Vex stared at him in disbelief, then burst out in laughter. ‘He has found the wrong one. The fool has uncovered the wrong one! Oh, this is priceless.’
He picked up his spade and put it into the ground. ‘I’m continuing to look here. Here the real one is hidden. It could be expected of course that around a keep there have been several goblets, over time. Plain ones and really precious ones. Haha, Wadencourt got the short end of the stick.’
‘I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear before,’ Oliver said in a cold tone. ‘I want you to leave. And the goblet found is the right one. The stones are no longer on it. They’ve been removed.’
‘Removed?’ Vex cried. ‘By whom?’
‘No idea. It might have happened years ago. The police will look into that as well.’
Vex stood with his shoulders slumping. ‘The goblet found but without the stones. Plundered before, like Egyptian graves. Sacrilege it is, I say. Whoever defaced the goblet should have paid for it.’
‘Would you punish someone with your own hands if he harmed the goblet?’ Oliver asked.
Vex said, ‘Well, suppose I had walked into these gardens and I had come upon someone who had just dug out the goblet and was taking the stones off. I would have been tempted to smash him over the head with this spade so he couldn’t ruin such a priceless artefact.’
‘But you didn’t?’ Oliver asked. ‘You didn’t come across someone …’
‘I wouldn’t be digging here if I had found the goblet, would I?’ Vex said irritably. He kicked with his shoe against the mattock, dirt spatting away. ‘I’d better be leaving then.’
‘Yes, but don’t leave the island. The police will want to talk to anyone involved.’ Oliver smiled sweetly. ‘Especially as there has been a death. A body found with a head wound. Hit over the head maybe? Could it be that …’
Vex turned pale under his tan when he realized the implications. ‘You made me say that. You tricked me into it.’ He snatched up his tools and canvas bag. ‘I’ll call a lawyer.’ Brandishing his spade and mattock like defence weapons, he rushed off.
Dolly barked until she couldn’t see him any more, as if she wanted to say ‘good riddance’.
Vivaldi stood up against Guinevere’s shoulder and yapped along, straining so hard she had to grab him with both hands to make sure he didn’t tumble down.
Oliver said, ‘So that was our dear Mr Vex. Conveniently around when the goblet was found without the stones. And when Jago turned up drowned. I don’t like it.’
Guinevere said, ‘We have to wait until the post-mortem results to know how the head wound was inflicted. I don’t see what Vex would have done on the pier with his mattock and spade either.’
Oliver looked at her. ‘Vex might have turned up here to dig for his goblet just to pretend he didn’t know it had already been found. He wanted us to see him so he could give us his nice little act of digging for a goblet he knew was never here. How would he suddenly have worked out clues? Unless he had discovered more right here on the island. From Jago. The night skies are a fisherman’s speciality. They navigate by them.’
Guinevere considered this. ‘It’s possible I suppose. But did the night skies lead Vex to the niche? That’s where the goblet really was, not here. We should ask Wadencourt how he worked out that the goblet was inside that niche.’
Oliver nodded. ‘The link with St Ganoc. And the idea that Lady Serena and Vex know each other rang a bell in my mind. His face is somehow familiar to me. But I should have a better look. Online.’
Guinevere followed him as he stalked off to the castle. ‘What are you going to look at online?’ she called after him.
Oliver laughed. ‘High society events.’
***
Guinevere stood behind Oliver’s chair as he typed away on the keyboard of the computer, used the mouse to scroll through web pages of photos of weddings and baptisms. She had no idea what he was looking for, but at last he cried out, ‘Got you.’
He pointed at the screen, at a picture of Lady Serena in a pretty yellow dress with lace, a cute little hat on her head and a man by her side in a neat black suit with designer tie.
‘That’s Vex,’ Guinevere said, perplexed. She was still carrying Vivaldi in her arms to prevent the puppy from wreaking havoc in the library. He was clawing in the neckline of her dress.
‘Right. But underneath this picture it says Lady Serena with her beau Roger of Lieumont, eldest son of the aviation magnate Theodore of Lieumont and his first wife, top model Lavinia Dubinskaja.’ Oliver pronounced all names in an exaggerated formal tone as if he was announcing their arrival at a posh party.
‘Huh?’ Guinevere said. ‘Roger of Lieumont? But that’s our Mr Vex, I’m sure.’
‘Me too. But either he’s writing his article incognito, or he made up a nice pedigree to gain access to the London upper classes.’
‘That can’t work in this day and age,’ Guinevere said with decision. ‘Because of the internet people can check on everything in just a few clicks. Check out this aviation magnate and this top model.’
‘Oh, I bet they exist and they were married once, and they even had a son named Roger, but how can we be sure this Vex is the same man?’
Oliver clicked through a few screens. ‘See. It’s all correct, but you can still come to a party and pass yourself off as someone just as long as the others present don’t know the person concerned. I bet that this son of the aviation magnate moved to the USA or Asia where he keeps a low profile and will most likely never see these shots. He has no idea that someone is passing himself off as him.’
Guinevere hmmm-ed. ‘In any case Lady Serena does know Vex more than just superficially. It says here he was her beau at the time.’
‘Well, the tabloids do tend to make more out of a pair of people seen together than there is, usually. Maybe they were just friends? In any case we have proof here they knew each other socially. Their meeting here might not have been a coincidence. Their argument at the B&B need not have been about him popping up and harassing her. It could have been an argument between partners in crime.’
Oliver pressed a few buttons. ‘I’m printing this off to show to the both of them when I get the chance. I’m curious how they will respond to that.’
Guinevere nodded. ‘Good idea.’ Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out of her pocket.
It was LeFevre. ‘I called the lab to say we had a supposedly rare artefact at the station and they got so excited they sent someone over right away. He established fairly easily that the stones were not taken off a long time ago. The places where they were attached have been made to look rusty by some chemical process. They were removed recently. There is also a little dent in the bottom of the goblet, quite fresh, as if it fell to the ground, colliding with a solid surface. They will do more tests of course but this is all I can tell you so far.’
Guinevere said, ‘So the stones were stolen recently.’
Oliver perked up as he heard her say it and looked at her, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
LeFevre said, ‘Yes. I think someone got to the goblet mere hours before Mr Wadencourt did and removed the stones, replacing the goblet after he had treated the places where the stones had been attached so that it would seem the goblet was robbed of the stones at an earlier time. I don’t think our thief reckoned on police interference and laboratory tests.’
‘I’m not so sure. Wadencourt was furious when he discovered he was too late. Would he simply have accepted his loss or also run tests on the goblet? He has connections, I assume, to do that. The deceit would have come out pretty quickly. Why not take the entire goblet? That would make much more sense. The saint’s statuette would have been found to be hollow but empty and Wadencourt would have looked a fool. But there wouldn’t have been a hunt for stolen stones as there will be now I assume.’
‘Correct. I’m with a team on our way to the island. We’ll search the castle gardens, the keep itself, and everybody in it for
the stones.’
Guinevere frowned. ‘But they could be anywhere. Who says the thief didn’t leave the island right after the theft last night?’
‘That’s possible, but Wadencourt insists on a search. He’s well known in certain circles so I want to oblige him. Besides, in view of our official investigation into the death of Jago Trevelyan …’
‘You’re certain that Jago’s death is connected with the missing stones?’
‘Certain is a big word. But I want to tell you one thing. There are no fingerprints on the flask of whisky found on the pier.’
‘No fingerprints?’ Guinevere repeated, puzzled.
‘Exactly. If Jago had drunk from it and it fell from his hand when he stumbled across the pier, how come his fingerprints aren’t on it?’
Guinevere considered this. ‘So what do you think?’
LeFevre said, ‘I’m going from the assumption that the flask was deliberately wiped clean. Maybe with the handkerchief that was found in the water?’
‘That would prove that there was someone with Jago on the pier.’ A cold feeling skittered across Guinevere’s spine. ‘But why would he or she have handled Jago’s whisky flask?’
‘I don’t know yet. But how about this hypothesis: whoever pushed Jago into the water wanted it to look like he drowned because he had drunk too much. The perpetrator took the flask from Jago’s pocket and placed it in full view on the pier so we’d automatically assume Jago had been drinking and his death was an accident.’
‘But the perpetrator would have known you’d do tests on the body and could detect the alcohol level in the blood. Just placing a flask there wouldn’t have been enough in the long run.’
‘You think that far but the killer might not have. There’s always one thing they overlook. At least, that’s what we officers have to count on. The mistake made. They’re looking at the body as we speak.’ Wind rustled on LeFevre’s end, fading his voice. ‘So I hope to have more soon about alcohol in the bloodstream and anything else that can help.’
‘Can the lab also look at Jago’s pocketknife to determine if there are any traces on it of something he cut? Paper or leather. Someone saw him cutting into a book. Probably the book he borrowed from Meraud. I have the title for you and details of how it looks.’
‘Excellent. I’ll take it down right away and pass it on to the lab staff. They might have something on file about books in that era. That will make it easier to make a connection, should there be anything on the knife. The blade was shut into the pocketknife when the body was in the water so any traces should be well preserved.’
After Guinevere had given the information, LeFevre said, ‘I’ll also inform the men who will be conducting the search for the gemstones to keep an eye out for a dark brown leather-bound book with the title Legends of Love and Loss. Should be easy enough to recognize. Thank you for your information.’ And he disconnected.
Chapter Nine
When Guinevere told Oliver what she had just learned from the inspector, Oliver said he wanted to talk to Lady Serena before the police arrived and they had to go see if she had come back to the B&B. He waved the printed-off photos of Lady Serena and Mr Vex in the air. ‘I want to see her response when I confront her with these.’
‘She could just say she knew him once but it’s over between them.’
‘Even so, I want to know why she didn’t tell LeFevre when she came to claim the goblet this morning that she knew Vex personally. I also want to know if she renewed her family’s interest in the goblet because of Vex’s upcoming publication. After all, her mother was here a long time ago. I thought they had given up on ever finding it.’ Oliver gestured to the door. ‘Let’s go.’
On their way down they met Wadencourt, who came barging up the stairs. His face was flushed, and he seemed to want to pound his feet right through the steps.
Oliver said sweetly, ‘The police couldn’t help you with your claim to the goblet?’
Wadencourt glared at him. ‘The police discovered that the goblet did contain the stones until very recently. Whoever took them off made it look as if the damage was done a long time ago. I bet your father knows more about that. He knew I was coming. He found the goblet first and took the stones, because he believes they are his. The police are on their way over here for an extensive search of the castle. If the stones are found here, that will be the end of the Bolingbrookes!’
And Wadencourt stormed off, further up the stairs and down the corridor to where his room was.
‘He’s probably exaggerating,’ Guinevere said. But still she was cold with the intensity of Wadencourt’s fury. He was determined to take out his disappointment on the Bolingbrookes.
On their way down to the B&B they ran into Max. He was photographing some blossoming bushes. He turned to them and lifted his camera as if to snap them. ‘You look charming with that puppy,’ he said to Guinevere. ‘How about a little photo session among the roses?’
‘Please don’t. Jago is dead, and I’m not in the mood for anything like this.’ Guinevere pushed past him. She wanted to spend some time with him, one on one, but his suggestion of a photo session so soon after Jago’s death seemed tasteless.
Max grabbed her arm. ‘I’m very sorry that your friend died. He may have been drinking and he may have been careless, but hey, I know I’ve been careless enough times and I didn’t exactly have to die for it. Ganoc should have looked out better for old Jago. But maybe saints don’t take care of drunkards?’
‘We don’t believe he was drunk and just fell in.’ Guinevere felt obliged to defend Jago against Max’s negative views of him. ‘His flask was wiped clean of fingerprints by someone. Somebody might have actually pushed him into the water to kill him.’
‘And you think a saint can’t stand up to such evil?’ Max tilted his head. ‘I thought some of them even defeated dragons.’
‘Not all saints were warriors,’ Guinevere said. ‘I didn’t see the statuette of Ganoc very well, but I doubt he wore a sword on his belt.’
‘He didn’t even wear a belt,’ Max said. He turned back to the blossoming bushes. ‘I’ve got work to finish. We’ll talk later. When we have more time, you know.’
Oliver rolled his eyes and gestured Guinevere to come along. ‘Seems to have a sharp eye for detail though,’ he said to her as they walked on, Dolly running ahead of them.
Guinevere put Vivaldi down so he could go after her. She held both leashes tightly.
Oliver said, ‘I have to admit he knows how to create a catchy image. His feed was full of really good stuff.’
Guinevere nodded vaguely. That Oliver valued Max’s work was an improvement on his earlier overall negative take, but the quality of Max’s photographs was the last thing on her mind right now. The mention of the saint had refreshed the importance of this piece of the puzzle in her mind. ‘We should look into the history of this Ganoc. Maybe it can deliver a clue. I mean, why did someone hide the goblet inside that particular statuette in the first place? Was it Lady Rose? Or did it happen at some later time?’
‘And how did the thief of the stones figure out that it was there?’ Oliver wagged his finger at her. ‘Wadencourt claims he spent a lot of time and energy to get to the conclusion. Did somebody else reach the same conclusion in a different way?’
‘Must have been via the book Jago borrowed from Meraud somehow,’ Guinevere said. ‘If we assume that the culprit killed Jago first and took the stones later.’
‘The other way around doesn’t make sense. Why kill Jago when you have already found the stones on your own?’
‘Caught in the act?’ Guinevere conjectured. ‘But no, that doesn’t add up. Jago wasn’t killed near the niche but out on that pier. He couldn’t even see the castle wall with the niche from there so how would he have seen the culprit at it?’
‘Maybe Jago saw the thief in action and ran to the pier to get back to the mainland and alert someone to the theft?’ Oliver suggested.
&nbs
p; ‘No. Knowing Jago, he would have confronted the thief.’
Oliver considered this. ‘You’re right. Maybe the thief was the one who wanted to leave and Jago tried to stop him?’
‘Wanted to leave how? Did the thief have a boat there?’
‘Speaking of boats …’ Oliver pointed. ‘I think I see Lady Serena. There at that white yacht.’
Indeed the lady in question stood talking to a man who was on board the yacht. He was a tall man with a suntanned face, shielding his eyes against the bright sunshine by holding his right hand over his forehead. A gold watch on his wrist reflected the light. So he had to be left-handed or he wouldn’t be wearing his watch on his right wrist, Guinevere deduced absent-mindedly.
Her thoughts were trying to process everything she had seen and heard since hitting on the blood smears on the pier this morning. She had a feeling she had already heard a few relevant things but she couldn’t quite grasp their significance.
Oliver said, nodding at the man with Lady Serena, ‘I wonder who he is. Just someone she happened to hit upon or an acquaintance? Maybe even her new boyfriend? Would be interesting with Vex around as well. Did they argue about that man when they met at the B&B?’
‘Does that man also know about the goblet? Can such a large boat reach the pier? It’s pretty shallow there.’
Oliver pursed his lips. ‘He might have a smaller boat with him. Could be moored on the other side of the yacht.’
Lady Serena waved goodbye to the man and came walking towards the shops, just as Guinevere and Oliver arrived. She saw them and hesitated as if she was unsure whether to come to them or avoid them. She seemed to make up her mind and turned to the bakery, as if to go inside, but Oliver called out to her, ‘Lady Serena! One moment please.’
She waited for them, annoyance in her smooth features and finely drawn brows. ‘No need to shout my title all over the place, Oliver. I like to keep a low profile while I’m here.’
‘I’m afraid that’s kind of hard to do in a small community. I heard at the B&B you had an altercation with Mr Vex.’
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