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

by Vivian Conroy

  She turned to Guinevere with hate-filled eyes. ‘Of course you should never have started about footprints at the air hole. Just a few hours in the night, and the rain would have washed them away. Eal would never have found them.’

  ‘That’s why you were so worried about an inspector from the outside being put on the case,’ Oliver muttered. ‘Someone better than Eal would understand the significance of the footprints and the missing boathook.’ He started to cough, a hollow sound.

  Guinevere’s mouth was dry. How badly hurt was he?

  Leah screeched, ‘Shut up. I only used you, OK? I didn’t need you. When I said that I wanted you to come with me, I was lying. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.’

  With those words she raised the spade, with the blade down, to hit at Oliver again.

  He rolled away, and the metal blade hit the rocks in a sickening sound.

  Guinevere screamed for help. But who would hear her?

  Then a voice called out, ‘Drop the spade. I’m armed. I’ll shoot at you if you make another move to hurt Oliver.’

  Guinevere turned her head to look at Jago. He stood up straight with a rifle in his hands. The lines in his weathered face were tight, his eyes sad as he surveyed Leah.

  Leah looked at him. ‘You wouldn’t hurt me. You know what I’ve gone through. What my father did to me. You’ll never betray me. Will you, Jago? All the others have betrayed me but you won’t.’

  Jago blinked a moment as if he had to gather his thoughts under this sudden appeal to his understanding. His lips pulled tight. ‘You should have left, girl, when you still could. You should have run away from your father and his evil manipulating. But you didn’t. You stayed, and now it’s too late to save you.’

  He looked at Oliver. ‘You were right this afternoon. I have to help you clear your father. And I will.’

  ‘Nooo!’ With a crazy shriek Leah dropped the spade and ran off. Her loose hair blew around her head in the strong wind.

  ‘Catch her,’ Oliver said, trying to get to his feet. ‘Make sure she can’t hurt herself.’

  Jago nodded and set out after the fleeing woman, his rifle in his hand.

  Guinevere ran to Oliver and sat on her haunches beside him. ‘Are you all right? There’s blood all over your face.’

  ‘She caught my eyebrow. Brows bleed like crazy.’ Oliver stared in the direction in which Leah and Jago had vanished. ‘I can’t believe it was her.’

  ‘Yes, it was. It’s the only way that fits. I figured out how she had done it before I came out here. I re-enacted it all and … I suddenly saw it. She had to do it to prevent her father from bringing Kensa’s son into the law firm. That Lance was getting a law degree should have put us on the right track sooner.’

  Oliver said softly, ‘Her father treated her like dirt.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s still no reason to kill someone. Or to frame another for it. She played all of us every step of the way. That nice little lunch at The Bull and Crow, her stories to find out what we knew and if the police were onto her yet. We played along with her without even knowing it ourselves.’

  Oliver sighed. He still didn’t seem to grasp the full impact of it.

  Guinevere pressed, ‘She wanted to frame your father. She even told you he could plead self-defence and get a lighter sentence. He had done nothing wrong, and she wanted him to go to prison for her crime. Do you understand? Your father’s entire life would have been ruined, because of her.’

  A shot rang out in the air.

  Oliver froze, staring at Guinevere in panic. ‘No,’ he said in a low voice. ‘No, please.’

  He got to his feet despite Guinevere’s protestations and hurried as fast as he could to the beach.

  Guinevere tried to support him as he was unsteady, staggering on his feet, but he wouldn’t let her.

  Guinevere’s mouth was dry. If Leah died, Oliver would never forgive her. She might be a murderer, but to Oliver she was still the girl he had once believed in. The singer who should have conquered the world with her beautiful voice. Someone who had never had the chance to lead a happy life.

  On the beach Leah lay facedown in the sand. Someone was leaning over her. Checking her vitals?

  ‘Noooo!’ Oliver cried.

  The sand hampered his progress, but he tried to wrestle his way over to the figures.

  ‘Noooo!’ he cried again. ‘Leah! Leah, come back to me.’

  Guinevere already saw it wasn’t Jago leaning over Leah’s prostrate form. This man was less bulky. As she closed in, she recognized him.

  It was LeFevre.

  He looked up at them. ‘She isn’t hurt. I’m only handcuffing her.’

  ‘And Jago?’ Guinevere asked.

  LeFevre nodded to their left down the beach. The tall figure of the former fisherman was walking with his shoulders slumped, the rifle hanging from his hand.

  Guinevere rushed after him. She came to walk beside him and looked at his face. Her throat constricted when she saw the lone tear on his cheek.

  ‘Did you know it was her?’ she asked him softly.

  Jago shook his head. ‘I didn’t know. But I had seen her. I had seen her enter the castle that night when she should have been inside to be in the play with all of you. I wondered about it. And with my boathook gone missing that same night … I didn’t see though how she would have done it from the outside. I didn’t want to distrust her. I know her. She did so much for her father. Like all of us, she had to do what he wanted. She had to be what he wanted.’

  ‘When you referred to people who had sacrificed so much for Haydock, you meant her.’

  He nodded, the tear slipping further down his weathered cheek. ‘You should have seen them when they were little. Oliver and Leah. Like a prince and a princess with their own castle. A place where they would be happy for ever and ever, like it is in fairy tales. But it was all a lie. She didn’t find happiness from doing what her father wanted. And Oliver didn’t find happiness either from not doing what his father wanted.’

  Jago halted and looked at her. ‘It seems very difficult to find happiness.’

  Guinevere swallowed down the lump in her throat. She reached out her hand and put it on his muscle-corded arm. ‘Thank you for coming. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come. She might have killed Oliver as well. Just because she believes he has betrayed her.’

  ‘I betrayed her.’ Jago’s voice was unsteady. ‘I should have helped her to escape from her father, but I never did. I even worked for him, searching the island for the ring and other loot. I told myself I was doing the right thing, but I was only protecting myself, my place here. I wanted to make sure Haydock wouldn’t send me away from Cornisea once he became the master here.’ He touched the bracelet on his wrist with tentative fingers. ‘I love Cornisea over everything else.’

  Guinevere squeezed his arm again. ‘There won’t be any changes now. Haydock is dead.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jago agreed. ‘But his hold on all of us isn’t broken. Leah will be convicted and will never be the singer she could have been. The law firm … What will happen to that?’

  And to his son with Kensa, Guinevere thought. It would now all come out. Haydock’s wife would be devastated to lose her illusion of a happy marriage and the life of her daughter. Her only child.

  Kensa was already broken, and Guinevere now fully understood why. Kensa might never have wanted Haydock to ask their son into his life, but she had loved him. Had loved them both.

  Jago said, ‘I’ll be getting back now. Or maybe I’ll be out on the water all night to try and forget.’

  He stared at the horizon where the water merged with the sky. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t have enough time left to live to ever fully forget this night.’

  He walked off, and then LeFevre popped up behind Guinevere. He looked her over. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, not at all. How’s Oliver?’

  ‘Shaken, but not seriously injured. I would like both of you to make a statement.
Do you think you’re up to it?’

  Guinevere nodded. Now that the adrenalin of the charged encounter had worn off, she wanted to drop herself on the sand and just lie there until she didn’t feel so tired any more – and so cold.

  LeFevre held her gaze. ‘You solved it. Before the twenty-four hours were over.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t feel relieved. Let alone elated. This outcome …’ Everything inside of her shrank back from facing Oliver and seeing the devastation in his face.

  LeFevre reached out to her. ‘Come on. At the station there will be hot coffee.’

  She nodded and fell into step beside him, back to where Leah was held by a policeman.

  Oliver stood a few paces away from her. They didn’t look at each other or speak to each other.

  Like everything that had ever connected them had been torn away, opening up a divide between them that was greater than the distance to the stars above.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Guinevere put the card she had just filled with pretty legible lettering on the stack and sighed.

  The sun was shining outside, and people were flocking to the island across the causeway. Boats were out on the water, and even her dog was enjoying the weather on a stroll with the other canines and their master. Bolingbrooke had actually torn himself away from his precious books for a while as if he understood that he could have been locked up right now and should appreciate the freedom of movement and the feel of fresh air.

  He had asked Guinevere to come along, but she had claimed to feel rather tired.

  Bolingbrooke had given her a worried look but had accepted her excuse and had left – with Nero and Rufus, and Dolly in the lead like she could outrun the big dogs. And she probably could.

  Guinevere shoved the cards away and covered her eyes. The scene at the rocks kept coming back to her. How Leah had almost killed Oliver and Guinevere had been forced to watch, unable to do anything about it. If it hadn’t been for Jago …

  The door opened, and Oliver stood on the threshold. He wore a blue shirt with Cornish words on it that Guinevere didn’t understand, beige slacks, and sandals. He held out his hand to her with a wrapped something in it. ‘For you.’

  ‘For me? But why?’

  ‘Have a look first whether you even want to have them.’

  Guinevere got up and came over, accepting the parcel from his hand. She tried to open the tape round it, then looked for scissors on the table.

  ‘Careful that the contents don’t drop out,’ Oliver warned her. ‘They can break, you know.’

  She put the parcel on the table and cut through the tape, then folded the paper away.

  The theatre glasses with the mother-of-pearl handle they had seen in Mr Grunwald’s shop.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s too much.’

  ‘Do you like them?’

  ‘They’re too expensive to just give to me.’

  ‘Do you like them?’ Oliver pressed.

  ‘You already know that. You saw it in my face when I first asked about them in the antiques shop.’

  ‘Right, so you should have them. No excuses. You can use them from your tower window to spy on people. See Tegen feed the chickens.’

  Guinevere rolled her eyes at him, but her hands were lovingly fingering the precious glasses. ‘I feel awkward knowing how much you paid for them.’

  ‘A small price to pay considering what you did for us. For the castle and my father and me.’ Oliver held her gaze. ‘You saved my life.’

  ‘Nonsense, Jago did that. He came at the right moment.’

  ‘Yes, and LeFevre came at the right moment to help Jago. Because of your call about that boathook. LeFevre wondered what on earth you were up to and rushed out here in his motorboat. He thought you might take chances to solve things before the ultimatum ran out.’

  Oliver looked her over. ‘You worked it out. I didn’t suspect Leah at all. She could have just stabbed a knife through my heart, and I would never have seen it coming.’

  ‘You liked her,’ Guinevere said.

  Oliver gave a half-smile, clearly a painful action as his face still hurt. ‘Once upon a time we were very good friends. I wanted her to pursue the singing, and she chose her father’s way. I never really blamed her, but it did show me she was different from the girl I had made her out to be. Less adventurous and … Well, life makes demands on all of us, I guess. Look at me here, cataloguing books.’

  He stood at the table and ran his hands over a couple of volumes. ‘I’ve always hated that cliché that you have to come close to losing something to value it. But it turns out to be true. I can use my time off any way I want to, but I should spend it here. I should try and help my father save Cornisea. Not with a plan like Haydock had. That whole Branok thing must be forgotten as soon as possible. It will always remind me of … all that happened.’

  ‘How’s your face?’

  ‘It will be tender for a while. But I’ll live.’ Oliver looked at her again. ‘Thanks to you. And to Jago, yes, and even LeFevre. But I’m only giving a present to you. You deserve it.’

  Guinevere said, ‘Jago doesn’t need a present, but he needs to know he did the right thing. He feels so bad about Leah. He saw her that night running around outside the castle and he suspected later on she was somehow involved in her father’s death. He felt like he couldn’t tell on her, but on the other hand he didn’t want your father to go to prison either, not while he was innocent. Jago must really have felt devastated, facing that choice. And now that she’s been arrested and will be charged …’

  ‘We all feel numb because of it.’ Oliver stared straight ahead into emptiness. ‘She was one of us. And we lost her.’

  Guinevere studied his tight profile. Her heart clenched for him. Coming from a close-knit crew of people in London she knew just how he felt.

  Then Oliver exhaled and looked at her. ‘I think we should dig in and do some work before my father returns from his walk with the dogs.’

  Guinevere nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  Oliver looked her over. ‘Later we can go see Vivaldi. He’s driving Meraud up the wall with his antics. And she still misses her own dog. He was old, had a good life, but hey, saying goodbye is never easy.’ Oliver began to leaf through a book.

  Guinevere watched him. Had he told her on purpose to make sure she understood Meraud better? She did want to become good friends with Mr Betts’s sister and discover more of The Cowled Sleuth bookshop.

  Guinevere breathed the sea air wafting in through the open window. She heard excited barking and saw Dolly down on the beach racing the wind. Rufus and Nero were too dignified to follow suit and stayed close to Bolingbrooke’s figure. He swung his walking cane. Whoever had pinned those notes to Oliver’s motorbike and on the tables of Emma’s Eatery had to stop now. Lord Bolingbrooke was vindicated. He could stay the island’s protector.

  And with help of Oliver and her he could even contribute to its prosperity and future.

  Guinevere’s heart widened, and her sadness over the past events faded to the background to make way for excitement about the time ahead. Her summer job at the castle.

  Cornisea had given up some of its secrets, but there were many others left to unlock.

  Together with Dolly and the new friends she had found here.

  Don’t miss the exciting new instalment RUBIES IN THE ROSES,

  in which a rare bejewelled goblet causes a rush to Cornisea Castle

  and soon treasure hunters are at each other’s throats …

  If you enjoyed Death Plays a Part then you’ll love A Proposal To Die For! Read on for a sneak peek of the first book in Vivian Conroy’s Lady Alkmene Mysteries set in the roaring Twenties…

  Chapter One

  ‘Marry me.’

  The whispered words reached Lady Alkmene Callender’s ears just as she was reaching for the gold lighter on the mantelpiece to relight the cigarette in her ivory holder.

  Freddie used to be a dear and bring her Turkish ones, but since he had
been disinherited by his father for his gambling debts, his opportunities to travel had been significantly reduced, as had Alkmene’s stash of cigarettes. These ones, obtained from a tobacconist on Callenburg Square, had the taste of propriety about them that made them decidedly less appetizing than the exotic ones she had to hide from her housekeeper – who always complained the lace curtains got yellowish from the smoke.

  ‘Marry me,’ the insistent voice repeated, and Alkmene’s gaze wandered from the mirror over the mantelpiece to the table with drinks beside it.

  Behind that table was a screen of Chinese silk, decorated with tiny figures tiptoeing over bridges between temples and blossoming cherry trees.

  The voice seemed to emerge from behind the screen.

  Another voice replied, in an almost callous tone, ‘You know I cannot. The old man would die of apoplexy.’

  ‘Not that he doesn’t deserve it. If he died, you’d inherit his entire fortune and we could elope.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Gretna Green, I suppose. Where else does one elope to?’

  Alkmene decided on the spot that the male speaker had a lack of fantasy, which would make him unsuitable for her adventurous mind. If you did elope, you’d better do it the right way, boarding the Orient Express.

  ‘I mean,’ the female said, in an impatient tone, ‘where would we live, how would we live? Off my fortune I suppose? I don’t think the major would give me a dime.’

  ‘What has the major got to do with it? Once the old man is dead and we are married, the money is yours.’

  There was a particular interest in money in this young man’s approach that was disconcerting, Alkmene decided, but if the female on the other side of the Chinese silk didn’t notice or care, it was none of her business.

  ‘Alkmene, dushka…’