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

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СКАЧАТЬ dungeon in which Mr Haydock died. We wanted to know if there are traces – like footprints, a snapped branch or something – that can prove someone made his way over to the air hole.’

      LeFevre studied her expression. ‘I heard the victim was stabbed from close proximity. Can it have been done through the air hole?’

      ‘Never!’ Eal shot in a ridiculing tone. ‘A child could understand that.’

      ‘It might have been possible if Haydock stood at the air hole,’ Guinevere said, even though Oliver had argued before it was impossible considering the height of the air hole. A stab would then have landed in Haydock’s face, not his chest. But she had to use LeFevre’s unexpected appearance on Cornisea to get more investigative effort than Constable Eal wanted to make.

      Eal shook his head. ‘If Haydock stood at the air hole, it wouldn’t have worked either. He would have backed away when the hand came in. It would have been right in front of his face.’

      ‘Still, we have to make sure that all ground is covered,’ LeFevre said. He used the powerful torch he carried to shine across the brush, then the ground underneath. He grunted as if he had already seen something, then moved into the brush, careful not to disturb anything in front of him.

      ‘Seems like he has done this before,’ Oliver said to Guinevere. There was a hint of hope to his voice.

      Eal was watching, leaning back on his heels. ‘Inspectors!’ he spat. ‘Always think they can muscle in on someone’s territory. This is my island. My case.’

      Guinevere whispered to Oliver, ‘Do you know this LeFevre?’

      ‘No. I have no idea where he came from all of a sudden. He must have come out here by boat. There’s a little landing pier over there.’ Oliver gestured over his shoulder. ‘Jago uses it all of the time.’

      Jago, yes, their missing judge. He had said he couldn’t make it tonight.

      But what if he had come over anyway?

      ‘Is the pier far away?’ Guinevere asked. ‘How many minutes to get from there to here?’

      ‘Five if you’re walking. Less if you run.’

      ‘Aha!’ they heard LeFevre call from the other side of the rhododendrons.

      Guinevere gave Oliver an expectant look. Dolly sat up in her arms, struggling to be released and run over to see for herself what the inspector had discovered.

      Eal leaned forward. ‘It can’t be,’ he muttered.

      After a few more minutes, LeFevre returned. He handed the torch back to Eal and said, ‘You’ll make a note of the fact that a person moved through the rhododendrons to the air hole and sat there on his haunches. That’s clear from the depth of the imprints of his or her shoes. I’m inclined to think it was a woman as the foot is quite small. The imprints suggest little to no profile. Could have been a rubber sole.’

      Oliver and Guinevere looked at each other. A small foot. Tegen?

      LeFevre said, ‘This idea of yours wasn’t half bad.’ He looked at Oliver. ‘I understand the dungeon has more than one cage?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And they’re identical in setup? They all have an air hole and it’s all in the same place?’

      ‘Yes.’ Oliver was obviously puzzled as to what the inspector was driving at.

      ‘Good.’ LeFevre turned to Eal. ‘You stay out here. In a few minutes you go over to an air hole. Not the one of the cage in which the murder took place but another. You wait there for my instructions from the inside.’

      Eal looked at him as if he had gone crazy.

      But LeFevre had already turned on his heel and waved Guinevere and Oliver along. ‘We’ll go inside and see what we can make of it.’

      As they walked, LeFevre said, ‘My condolences on the death of the victim. I suppose he was well known around these parts?’

      ‘He was,’ Oliver said, ‘but not exactly well liked.’

      LeFevre smiled. ‘A candid assessment.’

      ‘Coming from a potential suspect?’ Oliver retorted at once. ‘It’s the truth. And I’m sure a good policeman would find out about it soon enough.’

      LeFevre hmm-ed. ‘A good policeman just because I can find some footprints in muddy earth? That’s hardly a compliment, Mr Bolingbrooke.’

      ‘It wasn’t meant as a compliment, just a statement of fact. And you can call me Oliver. I avoid the name Bolingbrooke.’

      ‘May I ask why?’

      ‘Because people feel uncomfortable when they know you have a title and most likely a big bag of money. They either start sucking up to you or get jealous and try to derail your career out of spite. I have enough experience with both to know that.’

      ‘I see. What is your career?’

      ‘I make wildlife documentaries. Not on my own of course, with a whole crew. We travel out to Madagascar or the North Pole and then I sit in a hide for weeks hoping to make a few minutes worth of good footage.’

      ‘And you can actually make a living that way?’ LeFevre asked.

      ‘If you’re any good.’

      LeFevre nodded. ‘And why are you suddenly back home?’

      ‘I’m having some time off. I just wanted to look in on my father.’ Oliver glanced at LeFevre. ‘He didn’t like Haydock. Any local can tell you that. They even had an argument this evening, right before the re-enactment started. But my father would never have killed him. I know that for a fact.’

      ‘And why are you so sure? Apart from family loyalty of course.’

      Oliver grimaced. ‘My relationship with my father wasn’t all hearts and flowers. When Guinevere here arrived, he was just throwing me out of the door for even suggesting he could think about putting the castle in a trust. But I know, and so do others who are close to him, that he wouldn’t kill.’

      ‘You agreed that the castle should be put in a trust? So you supported Haydock?’

      ‘Of course not. I wanted my father to get professional assistance to keep the castle away from the likes of Haydock.’

      ‘Yes.’ LeFevre suddenly looked down, at Guinevere’s feet. ‘I suppose the footprints left at the air hole can’t be yours?’

      Guinevere’s heart skipped a beat at this unexpected turn of the conversation. ‘Would I draw your attention to them if they were mine? Besides, I can assure you my feet aren’t very small.’

      Oliver had to laugh.

      LeFevre’s expression was tight though. ‘The air hole theory is yours, right?’

      Oliver said quickly, ‘Guinevere comes from the theatre world so she worked СКАЧАТЬ