Cornish Castle Mystery Collection: Tales of murder and mystery from Cornwall. Vivian Conroy
‘Through the air hole?’ Guinevere suggested. She had found her voice again and, to stop the light feeling in her head, she had to think rationally, discover how it had been done.
Oliver shook his head at her suggestion. ‘It’s too small to throw anything through with enough speed or strength so it would embed itself into his chest. I’m no expert but I think this stab wound has been delivered face to face, in close proximity.’
‘Then it’s clear,’ Kensa said. ‘Bolingbrooke did it to save the castle.’ Her voice was steady and her expression almost calm. Only her eyes showed a little too much white. Maybe she was in shock and didn’t know what she was saying?
‘The constable has to come and see this,’ Leah said. She hugged herself tightly. ‘He can determine what to do next.’
Tegen scoffed, ‘Eal? He couldn’t catch a killer if he bumped into him still carrying the bloody knife.’
Kensa poked her with an elbow to make her shut up.
‘I’ll call Eal right away.’ Oliver reached below the robe he wore for his mobile phone. He kept an eye on all present. ‘Nobody moves from this spot until he’s here.’
Kensa said, ‘Why? Can’t poor Leah leave? The girl must be frantic with her father dead in front of her.’
Leah made a soft, suppressed sound in her throat. With her loose hair and the dark garment she suddenly looked like she was already mourning.
Tegen was staring at her mother. Her eyes were narrowed and questioning as if she was trying to work something out.
‘Leah can stand back,’ Oliver said, ‘but she can’t leave. This is a crime scene and we can’t run the risk of anything being disturbed here. Eal will have to collect evidence.’
‘Evidence?’ Kensa echoed. ‘In here?’
‘Yes.’ Oliver looked straight at her, a cold hard look. ‘You just accused my father of this murder. But it’s not the Middle Ages any more. We have fingerprints now and DNA traces. The killer must have left some proof behind that will point him or her out to us. It’s only a matter of time until we know the truth.’
In the silence his words seemed to linger, like a knell of death.
Guinevere’s arms were full of goose bumps, and she ached to hold Dolly close and feel the dachshund’s reassuring licks on her face.
Only a matter of time until they knew the truth.
But what would the truth be?
Who had hated Haydock enough to kill him? To stab him in the chest, face to face?
‘What a day to arrive here.’
Guinevere didn’t turn her head to Oliver’s voice. He had come up to her without making a sound. Or maybe she had missed the sound as she had stood there, staring up at the skies that were so full of stars. Once upon a time, Gran had pointed them all out to her, telling her their names and the stories connected with them. Guinevere had felt small standing under the canopy, thinking about the universe out there and the places far away where the stars were born. But at the same time she had felt totally safe, with Gran’s arm around her shoulders, totally loved and in place, part of her own little universe in which Gran was the sun around which everything revolved.
Those memories, and Dolly’s warm body against her, drove away the cold of their forced stay in the dungeon with the dead body until Constable Eal arrived. Kensa’s harsh accusations against Bolingbrooke still echoed in her ears. Would her new employer really get into trouble now? Would his guilt be readily assumed? Oliver had earlier said that a lawsuit was the last thing the castle needed. He had then referred to one for assault. Would it now be one for murder?
Oliver looked up at the night skies as well, his hands folded at his back. ‘You should be in bed by now.’
‘What did the constable say when he left?’
‘That he’ll tell us when he has more. What else can he say?’
‘But what do you think that he thinks?’ Guinevere glanced at Oliver. His expression was blank, but there were lines of fatigue around his mouth. ‘I don’t know anything about the police around here, but Tegen suggested that Constable Eal can’t catch a killer even if it was obvious that he had committed the crime.’
Oliver sighed. ‘Eal has never had much to do here. Just keep an eye out for people poaching, for illegal fishing, for fires made on the beach at night. He also collects the money people have to pay for putting their boats in the harbour. Cornisea hasn’t had any big or shocking crime since he started work here. And he has been here for decades.’
Guinevere nodded. ‘I already thought so. The way he questioned me … He didn’t try very hard to get anything relevant out of me.’
‘Maybe, as you’re an outsider, he didn’t think you could know anything worthwhile?’
‘That’s nonsense. I was there tonight. I saw everything play out. The way people looked at each other, what they said. There was a lot of tension. And not just between your father and Haydock. The way Leah and Kensa went at each other during the re-enactment. There was so much genuine emotion in their statements. As if Leah was really defending her father against Kensa, not some vague medieval figure against a made-up charge.’
Oliver shrugged. ‘I don’t know why Leah wouldn’t like Kensa. Outside of the historical society they have nothing to do with each other. Besides, Eal won’t ask such deep and profound questions. He sees the obvious. It doesn’t look good for my father. He had motive; he had opportunity.’
‘Eal did ask me if I knew for sure where the others were before it started, when you and I were lighting the lanterns and were rehearsing your part. But I couldn’t tell him. I only saw Leah carrying the robe for her father to the dungeons. I suppose she stayed with him while he put it on. He also wanted to put on this ring he had, right? An old ring that was supposed to have a link with Cornisea.’
‘Right, it was on his finger when he lay there dead. I saw it clearly.’
‘Haydock acted like it was something very special but he never told us why.’
Oliver nodded. ‘You’re right. I didn’t have a close look at it but it shone like gold. It also had a signet with engraving. A coat of arms or something.’
Guinevere gestured with her hand. ‘There you go. Maybe it’s significant. You told me Haydock was after the castle. And he turns up here with a ring with a coat of arms on it. Maybe he believed he had discovered something important about the rights to Cornisea? Maybe Kensa was in the know? Why else would she be so sure your father had a reason to kill Haydock? And what did her remark to Haydock mean, about hurting children being the worst thing in the world?’
Oliver shrugged. ‘She referred to the Branok trial. Him being accused of causing the lethal fire.’
Guinevere shook her head. ‘There was more to it. She meant actual children. Her daughter Tegen? Had Haydock somehow hurt Tegen, and was that a reason for Kensa, or for Tegen herself, to get back at him?’
Oliver grimaced. ‘I don’t really want to see my father accused and in trouble, but to go pointing fingers at a schoolgirl … This is a murder case. We’re looking at a long stint in prison.’
‘Even so we must be objective. What do you know about Tegen that can help figure out what really happened tonight?’
Oliver looked her in the eye as if he wanted to ascertain something. ‘Are you serious about this?’ he asked slowly.
‘Of course. We can’t just sit around and wait for your father to be accused. You told me the castle is under threat from people who want to buy it or change it. Your father is the only one who stands in their way of succeeding.