Cornish Castle Mystery Collection: Tales of murder and mystery from Cornwall. Vivian Conroy

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СКАЧАТЬ want to look for footprints now?’ Oliver asked incredulously. ‘It’s getting dark already. Shouldn’t we just suggest it to Eal and leave it at that?’

      ‘You told me he’s never done a murder investigation before. And if it starts raining, all traces could get washed away.’

      Oliver studied her. ‘Why are you doing this?’

      ‘Doing what?’

      ‘Looking for evidence to clear my father. You’ve just arrived here.’

      ‘I don’t like unsolved mysteries.’ Guinevere got to her feet. She wasn’t about to tell him that family was everything to her, and a sense of place. She wanted to defend this beautiful castle and its owner, even if he was a little rough around the edges.

      Dolly barked, satisfied that they were going to do something.

      Guinevere smiled. ‘You heard her. Are you coming?’

      ‘If you don’t like unsolved mysteries,’ Oliver said as he followed her to the narrow door in the large gate, ‘you shouldn’t be staying here at Cornisea Castle. This place is full of them.’

      His own relationship with his father being one of them, Guinevere supposed, but she didn’t say so. They stepped outside. It was eerily quiet. Dolly pressed herself against Guinevere’s chest, moving her ears as if she was listening for a significant sound.

      A shiver went down Guinevere’s spine. They were sneaking around in the dark with a killer on the loose.

      The half-moon was bright and illuminated the surroundings, but still Oliver used his phone to light the path directly ahead of them. Guinevere stayed close to him, glad he knew his way around here. On her own she could never have figured out where the right air hole was. But Oliver led her, with confidence, to where thick bushes grew with shiny, dark green leaves.

      He pointed. ‘It’s behind these rhododendrons.’

      Guinevere nodded. ‘Shine it on the bushes,’ she ordered. ‘We have to see if someone pushed his way through them.’

      ‘Those branches are pretty pliable,’ Oliver said. ‘Wouldn’t they have just snapped back in place after the killer had passed?’

      ‘Hey, you there!’ a voice resounded. ‘What are you doing there?’

      Guinevere froze, clutching Dolly in her arms. ‘Who’s that?’ she whispered.

      A man in dark clothing came their way, shining a torch.

      Oliver released his breath in a frustrated hiss. ‘It’s Eal,’ he whispered. ‘I bet you he’ll now make a fuss about us being out here. But if we had told him what we intended, he would have brushed it off as unimportant. He’s like that, you know.’

      Guinevere now recognized the same constable who had questioned her briefly. He was a broad-chested man in his fifties with short hair and a huge moustache that he twirled when he was uncertain. He had eagerly listened to Kensa when she had explained over and over that Bolingbrooke had to be the killer. As a local, did Eal have some reason to hate Bolingbrooke and not mind that he got accused and even convicted?

      The constable said, ‘What are you doing here? It’s the dead of night.’

      ‘I’m walking on my own ground,’ Oliver said tightly. ‘I’m not afraid of some murderer who might be long gone.’

      ‘Gone? You think it was a stranger?’ Eal shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you. And you have to go back inside this instant. We still have a lot of work to do in the morning.’

      ‘And what if it rains before that?’ Guinevere asked. ‘Traces could be deleted.’

      ‘What traces?’

      Oliver prodded her with his foot not to tell, but Guinevere said anyway, ‘I was wondering if somebody tried to get to Mr Haydock through the air hole that led into his cage.’

      The constable studied her. ‘And why would you wonder about that?’

      ‘Well, if somebody did try and reach the air hole, pushing through these dense bushes, there might be traces of it. Evidence. If it rains before you investigate in the morning and the footprints fade, you can prove nothing any more.’

      The constable studied her. ‘You think you’re some kind of private detective? A real Sherlock Holmes in the making?’

      His condescending tone lit Guinevere’s blood. ‘No, I’m just trying to protect an innocent man against a murder charge.’

      ‘So you know for sure that Bolingbrooke didn’t do it? That’s very impressive considering you don’t know him at all, or local sentiments.’

      Guinevere flushed. Dolly seemed to feel her discomfort and licked her neck. She steadied the dog in her arms.

      Eal moved to stand in front of Oliver, speaking low. ‘What are you really here for?’

      If he had been as tall as Oliver it would have been intimidating, but Eal was a head shorter and seemed to be talking to Oliver’s chest. ‘To take something away? Change the scene? Maybe you were in league with your father. It’s odd you pop up here and the day after somebody dies.’

      Before Oliver could say anything to defend himself, a light flashed in the darkness from around the bend of the path. Another man came up to them. He walked fast and determined. ‘Constable Eal?’ he called out.

      The constable froze. He stared at the approaching man as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Chapter Five

      The man stopped a few paces away from their little group. He surveyed all of them quickly. Guinevere had the impression that not much escaped his dark eyes. He was younger than Eal, lean, with a face full of sharp angles. He didn’t extend a hand to shake, but said in general, ‘Inspector LeFevre. I’ve been assigned to this case to support the local force. I came out here first thing, but apparently I’m already too late. The body has been removed, I heard?’

      He gave Eal a cold look as if it had happened on purpose, to frustrate his own investigation.

      Eal nodded. ‘No need to have it lying around there any longer. I saw all I need to see.’

      It clearly conveyed: this is my case, and I intend to solve it my way. Just leave me alone.

      ‘Yes, well,’ LeFevre said, ‘I guess I’ll have photos to study.’ He focused on Guinevere and Oliver. ‘And you are?’

      ‘He’s Bolingbrooke’s son,’ Eal shot, pointing at Oliver, ‘and she just got here today. From London. To help catalogue books or something.’

      ‘Had you been here before?’ LeFevre asked.

      Guinevere said, ‘No, never.’

      ‘I see. Nice dog.’ There was a flash of a smile on his face.

      Guinevere used this moment of goodwill to say, ‘We were СКАЧАТЬ