Rubies Among the Roses

by Vivian Conroy

  ‘Well, Kensa is no longer here to see it.’

  There was a short tense silence as they both thought back to the way in which Kensa Morgan had left Cornisea after the previous murder. The island community was still recovering from the wounds inflicted by that tragedy and now a new death had shocked it.

  Then Oliver said, ‘So Mr Vex is here as well. I had no idea that our garden historian as everybody calls him wanted to see Cornisea for himself. Why? His article is about to be published. He can’t change anything about it any more. Why travel to the location after you’ve already turned in the story?’

  ‘He must think people will come looking here and he wants to be part of the excitement,’ Guinevere said. ‘That makes sense to me.’

  ‘But what did he and Lady Serena fight about? How do they even know each other?’

  Guinevere shrugged. ‘Maybe Lady Serena heard that he was writing about the goblet and she contacted him to explain her family’s claims to it? Maybe he laughed at her or something and when she ran into him in the flesh she wanted to tell him what she thought of his rude behaviour. There may not be any sinister reason.’

  ‘Maybe not, no, but both of them were here on Cornisea on the night when Jago died. Vex is lugging around some mysterious golf bag. And we still don’t know whom Jago wanted to meet to show the book to.’

  Guinevere pursed her lips. ‘We don’t know for sure if the book had anything to do with the goblet. If Jago did meet someone about the book before he died. We need to make some firmer connections. We’d better ask Meraud if she can tell us anything significant about the book he took.’

  Oliver agreed, and they walked from the B&B down to the harbour area and turned left to where all the small family-owned businesses sat: the bakery, the brewery, and the bookshop with the golden lettering over the window reading The Cowled Sleuth.

  Meraud was outside changing the offer of books on the display table. Vivaldi, the naughty retriever puppy she had taken in, lay beside her, his nose on his paws.

  Guinevere went over quickly, smiling at Meraud. ‘Good morning.’

  Dolly pushed Vivaldi with her nose and gave him a lick. The puppy jumped up and pawed her, always in for a game.

  Meraud looked at Guinevere, her eyes dim and red-rimmed. ‘How good a morning can it be when Jago is dead? One of us.’

  Guinevere bit her lip. ‘I know. I saw the blood on the pier and notified Oliver. Dolly sensed something might be wrong. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that pier.’

  Meraud looked her over. ‘I didn’t know that you had actually been there and seen that. I’m sorry you had to be part of it. Death is …’

  She fell silent and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Then as if telling herself to shape up, she lowered her arms again and asked in a brisk tone, ‘Why are you here then? Is it about Jago’s accident?’

  Oliver nodded. ‘About the book he took.’

  ‘He insisted on taking it. I was against it.’ Meraud turned to the table again and rearranged the books on it. ‘The whole Branok re-enactment proved to be a nightmare. The historical society fell apart over it. I didn’t want Jago to dig into Cornisea history again. Not so soon anyway.’

  ‘Where’s the book now?’ Oliver asked.

  ‘How do I know? Maybe at his cottage? But when I’ve heard a man is dead I’m not running over there to get my property back. It’s not proper.’

  Oliver’s jaw tightened as if he felt implicitly accused. ‘I think the book has something to do with his death. It could be important.’

  ‘How?’ Meraud asked. ‘I heard he hit his head and drowned. Books had no part in that.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Guinevere asked.

  ‘Eal was at the eatery after he had helped with the body. He told everybody who wanted to hear that Jago drank too much, slipped, and fell into the water.’

  Oliver groaned. ‘Eal should be more discreet. The investigation hasn’t even been closed, no conclusions reached.’

  Meraud narrowed her eyes at his word choice. ‘Investigation? Does that mean Jago didn’t slip and fall?’

  Oliver glanced at Guinevere. ‘I just don’t see how he ended up in the water.’

  Guinevere leaned back on her heels. Apparently Oliver didn’t want to mention the bruising on the body.

  Meraud took a deep breath. ‘Jago wasn’t himself lately. He caused some trouble with fishermen – criticizing the nets they used. There was a struggle, a blow dealt. Jago was taken in, and it turned out he had been drinking. A lot.’ She sounded sad. ‘Eal knows about that. He barely managed to keep the mainland police from filing charges against Jago.’

  ‘And those fishermen? Did they get charged for their part in it?’ Oliver asked. ‘Who were they anyway?’

  ‘Dan Bovis and his son. But don’t get yourself into anything with them. They bear a grudge.’

  ‘So they might have come after Jago last night to beat him up?’

  Meraud shook her head. ‘The argument was done with. Just leave it be, Oliver. It can only do more harm to our community.’ She reached up and rubbed her eyes. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes,’ Guinevere picked up. ‘What can you tell us about the contents of the book Jago took?’

  ‘Not a whole lot. It was written in the Twenties, in a haphazard style you could say.’

  ‘Haphazard?’ Guinevere echoed, puzzled.

  ‘Yes. It didn’t focus on just one subject but had all kinds of bits and pieces. It had a genealogy bit and some legends and tales about Cornisea. I don’t know what Jago wanted with it.’

  ‘Did it have maps in it?’ Guinevere asked, thinking about the treasure island volume up at the castle. ‘Where X marks the spot?’

  Meraud shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. There were ink drawings of sites on the island. The castle, the harbour with some boats, distinctive cliff silhouettes. But I don’t know every page of every book I have on the shelf by heart.’

  ‘And Jago didn’t tell you a little bit more?’ Oliver asked in an incredulous tone.

  ‘No, because if he had, I would have stopped him from taking it.’ Meraud’s expression contorted. ‘He should have learned his lesson from the other time.’

  ‘Maybe he wanted to put something right,’ Oliver said softly. ‘Please write down the title of the book and anything else that’s important. I’ll go see if Dan Bovis and his son are cleaning their nets.’ He said to Guinevere, ‘We’ll meet in a few minutes, at the path leading up to the castle.’

  Guinevere nodded. ‘Be careful.’ But Oliver didn’t seem to hear her. He stalked off like a man on a mission.

  Guinevere sighed and studied Meraud’s tight features. ‘Would it be a good idea if I take Vivaldi with me? Then you can work without interruptions. Some walking will drain his energy so he doesn’t slaughter another pillow.’

  Meraud half smiled at her. ‘That sounds good.’ She threw a resentful look at Oliver, who was already halfway down to where a group of fishermen were standing talking in the sunshine. ‘No good can come of that, I tell you. They won’t tell him a thing. I’ll get you the leash and write down the book title.’ She stalked inside.

  Guinevere sat on her haunches to pat Vivaldi. He licked her hand and threw himself on his back to be patted on his tummy.

  Dolly imitated him, wriggling her short legs in the air.

  Meraud came back with the leash and Guinevere clipped Vivaldi to it. Meraud handed her a slip of paper with neat letters: Legends of Love and Loss, A Cornish Family Keep Through The Ages. She said, ‘It’s leather-bound, dark brown with golden lettering on the front and spine. Nothing on the back. Published somewhere in the 1920s. But I don’t know the exact year. I doubt you can find much about it online. It was published privately in a small print run. I think there are only about fifty in existence and most must be gathering dust in people’s attics or the occasional library. It’s not exactly a sought-after topic unless you run a shop like mine.’
r />   ‘Thanks. And don’t be angry with Oliver. He’s just … Jago’s death really got to him.’

  Meraud nodded, and Guinevere led the dogs away from the bookshop to the mailbox. A father lifted his little girl up so she could put some postcards into the slot. She chattered about Gran being so happy to hear from them.

  Guinevere smiled at them as she stepped forward with her own postcards in her hand. Pushing them through the slot, she wished her own gran was still alive to talk to her. Just for half an hour, to sort out all of her confusing feelings. About Cornisea, and her summer job that was not at all like she had expected.

  Max, who, although not present at the scene, loomed large in her thoughts. How to create an opportunity to talk to him one on one and discover more about him …

  Overhead the gulls cried and dived when tourists threw bits of bread and fries to the cobbles for them. Their white contrasted with the bright blue skies, almost hurting the eyes.

  Oliver came back to her with long strides, straightening his shirt.

  Guinevere asked, ‘What happened?’

  ‘Dan Bovis’s son about jumped me at the mere mention of Jago being dead and their earlier altercation. He started yelling he and his father had nothing to do with it and if I didn’t stop spreading lies about them, they would complain to Eal.’

  Oliver shook his head. ‘Got a temper, both of them. But when I walked away, another fisherman came after me. He said Dan and his boy had nothing to do with it. That Jago had been up to something weird. He had passed his boat last night when he left the harbour himself to go fishing and Jago was sitting in the boat with a book on his knee and he was cutting into it with a sharp knife.’

  ‘What?’ Guinevere said.

  ‘That’s what he says. That Jago was cutting into the book with a knife. I don’t know what he meant exactly. He said he was too far away to see clearly and as he has a motorboat, he moved on and lost sight of Jago. He said it would never have crossed his mind again if Jago hadn’t died.’

  Guinevere nodded slowly. ‘I have to ask Inspector LeFevre to look at Jago’s pocketknife and see if there was any paper residue on it.’

  ‘Or leather or cloth,’ Oliver added. ‘Jago might not have been cutting into the book but prying into the spine. Maybe something was hidden in or under the binding of the book?’

  ‘Meraud said it was leather-bound. So the lab would have to look for traces of leather on the knife.’

  Oliver perked up. ‘This could mean the book in itself isn’t important, doesn’t contain the clue. Jago might have removed the clue from it. We have to locate Lady Serena and Vex to find out what they know.’

  Guinevere held his gaze. ‘But we have no idea what this elusive clue might be. And if Eal spread word of Jago’s death all over the island, like Meraud just told us, Lady Serena and Vex won’t admit to us if either of them did talk to him. Vex might even have left Cornisea already.’

  Oliver breathed slowly in and out, his eyes still on the horizon. Then he suddenly looked at her. ‘No. Vex wouldn’t leave. He doesn’t know yet that the goblet has been found. He thinks he can still locate it. And he wrote about it being hidden in the castle gardens. What if he’s there right now? Looking for the goblet!’

  Chapter Eight

  Guinevere protested that Vex himself had stated in his article it was folklore, speculations, nothing concrete to go on. ‘Why would he go to the castle gardens at all?’

  ‘He must want something here on the island.’ Oliver jogged off, calling over his shoulder, ‘Like I said before, why come here after you’ve already handed in your article?’

  ‘Maybe he just followed Lady Serena? Maybe it’s about her more than about the goblet.’ Guinevere gathered Vivaldi up into her arms as the poor puppy couldn’t keep up the pace. Overtaking Oliver, with Dolly running by her side, she said, ‘Maybe he started writing about it in the first place because he knew her? She could have put him on to it.’

  ‘Then why did she argue with him when they met?’

  Guinevere had no idea really.

  Oliver just ran faster and faster as if there was some goblet left to save from a greedy treasure hunter’s grasp, and Guinevere couldn’t keep up with him.

  Dolly tried her best, but the leash kept her back. She looked up at Guinevere squeaking as if to say she wanted to go faster.

  Guinevere leaned down and clipped the leash off so Dolly could go with Oliver. She watched the racing twosome disappear into the gardens.

  Dolly’s barking was her beacon as she tried to follow them at her own pace, holding Vivaldi in her arms. The puppy sat up and looked around him, eager to explore these new surroundings.

  ‘You have to give Meraud some extra cuddles tonight,’ Guinevere said to him. ‘She’s sad about Jago. You’d be sad too if you knew he was dead. But you don’t. And it’s better that way. You can cheer us all up. We need it.’ She kissed his fluffy head.

  Dolly barked to Guinevere’s left now, and she turned, panting, into the next garden path. She was sure Vex wasn’t here at all and Oliver was just leading them on a wild goose chase. But maybe his frustration over Jago’s death and their lack of answers had pushed him into action.

  Suddenly she could see them.

  Oliver stood face to face with a handsome dark-haired man. He was carrying a spade and had already dug a hole right beside the bed with bright white roses. A mattock was lying a few feet away, earth on its metal edges. Beside it was a canvas bag in white and blue. Vex had apparently used it to transport his tools, suggesting to Mildred at the B&B it was a golf bag.

  Oliver was saying, ‘… have no right to do this.’

  ‘My dear man, whatever damage I’ll cause I’ll repay.’

  Vex’s haughty words reminded Guinevere of Wadencourt’s remark that for the value of the goblet one could buy a thousand clematis plants. Vex probably thought any damage to the rose beds was a small matter compared to what he stood to gain here.

  Vex said, ‘I have to find that goblet. Last night it struck me with all force that it must be here. The clues are clear.’

  ‘The clues you work with are old, I presume, and this rose bed was just put here last year.’ Oliver waved both of his hands in the air. ‘Stop this madness.’

  ‘This rose bed might have been put here last year,’ the digger said still smiling, ‘but on old maps of the island you can see there has always been a rose garden here.’

  Maps of the island. The map in the book Bolingbrooke had put ready the other day, marking all the alleged treasure sites. There had also been mention of a cartographer that Lady Serena’s mother had wanted to consult. Jago had been involved then. Had he learned something at the time that had later become significant to him?

  Vex was explaining, ‘It was a patterned garden with north-south orientation. Based on Polaris, the North Star. Star! Do you get it? Why was the goblet called of Rose and Stars? Lady Rose and the stars she based her hiding place on! Lady Rose believed that she’d survive the siege and have the goblet in her hands again to pass off to her children. So the goblet must –’

  ‘The goblet,’ Oliver yelled at him, ‘has already been found.’

  Vex had his mouth open to continue his explanation of how he had pieced it all together, but upon hearing the word ‘found’, he stood there gaping at Oliver.

  ‘Found?’ he managed to say. His tanned hands clutched the spade.

  ‘Yes. This morning. So please take away your tools. And you’ll pay for having this closed up and smoothed again, even though you didn’t find anything.’

  ‘Found?’ Vex repeated. ‘By whom?’

  ‘Wadencourt.’

  ‘Wadencourt? That rat!’ Vex tossed down the spade with such force it bounced back up from the earth in a dull clink.

  Oliver stepped back.

  Dolly whined. She spotted Guinevere and returned to her, standing beside her with her neck hair up and a low growl in her throat.

  From his
safe position in Guinevere’s arms Vivaldi also growled and clawed in Vex’s direction.

  ‘Wadencourt!’ the garden historian roared. ‘That lying, stealing bastard. He has used my work to get at the goblet. He read an advance copy of my article, and I’ll prove it. I’ll sue him until his dying day. The goblet is mine.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t even believe in the existence of the goblet,’ Guinevere said, surprised at Vex’s violent outburst. He seemed capable of killing someone for this find of his.

  ‘Of course the goblet has always been the stuff of legends. I never posed a hard claim it does exist. But my research made me curious. And when I came here, it all fell into place. The patterned garden, the orientation based on the heavenly bodies.’ Vex gestured dramatically to the skies above. ‘It would have been such a hit with the public.’

  Guinevere asked, ‘Have you met Jago? Did he show you a book? Or a clue that came from a book?’

  ‘Who’s Jago? What book?’

  Vex’s confusion at her sudden questions seemed genuine.

  Still Dolly was crouching low and growling at Vex. She obviously didn’t like him.

  Oliver said, ‘Mr Vex, pick up your tools and leave the premises. The goblet has been found, and it’s with the police now. They’ll also want to talk to you.’

  ‘The police?’ Vex echoed. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘Lady Serena is making a claim it is hers. Wadencourt is making a claim it is his. My father is going to claim it is his as soon as the police have time for him.’ Oliver’s tone was ironic. ‘If you want to make a claim as well, you’re free to do so I suppose. But you should be aware the goblet is … less of a prize than it was thought to be.’

  He kept his eyes on Vex as if to read the slightest indication that the garden historian knew about the defacement, the missing stones.

  ‘Is it smaller?’ Vex asked with concentration. ‘Is the engraving faded? Still, man, the historic value of it. Not to mention the stones.’

  ‘There are no stones on it.’ Oliver held his gaze. ‘It’s just a silver goblet.’