Cornish Castle Mystery Collection: Tales of murder and mystery from Cornwall. Vivian Conroy
chair moved?’
Oliver looked at it, frowning to remember. ‘Yes, I think it must have been moved when they took away the body. When we came in here and saw Haydock dead on the floor, the chair was lying there.’ He pointed. ‘Like it had toppled when he fell.’
LeFevre studied the layout. ‘So he could have been stabbed near the air hole and, staggering back, he hit the chair, and it toppled with him as he fell to the floor.’ He looked at Guinevere. ‘Your idea that the air hole was used isn’t bad. Not bad at all.’
Oliver seemed to get annoyed with the inspector’s appreciative tone. ‘You said yourself that the angle of the stab wound will be decisive.’
‘Of course.’ LeFevre peered again into the cage where it had all happened. ‘What’s that there?’ He leaned even closer, taking care not to touch the bars. ‘It seems there’s something dark on the floor.’
Oliver came to stand beside him and peered in as well. ‘It looks like plant material. I remember that Haydock was wearing boots. That must have come off the soles.’
‘The path up to the castle is cobbled,’ LeFevre observed. ‘How would plant material end up on the soles of his boots?’
‘I have no idea. Maybe he had been hanging around the gardens, looking for something? He did treat the place like it was already his.’
LeFevre studied Oliver. ‘You sound like you really didn’t like him.’
‘I didn’t kill him if that’s what you think. Guinevere was with me the whole time.’
Guinevere nodded. ‘That’s true. Oliver had to stand in for the local playing the judge and I helped him rehearse his lines until the re-enactment started.’
‘And where were the others?’
Oliver made a dismissive gesture. ‘Can’t be sure. My father was down here to lock the door. Everybody else was getting dressed, I suppose. Medieval garb and all that.’
‘Of course,’ Guinevere said, ‘Kensa and Tegen came already dressed. They need not have changed at all. They had time to …’ She let it hang. If LeFevre had little time for the case, it was important they handed him some starting points that would pique his interest.
LeFevre studied the scene again as if he was trying to impress it all upon his memory. Then he said, ‘And this Kensa and Tegen live on the island?’
‘Sort of,’ Oliver said.
LeFevre hitched a brow. ‘Sort of?’ He repeated the cryptic reply.
Oliver said, ‘Kensa inherited the B&B on the island from her husband’s parents. She runs it in the summertime when the tourists pour in. In the winter she lives on the mainland. Her daughter Tegen has to go to school of course, so she’s on the mainland most of the time. She can only be here in the holidays.’
LeFevre said, ‘So Kensa also has a house on the mainland?’
Oliver nodded. ‘Her husband left her quite a bit of money when he died.’
‘Widow,’ LeFevre said pensively. ‘And Tegen is her only child?’
‘No, she also has a son: Lance. Six years older than Tegen. He’s just finished university. I don’t know exactly what he plans to do now.’
‘I see. But this Lance wasn’t here tonight, right? And you also said that one of the locals who was supposed to be here wasn’t here this evening?’
‘The judge in the play: Jago the boatman.’
‘Jago who?’ LeFevre asked.
‘His official name is Jago Trevelyan. But nobody ever calls him that. He’s Jago the boatman and we all know who’s meant. He’s run a fishing business for decades and provides services for people to cross to the island. His sons have the fishing business now but Jago still comes to Cornisea most every day. He’s a famous figure in these parts, with a beard like a hermit, so it seemed fitting to make him the judge in the re-enactment. He only has to stop smoking his ever-present pipe for the duration of the play, which according to him is pure torture. He seems to have been born with that thing in his hand.’
LeFevre had listened with a keen interest. ‘A pipe, you say? And you’re sure that this Jago Trevelyan really wasn’t here on the island tonight? He didn’t pop up later? Or you didn’t notice a shadowy figure outside?’
Oliver hitched a brow. ‘You think Jago might have been watching us? Waiting for a chance to stab Haydock?’
‘I’m just looking at all possibilities. And I did find some tobacco near a path. Fresh. And probably coming from a pipe.’
Oliver pursed his lips. ‘Interesting. But you’ll have to ask him yourself where he was.’
‘Of course.’ LeFevre rubbed his hands together. ‘Oh, and when I called at the castle’s front door, a sort of butler type opened the door.’
Guinevere perked up. She had forgotten all about him. The quiet little man, in dark clothes. Someone you just didn’t notice. Used to moving around noiselessly, almost invisibly. That came with his work.
Oliver looked sceptical. ‘Cador has been with my father for all of his life. Surely you don’t think that he –’
LeFevre cut across him. ‘He was here at the castle at the time of the murder. That’s all I’m taking into account right now. Whether he had a motive … But as you say he was with your father for all of his life, I assume he didn’t like Mr Haydock bargaining to get the castle away from the Bolingbrooke family. That’s all for tonight. I’ll find my own way out. Oh, and I want that plant material in the cage analysed. I’ll send Eal in to get it. Please leave the lanterns on for him.’
He stalked off, disappearing up the steps.
‘What an arrogant chap,’ Oliver said.
‘I think he’s pretty good at what he does. And he listened to our suggestions. That’s more than Eal did, you know.’
Guinevere suddenly felt the draught in this chill place and hugged Dolly closer. The dog had kept very quiet during the inspector’s investigation, as if she sensed it was serious.
Or maybe she was just tired and had been dozing off.
Guinevere herself longed for her bed in the tower. And a peek at the letter Mr Betts had given her to read when she was all settled in. The first night was a little early maybe, but under the strange circumstances she itched to know what he had written.
She said to Oliver, ‘I’d better turn in. Will you stay here to see to Eal coming to collect that plant material from the cage?’
Oliver nodded. ‘Sure. But I don’t see what it has to do with the murder.’
‘Maybe we’ll find out later.’ Guinevere turned away.
Oliver caught up with her at the bottom of the steps, arresting her arm. ‘If you think LeFevre is so capable and he’ll handle the case like a pro, we need not continue sleuthing. We can just let my father await the verdict of the police.’
Guinevere looked up into his eyes. They seemed to flicker in the light of the lanterns. Was he already tired of working with her?
Or was he actually daring her to continue?
Guinevere said, ‘LeFevre is good but he doesn’t know too much about local sentiments and he doesn’t have the time to dig in deep. Eal is a native, but he won’t help LeFevre. So we can be LeFevre’s eyes and ears. Just gather some information that might help. If we think we’re close to the right solution, we can just deliver our findings to LeFevre and let him deal with it. We need not … run any risk of confrontation with the killer.’
Oliver nodded. ‘My thoughts exactly. Well, sleep tight then, and I’ll see you in the morning.’
Guinevere went up the steps.