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

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      Oliver sat on his haunches and let Vivaldi try to climb up his legs.

      ‘Vivaldi, Meraud’s new dog,’ Guinevere explained. ‘Jago got him for her. She’s not sure yet she wants to keep him, but I think she’ll come round.’

      ‘He’s a lot to handle for someone who has a shop to look after.’

      ‘He’ll calm down as he gets older. We can lend her a hand now.’

      ‘We?’ Oliver asked with a hitched brow.

      ‘Don’t you like him?’

      Vivaldi had turned away from Oliver and wanted to walk onto the pier, but Dolly got in his way and stopped him. The puppy looked at her and then sat down on his rear.

      ‘See?’ Guinevere winked. ‘He already understands who’s the boss.’

      Oliver shook his head as he rose to his feet again. There were tight lines around his mouth. Guinevere asked softly, ‘What did the lawyer think of your father’s case?’

      ‘Not looking good. He knows LeFevre. The ambitious type. He thinks he’ll want to make a big arrest, and quickly, to set an example. Show off that he doesn’t care for names and titles.’

      ‘He won’t arrest your father just to make a point.’

      ‘He did say he doesn’t have a lot of time for this particular case. What better way to wrap it up quickly than by arresting my father? I bet you his fingerprints are on the knife. That will seal the deal.’ Oliver clearly wanted to continue, but his phone began to ring. He pulled it out – one of the newer models, sleek and black – and answered. He looked at Guinevere with a surprised expression as he said, ‘Yes, Leah.’

      So Haydock’s daughter was calling him.

      ‘Of course that’s fine, but … Where? What time?’ He checked his watch. ‘Yes, I can make that. All right.’

      He looked stunned as he lowered the phone. ‘She just hung up on me without even saying goodbye. She wants to meet me to have a bite for lunch and discuss something important with me. She sounded rather mysterious. Maybe even … anxious?’

      Guinevere pursed her lips. ‘Maybe Leah has an idea who killed her father, but she’s afraid to tell the police in case she can’t back it up?’

      Oliver put the phone away. ‘I guess I’ll hear more when we meet. Are you coming along?’

      Guinevere hesitated. ‘Didn’t she just ask for you?’

      ‘Well, the call ended abruptly. I’d rather you came along. Should we be seen together, I don’t want people to think I’m influencing Leah or anything. She is the victim’s daughter, you know. And I’m the son of the suspected killer.’

      That was a real risk. ‘All right. I’ll come along. If you don’t mind the dogs. I just promised Meraud I’d take care of Vivaldi for a while. Where’s this meeting anyway?’

      ‘At The Bull and Crow, an inn in the countryside. We’ll need to drive out there. I’ll take my father’s’s car. It’s parked on the mainland because the island is kept as automobile-free as possible. The inn has dogs of its own so taking Dolly and Vivaldi there isn’t a problem. We’d better go back up to the castle to get the car keys.’

      Oliver glanced down at his clothes. ‘And maybe I’ll grab a jacket or something. Leah likes it formal.’

      Guinevere wondered why Oliver even cared what Leah would think of his outfit. He seemed a free spirit who followed his own path in life.

Chapter Eight

      On their way to The Bull and Crow Guinevere had time to study Oliver. He had changed into a fresh shirt and jacket, still with jeans, but it made him look a lot more serious.

      ‘What had your father wanted you to do?’ she asked. ‘For a career I mean.’

      Oliver glanced at her. ‘I have no idea. He never told me.’

      ‘Not even when you left to travel? Didn’t he say: “I had wanted you to do so and so and now it turns out you’re doing this and this”?’

      ‘No, that’s not like him. He just eats his heart out in silence. I disappointed him by leaving Cornisea, and he’ll never forgive me for that.’ It sounded bitter and at the same time resigned. ‘Islanders are supposed to stay around here. You’re born here, you live here, and you die here. There is this unique sacred bond with the place that you’re not supposed to violate.’

      Guinevere thought of Cador’s emphatic statements that this was his place. How far had he been willing to go to protect his place?

      She said to Oliver, ‘You grew up here. Didn’t you feel that bond?’

      Oliver shrugged. ‘What about you? You grew up in Devon and now you’re in London.’

      ‘Yes, but there was nothing to keep me in Devon. My grandmother died, her cottage had never been hers, just rented.’ Guinevere bit her lip as she recalled the last time she had walked around it and said goodbye to it all. ‘I took along the furniture for my place in London, even some of the seeds from the garden to grow on my balcony.’ She had to smile thinking of her hollyhocks. Her landlady was taking care of those for the time being. ‘I don’t have anything left in Devon to go back to.’

      Oliver glanced at her. ‘What about your parents?’

      ‘They died when I was just a baby.’ Or so she had been told. Over the years there had been a wriggle of doubt in her mind about whether it was true. In her personal records only a mother was registered, no father. Had they not been married?

      She had wanted to discuss it with Gran, but she never had. Afraid to learn some painful truth that would spoil her thoughts of her parents. Her dreams of the happy family they would have been if only they had lived.

      She asked Oliver, ‘Don’t you care for your father’s opinion?’

      ‘Of course I do, but I can’t live my life the way he wants it. I’m just not your typical lord of the manor. I don’t want to sit in a stuffy room cataloguing books.’ Oliver clenched the wheel, then said to her, ‘No offence meant.’

      ‘And none taken. I don’t want to bury myself in books either, not for ever at least. I want to make plays and costumes and see performances all over the world.’ Just voicing her dream made her heart skip a beat or two. ‘Imagine being able to work in Paris or in Venice. I’d love to do a performance on the water some time, in a floating theatre.’

      Oliver smiled. ‘So you want to travel?’

      ‘Of course. All over Europe and then on to Broadway maybe.’

      Oliver grimaced. ‘I hate cities. The noise, the traffic, the people. Give me a tent and a camera in a remote spot by the river where I have to wait three weeks to catch a glimpse of elephants and I’m happy. My team sent me footage this morning …’ he let go of the wheel and patted the pocket where his phone was ‘… of the project they’re working СКАЧАТЬ