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

by Vivian Conroy

  ‘With him everything has to be easy,’ Bolingbrooke scoffed.

  Oliver appeared in the doorway. ‘Well, it isn’t easy being at home and finding you accused of murder and then vanishing without even telling me a thing.’ He dragged the door shut with a bang.

  Bolingbrooke shook his head. ‘He has such a temper. Must come from his mother’s side of the family. My side were all as meek as lambs.’ He scratched Rufus behind the ears. ‘Lambs, I say.’

  Guinevere looked at him, hitching a brow.

  ‘Well, belligerent lambs then. But I don’t go around knifing people as everybody seems to believe.’ Bolingbrooke lifted a pile of books from a velvet-covered settee and sank onto it. Rufus leaned his head on his knee, studying him with melancholy eyes.

  Bolingbrooke said softly, ‘I was sure it was pure shock that made Kensa accuse me. So when I came from the police station last night, I went to see Leah. I wanted to ask her what she really thought and if she could help me find the killer.’

  ‘Leah?’ Guinevere echoed in disbelief. ‘After you ran away from the police station, you went to see the daughter of the man you’re accused of killing?’ Oliver had been worried that his meeting with Leah could be interpreted the wrong way – as putting pressure on her or something – but Bolingbrooke had just gone to her.

  Alone!

  Leah could complain to the police about it, if she wanted to.

  Had she already?

  Bolingbrooke said innocently, ‘I thought she could convince Kensa to retract her accusations. I also wanted to know if the rumours about selling the B&B to Haydock were true. But Leah said it might look weird that I came to her. As I was her father’s supposed killer. That I should leave again before I got into further trouble. Like I’m not in enough trouble as it is. Trouble I can’t solve if nobody wants to help me.’

  He raised his hands in a gesture of despair. ‘I just don’t understand how the people who have known me for such a long time can believe I would pick up a knife and stab someone out of the blue. But never mind …’

  He seemed to have to refocus on his train of thoughts.

  Guinevere said, ‘You wanted to ask Leah if Kensa could help you anyway?’

  ‘Oh, yes. But Leah said Kensa had never liked her and wouldn’t listen to her. She also said that her father had never wanted to buy the B&B but that Kensa had kept asking him to relieve her of it as it was becoming too much for her. According to Leah they fought about it and Kensa was quite mad.’

  ‘But Meraud told me that Haydock wanted to buy the B&B and all the other businesses to turn Cornisea Island into an open-air museum.’

  ‘Just rumours.’ Bolingbrooke picked up his mug and took a deep draught. ‘I hate the gossip on this island. Everybody claims to know everything about everybody else. But what if they’re all wrong? I could be in a cell right now, just because of what people are whispering about.’

  The door opened, and Oliver carried in a tray. ‘Here’s hot toast and jam and butter plus a banana that has not been squashed under a ton of books.’

  He wanted to put the tray down on the table, but Bolingbrooke howled, ‘Not there, you’ll stain something. In the windowsill.’

  Oliver grimaced but carried the tray to the appointed spot. Dolly followed him, her head up to sniff what was on it for her. Turning, Oliver almost tripped over her. He leaned down to put her feeding bowl in front of her and give her a quick pat on the head. ‘Have a good day working. I’m taking what you call my beastly machine out for a spin.’

  ‘But what about …’ Guinevere said, but the door had already fallen closed. She exhaled in frustration. LeFevre had stressed he wanted to know the moment Bolingbrooke turned up again. By taking off Oliver was leaving her with the unpleasant task of deciding whether to call LeFevre or not.

  Bolingbrooke eyed the breakfast on the tray. ‘I did raise him properly. He knows how to treat a lady well.’

  Dolly, who had started on her dog food, barked as if to agree.

  Guinevere said, ‘LeFevre wanted to know when you were back here. I’ll have to call him.’

  ‘So he can arrest me? I thought I had friends on this island. But nobody is there for me now. Leah treated me like she also thinks I killed her father, and then when I went to see Jago, he pretended he wasn’t at home. But I heard him rummaging about inside his cottage. You are my last resort.’ Bolingbrooke spread his arms in a dramatic gesture. ‘Instead of reporting me to this inspector, use your feminine charms to get something out of him. Don’t you want to help an old man in a tight spot?’

  Guinevere chewed her lip a moment. Jago, Kensa: what had they known about Branok’s secret stash? Had Haydock been close to finding it?

  He had been so secretive about the ring he was going to wear during the re-enactment. The so-called Branok ring.

  The police had that now.

  Her heart pounding, she pulled out her phone and called the number that the inspector had called her from the previous night.

  Bolingbrooke gave her the thumbs-up and mouthed, Feminine charms.

  Guinevere turned her back on him so he couldn’t distract her during the call.

  LeFevre answered at the third ring.

  ‘Guinevere Evans here, I have a little question. The ring that was on the hand of the dead man, how old do your people think it is?’

  LeFevre was silent a moment as if considering her question for what it was worth. ‘How old?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes, Haydock wore a ring for the re-enactment. He claimed it was old and it had a special connection to the island. But people didn’t believe him. Can your lab ascertain whether it was old, a real antique?’

  ‘They can do a lot, and they got the ring in with the other material so they might be on it already, but does it really matter for the case?’

  ‘Maybe. Have you talked to Leah Haydock?’

  ‘About her little venture to the air hole? Yes. Did you know about that?’

  ‘We happened to meet her over lunch at The Bull and Crow,’ Guinevere said, happy LeFevre was not in front of her to see her squirm. ‘She didn’t seem to know where the ring came from.’

  LeFevre said, ‘Yes, she mentioned that to me too. The only detail I heard about the ring came from the morgue where they looked at the body. It was rather a tight fit, and the victim didn’t usually wear it as it had left quite a mark on his finger. Any sign of Bolingbrooke this morning?’

  Guinevere flushed. ‘Can I make a deal with you?’

  LeFevre sucked in a breath. ‘He’s there, right?’

  ‘Can you give Oliver and me twenty-four hours to come up with another suspect?’

  ‘Twenty-four hours? What do you think you can do in such a short time?’

  ‘I have a few things I want to look into.’

  ‘Just tell me what they are.’

  ‘People won’t confide in you. It might be easier for Oliver and me to get something. Please.’

  LeFevre made a scoffing sound, then he said, ‘Twenty-four hours? So tomorrow around this time I can come arrest him and you will let me? You won’t have another nice little proposition?’

  ‘No. Twenty-four hours it is. As long as nobody knows Lord Bolingbrooke ran away from the interrogation, it can’t hurt.’

  ‘The officer on duty told Eal. I’m not sure how discreet he will be.’

  Guinevere groaned. ‘I see.’ Eal hadn’t struck her as someone who liked Bolingbrooke. If he felt offended by his vanishing act, he might spread talk about it and create trouble for LeFevre.

  LeFevre said, ‘Twenty-four hours it is. It’s more than I should give you. But young Bolingbrooke said you come from the theatre world and you can figure out scenarios. Well, if you can figure out what the rhododendron means and how someone other than Bolingbrooke stabbed Haydock face to face without having access to the cage after Bolingbrooke locked it, you’ll have earned the delay in arrest I’m giving you now. My own investigation will go on, of course. I’ll call you back about the ring as soon as I
know more.’ He disconnected.

  Guinevere lowered the phone. Her mouth was dry and her throat tight. What had she put herself into?

  Twenty-four hours wasn’t a lot of time. What leads did she think she could follow up on?

  Bolingbrooke eyed her with a frown. ‘You didn’t mention I was here.’

  ‘No. But LeFevre suspects that you are.’

  ‘So he’s coming here.’ Bolingbrooke looked around him as if to see a trapdoor he could vanish through.

  Guinevere shook her head. ‘Not yet. I have twenty-four hours to come up with some big lead that will prove you didn’t do it.’

  She jerked upright at a sound from below. ‘Is that someone at the door? LeFevre mentioned that Eal knows you got away last night. Maybe he’s here now to cuff you and drag you back to the station?’

  ‘It would be the type of silly thing Eal would enjoy doing,’ Bolingbrooke groused.

  ‘Stay here while I go find out who it is and what he wants.’ Heart pounding, Guinevere went into the corridor, Dolly on her heels. She tiptoed to the stairs to listen for conversation below. Her mind was whirling to find a way to hide Lord Bolingbrooke from Eal.

  But it wasn’t the constable with the moustache in the hallway with Cador.

  It was Kensa.

  ‘All I want,’ she said in a high-pitched, anxious voice, ‘is to have the ring back. I’m sure it was left on the table before the re-enactment began. It’s old and valuable. Not a mere trinket.’

  Guinevere rushed down the stairs. ‘Do you mean the ring that supposedly belonged to Branok? The one Haydock was going to wear during the trial?’

  ‘Yes. That one.’ Kensa took a deep breath. ‘Do you have it? Or do I have to ask Arthur’s killer for it?’

  ‘Haydock was wearing it when he died,’ Guinevere said. ‘It was on his body when the police took it away. It was not on the table either as Haydock had it in his pocket before he went down into the dungeon. He refused to show it to us although he implied it was something special. What do you know about that?’

  Kensa inched back. ‘Nothing.’

  Cador jutted his chin up in a challenging gesture. ‘How can you claim that it belongs to you? If it was Haydock’s, it’ll fall into his estate. It belongs to his wife and daughter.’

  ‘You really think you know everything.’ Kensa’s voice was bitter. ‘All because of misplaced loyalty to the Bolingbrookes.’ Her tone dripped with hatred as she pronounced the name. ‘No, the ring didn’t belong to Arthur personally and it doesn’t fall into his estate. It belongs to the historical society. We bought it to be a part of the Branok collection.’

  ‘The Branok collection,’ a voice said from the stairs. ‘That should be on display here at the castle when it’s open to the public like the society wants. That’s the full story, isn’t it, Kensa?’

  Guinevere could just kick Bolingbrooke for not staying hidden in his library like she had told him to do. He wanted her help staying out of the hands of the police for the moment, but as soon as something happened, he was interfering again and picking a fight.

  ‘We’ve been talking about it for years,’ Kensa said, not even blinking at Bolingbrooke’s appearance and words. ‘You know as well as I do that the castle can’t survive if you don’t open it up to visitors. Not all of it, just a part. And not year-round, but only in summer. You don’t have to part with it or make major changes, just acknowledge that it belongs to the people as much as it does to you.’

  ‘That’s the sentiment I object to. It’s my property. I need not share it with anyone.’

  ‘That attitude got all of us in trouble. Because of you, Arthur is dead now. If you had just agreed to our plans sooner …’ Kensa wrung her hands.

  ‘I don’t see what difference it would have made.’ Bolingbrooke cast her a fiery look. ‘Leave my premises and don’t come back.’

  ‘In the past you valued my presence. You begged me to take care of your son. You even looked at me as if …’ She fell into a tentative silence.

  Bolingbrooke reddened. ‘That was all in your head, woman. Now leave.’ He stormed back up the stairs.

  Kensa said in a trembling voice to Guinevere, ‘The ring belongs to the historical society. We want it back as soon as possible.’

  ‘You should take that up with the police. They have it.’

  Kensa turned and walked out of the door.

  Guinevere looked at Cador. The butler’s expression was blank, probably the result of his lifelong training, but his eyes sparkled with a threatening glow.

  Guinevere said softly, ‘She made it sound like Lord Bolingbrooke had once … planned to marry her or something.’

  Cador waved a hand. ‘That was what she hoped for. When his lordship noticed it, he asked her to leave. Oliver was only six at the time and very sad she had left the castle and didn’t want to care for him any more. He refused to go to her wedding later that year but when I told him Kensa would look like a princess from a fairy tale, with a crown on her head, he did go. Got completely soaked in the rain. November is grim here on Cornisea. A spring wedding would have been much more cheerful, I suppose. But we did all attend. It’s a small island, and one can never completely avoid the others.’

  ‘So she married her husband shortly after she left the castle?’

  Cador shifted his weight uncomfortably. ‘She was disappointed by her dismissal and turned to Mr Haydock at first, trying to get her position back. He was an up-and-coming lawyer at the time, not having his own firm yet, but in a position to have one very soon. He couldn’t help her regain her position here at the castle, and then she married her husband. Having her own family calmed her down, and she never mentioned her dismissal again.’

  Guinevere nodded thoughtfully. During the trial re-enactment Leah had said to the woman Kensa was playing that she had longed for Branok but he had spurned her and her husband Merek had been second choice. Had Leah sounded so convincing because she believed that Kensa had only accepted her late husband’s proposal because she couldn’t have the life she had really wanted? Something far different from running a B&B and serving other people all of the time?

  Guinevere narrowed her eyes, harking back to the lunch time conversation with Leah, her mention that Kensa had always wanted to rule the island. Had Leah hinted at Kensa’s old attachment to Bolingbrooke? Could it be that Kensa had later set her sights on Haydock, and a starring role in his plans for Cornisea? Wouldn’t it have been an ultimate revenge to get her hands on the castle anyway?

  Was it even possible that after Kensa’s husband had died, she had joined the historical society with a hidden agenda, to be close to Haydock? To see if there was a possibility for an affair?

  After all, Oliver had told Guinevere on her first day out here that Haydock was rumoured to be unfaithful to his wife.

  Leah had said her father had left Kensa’s house on the mainland in a rage. Not for business reasons, but personal ones? Their affair, or him not wanting an affair, or Kensa pushing for more than an affair? For him to tell his wife and get a divorce and choose her?

  It was worth pursuing. ‘I have to talk to Kensa. I’ll go after her right away. But don’t let Lord Bolingbrooke see me do it.’

  Cador nodded at her. ‘I’ll engage him in conversation.’ He rushed up the stairs. He seemed to have excellent physical fitness for an elderly man.

  Guinevere in turn darted out to catch up with Kensa. The woman wasn’t far from the castle’s gate, walking with her head down and her shoulders slumped.

  Guinevere fell into step beside her. ‘Can I please talk to you for a few moments?’

  Kensa looked her over. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’m just trying to make sense of it all. The murder and … You can imagine it’s quite a shock when you come to a castle to work for the summer and someone gets murdered there.’

  Kensa’s tight expression softened. ‘None of us wanted that. Believe me.’ She surveyed her. ‘Are you going back to London now?’

&n
bsp; ‘No. I have work to do here. And I don’t believe Lord Bolingbrooke is the killer either. It just looks that way because he was the only one who had access to the cage. But there must be another explanation for everything. There have been some contradictory stories going around and … It might help to make things clearer. Was Mr Haydock interested in buying your B&B?’

  Kensa hesitated. ‘Why do you want to know that? How can it help clear up his death?’

  ‘It seems he came to see you and that there was an argument.’

  Kensa sighed. ‘We did a lot together for the historical society. Over time Arthur developed a plan for the island. He wanted the castle to be partly open to the public and he then wanted to offer people a themed stay here. They would check in to the B&B, see the castle, go fishing with Jago.’

  ‘So there was going to be an open-air museum,’ Guinevere pressed.

  ‘That’s a big term. Themed stays, Arthur called it when he spoke to me.’

  ‘And Jago was a part of it too?’

  ‘Yes. We had looked into all kinds of old stories connected with the island and we wanted people to experience life as it has been in different eras and among people of different walks of life. The fisherman, the lord of the keep. It was a good plan, really. But Bolingbrooke would hear nothing of it. He ruined it all.’

  Guinevere looked Kensa in the eye. ‘So Haydock didn’t want to buy your B&B but make it a part of his idea for themed stays on the island?’

  Kensa nodded. ‘He wasn’t clear on all the details yet. It’s possible that I would have put the B&B in an arrangement where I still worked at it but didn’t own it any more. Arthur wanted to set up a sort of organization that would run everything. I don’t know all the details. He was the lawyer – he was going to arrange for it all. I just wanted to have it easier. Running a business on your own while also raising a daughter …’

  Guinevere nodded. ‘I understand. But … your son, Lance – I heard he was getting a law degree. Did that have anything to do with the organization Mr Haydock wanted to set up for the island? Was Lance going to play a part in that?’