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

by Vivian Conroy

  Oliver glanced at her. ‘What about your parents?’

  ‘They died when I was just a baby.’ Or so she had been told. Over the years there had been a wriggle of doubt in her mind about whether it was true. In her personal records only a mother was registered, no father. Had they not been married?

  She had wanted to discuss it with Gran, but she never had. Afraid to learn some painful truth that would spoil her thoughts of her parents. Her dreams of the happy family they would have been if only they had lived.

  She asked Oliver, ‘Don’t you care for your father’s opinion?’

  ‘Of course I do, but I can’t live my life the way he wants it. I’m just not your typical lord of the manor. I don’t want to sit in a stuffy room cataloguing books.’ Oliver clenched the wheel, then said to her, ‘No offence meant.’

  ‘And none taken. I don’t want to bury myself in books either, not for ever at least. I want to make plays and costumes and see performances all over the world.’ Just voicing her dream made her heart skip a beat or two. ‘Imagine being able to work in Paris or in Venice. I’d love to do a performance on the water some time, in a floating theatre.’

  Oliver smiled. ‘So you want to travel?’

  ‘Of course. All over Europe and then on to Broadway maybe.’

  Oliver grimaced. ‘I hate cities. The noise, the traffic, the people. Give me a tent and a camera in a remote spot by the river where I have to wait three weeks to catch a glimpse of elephants and I’m happy. My team sent me footage this morning …’ he let go of the wheel and patted the pocket where his phone was ‘… of the project they’re working on. Top secret, but let’s say it’s the first footage of this creature in the wild. They were ecstatic.’

  ‘And you’re not with them.’

  Oliver clenched the wheel again. ‘They can manage without me.’

  It wasn’t an answer to the question she really wanted to ask. Why are you not with them? Earlier Oliver had talked about his travels in the past tense as if it was something done with. Why had he come home for the summer?

  Frowning, Guinevere shifted the weight of Dolly and Vivaldi in her lap. The puppy scratched at the car door as if he was trying to dig a way out. She had to keep his paws away from anything that could get damaged. ‘Do you think Leah really knows something about the murder? A hint about the killer’s identity?’

  ‘Maybe. She sounded strange. I’m not sure. Almost as if she was worried she’d be overheard or something. By her mother or a colleague at the law firm maybe. I have no idea if she’s at work today. Maybe for distraction? Just sitting at home wondering why can drive you crazy.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Guinevere nodded and leaned back in the seat. ‘Maybe she can also tell us more about the ring Haydock mentioned. The Branok ring. He was very secretive about it. Kensa told me that even she didn’t know where he got it and what its connection to Cornisea was. Maybe it was worth a lot of money?’

  ‘Maybe, but it was still on his hand when he lay there dead so the killer didn’t want the ring. Haydock had taken off his wedding ring and was wearing the Branok ring on that hand.’

  ‘And where was his wedding ring?’

  ‘In his pocket, I presume. The police must have found it when they went through his pockets.’ Oliver gestured. ‘LeFevre has the lead over us. The lawyer told me that he will be on the fingerprint analysis, looking at DNA from the cage, that plant material found. Plus he’ll get additional information about the body from the post-mortem. He’s way ahead of us.’

  ‘Not necessarily. We’re close to the people involved and can learn things from the way they behave and react.’ Guinevere pulled Vivaldi off Dolly’s back. ‘Is that the inn?’

  ‘Yes. As it’s a lovely day, we can sit outside. Under the cherry trees. They have great cake, but you’re going to try a pasty of course.’

  Guinevere grinned at his tone. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Ah, there’s Leah’s car.’ Oliver pointed at a shiny silver Mercedes.

  Guinevere narrowed her eyes. How did Oliver know what kind of car people drove if he was here so little? Just a good observer?

  Oliver parked the car next to the Mercedes and got out, stretching himself. Guinevere had to admit that the drive had also made her stiff and drowsy. She took a few draughts of fresh air. Vivaldi sniffed around in the tall grass. He started when a butterfly rose right in front of him. Dolly stood very still, following the creature with her eyes as it soared up to the blue skies.

  ‘Come on, you two.’ Tugging at the leashes, Guinevere followed Oliver to a heavy wrought-metal gate next to a tall hedge. It led into the orchard. Under the cherry trees a dozen tables stood with chequered cloths on them. Most of them were taken.

  Leah sat at the table furthest away from the building. There were drag lines in the grass as if she had moved the table to create even more distance between her and the other lunchers. She was nervously knotting and unknotting her fingers in front of her. As Oliver stepped up to her, she jerked up and even gave a little shriek.

  Oliver rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Hey, calm down. Everything’s all right.’

  Leah looked up at him. ‘My father’s dead! That’s not all right.’

  Oliver tightened his grip on her shoulder. ‘I meant to say you needn’t be afraid. No one is going to hurt you.’

  Leah looked down on the table. ‘I’m just so…’ She swallowed hard. ‘I hate to feel so helpless. I’m used to taking action, to arranging for things, and now I can do nothing.’

  Oliver gave her shoulder another squeeze and then rounded the table to sit opposite her.

  Guinevere moved in as well and took a seat.

  Leah looked at Guinevere and the dogs who were frolicking in the grass. The confusion at their unexpected appearance was visible in her features.

  Oliver explained quickly, ‘I brought Guinevere because she wants to help clear my father. We’ve been talking about last night, hoping to find some way to solve it. To understand where everybody was and what everybody did right before the murder.’

  ‘Good.’ Leah sat up. ‘Then you can both hear what I have to say.’

  Guinevere had expected Leah to be angry she had come along. She had been fairly certain the young woman wanted to talk to Oliver alone. It seemed logical she trusted him as he had a lot of experience with solving problems from his travelling.

  And maybe Leah was also attracted to Oliver?

  But though handsome he was a prickly personality and had exchanged a settled life, the golden spoon of his birthright, for uncertainty and adventure. Not exactly the man a down-to-earth, practical type like Leah might be looking for.

  Leah wrung her hands again. ‘I don’t believe your father did it. But Kensa was so sure in her accusations last night.’

  Oliver said, ‘Kensa might have every reason to divert suspicion from herself.’

  Leah stared at him. ‘So you know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘That my father was after the B&B? He had been over there several times to talk her into selling it to him.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Oliver glanced at Guinevere. ‘Why would a shrewd businessman like Haydock be interested in a B&B on a small island?’

  Guinevere asked, ‘Was this in relation to the open-air museum he wanted to start on Cornisea? Meraud mentioned something about that when I was at the bookshop just now.’

  She pointed at Vivaldi, who was lying with his nose in a bunch of flowers. His fur was full of short stems of cut off grass. ‘When I picked up Vivaldi, Meraud mentioned that your father was interested in buying all of the businesses on the island. That he wanted people to move to the mainland and come to the island to act out everyday life for the sake of the tourists.’

  Leah said, ‘I don’t know about that. Just that he wanted the B&B. But Kensa refused to sell.’

  Oliver seemed puzzled. ‘Why would Kensa not want to sell? The B&B belonged to her late husband’s parents, not to hers. She was never eager to take over. She ha
s even been complaining about the workload when it’s busy and the slow times when it brings in too little money. I thought she would have jumped at an offer to take it off her hands. Her refusal doesn’t make any sense. Do you know from Kensa personally that she had an offer from your father and refused it?’

  Leah shook her head. ‘No. But her neighbours saw my father come and go. At her house on the mainland. As he left and walked to his car, his expression was contorted, and he almost banged the front door out of its hinges. Kensa had clearly not given him what he wanted.’

  Leah grimaced. ‘Those were the neighbours’ words, not mine. It’s painful when people talk about your father like that. But it’s true. He was a man who wanted to have things his way.’

  ‘As you know better than most,’ Oliver said. ‘Do you still sing?’

  Leah shocked upright as if someone had kicked her under the table. ‘No. It’s too painful. I don’t want to be reminded of …’ She looked away, her shoulders tightening again as if she was trying to physically remove herself from the scene. It was the same response Guinevere had noticed the previous night when Oliver had challenged her about living in London. Why don’t you, he had said, and Leah had shrunk like she had now. What did this remark about singing refer to? Had Leah wanted a career on the stage, as a singer? In musicals maybe?

  The waiter came and took their order. Leah said she’d have white wine and a salad. Oliver ordered a pasty – the traditional one with beef and onions – while Guinevere decided to try the pasty of the day, which had pork and apple.

  Oliver shook his head that the recipe had been mutilated like that, as he put it. ‘There is just one Cornish pasty and that’s this one. All others are fake.’

  ‘I think the combination of pork and apple sounds delicious.’

  Guinevere looked at Leah, who said, ‘I never eat pasties any more. It reminds me of too many family visits where I never fitted in.’

  When the waiter had left, Leah continued, ‘Maybe Kensa was just so tired of my father’s pressure that she killed him and then accused your father to divert suspicion from herself.’

  ‘She might have believed that old Eal wouldn’t look too closely and would latch on to the first suspect that came to mind.’ Oliver nodded.

  Leah looked puzzled. ‘Eal? But I thought that they’d engaged someone from the outside? They told me in the office this morning. That’s why I called you right away.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Oliver said.

  Leah leaned on the table, speaking slowly and emphatically: ‘A better detective than Eal will find out sooner or later that my father had approached you while you were in Australia to suggest you sell the castle from under your father’s feet.’

  Oliver’s expression tightened. ‘That was a madman’s proposition. The castle isn’t mine, and I couldn’t sign for its sale. Your father knew that full well so his emails to me were merely a waste of time.’

  What emails? Oliver didn’t mention those at all!

  Guinevere sat like she was frozen. This revelation made it worse for Bolingbrooke and gave Oliver motive as well.

  Leah was retorting to Oliver, in the tone she had used in the re-enactment to make her point: ‘Yes, he knew you couldn’t sell, so what did he really propose? I know, because I found the paperwork about it, even though he had cleverly hidden it from me.’

  Leah bit her lip. ‘He proposed that your father would be declared unfit to handle his own affairs so that you could take over and sell to him. That was his real plan.’

  ‘But I would never have agreed to it.’ Oliver clenched the armrests of his chair.

  Leah said, leaning across the table, ‘Didn’t it make you livid? It made me angry when I found it this morning. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I …’

  Leah reached out a hand to Oliver. ‘I’m worried for your sake. As soon as this gets out – what my father was really up to, how far he was willing to go to acquire the castle – you’ll be suspected.’

  ‘I have an ironclad alibi,’ Oliver said. ‘I was with Guinevere the whole time. She can vouch for me.’

  ‘And you didn’t know each other before this? They can’t claim that you are covering for one another?’ Leah sounded eager, like a dog sniffing a closed cupboard for a way in.

  Oliver shook his head. ‘No, absolutely not. I’m safe.’

  Leah pulled back her hand. ‘I see.’

  It sounded as if Oliver’s alibi came as an unwelcome surprise to her. Had she hoped to be able to protect Oliver by her legal intervention and in that way spend time with him, maybe win his interest in her?

  Had Leah once cared for him, and had that feeling never really died?

  ‘With that out of the way,’ Oliver said, ‘what can you tell us that can help?’ He reached out to Vivaldi and wriggled his fingers so the doggy nuzzled them. ‘Did you find more in your father’s paperwork that we can use to prove my father’s innocence? Other people he was pressuring who might have struck out at him? Guinevere just mentioned he wanted to buy all the businesses on the island for his open-air museum plans. That must have created bad blood.’

  Leah shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen all of the paperwork. In fact, I think I’ve barely touched upon a fraction of it. I can normally read fast, but this is all so emotional. I was upset about his plans for the castle and wanted to talk it over with you first.’

  Guinevere looked at Leah. ‘Did you know that Kensa’s son is in evening school to get a law degree?’

  Leah flushed. ‘Lance? No. How do you know that?’

  ‘Tegen told me. I wonder why he would want to get such a degree. Maybe to help the people on the island, including his mother, put up a fight against your father’s open-air museum ideas? A legal fight?’

  Leah pursed her lips. ‘That’s not impossible, I suppose. I do know that Emma at the eatery has suggested that there should be some sort of … business owners’ association. Maybe they were looking into setting one up and they wanted Lance to help them with that?’

  Oliver waved a dismissive hand. ‘Kensa can’t stand Emma because she’s an outsider and makes more money with her eatery than Kensa does with the B&B. Emma started the donkey rides and other activities that pull in tourists, but those people don’t check in to the B&B to stay. Kensa is livid about that. She’d never work with Emma. Besides, you don’t get a law degree to set up an association. You hire a lawyer to do it for you.’

  Leah said, ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Kensa wants a big say in everything that happens on Cornisea. She has always wanted to rule the island.’ She gave Oliver a pointed look.

  Oliver looked pained at the remark and her emphatic expression. He seemed to want to say something, then thought it better to keep his mouth shut.

  Guinevere wondered what Leah was referring to, how exactly Kensa had wanted to rule the island before. Did it have something to do with Cornisea Castle, and the Bolingbrookes? She had to ask Oliver about it later on when they were together again.

  The waiter carried their order to them. Vivaldi jumped at him, and Dolly made a low sound and pushed him with her nose as if to reproach him.

  Guinevere suppressed a smile. At the theatre Dolly had been taught not to circle people’s legs when they were walking or jump up and cause a stumble. It seemed she was now teaching her new friend that same lesson.

  After the waiter had left, Oliver lifted his glass of mineral water. ‘To your life now that you finally have one of your own.’

  Leah winced. ‘It makes me feel like I should be happy my father’s dead.’

  ‘Of course not. Nobody wanted him to die right now and in such a fashion. But as it has happened, you must make the best of it. You have friends to support you all the way.’

  Leah looked at him. ‘Honestly?’

  Oliver smiled again. ‘Yes.’ He touched his glass to hers that was still on the table. ‘Trust me.’

  Leah seemed to relax a little and took a sip of her white wine.

  Guinevere asked, ‘In wha
t kind of mood was your father last night when you saw him alive for the last time? Pensive? Calm? Brooding, worried?’

  Leah considered it. ‘Impatient is the best word, I guess. He was muttering about some matter he wanted to discuss with Jago and how unfortunate it was he wasn’t there for rehearsal. But when we came to the pier, Jago’s boat was there. My father said he’d look for him. That’s why we arrived at the castle separately.’

  ‘Jago was on Cornisea last night?’ Oliver pounced at once. He glanced at Guinevere. She remembered LeFevre had suggested Jago might have come to the island anyway even though he had said he couldn’t be present for rehearsals. There had been tobacco found, and Jago smoked a pipe.

  Oliver pressed, ‘You saw Jago’s boat at the pier? And your father wanted to talk to him before the re-enactment started?’

  ‘Yes,’ Leah said. ‘I’m not quite sure what it was about. A business thing, I guess.’

  ‘But Jago sold his fishing business, didn’t he’ Guinevere asked.

  ‘I guess it was about something else then. Maybe Jago ran errands for my father? I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you sure it was Jago’s boat at the pier?’

  ‘Yes, I know his colours.’ Leah waved away a fly hovering over her salad. ‘I suppose my father wanted to meet him and that’s why he steered towards the pier instead of putting our boat in the harbour as we usually do. That pier is Jago’s domain.’

  Oliver glanced at Guinevere. She bet he was thinking the same thing as she was. What had Jago’s problem with Haydock been? Everybody on the island seemed to have had some issue with him.

  Leah stared into the distance and said, ‘When I left my father in the cage, he was just seating himself at the table, saying the floor was so uneven and everything in those old buildings needed a tune-up. I walked away and I looked back one more time. I saw him sitting there: a grouchy old man. That will be my last memory of him. For ever.’ Leah pushed her hands to her face to control herself.

  Oliver leaned over and touched her arm. ‘Don’t worry. The new inspector will come up with results. He started working right away late last night. He even discovered a few things Eal had missed. Some plant material on the bottom of the cage and footprints outside the air hole.’