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

by Vivian Conroy

  ‘When I first left, I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just getting away from here.’

  Oliver’s jaw was tight. Then he suddenly said, ‘I couldn’t sleep at first and I’ve been thinking – maybe the dungeon wasn’t the key element.’

  Guinevere looked at him. ‘I don’t follow. Haydock was killed in the dungeon for a reason, right?’

  ‘I mean this. He was killed playing Branok the Cold-hearted, a ruthless man who extorted people. Does that signify something?’

  Guinevere considered it. ‘You mean that whoever carried a grudge against him wanted him to die like a man in a dungeon? A prisoner?’

  ‘More than that. An accused, awaiting trial. But in anticipation of the trial the killer executed his own sentence. Death.’

  Guinevere shivered. ‘It seems so drastic. Yes, people dislike each other and when somebody ruins your life, you can wish them dead, but … to actually do it? Plunge a knife into someone’s chest? In close proximity, face to face? I don’t think I could do it.’

  ‘Does that also mean that another woman couldn’t have done it?’ Oliver glanced at her. ‘Do we cross Kensa and Tegen off the list? But the footprints outside the air hole were small and most likely made by a woman. What does that mean?’

  ‘Not a whole lot if the murder wasn’t committed via the air hole.’ Guinevere stared ahead deep in thought. ‘Is Kensa staying on the island now? You said to LeFevre that she runs the B&B in summer.’

  ‘Yes. It keeps her busy. “Off the street” as she puts it. I think you’ll find her there. Tegen as well.’ Oliver gave her a sidelong glance. ‘You’re going to see them, right? You want to ask questions about last night.’

  Guinevere flushed that her little lie about wanting to explore the island had been so see-through. ‘I just want to ask them if they’re all right. Kensa appeared to be in shock.’

  She waited a moment. ‘Tegen didn’t seem sad though. More … worried. She was looking at her mother like … I don’t know.’

  Oliver hitched a brow. ‘Do you seriously think Tegen could be suspecting her mother of the murder? They were together before the re-enactment started, weren’t they?’

  ‘That’s what we assume. But we don’t know for sure what they told Eal. Besides, Eal wasn’t being very thorough.’

  Oliver nodded slowly. ‘In the meantime, they might have agreed on a story. They’ve been at the B&B together since they returned there last night. They’ve had a lot of time to agree on what they’re going to say.’

  ‘To the police, yes,’ Guinevere agreed, ‘but will they be suspicious of me dropping by for a chat? I think it would be best to catch them off guard and see if I can learn anything. It’s interesting to think everything is a little piece in a puzzle and if you collect all the pieces, you can make them fit into a picture.’

  Oliver didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. ‘I’m not quite sure what elements in this case are clues and what things are totally unrelated. LeFevre had a point saying that Jago didn’t show up but he might have been around. Why did he not come on this very night to play his part as judge in the re-enactment? Coincidence? He couldn’t know there would be a murder and still we think his absence is suspicious. On the other hand, if he’s the killer, he might have planned it all this way.’

  ‘Did he have any grudge against Haydock?’

  ‘Not that I know of, but I’m not exactly around all of the time. You might get better information from somebody else. Try Meraud. Or Emma at the Eatery. Jago doesn’t like to cook for himself so he’s there most evenings for the daily special. After dinner he then takes his walk along the beach. Like clockwork.’

  Oliver stretched his arms ahead of him. There was an imprint just below his elbow as of some jagged object.

  ‘What did you do?’ Guinevere asked, pointing at it.

  ‘I always do push-ups on the beach. Must have been a shell that was in the sand.’

  Guinevere frowned. It was kind of hard to see how a fit man doing a couple of push-ups would have made contact with a shell in the sand on that particular place. But she wasn’t about to suggest anything like that. Oliver probably already thought she was taking her deductions too far.

  ‘That’s the B&B.’ Oliver pointed at a red roof to their left. ‘You can take that little-used path there and end up at the backyard. Maybe you’ll catch Tegen feeding the chickens.’

  Guinevere wondered briefly how, if Oliver wasn’t around Cornisea a lot, he knew Tegen’s daily routine, but she forgot all about it after they had parted and she followed the narrow path and came into a beautiful authentic backyard with a henhouse, geese waddling near a small pond, and a peacock giving its high-pitched cry. It wasn’t the usual peacock, but the white variety, which Guinevere had only seen in pictures.

  Tegen, dressed in a simple red top and jeans, stood throwing grain from a bowl onto the ground for the hungry chickens.

  Dolly focused on all the feathered turmoil with her nose stretched ahead of her. She didn’t yap though or run forward. As Guinevere halted and gave a little tug on the leash, Dolly sat down, still mesmerized by the chickens.

  Tegen looked up, saw Guinevere, and flashed a reluctant smile. ‘Hello. Isn’t Ollie with you? I thought I saw him coming down from the castle.’

  ‘Yes, but he has to meet someone at the harbour.’ Guinevere didn’t want to mention it was a lawyer and Oliver was worried enough about his father’s position to get legal advice. ‘I just wanted to ask if you and your mother are all right. How did you sleep?’

  Tegen shrugged. ‘I didn’t really mind the death. I mean, I’ve seen dead people before. On TV.’

  ‘That’s not real,’ Guinevere countered. ‘This is.’

  ‘I know. But somehow it didn’t seem real.’

  Guinevere had to agree with her. Her own first thought had been that Haydock was fooling them, playing a part.

  Tegen continued, ‘The way he lay there in that stupid robe. Mum said it looked “stately” on him, but I just thought it was stupid. Will there still be a trial re-enactment now? We can ask somebody else to play Branok. Maybe Jago can do it? And Oliver can be judge. He did a good job last night.’ Tegen smiled again, cocking her head.

  ‘I think that once news of the murder hits the papers, people won’t be eager to come to a re-enactment,’ Guinevere said. ‘And it might be tasteless to continue. Think of Haydock’s family.’

  Tegen didn’t seem impressed. ‘We could replace Leah as well. She wasn’t very convincing.’

  ‘I thought she was quite good,’ Guinevere said, surprised at Tegen’s assessment. ‘You could tell she’s a lawyer in real life.’ She studied Tegen. ‘Your mother was very convincing too. It almost seemed that she and Leah really had some gripe with one another.’

  ‘What? How? They hardly know each other.’ Tegen cast her an angry look. ‘And you have nothing to do with our play. You can’t decide about the parts. If we want to continue, we will.’

  Then her expression brightened. ‘That’s it! You could take Leah’s part. Then the Haydocks are no longer involved, and it won’t be tasteless to continue.’

  Guinevere asked, ‘Did you notice anything odd last night? Did Haydock seem worried or afraid? You were talking to him away from the rest.’

  ‘I was just asking if the robe fit. Mum had fussed with it for ages.’ Tegen’s cheeks turned fiery red. Judging by her recent remark that it had been a stupid garment, this sounded a lot like an impromptu lie.

  Guinevere pressed, ‘So you didn’t notice anything different about Haydock?’

  Chapter Seven

  Tegen was even redder now. ‘I barely knew him. I never went to his house or saw his family. I don’t even know what cases Leah handles. I suppose she makes a lot of money. Mum is bugging me to get a degree that can get you money. But I want to do something creative, or work with kids. One lawyer in the family is enough.’

  ‘In the family?’ Guinevere queried.

  ‘Yes, my brother. He has a degree in business,
marketing and stuff, but suddenly he’s going to evening school to get a law degree. I’m not even supposed to know about that. I found out by accident, seeing something on the computer that was meant for Mum.’ Tegen shrugged. ‘Lance never knew what he wanted. He got the marketing degree because two of his friends were doing the same course and he could share a flat with them. Maybe he’s figured out now there’s no money in it and he’s changing his tune?’

  Guinevere shifted her weight. She wasn’t really interested in Lance Morgan who hadn’t even been at the castle last night. She wanted to know what Haydock had given to Tegen. Whether they had had an affair. But you couldn’t ask something like that.

  If they had, Tegen would never admit it.

  If they hadn’t, she would be livid. And justifiably so.

  Tegen held the bowl upside down and said to the chickens, ‘All gone, ladies. Now make sure you turn it into the best eggs for our guests. See you later.’

  Then she waved Guinevere along. ‘There are some scones in the oven that must be about ready. Come on in, you can have one.’

  Guinevere was surprised that Tegen was actually inviting her in to the B&B and wanted to spend more time with her. They didn’t know each other at all, and last night Tegen had seemed like a teenager willing to pick a fight with just about anybody. But maybe the island was a lonely place for her, and she would like some female company?

  Through an open door they went into a large kitchen. A sweet scent filled the air.

  Dolly saw a basket covered with a cloth in a corner and grabbed the cloth with her mouth, tearing it off the basket. ‘Don’t, girl,’ Guinevere said, as she pulled Dolly back by the collar and then put the cloth back in place over the basket. It held books and papers full of neat handwriting. Guinevere caught the word Branok and treasure. An electric shock of excitement went through her, but she didn’t dare look closer, or Tegen might think she was snooping.

  Treasure.

  What treasure?

  Did it have to do with the secret stash Branok had supposedly hidden? Hadn’t Oliver mentioned Branok had written down directions to find it before he had died?

  Tegen dropped the feeding bowl on the table and went to the oven. She almost reached out for the door, then seemed to remember something and fetched an oven glove. It was covered in drawings of plants.

  She opened the oven door and pulled out the plate with scones. ‘They’re best when they’re fresh. There’s clotted cream in the fridge. And jam in the cupboard. Help yourself.’

  Maybe Tegen was used to guests walking about in the B&B and was treating her in the same way? Guinevere opened the fridge and got the clotted cream out.

  Tegen had put the plate on the sink and tried to pick up a scone. ‘Ouch, hot!’

  ‘It should hurt, young lady.’ Kensa had appeared in the archway that led into another room. Her brows were drawn together, and the shadows under her eyes were even deeper than the other night. ‘Those scones are for the guests, not for you. And what’s that feeding bowl doing on the table? Put it in its proper place.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Tegen picked up the bowl and placed it on a shelf under the sink.

  Kensa stood at the scones now, hovering over them like a protective force.

  Guinevere placed the clotted cream on the table. ‘Good morning, Mrs Morgan. Are you all right after last night?’

  Kensa looked at her. ‘What on earth are you doing, handling my things?’

  Guinevere said, ‘Tegen asked me to get them.’

  Dolly whined and pressed herself against Guinevere’s leg, as if she cringed under Kensa’s accusing tone.

  ‘Mum!’ Tegen protested. ‘I asked her to have a scone with me. I haven’t seen anybody around here for ages. I just wanted to talk.’ Tegen leaned against the sink, stretching her tall, athletic body.

  ‘The scones are for the guests,’ Kensa repeated. ‘If you’re asking someone over, you buy them a treat out of your own pocket.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘And forget about angling for information about Oliver Bolingbrooke. He’ll never look twice at a girl like you.’

  Tegen’s expression contorted. ‘Why do you always have to humiliate me in front of people? I hate you!’ And she stormed out of the kitchen.

  Kensa began to check the scones, picking them up one by one and putting them back in place. The silence lingered. Then she said, ‘I just don’t want my daughter to get disappointed.’ Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘Hurt. It’s the only way it can turn out if she sets her sights on him. He’s too old for her and he doesn’t want to settle here.’

  Kensa glanced at her, her face mottled. ‘And his father killed Arthur! I still can’t believe that he’s dead. He had so many plans for the island.’

  ‘Last night before the re-enactment started, were you … Did you see Haydock in his cell? Maybe go down to talk to him, ask him about some detail? You had made changes to the scenario, right?’

  ‘No.’ Kensa plucked at her cardigan. ‘I didn’t go down until we all went.’

  ‘And you didn’t talk to him through the air hole either?’

  ‘The air hole? I don’t understand what you mean.’ Kensa straightened, putting her hands on her hips. ‘We all know Bolingbrooke was under pressure to sell the castle. With Arthur dead he’s in the clear.’

  ‘Far from it,’ Guinevere said. ‘Haydock wasn’t the only one interested in the castle, as I understand it. And financial troubles don’t go away just because someone dies.’

  Kensa’s eyes lit triumphantly at the mention of financial troubles. She turned away again and fingered the scones. ‘I’m putting on a brave face for the guests, but I really should be in bed. I can’t deal with anything right now.’

  Guinevere had the impression Kensa was holding up pretty well for someone who had seemed frantic last night, but of course you couldn’t be sure how someone else felt inside.

  She asked, ‘You were the secretary of the historical society, right? Did you contribute most of the script for the Branok trial?’

  ‘All of it. I looked through the sources. I did all of the work. They can’t take that away from me.’

  ‘Who would want to take anything away from you?’

  Kensa waved a hand. ‘There was a discussion about who should be credited in the press release about the re-enactment.’

  Guinevere remembered the leaflet she had picked up. Would there be credits given there? Would it reveal anything particular? She had to check as soon as she was back at the castle.

  She asked Kensa, ‘Do you know more about that ring Haydock was going to wear last night? The one he said had a special connection to Cornisea?’

  ‘No, he was very quiet about that. He had bought it some place. I do know that. But he didn’t tell me anything about it. He wanted to wait until after the rehearsal to show everybody. Now he will never have the chance.’ Kensa pushed a hand to her face to smother a sob.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Guinevere said. Raw grief always made her feel uncomfortable and awkward, unable to find the right words to say. ‘Take care.’ She retreated to the back door, Dolly walking ahead of her.

  Outside the dachshund shook herself.

  ‘Yes, I’m also glad to get away,’ Guinevere said softly. ‘I should feel sorry for her, but she’s just so eager to accuse Lord Bolingbrooke. Does she really believe he did it? Or is there another reason?’

  The chickens had dispersed and were looking for worms among the carrot beds. The peacock cried, perched on a branch of a gnarled old tree. His long tail feathers hung down, a show of lacy white.

  ‘What do we make of Tegen?’ Guinevere continued, talking to Dolly as they followed the path again. ‘She behaves like a ten-year-old. As soon as she doesn’t get her way, she storms off. Her mother must have a hard time raising her. And what about her brother Lance? Why is he suddenly interested in getting a law degree? If he can never make up his own mind, but does what others do, I wonder who talked him into it. And why is he keeping it a secret? Tegen said
she had found out about it by accident. Isn’t that odd?’

  Dolly barked. Along the path was a low stone wall, and she poked her nose into a hollow between the stones.

  Guinevere leaned over. ‘What’s that, girl? Do you smell something?’

  Dolly yapped and ran her paws over the stone as if trying to dig a way into them.

  Guinevere looked at the wall more closely and discovered a niche at shoulder height with a stone in the back that had weathered lettering on it. It seemed to be some kind of dedication.

  To a Ganoc.

  She had no idea who that was.

  ‘Hey, wait!’ Running footfalls rushed up to her, and there was Tegen, gasping for breath. She looked back at the B&B as if to ascertain her mother wasn’t watching them from an upstairs window. ‘Mum can be such a pain. Never mind her, all right? She’s just upset Haydock’s dead.’

  ‘Why would she be?’ Guinevere asked. ‘I mean, the tone he took with me last night, about me having to be some sort of student. Because theatre work could never be real work. I bet when he worked with your mother at the historical society, he bossed her around, not taking her seriously. Maybe he even took the credit for her work?’

  Tegen shrugged. ‘Mum has known him for a long time. Even when Dad was still alive.’

  Dolly came to sniff Tegen’s shoes, and Tegen leaned down to scratch her behind the ears. Dolly didn’t object and even closed her eyes.

  Guinevere registered that the shoes were different than the ones Tegen had been wearing last night. A small size.

  She said, ‘Is it long ago that your father …’

  Tegen made a face. ‘Three years last spring. Sure, it was sudden, but you have to move on, you know. Mum can’t. She adores everything to do with Dad. You should see her bedroom. It’s just like a shrine, full of photographs and all. Nothing is all right now; it was all better in the past when he was still there. But I have to live now and make something of it. I don’t want to stay around this place for ever.’

  Guinevere looked her over. ‘How do you mean?’