1 Aunt Bessie Assumes (10 page)

“One o’clock,” Bessie
answered.
 
“I’m not sure why she
picked there, but I guess there are worst places to meet.”

“All those stairs,” Doona
said with a frown.
 
“I’m not sure I
like the idea of you climbing all those stairs and being so far off the ground
with a murder suspect.”

Bessie laughed.
 
“I’ll be perfectly fine.
 
After all my years on this earth, I
think I’m a pretty good judge of character.
 
If that girl was going to kill anyone,
it would be Vikky, not her boyfriend’s brother, and certainly not me.”

“I have to say I have some
sympathy for her there,” Doona answered.
 
“Vikky was already at the station when the rest of the family showed up
and she literally fell into Donny’s arms.
 
I’ll bet Miss Samantha’s nose has been out of joint ever since.”

A knock on the door surprised
them all.
 
Bessie
got up to answer it, followed closely by Hugh
.
 
When she reached the door, she turned to
look at him, hovering only inches behind her.

“For goodness’ sake,” she
whispered, “go and sit down.
 
I
don’t want you scaring some poor ten-year-old who just got told off for not
doing his homework.”

“If I were sure it was a
ten-year-old, I would be happy to sit down,” Hugh hissed back as the person on
the other side of the door tapped again.

Bessie glared at Hugh, and he
took half a step backwards.
 
She
shook her head and sighed deeply, but he refused to retreat further.
 
Neither of them was expecting Inspector
Rockwell on the other side of the door.

“Inspector?” Bessie knew the
greeting sounded more like a question that a welcome and quickly corrected
herself.
 
“This is a surprise, but
please, do come in,” she offered.

The Inspector stepped into
the cottage and looked around the kitchen.
 
If he was surprised to see Doona and Hugh there, it didn’t show on his
face.

“We were just going to have
some tea and fortune cookies,” Bessie told him as she pushed the cottage door
shut.
 
“Please join us.”

“That’s very kind of you,”
the man replied, taking the few steps to the table and sitting at an empty place.
 

Hugh had returned to the
table while Bessie and his boss were talking; now he settled back into the seat
he had left earlier.
 
Doona quickly
cleared away the rest of the debris from their meal, passing Bessie the
unopened box full of fortune cookies.

Bessie started the kettle and
then put the cookies onto a plate.
 
She added a few different varieties from her own stocks and then put the
plate in the middle of the table.
 
Everyone sat silently as they waited for the kettle to boil and for
Bessie to make the tea.

Once everyone had their drink
and their choice of treat, Bessie sank down into her chair and smiled
tentatively at her new arrival.

“So what brings you here
tonight, Inspector?” she asked, trying to make the request sound conversational
rather than nervous.

Inspector Rockwell smiled at
her.
 
“Everywhere I go in Laxey,
everyone tells me the same thing.
 
If you want to know the skeet up here, talk to Aunt Bessie.”

Bessie nodded; she couldn’t
possibly argue with that.

“So I want the skeet,” the man
continued.
 
“Who’s the most likely
suspect in Daniel Pierce’s murder?
 
Who do most people think did it?”

Bessie took a long sip of her
tea as she gathered her thoughts.
 
She was probably foolish to feel flattered that he was asking, but the
feeling was still there.
 
She
exchanged looks with Doona and Hugh, both of whom looked uneasy.

“I haven’t had much chance to
talk to people since I found the body,” Bessie prevaricated.
 
“And the ones I have talked to have been
more interested in hearing about my experience than in speculating who might
have killed the poor man.”

“But you must have heard some
conjecture,” Inspector Rockwell pressed her gently.
 
“This is all off the record, by the
way,” he added.
 
“I’m not looking
for an official statement, just your thoughts and ideas.”

Bessie shrugged.
 
“Don’t they always say that it’s the
person closest to us whom we have to fear most?
 
Most of the people I’ve talked to think
the widow had the best motive.”

Inspector Rockwell
nodded.
 
“But they’d only been
married a few days,” he reminded Bessie.
 
“Surely she could have put up with him for a little bit longer before
getting rid of him.”

“Maybe he had already figured
out that she was only interested in his money, so she had to act fast,” Doona
suggested.

A slightly awkward silence
greeted that idea before Inspector Rockwell changed the subject.

“What do you think of the
idea that it was drug related?” he asked Bessie.

“A few years ago I would have
said ‘no way,’” she replied.
 
“But
the world is changing and even Laxey is changing.
 
The world of drugs and dealers and that
sort of thing is something that I only know about through fiction.
 
All I can tell you is that I’ve never
seen anyone on Laxey Beach doing anything that I thought was related to illegal
drugs.”

Rockwell nodded slowly.
 
“We have a lot of avenues to explore,”
he told her and the others.
 
“Sometimes we get the most important clue through unconventional means.
 
Obviously, a murder investigation is no
place for a random civilian, but you’re something of an institution in
Laxey.
 
If anyone is going to hear
that little bit of information that we need, it’s you.
 
I would be extremely grateful if you
would pass along anything and everything that you hear to me.”

Bessie shrugged.
 
“Hugh is staying with me at the moment,”
she told the man.
 
“He seems to
think I need protecting.
 
I’m happy
to share the things I hear with him every night.”

Rockwell frowned and opened
and closed his mouth several times before finally speaking.
 
“That would be great,” he said in a
choked tone.
 

He stood up quickly, draining
the last of his tea once on his feet.
 
“Thank you kindly for the tea and biscuits,” he told Bessie with a
smile.
 
“I can see why you love your
little cottage.
 
It really is
something special.”

Bessie rose to see him out,
but Rockwell waved her back into her chair.
 
“Hugh can see me out,” he told them
all.
 
“Thank you again.”

Hugh jumped up and quickly
walked to the door behind his boss.
 
The two disappeared outside.
 
It was several minutes later when Hugh returned, just as Bessie was
trying to figure out how she might eavesdrop on the
conversation
taking
place on her doorstep.

“Oh, I do hope you aren’t in
any trouble,” Doona told the man once he had sunk back into his seat, a
slightly dazed look on his face.

“I don’t reckon I am,” Hugh
said after a moment.

“So what happened?” Bessie
demanded impatiently.

Hugh ran a hand over his face
and then shook his head.
 
“He
actually congratulated me on being here.
 
Said it was a smart move.
 
Said that protecting you was probably a good idea and that you were the
perfect person to hear anything if people started talking.
 
Oh, he wasn’t really happy that you said
you’d tell me what you heard rather than him, but he got me to promise that I’d
pass everything along as soon as I got it, which I would have done anyway.”

“So he wasn’t upset to find
us here?” Doona checked.

“He did remind me that I’m
supposed to be getting information from Bessie, not giving information to her,”
Hugh grinned.
 
“But he didn’t seem
too worried.”

“Did he say anything about
not talking to Inspector Kelly about all of this?” Bessie asked, suddenly
suspicious.

“Not exactly,” Hugh
answered.
 
“He said something about
not bothering Inspector Kelly with the bits of gossip and innuendo that I might
pick up from Bessie,” Hugh told her.
 
“I guess he’s hoping that Bessie’s contacts will help him solve the
murder before Inspector Kelly does.”

Bessie frowned.
 
“I don’t want to get between those two,”
she complained.
 
“Anyway, I think my
loyalties should be to Patrick Kelly.
 
He’s a native, after all.”

“Just focus your loyalties on
Hugh here, and don’t you worry about the dueling inspectors,” Doona
suggested.
 
“If you ask me,
Inspector Rockwell is more likely to share the credit if he solves the case
than Inspector Kelly, but that’s just my opinion.”

“Hurmph,” Bessie sighed.
 
“I don’t expect I’ll have anything to
contribute anyway,” she told the others.
 
“Whatever happened out on the beach, I’m pretty sure it didn’t involve
anyone local, so it’s highly unlikely that any gossip I hear will matter.”

“Of course, you are meeting
with one of the suspects tomorrow,” Hugh reminded her.
 
“She might have something interesting to
say.”

Bessie only nodded.
 
The whole topic was beginning to upset
her.
 
It was one thing reading about
murder and mayhem in her favourite books, but in real life such things were
physically and emotionally exhausting.

“I need to get out of your
hair and let you get some sleep,” Doona announced.
 
“Tomorrow is going to be another busy
day for all of us.”

Hugh was smart enough to
start washing up the dishes while Bessie saw her friend to the door.
 

“Call me the minute you get
done with that woman,” Doona instructed her friend.
 
“I want to know what she said and I want
to know that you’re safe.”

“She’ll be plenty safe
enough,” Hugh answered from the sink.
 
“I’ll be having my lunch right around one o’clock tomorrow and I figure
the picnic tables at the Laxey Wheel are the perfect spot to sit and eat.”

“That’s a great idea,” Doona
enthused.
 
“Maybe I’ll join you.”

Bessie sighed.
 
“For goodness’ sake,” she
exclaimed.
 
“I’m meeting a young
woman who needs someone to talk to.
 
Just because she is very tangentially attached to a murder doesn’t mean
I need a full complement of body guards.”

“I guess I can eat lunch wherever
I want,” Hugh said, giving Bessie a stubborn grin.

“I’ll stay at the station,
then,” Doona told her friend.
 
“But
you still have to call me the second you finish with her.”

Bessie assured her friend
that she would do so and then locked up the cottage’s front door for the
night.
 
While Hugh finished washing,
she grabbed a towel and dried the dishes.
 
When they were all tucked back up in their proper places, Bessie headed
upstairs to bed.

With her face washed and her
teeth brushed, she climbed into her most comfortable nightgown and crawled into
bed.
 
For several minutes she lay snuggled
under the covers, wondering how one man could make so much noise trying to be
quiet.
 
When the banging and
crashing from the lower level finally stopped, she fell into her normal sound
sleep.

Chapter Six

Bessie didn’t bother trying to wake the
loudly snoring constable the next morning.
 
She made herself tea and toast and then waited for his alarm at seven to
do the job for her.
 
Once Hugh was
moving around, albeit slowly, Bessie headed out for a walk on the cool but
mercifully dry day.
 
She didn’t go
far, but she felt like she needed to stretch her legs and get away from
everyone for a short time.
 
She had
lived on her own her entire adult life and having Hugh in residence, even after
just two nights, was already starting to wear on her.

She was slightly disappointed to see that
Hugh was still at the cottage when she returned.

“Not gone to work yet, then,” she said as
soon as she was in the door.

“Ah, I was just going to head out now,”
Hugh
stammered.
 
“I grabbed a shower here this morning so that I didn’t have to stop at
home.”

“You know you are more than welcome to do
that,” Bessie lied easily, wondering if he hadn’t bothered to stop home because
he knew the message he wanted wouldn’t be there, or if she was reading too much
into his changed behaviour.

“I just wanted a quick word with you
before I went,” Hugh added.
 
“I’m
sort of worried about you and the Laxey Wheel thing.”

Bessie frowned at her young guest.
 
“Don’t be silly,” she nearly snapped.
 
“I’m meeting an unhappy young woman for
a short chat.
 
Everything will be
fine.”

“Nevertheless, I’ll be having lunch at the
wheel,” Hugh reminded her.
 
“And I
want you to program my mobile number into your mobile phone in case you need me
in a hurry.”

Bessie considered arguing with him, but
she couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm.
 
Besides, it did no harm having his number in her phone.
 

Once Hugh was satisfied with the
arrangements for later in the day, he headed out to work and Bessie breathed a
sigh of relief.
 
She spent several
minutes tidying up around the house.
 
Hugh had been very careful to keep his things in a very neat pile in one
corner of Bessie’s sitting room and she worked around that pile, dusting and
vacuuming.
 
When she found herself
frowning at the pile for the third time, she decided that she needed to get out
of the cottage.

She had used the same taxi service for more
years than she chose to remember.  A few years ago they had relocated
their dispatch centre to Ramsey, which often meant longer wait times for Bessie
if she didn't pre-book.  That usually wasn't an issue; Bessie rarely did
things on impulse.  Today was an exception.

She was lucky, therefore, that the company had a
driver in the Laxey area when she called.  The man who pulled up in front
of Bessie's cottage just minutes later was one of her favourites.

“Dave, I'm glad to see you,” she greeted him.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Aunt Bessie,” he
answered with a wide smile.
 
“And I
know you’ve had more than your share of excitement lately, so I won’t be
bothering you with questions.”

Instead, the pair chatted about Dave’s family as
he drove Bessie along the coast into Ramsey.

“It isn't like you to go into Ramsey on a
Wednesday,” he remarked as he pulled into a small parking lot to let Bessie
out.

“No, I just needed a change of scenery,” Bessie
answered.  “After everything that's been going on, I thought a spot of
retail therapy might help.”

Dave laughed.  “The wife claims that's the
only sort of therapy that actually does anyone any good,” he told Bessie.

“I reckon it's at least as useful as any other
sort,” Bessie grinned.

“I'll see you back here at eleven, then,” Dave
confirmed their arrangement.

“Perfect.”

Bessie started her visit to the shops at her
favourite bookstore.  She settled her account and then spent several
minutes browsing.

“Oh, Aunt Bessie, we just got a great-looking
new cookbook in stock,” one of the sales clerks told her when she spotted
her.
 
“It's got tons of pictures.”

Bessie grinned.  She loved cookbooks,
especially ones with pages of glossy photos of gorgeous looking food that she
knew she could never recreate.  At her age, she no longer harboured any
illusions that she might one day become a better cook.  She prepared what she
liked, which meant simple food that was quick to fix and required few
ingredients.  However, that didn't dull the pleasure she received from
drooling over recipes for dishes she would never dream of attempting.

Half an hour later, the cookbook and a new
mystery novel by an author she’d never heard of before tucked into her shopping
bag, Bessie headed out of the store.  She had an hour left before Dave
would return, so she wandered slowly up and down the street of shops.  She
spent a few minutes in each of the charity shops digging through their piles of
second-hand books and was rewarded with an only slightly dog-eared copy of an
Agatha Christie mystery that was missing from her collection.

She was annoyed to find that she was starting to
get tired as she headed back to meet Dave.  I must do more walking for
longer stretches, she told herself sternly.  A few days off and I'm
already out of shape.  

Dave ferried her back to Laxey, dropping her off
on “Ham and Egg Terrace,” where she had a quick lunch.
 
Originally built as terraced cottages
for the
mine workers
, the row of homes got their
nickname from the meals that were once served to island visitors in the
cottage’s front rooms.
 
Now a single
pub stood at one end of the terrace.
 
It served fresh food incorporating as many Manx ingredients as they
could source.

After lunch, Bessie briefly considered calling Dave
and asking him for a ride over to the Lady Isabella, as Laxey Wheel was named, and
then scolded herself.  The wheel was only a short walk from the terrace of
cottages.  She shouldn't have even considered it, even if she was carrying
a shopping bag full of books.

While she kept a steady pace, she walked
somewhat more slowly than she wanted to and she ended up arriving at her
destination about ten minutes after one.

The wheel was practically deserted on this
overcast and slightly chilly March day and, as Bessie watched it turning lazily
as she approached, she felt a shiver run down her spine.
 
A few benches and picnic tables were
scattered around the base of the wheel and Bessie had to resist the urge to
wave to Hugh when she spotted him sitting all alone at one of them.
 
He looked miserable, nibbling on a limp-looking
sandwich.
 
If they ever did this
again, she would have to pack him something more appealing for his lunch.
 

She paused at the large sign that gave a brief
history of the wheel.
 
Although she
must have been there hundreds of times before, she still stopped to reread the
key facts.
 

“The ‘Lady Isabella,’ was named after the wife
of Charles Hope.
 
He was the serving
Lieutenant Governor of the island in 1854, when the wheel was built.
 
It is the largest working waterwheel in
the world, once essential for pumping water out of the mines in Laxey.”

Bessie loved her history, but the technical
details of the wheel held less interest for her.
 
The only one that always caught her eye
was the diameter.
 
The Lady Isabella
was seventy-two feet and six inches in diameter.
 
She always wondered if the extra six
inches were part of the design or a small miscalculation by the builders.

A single Manx National Heritage worker was standing
at the bottom of the steps that led to the wheel’s viewing platform.
 
He knew Bessie on sight and waved her on
as she fumbled in her purse for her membership card.

“I guess I know a member when I see one,” he
chuckled as Bessie headed past him and began the long climb up the winding
staircase.

“Am I going to have the view all to myself?”
Bessie asked, worried that she might have missed Samantha by being late.

“There’s one or two folks up top,” the man
grinned at her.
 
“But if you stay
for long I bet they give up and head for the pub.”

Bessie grinned back and then focussed on her
climb. Halfway up she stopped to catch her breath and look out at the already
amazing view.
 
She was reminded once
again of how much she loved her island home.
 
The views were simply spectacular.
 
Bessie wondered what the miners who had
toiled away in the mine that the wheel had once serviced would think of it now
being a tourist attraction.
 

She shut her eyes and tried to imagine how Laxey
in the second half of the nineteenth century must have looked.
 
It was impossible to think that the tiny
town had once been home to over six hundred miners and their families.
 
With a sigh, Bessie continued her
climb.
 

When she reached the top, she was disappointed
to see that only three other people were there and Samantha wasn’t one of them.
 
She nodded a quick “hello” to Mark
Blake, a young man who had recently come to work at the Manx Museum in the
“special projects” department.
 
He
was somewhere in his twenties and incredibly enthusiastic about the island and
its history.
 

“Hello, Bessie,” Mark shouted a greeting as he
and his companion made their way towards her.
 
“My brother Michael is just here visiting
for a few days.” Mark made quick introductions before the pair headed off down
the steps, their conversation drifting back towards Bessie as they went.

 
“We’ll skip the mine for now, if you
really want to.
 
We can head over to
the old cottages instead,” Mark was telling his brother.
 
“They were built for the mine workers
around 1860 and are still occupied today.”

Michael shot Bessie a slightly dazed look as he
followed Mark down the steps.
 
Bessie shook her head.
 
Mark
would never understand why everyone didn’t share his enthusiasm for the
island’s past.

With the pair gone, Bessie turned her attention
to the only other person on the viewing platform.
 
As she approached the man, she studied
him.
 

Donny Pierce looked as if he hadn’t slept since
the last time she saw him.
 
He was
staring out at the breathtaking landscape in front of him, but he didn’t seem
to be seeing it.
 
Bessie was only a
step away from him when he finally seemed to notice her.

“Oh, uhm, good afternoon,” he said
formally.
  

“Good afternoon,” Bessie replied politely.
 
“I don’t know if you remember me?” she asked
tentatively.

The man sighed and ran a hand over his
face.
 
“You came by the house
yesterday, didn’t you?” he said slowly.
  
“Betsy or something like that.
 
You know Bahey and my parents.”

Bessie nodded.
 
“It’s Bessie, actually,” she corrected
him gently.
 
“But what brings you
out here in this miserable weather?”
 
As if to prove her point, a light rain began to fall.

Donny shook his head.
 
“It seemed brighter earlier,” he
shrugged.
 
“And the girls wanted to
get out of the house.”

“The girls?” Bessie asked.

“Sam, er, Samantha and Vikky.
 
Things are pretty tense at Thie yn Traie
right now and they both wanted a break.”

Bessie nodded.
 
“Your mother must be, understandably,
very upset.”

The man nodded.
 
“Yeah, she’s taken Danny’s death really
hard.
 
He was her firstborn and,
really, if I’m honest, her favourite.”

Bessie tutted at him.
 
“Mother’s don’t have favourites,” she
said sternly.
 

The remark raised a small smile from the
man.
 
“I guess,” he shrugged.
 
“Anyway, her doctor’s given her a bunch
of tablets and she seems to be washing them down with bottles and bottles of
wine.
 
My father has chosen whisky
as his coping mechanism.
 
The
cottage isn’t really a fun place to be and the girls needed a break.”

“Nice of you to accommodate them,” Bessie
remarked.
 

Donny gave her another small smile.
 
“I suppose I needed a break, too,” he
admitted.
 
“The police won’t let any
of us leave the island at the moment, so a bit of sight-seeing sounded quite
appealing.
 
Anyway, it seemed like a
good idea an hour ago.”