Aunt Bessie's Holiday (14 page)

“I’ll just lock up after everyone’s out,” he
said.
 

Bessie and Doona followed the others, with
Joe and Margaret at the rear.
 
Nathan was last out and once he’d locked the door, he was quick to
follow Joe and his wife.
 
Bessie and
Doona started to walk away, but didn’t get far.

“Mrs. Moore, Miss Cubbon?
 
Can I have a quick word with you,
please?” Margaret Hopkins called.
 

Bessie and Doona stopped and turned back
towards her.
 
The policewoman waited
until Joe had escorted the other three into the large building before she
spoke.

“Thank you for not talking about what
happened this morning,” she said quietly.
 
“I want to be able to question people about their interactions with
Charles before they know he’s dead, but it’s very hard work keeping something
like that quiet at a place like this.”

“I’m amazed you’ve managed it so far,” Doona
said bluntly.

“Quite frankly, I am as well,” the woman
replied.
 
“I’m glad Lawrence is
tucked away in my office.
 
I’m sure
he wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut.
 
Harold seems to be doing a good job dealing with things and so far as I
can tell, he hasn’t said anything.
 
My
staff knows better than to talk, of course.
 
In a little while we’ll have to bring
out the body, though, at which point we won’t be able to pretend to be
investigating a robbery any longer.
 
I’d appreciate your cooperation until that time, though.”

“Not a problem,” Doona assured her.

Margaret nodded and then turned and strode
quickly back to the main building.
 
Bessie and Doona watched until she was out of sight.

“A stroll around the park, then?” Doona
asked.

“Why not?”

The weather was just about perfect for
October and the two women walked in silence for some time, following trails
through the woods and around the various cabins and lodges.
 

“Wow, these look fancy,”
Bessie
said as they rounded a corner and spotted a handful of very large, two-storey buildings.

“I saw them in the brochure,” Doona told
her.
 
“They have their own saunas
and four bedrooms, each with its own en-suite.
 
I’m sure they’re designed for multiple
families to book together, because they’re very, very expensive.”

A man walked out of one of the large lodges
now, talking on his mobile phone.
 
His
face was red and he was clearly upset.
 
“I said I want to have a meeting on Monday about this,” he was
shouting.
 
“Can you hear me
now?
 
I’m breaking up?
 
Reception is terrible out here.
 
Why I ever let Janet talk me into this
holiday is beyond me.
 
I’ll ring you
back from a proper phone.”
 
He
stomped back into the cabin, slamming the front door as he went.

“Someone needs a holiday,” Bessie whispered.

“I feel sorry for Janet, whoever she is,” Doona
replied.
 

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful,
aside from a few near misses with small children on bicycles and one close
encounter with a squirrel
who
seemed to think they
wanted to play with him.
 
An hour
later they were back at the centre of the village.

“So, shall we get some groceries in for our
evening meal and then go back to our cottage and relax?” Doona asked.

“That sounds perfect,” Bessie agreed.

Inside the Squirrel’s Drey they found the small
grocery store.
 
It was well stocked
with more than enough options for their evening meal.
 
Bessie found herself selecting biscuits
and fairy cakes from the bakery, along with a loaf of fresh bread to go with
the cheeses and meats she’d already selected.

“Those look amazing,” Doona said as she pointed
out the selection of French-style pastries.
 
“Maybe I’ll just try a few profiteroles
and that little apple tart, oh, and….”

Bessie laughed as her friend trailed
off.
 
The selection was large and
everything looked good after their disappointing lunch.
 
“We are here for the rest of the week,”
she pointed out as Doona was having the shop assistant box up her
selections.
 
“You can always try
some of the others tomorrow.”

“I’m sure I’ll leave some for tomorrow,”
Doona said.
 
“But right now I’m
starving.
 
I didn’t get enough
lunch.”

“No, me either,” Bessie agreed, adding one
of the apple tarts to her selections as well.

At the checkout, they billed everything to
their cabin, as they’d been told they could do.

“It’s going to be a huge shock if we get the
bill for all of this at the end of the week,” Doona whispered as they headed
out of the store.

“We’ll sort it out if it happens,” Bessie
said.
 
She wasn’t going to let the
uncertainty spoil her holiday.
 
If
they had to pay for everything themselves, well, she could afford it, and she
would pay for Doona’s share as well if Doona needed her to.
 
Bessie had always been very careful with
money, and the clever investments that her advocate had made on her behalf over
the years meant that she had more than enough to meet her modest needs.
 
Paying for the holiday wouldn’t make
more than a tiny dent in her bank account.

They made their way through the building
towards the exit doors.
 
Bessie felt
her eyes being drawn towards the door to the staff offices, even as she tried
not to look.
 

“Everyone is focussed on those doors,” Doona
hissed.
 
“I wonder why?”

Bessie glanced around and saw that Doona was
right.
 
The usually bustling food
court area was strangely quiet and all eyes seemed to be fixed on the door
marked “staff.”
 
A moment later, the
door swung open and Bessie understood why.

A man walked out backwards, followed by the
sort of wheeled stretcher that is found in ambulances.
 
A second man was pushing the
stretcher.
 
They both kept their
heads down and headed straight out of the building where Bessie could now see
an ambulance was parked near the doors.
 
The body on the stretcher was covered with a sheet from head to toe, and
the two men loaded it into the back of the vehicle.
 
No one in the food court moved as the ambulance
drove slowly away.

Bessie and Doona followed the men to the
doors as the room began to return
to
normal.
 
Outside, Bessie took a deep breath,
feeling sadder than she thought she should.
 
She was surprised to see Mai, Monique
and Nathan all standing in front of the French restaurant.

“Who did they put in the ambulance?” Mai
demanded, her face pale.
 

“And why did they drive away so slowly?
 
Why no flashing lights?
 
Is someone dead?”
 
Monique threw out the questions so
quickly that Bessie didn’t know where to start with answering them.

“I’m sorry to inform you that Charles Adams
is dead,” Margaret said in a cool voice from behind Bessie.
 
“I’m sure you understand that I have a
few more questions for each of you now.”

Monique gasped and then swooned.
 
Nathan caught her just before she
crashed to the ground. While he looked around helplessly, Mai began to scream.

Chapter Seven

Joe Klein was quick to deal with the
screaming Mai.
 
Nathan managed to
get Monique into a sitting position on the ground, and the colour slowly began
to return to her face.
 
Before
anyone could speak, someone behind Bessie began to laugh.
 
She spun around and was surprised to
find Herbert Howe standing to one side, watching the scene as it unfolded.

“Best news I’ve heard in a long time,” he
said loudly when he realised everyone was looking at him.
 
“I can’t wait to tell Jessica.”

“Tell me what?”
 
Jessica walked into the middle of the
space.
  
She looked from her
husband to Monique, who was still sitting on the ground, and then
back
around again.
 
Her eyes narrowed as she spotted Doona, but she didn’t speak.

“He got what was coming to him,” Herbert
said in a gleeful voice.
 
“I hope it
was a very painful heart attack or maybe he choked to death on his own
arrogance?
 
Come on, what happened
to him?”

Margaret looked steadily at the man for a
moment before she spoke.
 
“You must
be Herbert Howe.
 
We’ve been looking
for you.
 
I have some questions I’d
like to ask you about last night.”

“What’s going on?” Jessica demanded.
 
“Herbert, what have you done?”

“And you’re Jessica Howe,” Margaret
continued.
 
“You’re on my list as
well.
 
We wanted to find you before
the body was removed, but no one seemed to know exactly where you were.”

“What body?” Jessica snapped.
 
“What is everyone talking about?”

“Charles!” Mai shouted, tears streaming down
her face.
  
“Charles is dead.”

Jessica turned pale and one hand clutched
her throat.
 
Bessie watched as she
swallowed hard and then turned towards her husband.
 
“You killed him,” she said in a shocked
voice.
 
“After all this time and all
the threats, you actually killed him.”

Herbert laughed harshly.
 
“If I had, I’d have made sure no one
ever found the body,” he said.
 

“I think that’s enough discussion out here,”
Margaret spoke loudly.
 
“Joe, can
you please bring everyone inside?
 
They can all wait in the conference room while I speak to each person on
his or her own.”

“Dinner service starts in less than an
hour,” Nathan objected.

“I think you’re going to have to cancel
dinner for tonight,” Margaret told him.

“But we can’t,” Monique said as she
struggled to get up.
 
“People have
bookings.
 
We can’t disappoint
them.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something
out,” Harold said smoothly from the edge of the crowd.
 
“I’ll take charge of rebooking everyone
into other restaurants.
 
You need to
do whatever Inspector Hopkins asks.”

“Thank you, Mr. Butler,” Margaret said.
 
She spun on her heel and moved back into
the main building.
 
A pair of
uniformed officers helped Joe Klein round up the five people the inspector
wanted to interview and then escorted them into the building as well.
 
Bessie and Doona exchanged glances.

“Let’s get back to our cabin,” Doona
whispered.
 
“I’ve had quite enough
excitement for one day.”

They were only a few steps away from the
building when Andrew Cheatham fell into step beside Bessie.

“So, Charles Adams was murdered,” he said in
a conversational tone.
 
“I don’t
know who any of the people back there were, but I sure am curious.”

Bessie grinned.
 
No doubt the former policeman was
feeling left out on the sidelines.
 
“Doona, did I mention that our new neighbour used to be a policeman?”
she asked her friend.

“Did he now?
 
Would you like to join us for an evening
meal?” Doona asked the man.

“I’d be delighted,” the man said, smiling
brightly.

In number eight, the two women did a quick
tidy up for their guest.
 

“He seems quite nice,” Bessie remarked.
 
“I hope we can talk to him about the
case like we do with John.”

“Except we aren’t getting involved in this
case,” Doona said sharply.
 
“I
invited him so that we can get a different perspective on everything, but we
are not getting involved in any investigation.”

“Of course not,” Bessie agreed.
 
Unless Margaret Hopkins starts looking
at you as a suspect, she added to herself.

When Andrew knocked on their door a short
time later, the friends were relaxing with glasses of wine on their patio.

“Come and join us,” Bessie invited him
in.
 
“Would you like a glass of
wine?”

“I’m not much of a drinker,” he said in an
apologetic tone.
 
“I’ll have a fizzy
drink if you have one.
 
Otherwise,
water is fine.”

Bessie showed him out to the patio and then
went back inside and got his drink.
 
When she went back outside, he and Doona were silently watching the
families on their bikes going past.

“Why aren’t you out with your family?”
Bessie asked the man.
 
She flushed
as she realised that the question sounded somewhat rude.
 
“I mean, we’re happy to have you here,
but I would have thought you’d be having dinner with them.”

“The children and their spouses are going
out for a fancy meal tonight.
 
They’ve left all of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren together
in one of the cabins with a dozen pizzas and half the merchandise from the
candy store.
 
I didn’t really fancy
joining either group,” he replied.

Bessie laughed.
 
“I’d take the fancy dinner over the
pizza party any day.”

“But if I’m there, they can’t talk about
me,” Andrew retorted.
 
“This way
they can have a serious discussion about my physical and mental health.
 
Someone, and I know exactly who, will
suggest that it’s time for me to move into a home and then they can all argue
through five courses about what’s best for me.”
 
He shook his head.
 
“If I’m there, it spoils all their fun.”

“And people wonder why I don’t regret never
having children,” Bessie commented.

Andrew laughed.
 
“Oh, I love my children and their
respective spouses.
 
And I know they
do everything out of love and concern.
 
I just don’t enjoy being discussed as if I’m a small child.
 
Anyway, I’d much rather talk about
murder.”

“But what makes you think we’ll want to talk
about it?” Bessie had to ask.

“I rang a few people this afternoon,” Andrew
told her.
 
“Once I realised that the
police were working a murder case and my lovely next-door neighbours were
involved in some way, I rang a few connections to find out what was going on.”

“You checked up on us?” Bessie asked.

“I’m a cop,” he said flatly.
 
“That doesn’t change when you retire.”

“What did you find out?” Doona demanded.

“I found out that you were from the Isle of
Man,” he replied.
 
“As it happens,
I’m passingly acquainted with your Lieutenant Governor.
 
I rang him and he put me in touch with
John Rockwell at the Laxey CID.”

“How is John?” Bessie asked.

“He’s doing well, although he admitted to
missing you both.
 
Anyway, he’d just
hung up from talking with Margaret Hopkins about you two and he was happy to
answer a few questions from me as well.
 
I’m sure he didn’t tell me nearly as much as he told Inspector Hopkins,
but he did fill me in on some of the recent events in your lives and that made
me suspect that you’d be happy to talk about the murder here with me.
 
If I’m wrong, I’ll finish my drink and
go quietly, of course.”

“You’re not wrong,” Doona said.
 
“I’m hoping you can help us work out
what’s going on here.
 
We can’t very
well invite Inspector Hopkins to dinner.”

“I don’t think she’d come,” he replied.
 
“I’m sure she doesn’t socialise with
suspects.”

Doona looked surprised for a moment and then
sighed.
 
“I know I’m a suspect,” she
said sadly, “but I’d rather not think about it.”

Andrew nodded.
 
“I know what you mean, and I’ll try not
to mention it again.
 
I’d rather
hear about the other suspects.
 
All those
people shouting and carrying on in the village interest me.
 
What can you tell me about them?”

“Let’s get something to eat before we
start,” Bessie suggested.
 
She could
feel the wine going straight to her head, thanks to her empty stomach.
  

The trio quickly fixed themselves plates of
meat, cheese and bread.
 
Doona put
all of the delicious pastries, fairy cakes and biscuits onto a plate and then
put the plate in the centre of the table on the patio so that everyone could
help
themselves
.
 

After a few bites, Bessie sighed.
 
“I’ll tell you what I can, but Doona
probably knows more than I do,” she said.

“I’m eating,” Doona said, refusing to look
up from her plate.

Bessie looked at Andrew and shrugged.
 
He reached over and patted her
hand.
 
“Just tell me what you know
and we’ll go from there,” he suggested.
 
“This isn’t a formal interrogation or anything.
 
We’re just friends having a chat.”

About a rather strange subject, Bessie
thought to herself.
 
She took a sip
of wine and then looked out at the lake.

“The pretty blonde who started screaming
when the inspector told everyone that Charles was dead is called Mai Stratton,”
Bessie said.
 
“She’s the manager of
guest services or something like that.”

“She very young for such an important
position,” Andrew remarked.
 
“Any
idea if she’s good at her job or not?”

Bessie shrugged.
 
“She tried hard to make sure we were
happy, but beyond that I’ve no idea.”

Andrew nodded.
 
“What about the young lady who swooned
and the man who caught her?”

“Nathan and Monique Beck,” Bessie said.
 
“He’s the chef at the French restaurant
and she’s a waitress there.”

“She seemed very upset to hear that Charles
had died,” Andrew said.

“When we talked to them earlier, she seemed
to really like Charles,” Bessie said thoughtfully.
 
“Nathan was less fond of the man.”

“And the older gentleman who found it all
funny?” he asked.

“Herbert Howe,” Bessie replied.
 
“I don’t really know anything about him,
except that the thirty-something blonde woman is his wife, Jessica.
 
Herbert said, several times, that she was
having an affair with Charles.”

“She was,” Doona said flatly.

Andrew raised an eyebrow.
 
“So a motive appears for one suspect, at
least.
 
Or maybe
even for both of them.
 
Do we
know if Charles was getting tired of the lady?”

Bessie shrugged.
 
“Anything’s possible,” she said.

“And the man who swept in and started giving
orders at the end?” Andrew asked.

“Harold Butler.
 
He’s the assistant general manager,
although I understand he was the general manager before Charles arrived,”
Bessie said.

“Another possible motive, interesting,”
Andrew murmured.

“Don’t forget about Lawrence,” Doona
interjected.
 

Andrew looked questioningly at Bessie, who
replied.

“Lawrence Jenkins was Charles’s business
partner,” Bessie explained.
 
“I’m
not quite sure what that means in this context, but he was there this morning
when Doona found the body.”

“But he wasn’t around after that?” Andrew
asked.

“Inspector Hopkins had him taken to her
office in town,” Bessie said.
 
“She
said she’d question him there when she had a chance.”