and …

  Yes!

  She rushed after LeFevre, Dolly by her side. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?’

  LeFevre nodded and let Wadencourt walk ahead of them. He said softly, ‘What’s the matter? Do you know more about what happened here? How the stones vanished from the goblet?’

  Guinevere shook her head. ‘It’s not about the goblet. But there was something this morning. A death on the beach. It seems to be an accident but I … I’m not sure. It could be connected. Oliver took the body out of the water. Constable Eal was there too. He was to decide what should happen next, but I think …’

  LeFevre looked her over. ‘Who died?’

  ‘Jago.’ As Guinevere said it, tears pricked behind her eyes.

  LeFevre was respectfully silent for a moment, then he asked softly, ‘Where did it happen? I want to see the scene for myself and talk to Eal and Oliver.’

  She explained it to him, and he said he was going there right away. He told Lady Serena and Wadencourt to wait for his return. The pair were left to eye each other like wild animals ready for attack.

  Guinevere pulled Dolly along back to the castle. Max was ahead of her, walking close to Bolingbrooke as if he was trying to calm him down. Guinevere exhaled in relief that Max was doing the right thing and helping to de-escalate the situation. Perhaps he could prove himself to her like he had said he wanted to?

  Passing the clematis that hid the niche in which the saint’s statuette and the precious goblet had been hidden for so long, she let her gaze wander across the unruly bush.

  Outside of the castle. It was hard to believe something precious like that had never been found and removed before. But maybe people had believed the goblet of Rose and Stars to be a legend and not a real object that could be located?

  Deep in thought Guinevere hurried to catch up with Bolingbrooke and Max.

  ***

  LeFevre showed up after half an hour with Oliver at his side. Oliver looked tired and grim. Guinevere wanted to squeeze his arm but didn’t dare do it in the company of others.

  LeFevre said with a sigh, ‘It’s an odd thing. Jago must have walked down that pier a thousand times. Even in the dead of night. He knew it like the back of his hand. Why would he suddenly stumble and fall?’

  ‘Jago was an elderly man.’ Guinevere held LeFevre’s gaze. ‘The events earlier shook him, changed him. He …’

  ‘He drank too much.’ Max appeared by their sides.

  Guinevere looked at him. ‘How would you know that?’

  Max shrugged. ‘When Wadencourt and I arrived, we had a look around the harbour. People told us that if we wanted to go to the island when the tide was high, Jago the boatman could take us. They told us where he lived and all. They also mentioned he had become even more solitary since some tragic incident earlier this summer. And that he had started drinking heavily. That we had better look him over before we got into the boat with him in case he was drunk and he would get us all wet.’

  Guinevere was surprised that islanders would freely share sensitive information about one of them with strangers. Then again people did like to gossip a bit.

  LeFevre said to Max, ‘So you think Jago might have been drinking and that’s why he fell?’

  ‘It’s possible, right?’ Max looked from one to the other.

  LeFevre hmmm-ed as he rocked back on his heels. ‘It’s possible,’ he said slowly. His tone suggested he wasn’t convinced.

  Guinevere wondered why. The flask had been there, hadn’t it? LeFevre must have seen it. If it had fallen from Jago’s hand, when he fell, it was a strong indication he had been intoxicated.

  LeFevre turned away and said he would now go meet Wadencourt and Lady Serena to take them to the station for their statements. As he left the yard, Guinevere put the leash with Dolly on it in Oliver’s hand and went after the inspector. She caught up with him on the path leading down. ‘Can I ask you a quick question?’

  LeFevre looked at her. ‘Of course, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer it. This is an official investigation.’

  ‘Just into the matter of the goblet missing its stones, or also into Jago’s death?’ She studied his profile. ‘You don’t believe it was an accident, do you?’

  LeFevre stood with his hands folded at his back. He seemed to consider how much he could tell her. ‘I don’t work at the morgue. I have no business drawing conclusions about marks on the body. But I do drop by regularly to look at dead bodies and hear expert opinions about what caused the death. You learn a lot that way that can help when investigating new cases. It can help you to notice things on the scene that might have escaped your attention if you hadn’t known to look for them. If you learn certain things later, you only have the photos of the crime scene to look at. It’s not the same as being on the actual scene. I try to gather as much information right away as I possibly can. I pulled up Jago’s shirt and I saw bruising on his ribcage.’

  ‘From the fall?’ Guinevere asked, although she suspected the inspector wouldn’t be thinking it wasn’t an accident if he had assumed the bruising was simply caused by the fall.

  LeFevre shook his head. ‘The blood on the pier suggests Jago fell forward onto the planking. How would he have bruised his ribs then?’

  ‘But there was also blood on the pole.’

  ‘Just a smear. There was more blood on the pier itself. I think he fell there. Or he first fell there.’ LeFevre frowned. ‘It is possible he fell there and then he dragged himself to the boat to get away. Trying to untie it he fell again, against the pole.’

  ‘Get away?’ Guinevere echoed the word choice. ‘From what?’

  ‘From whom maybe. The bruising could be from somebody’s foot. I’m saying could be, as I’m happy to let a qualified pathologist give me an expert opinion about it. But I know what I saw and what I thought.’

  Guinevere stared at him. ‘Somebo
dy kicked Jago? There was a fight on the pier? Is that why he fell?’

  ‘Perhaps. It’s also possible that the kick was given when Jago was already down on the pier. Maybe already unconscious from his head wound?’

  Guinevere froze. ‘Oliver told me he had a wound on the temple. I assumed it had come from falling against the pole. But what you say … You think that somebody kicked him into the water while he was unconscious? So he would surely drown? That’s terrible.’

  LeFevre lifted a hand to ward off her indignation. ‘I’m just saying that I can’t quite piece together what I saw on that pier. The blood in various places, the dropped flask. I can’t clearly see the sequence of events that ended with Jago drowning.’

  ‘And the handkerchief. Did Oliver mention that to you?’

  ‘Yes, I have it for analysis. It looks pretty clean right now, but bloodstains wash away in salt water. So I need to have it tested for residue of blood not visible with the naked eye. And I’ll have to wait for the post-mortem to see what the cause of death is. Water in the lungs would confirm Jago was alive when his body went in. But even then, it will be hard to say anything definitive about what took place on that pier. Whether his injuries were self-inflicted or someone was with him when it happened. To prove that we need to find DNA from a third party, preferably on Jago’s body. If we find it on the pier, it doesn’t prove a whole lot as I assume the pier is used by more people than just by Jago?’

  ‘Yes, but certain people have only been on the island for a day or so. It would be odd for their DNA to be on the pier.’

  LeFevre nodded and gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Wadencourt and his photographer. But did either of them know Jago?’

  ‘Wadencourt has been to Cornisea before. He boasted he knew his way around. And Jago was interested in the island’s treasures. He borrowed a book from Meraud that he wanted to show to someone. It meant a lot to him as he simply took it without her permission after she had refused to lend it to him.’

  LeFevre nodded. ‘Interesting. Subject of said book?’

  ‘It had to do with genealogy, marriages and such. The defaced goblet is supposed to have come to Cornisea in the possession of a lady who wanted to marry the local lord. Their marriage could have been mentioned in that book. Maybe the goblet itself even – I’m not sure.’

  She waited a moment. ‘I wonder if Jago wanted to show the book to Wadencourt. Wadencourt did leave the castle late last night. Lord Bolingbrooke saw him, carrying a torch. But where is the book that Jago borrowed? Not on his body, Oliver said. In his boat perhaps?’

  LeFevre shook his head. ‘There was nothing in his pockets but his pipe, his tobacco, and his pocketknife. Nothing in the boat either but netting and oars and the usual supplies you’d expect. No book. I would have wondered how that fitted in right away. Thanks for drawing my attention to that book and for mentioning Wadencourt was out and about last night. I intend to ask him a few questions about that as soon as we’re at the station.’

  He looked at her with a frown. ‘I’d appreciate it if you kept my doubts about it being an accident quiet for the moment. The bruising I saw on the body and all?’

  Guinevere nodded. ‘Of course.’

  LeFevre said, ‘I mean, don’t mention it to Oliver either.’

  Guinevere flushed. ‘Why on earth not?’

  LeFevre said, ‘I know you two are close, but I don’t want him to know just yet. His father is involved in this goblet business, the claims to it, and I want to sort it out better before I decide what he can and can’t know. Once we have official results they will be shared of course, but at this early stage I’d like to keep mum as much as possible. I did tell you, because … Well, you told me about the death and saved me an extra trip out here. Besides, I heard you found the blood on the pier.’ He held her gaze. ‘With what Jago did for you earlier, I want you to know I’m treating this with the utmost care. If it wasn’t an accident, we’ll find whoever was responsible for it. You can rely on that.’

  Then he straightened up. ‘I’d better attend to my unhappy claimants. If the book turns up, I’ll let you know. Goodbye.’

  ‘Thank you for listening to me and goodbye.’ Guinevere turned around and went back up to the castle. LeFevre’s revelations that it might not have been an accident but a cold-hearted act shoving an unconscious man into the water chilled her to the bone.

  On the other hand, his emphatic reassurance they’d catch the culprit made her feel a little better. LeFevre was a man of his word. He would be thorough.

  And maybe she could help him, like she had helped him before. Then it had been Bolingbrooke and the castle under threat, now it was justice for Jago. And the truth about the missing gemstones.

  The yard was empty, but Oliver sat on the steps leading to the front door. He patted Dolly’s head. Both he and the dog surveyed her curiously as she approached.

  Oliver asked, ‘So what did LeFevre have to say to you?’

  ‘Nothing special. It’s too early in the investigation to know anything for sure.’ No lie in that.

  Guinevere wanted to pass him and go in, but Oliver caught her hand in his. ‘Sit with me for a sec. Talk to me. Please.’

  His soft, insistent tone convinced her even though it was tricky to talk to him knowing she couldn’t reveal the suspicions LeFevre had shared with her. At the moment they were just suspicions, not backed up by hard forensic evidence. Yet.

  She lowered herself on the step beside him and focused on Dolly, scratching her behind the ears.

  Oliver said, ‘I’m sorry you had to discover the blood on the pier and all.’

  Guinevere sighed. ‘I’m just glad I didn’t see Jago’s dead face.’

  Oliver tensed. He scratched his nails over the stone of the step. ‘Jago didn’t just die, Gwen. Not in his bed, not in his boat out on the water. He died here on Cornisea. Possibly meddling in things having to do with the castle, its history. Why else did he borrow the book from Meraud? It’s so like him. But it’s also so sad. What happened earlier changed Jago completely. Do we have to say he’s at peace now? I can’t accept that.’

  Oliver clenched his hands into fists. ‘When I dragged him from the water onto the sand, his shirt rode up. There were bruises on his body like somebody had beaten him. I don’t know how fresh they are. I don’t even know if it could have happened after he fell in, because his body was pushed against the pier’s support beams, by the waves. But when I saw those bruises, my first thought was that somebody beat him and shoved him into the water to let him die. I know it’s just a thought and I can’t back it up in any way. But when I saw him lying there at my feet, I just got so mad.’

  The pain in Oliver’s features tore at Guinevere’s heart. Jago had been a huge part of Oliver’s life while growing up. And even if he had disliked the old fisherman for telling him what to do with his life – that he should give up on wildlife film-making and come back here to stay – Oliver had felt connected to Jago and sort of fond of him.

  Not to mention what Jago had done for the both of them in the earlier murder investigation, protecting them when they had needed it most. They owed Jago so much, and now the old man was gone.

  Guinevere put her hand on Oliver’s arm. She could feel the muscle straining under her touch. Oliver’s breathing was ragged too, as if he had run a long way. He snapped his head up at her and said between clenched teeth, ‘I need someone to blame for Jago’s death. A culprit I can find, to make him pay.’

  Guinevere held her breath. Oliver wasn’t just hurt. He was furious. He tried to control himself by saying that maybe he was wrong about the bruising and about Jago’s death being no accident. But she already knew what LeFevre suspected. The post-mortem might confirm that someone had hurt Jago and caused his death and then Oliver would really freak out. He was mad enough right now to go after the culprit and hurt him or her in return.

  She said with emphasis, ‘The police will look into it. They can ascertain how Jago died an
d take up an investigation if they think it’s necessary.’

  Oliver looked into her eyes. ‘There’s one person staying here who I know has attacked someone viciously. Would have killed him if others hadn’t interfered.’

  ‘You mean Max?’ Guinevere said perplexed. Her throat was tight at the idea Oliver would go after Max. ‘But what reason could Max have had to attack Jago? You’re connecting two things that have nothing to do with each other. Just because you don’t like Max.’

  ‘I’m just telling you how I feel right now.’ Oliver thudded his fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘I need to put my energy into something before I go mad. I know you’ll also want to know who did it, should Jago have been killed. We can start by trying to locate the book he borrowed from Meraud. We need to know what it says. Jago thought it was important, you know.’ He met her worried gaze. ‘We can do this together.’

  ‘With an open mind?’ Guinevere asked.

  Oliver searched her expression. ‘How open is your mind about Max?’

  Guinevere forced herself not to look away. Oliver might think she had something to hide. ‘Wide open,’ she said.

  Oliver made a soft sound. ‘So you wouldn’t be upset if I tried to find out if Max had been out last night and could have met with Jago on that pier?’

  Guinevere’s heart skipped a beat. Oliver wanted to build his case against Max with her help? ‘Why would Max have met Jago? I don’t see how you can find proof of any meeting.’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Lady Serena said she’d keep an eye on the castle. Maybe she saw something significant?’

  ‘Lady Serena is here for her own business. Why would she get involved in the investigation of Jago’s death?’

  ‘Because she’s a candidate for the role of the person Jago wanted to show his book to. She draws attention to herself wherever she goes. I bet people can tell us what she was doing last night. If she was spying on the castle. Then we can turn to her and ask her what she saw. She’ll understand she’ll have to cooperate or she’ll be a suspect herself.’