Cornish Castle Mystery Collection: Tales of murder and mystery from Cornwall. Vivian Conroy
Guinevere said, ‘Tegen asked me to get them.’
Dolly whined and pressed herself against Guinevere’s leg, as if she cringed under Kensa’s accusing tone.
‘Mum!’ Tegen protested. ‘I asked her to have a scone with me. I haven’t seen anybody around here for ages. I just wanted to talk.’ Tegen leaned against the sink, stretching her tall, athletic body.
‘The scones are for the guests,’ Kensa repeated. ‘If you’re asking someone over, you buy them a treat out of your own pocket.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘And forget about angling for information about Oliver Bolingbrooke. He’ll never look twice at a girl like you.’
Tegen’s expression contorted. ‘Why do you always have to humiliate me in front of people? I hate you!’ And she stormed out of the kitchen.
Kensa began to check the scones, picking them up one by one and putting them back in place. The silence lingered. Then she said, ‘I just don’t want my daughter to get disappointed.’ Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘Hurt. It’s the only way it can turn out if she sets her sights on him. He’s too old for her and he doesn’t want to settle here.’
Kensa glanced at her, her face mottled. ‘And his father killed Arthur! I still can’t believe that he’s dead. He had so many plans for the island.’
‘Last night before the re-enactment started, were you … Did you see Haydock in his cell? Maybe go down to talk to him, ask him about some detail? You had made changes to the scenario, right?’
‘No.’ Kensa plucked at her cardigan. ‘I didn’t go down until we all went.’
‘And you didn’t talk to him through the air hole either?’
‘The air hole? I don’t understand what you mean.’ Kensa straightened, putting her hands on her hips. ‘We all know Bolingbrooke was under pressure to sell the castle. With Arthur dead he’s in the clear.’
‘Far from it,’ Guinevere said. ‘Haydock wasn’t the only one interested in the castle, as I understand it. And financial troubles don’t go away just because someone dies.’
Kensa’s eyes lit triumphantly at the mention of financial troubles. She turned away again and fingered the scones. ‘I’m putting on a brave face for the guests, but I really should be in bed. I can’t deal with anything right now.’
Guinevere had the impression Kensa was holding up pretty well for someone who had seemed frantic last night, but of course you couldn’t be sure how someone else felt inside.
She asked, ‘You were the secretary of the historical society, right? Did you contribute most of the script for the Branok trial?’
‘All of it. I looked through the sources. I did all of the work. They can’t take that away from me.’
‘Who would want to take anything away from you?’
Kensa waved a hand. ‘There was a discussion about who should be credited in the press release about the re-enactment.’
Guinevere remembered the leaflet she had picked up. Would there be credits given there? Would it reveal anything particular? She had to check as soon as she was back at the castle.
She asked Kensa, ‘Do you know more about that ring Haydock was going to wear last night? The one he said had a special connection to Cornisea?’
‘No, he was very quiet about that. He had bought it some place. I do know that. But he didn’t tell me anything about it. He wanted to wait until after the rehearsal to show everybody. Now he will never have the chance.’ Kensa pushed a hand to her face to smother a sob.
‘I’d better go,’ Guinevere said. Raw grief always made her feel uncomfortable and awkward, unable to find the right words to say. ‘Take care.’ She retreated to the back door, Dolly walking ahead of her.
Outside the dachshund shook herself.
‘Yes, I’m also glad to get away,’ Guinevere said softly. ‘I should feel sorry for her, but she’s just so eager to accuse Lord Bolingbrooke. Does she really believe he did it? Or is there another reason?’
The chickens had dispersed and were looking for worms among the carrot beds. The peacock cried, perched on a branch of a gnarled old tree. His long tail feathers hung down, a show of lacy white.
‘What do we make of Tegen?’ Guinevere continued, talking to Dolly as they followed the path again. ‘She behaves like a ten-year-old. As soon as she doesn’t get her way, she storms off. Her mother must have a hard time raising her. And what about her brother Lance? Why is he suddenly interested in getting a law degree? If he can never make up his own mind, but does what others do, I wonder who talked him into it. And why is he keeping it a secret? Tegen said she had found out about it by accident. Isn’t that odd?’
Dolly barked. Along the path was a low stone wall, and she poked her nose into a hollow between the stones.
Guinevere leaned over. ‘What’s that, girl? Do you smell something?’
Dolly yapped and ran her paws over the stone as if trying to dig a way into them.
Guinevere looked at the wall more closely and discovered a niche at shoulder height with a stone in the back that had weathered lettering on it. It seemed to be some kind of dedication.
To a Ganoc.
She had no idea who that was.
‘Hey, wait!’ Running footfalls rushed up to her, and there was Tegen, gasping for breath. She looked back at the B&B as if to ascertain her mother wasn’t watching them from an upstairs window. ‘Mum can be such a pain. Never mind her, all right? She’s just upset Haydock’s dead.’
‘Why would she be?’ Guinevere asked. ‘I mean, the tone he took with me last night, about me having to be some sort of student. Because theatre work could never be real work. I bet when he worked with your mother at the historical society, he bossed her around, not taking her seriously. Maybe he even took the credit for her work?’
Tegen shrugged. ‘Mum has known him for a long time. Even when Dad was still alive.’
Dolly came to sniff Tegen’s shoes, and Tegen leaned down to scratch her behind the ears. Dolly didn’t object and even closed her eyes.
Guinevere registered that the shoes were different than the ones Tegen had been wearing last night. A small size.
She said, ‘Is it long ago that your father …’
Tegen made a face. ‘Three years last spring. Sure, it was sudden, but you have to move on, you know. Mum can’t. She adores everything to do with Dad. You should see her bedroom. It’s just like a shrine, full of photographs and all. Nothing is all right now; it was all better in the past when he was still there. But I have to live now and make something of it. I don’t want to stay around this place for ever.’
Guinevere looked her over. ‘How do you mean?’
Tegen sat on her haunches now, rubbing Dolly’s back. ‘Well, Haydock was a pompous ass. But I did know he had money so I was nice to him for that reason. You never know when you might need a local connection. I thought this re-enactment could get me noticed. Now you’re from London. Do you think you could … recommend me to someone?’
Ah. That was Tegen’s reason for being nice to her, inviting her in for scones and all. For rushing after her to talk to her, away from the B&B. It wasn’t about Oliver, as Kensa had suspected, but about a chance to get away from Cornisea, to London.
Guinevere said, ‘The theatre where I’m at is undergoing renovations. We don’t open up again until after summer. I guess you’ll be back in school then.’
Tegen scoffed. ‘Who needs school?’ She shot to her feet and stood with her weight forward, her youthful face tight with tension.
Guinevere studied