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

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СКАЧАТЬ The woman looked down. ‘My own dog died a couple of weeks ago. Jago was trying to cheer me up by dropping off this little fellow with me. But he can’t replace …’

      ‘I don’t think Jago wants to replace anything,’ Guinevere said quickly. ‘Maybe you can take care of him just for the time being. What’s his name?’

      ‘Vivaldi.’ The woman rolled her eyes. ‘Jago likes his classical composers.’

      Guinevere reached out and patted the puppy. ‘Hey, Vivaldi.’

      The little fellow put a paw on her arm, his snout out to her to sniff her scent.

      ‘There you go.’ The woman put him down again behind the counter. She reached out her hand to Guinevere. ‘Meraud.’

      ‘Guinevere. I come from London. I work at the theatre with your brother.’

      Meraud’s friendly expression froze. ‘I see.’ She leaned over her book again and ran a finger over the bit of spine that was still tattered. ‘What does he want?’

      ‘Nothing.’ Guinevere was taken aback by the abrupt change in Meraud’s demeanour and tone. One moment she had been interested and engaging, now she was aloof and dismissive as if a wide-open door had suddenly snapped shut. And Guinevere had been so eager to find out what lay behind that door, in the treasure trove of books collected in this quaint little shop.

      Guinevere said quickly, ‘I’m going to work at the castle for the summer, cataloguing books for Lord Bolingbrooke, and I thought that it would be nice to drop by and say hello.’

      ‘For Lord Bolingbrooke no less.’ Meraud scoffed. ‘You can tell that my brother hasn’t set foot on the island in years. He doesn’t understand one bit of what our lives are like.’

      Guinevere said softly, ‘Maybe he wants to get back in touch?’ She wasn’t quite sure what Mr Betts had wanted when he had recommended her to Oliver, but she did want to help him achieve whatever he had intended.

      Meraud narrowed her eyes as she focused on the book’s damaged spine. ‘Maybe. So you work for him at the theatre? Selling tickets or what?’

      ‘I do costume design, help with props, décors. I also worked out some kinks in the scenario for the play we’re doing when the theatre reopens.’

      ‘Reopens?’ Meraud sounded startled. ‘It’s closed now?’

      ‘For renovations only,’ Guinevere rushed to reassure her. Her heart skipped a beat that Meraud did seem to care for her brother’s life’s dream.

      ‘And he’s believing that?’ Meraud scoffed again. ‘Renovations. Leave the theatre for the time being. Before he knows it they will have knocked it down and built apartments in its stead.’ Meraud waved her finger at Guinevere, her voice rising. ‘The injustice that is committed in the name of progress.’

      ‘Here on the island too?’ Guinevere asked. ‘By people like Arthur Haydock?’

      Meraud’s expression grew cautious. ‘I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. You do know that he’s dead, right?’

      ‘Yes, I was there last night when it happened.’

      Meraud looked her over, narrowing her eyes. ‘You don’t say. You must be stronger than you seem, girl. How old are you anyway?’

      ‘Twenty-four.’ Guinevere held her gaze. ‘Did everybody hate Arthur Haydock?’

      ‘I can’t speak for everybody else. But I can tell you a lot of people didn’t like him. He always knew better. He wanted to change things. He wanted to buy up our stores and turn it all into his concept.’

      ‘His concept for what?’

      ‘Cornisea.’ Meraud gestured around her. ‘This island, the whole place, one big tourist attraction. An open-air museum he called it even. But this is our home. We grew up here; we live here. We don’t want to be part of a museum.’

      Guinevere’s thoughts were racing at this new information. So Bolingbrooke hadn’t been the only one under pressure from Haydock to hand over his property and cater to Haydock’s plans for the island. ‘How did he respond to your objections?’

      ‘He laughed them off. He said times are changing. We could live on the mainland and come here to work. In his open-air museum. Playing islanders for the tourists, instead of being islanders like we truly are.’ Meraud laughed softly. ‘Haydock should have known we would never fall for that.’

      Guinevere studied her. ‘Now that he’s dead, his plans will probably never become a reality.’ And that gave several people a motive for murder.

      Meraud held her gaze. ‘Probably not. And personally I’m not sorry for that. But I am sorry that he died. For his wife and daughter. Leah’s a sweet girl. She can’t help it that her father is … was so overbearing.’

      Behind the counter was a whining sound and something falling over. Meraud looked down quickly. ‘Vivaldi! You naughty boy.’ She sighed and looked at Guinevere. ‘Jago forgot that my dog was old and obedient, snoozing in his basket during opening hours. This little fellow wants to play all of the time, and I can’t just lock up and leave for a beach walk in the middle of the day.’

      ‘I can take him along for a while. You’ve got a leash?’

      ‘Of course. Are you sure though? He’s a handful.’

      ‘Dolly will teach him to behave.’ Guinevere smiled. ‘Dogs learn behaviour from each other. Vivaldi will look to her and see how things are done.’

      ‘I hope so.’ Meraud went to a corner and picked the leash off a hook on the wall.

      Vivaldi shot after her like a ball of fluff at high speed. He bounced into her and yapped.

      Meraud leaned down to clip the leash onto his collar. She held it out to Guinevere. ‘There you go. Keep an eye on him because he’s smart. He senses when you’re not paying attention and he’s off like an arrow. Last week he even managed to use his front paws to slip the collar over his head.’

      ‘I’ll be careful. Hey, boy. Let’s go for a walk.’

      Guinevere led both dogs out of the shop. Dolly was curious about her new friend, sniffing him and licking him. Vivaldi wasn’t interested in anything but the freedom beckoning outside the shop door. He pulled on the leash, wanting to go to the pier. Maybe he remembered Jago and wanted to look for him?

      Guinevere walked fast enough to stay beside the dogs, not letting Vivaldi get the idea he was leading her. Dolly did her best to stay in front of him as well, consciously coming into his path so the puppy collided with her and was pushed back. He whined in indignation.

      Guinevere spied a familiar tall figure on the pier. Oliver shaking hands with a man in his fifties, who had a shock of white hair and a briefcase in his free hand. That had to be the lawyer he had wanted to meet to discuss his father’s case.

      After the handshake Oliver turned away and came walking towards them. Dolly spotted him and tried to race ahead, Vivaldi following her. Guinevere had to hold on tightly to the leashes to prevent them from being torn from СКАЧАТЬ