Aunt Bessie Believes

by Diana Xarissa

  “Bessie Cubbon? What brings you here? I don’t think we’ve any of your historian friends tucked up in our beds today.”

  Bessie grinned. “I’m here to see Anne Caine,” she explained. “This is her son, Andy.”

  “Isn’t she popular?” Helen grinned. “She’s only been on the ward for five minutes and she’s already building up a queue of visitors.”

  “Who else is here?” Bessie asked, surprised.

  “Well, he didn’t actually give his name,” Helen told her. “But he’s a very handsome man with dark hair. He said he grew up with Ms. Caine and I didn’t see any reason to doubt him. And the police just called to say that they’re sending two men up to sit with her as well, although I guess they aren’t really visitors.”

  “The police?” Andy’s face went pale. “What do the police want?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Helen shrugged. “Why don’t you ask your mum? She’s in 1103.”

  Bessie led Andy down the hall. Anne was in a four-bed ward, but only two of the other beds were occupied. The curtain around Anne’s bed was about three-quarters drawn but Bessie could see the bottom of her bed and, above the curtain, the top of someone’s head.

  As she approached the bed, she coughed loudly to warn Anne and her visitor that they weren’t alone. The whispering voices she had heard as she approached stopped. Bessie peered cautiously around the curtain.

  “Bessie? What are you doing here?” Anne greeted her unenthusiastically.

  “I brought Andy,” Bessie answered, gesturing for the man to join her from where he stood hesitating in the doorway to the ward.

  “Andy?” Anne’s eyes filled with tears as her son came into view. She reached out towards him and pulled him into a long embrace. Bessie turned away and met Andrew Teare’s eyes across the bed.

  “Mr. Teare? I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” Bessie said.

  “You really must call me Andrew,” the man said smoothly. He glanced down at Anne and then patted her arm. “You remember everything I said,” he instructed her. “I’ll be in touch very soon.”

  Anne muttered something without releasing her son. The other man nodded and then smiled at Bessie.

  “I’ll just be off then,” he told her. “I’m meeting Doona for lunch down by the Promenade.”

  “But why were you here?” Bessie asked.

  “I was only a few cars behind Anne on the mountain,” the man explained as he circled around Anne’s bed and came up beside Bessie. “Several of us stopped to help and once I realised who it was in the car, I followed the ambulance here. We might not have been allowed to play together often as children, but Anne is just about the only link to my past that I still have on the island. I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  Bessie nodded. “Where were you going?” she asked curiously.

  “What?”

  “Where were you going this morning that you were crossing the mountain behind Anne?” Bessie explained the question.

  “Oh, into Douglas for some shopping, and, as I said, to meet Doona for lunch,” the man told her. “Obviously the shopping could wait, of course, in light of Anne’s accident. But now I really do have to dash. I don’t want to keep Doona waiting.”

  Bessie watched him leave the ward, wondering about his relationship with Doona. Doona already had two divorces to her credit, and Bessie felt protective of her friend. She shook her head and turned back to Anne and Andy. Doona wouldn’t thank her for prying into her private life.

  Bessie smiled as Andy finally managed to disentangle himself from his mother’s embrace. “Okay, mum, I’m glad to see you as well,” he told her with a shaky laugh.

  Anne’s face was wet with tears. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life,” she told her son. “I thought for sure I was going to die.”

  “What happened?” Bessie asked as she studied the other woman. Anne was pale and had a bandage on one arm and another one her forehead, but she looked reasonably well for a woman who’d just crashed her car.

  “I don’t know,” Anne answered. “I was running errands for work, into Ramsey and then into Douglas. I was just coming down the mountain and the brakes suddenly stopped working. I couldn’t slow down and the road is so twisty that I lost control.” She shuddered and Andy squeezed her hand tightly.

  “You were lucky someone called 999 right away,” Bessie told her.

  “The road was busy,” Anne told her. “I suspect whoever called did so out of guilt, though.”

  “Guilt? Bessie asked.

  “The car right behind me was right on my bumper all the way across the top of the mountain. There was too much traffic for them to get around me, but they were clearly in a big hurry. My beat-up old clunker barely made it up the road; I was going as fast as I could.”

  “What did the doctor say?” Andy interrupted Bessie before she could ask for more details about the crash.

  “That I’m badly shaken and I’ve squashed a few internal things with the seat belt, but it could have been much much worse. They want to keep me for twenty-four hours to keep an eye on everything, but then I should be good to go.”

  “Now I just have to find another car,” Andy muttered. “Mine didn’t want to start when I tried to come here,” he explained to his mother.

  “Actually, Andrew Teare said that he’d hire a car for me to use until the insurance pays out,” Anne told her son. “You can use that while I’m stuck in here and we’ll figure out something else once I’m home.”

  “Why would he do that?” Bessie asked in surprise.

  “He says we’re the closest thing he has to family now and he doesn’t want to see us suffer,” Anne answered, not meeting Bessie’s eyes.

  “That’s great,” Andy answered. “Did he say when he was going to get it sorted out?”

  “He’s going to stop back later with the keys and the paperwork,” Anne answered.

  Whatever Andy was going to say next was interrupted by the arrival of two uniformed constables.

  “Good morning,” the taller of the two men smiled at the little group. “We’re just here to keep everyone company for a little while. Inspector Rockwell is on his way from the Laxey station. In the meantime, just ignore us.”

  Anne glared at them. “Ignore you? Why are you here?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ve absolutely no idea why we’re here,” the man smiled at her. “I’m just following orders.”

  “Well, I’m ordering you to go away,” Anne said angrily. “I have enough problems in my life without having trouble with the law. You can’t arrest me for crashing into a fence. I didn’t hit any wildlife or any people, I’m sure of that.”

  “We’re definitely not here to arrest you,” the shorter man now spoke up. “Please, if you wait for Inspector Rockwell, I’m sure he’ll explain everything.”

  Anne frowned. “But in the meantime, you’re just going to stand there, in the way of everyone, and eavesdrop on my conversation with my son?”

  “We’re going to try our best to not get in anyone’s way,” the taller officer replied. “And we aren’t going to deliberately listen to your conversation, either. We’re just doing our job.”

  Anne opened her mouth to argue further, but Bessie held up a hand. “No point in taking your anger out on the officers,” she pointed out. “They’re just following orders. Save your anger for Inspector Rockwell. He’s the one giving the orders.”

  Anne looked as if she might disagree, but finally she sighed and sank down under her covers. “I don’t intend to say anything further,” she announced. “You be sure and tell your boss you didn’t overhear anything interesting.”

  Andy shook his head. “Mum,” he began, “why don’t you….”

  Anne held up a hand to stop him. “Hush, we aren’t talking about anything,” she said stubbornly.

  Bessie shook her head and then turned to the two constables. “So, tell me about yourselves,” she suggested.

  Twenty minutes later Bessie knew all about the two
young men who were stationed at Anne’s bedside. They were both very polite and came from good Manx families. Although Bessie didn’t know either family well, she knew cousins and other more distant relations of both men. And both of them had heard stories about Aunt Bessie.

  “I was always jealous of my cousin Jack,” the tall man, who was called Pete, told her. “He used to talk about running away to your cottage and staying up eating cake until midnight.”

  Bessie laughed. “I’m afraid your cousin might have exaggerated slightly,” she said. “My visitors always went to bed fairly early, when I did. No one was eating cake at midnight.”

  Pete made a face. “That figures. Jack always made the things I couldn’t do sound like more fun than they were.”

  Inspector Rockwell’s face was grim when he pulled back the curtain a few moments later. “Good morning,” he said curtly to them all. “Although it’s nearly noon, so good afternoon might be more appropriate.”

  “Hello, Inspector Rockwell,” Bessie smiled at him.

  “Miss Cubbon, Mr. Caine, Mrs. Caine,” Rockwell nodded at each of them in turn. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”

  “Oh, no worries,” Anne said angrily. “We’ve had ever so much fun getting to know Pete and Doug. They’ve been such great company for us. I really must thank you for sending them over to spy on me.”

  Rockwell frowned. “I didn’t send them to spy on you,” he told her. “I sent them to protect you.”

  “Nonsense,” she snapped at him. “Who did I need protecting from?”

  “Whoever cut the brake lines on your car,” the inspector answered tightly.

  Bessie gasped as Andy grabbed his mother’s hand. Anne just looked even angrier.

  “That car is twenty-something years old. The brakes failed. I’m sorry I didn’t look after it more carefully, but it ran well enough. I don’t know why you’re trying to scare me, but it won’t work.”

  “I’m not trying to scare you,” Rockwell said gently. “The brake lines were cut, there is no doubt about it. Our crime scene investigator is prepared to testify to that in court, once we find out who did it. You don’t have to believe me, but I intend to do what I can to protect you until we figure out exactly what happened and why.”

  “Why would anyone want to kill me?” Anne demanded. An odd look flashed across her face and then she sighed and buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled voice. “I’m just exhausted and in a lot of pain. Maybe you could talk to me later, once I’m feeling better.”

  “Pardon me?” The man peering around the curtain didn’t look happy. “There are far too many of you in here,” he said. “This is a hospital ward, not a coffee shop. If you want to hold a meeting, you’ll need to take it downstairs. We actually have a decent café on the ground floor.”

  Inspector Rockwell nodded. “Sorry about this,” he said. “I’m John Rockwell from the Isle of Man Constabulary, CID division. I’m usually stationed in Laxey. We have reason to believe that Mrs. Caine’s crash wasn’t an accident and may be linked to other events that took place in the Laxey area that I’m already involved with. The Douglas Constabulary is working with me, therefore. I’ve already requested that she be moved to a private room. We’ll be less disruptive there.”

  “You might be less disruptive, but you’ll still be keeping Mrs. Caine from rest and recovery,” the other man replied irritably. “Wherever she is, I’m going to insist on no more than one visitor at a time.”

  “I just want my son,” Anne said. “Everyone else can go home.”

  Rockwell shook his head. “That’s not happening,” he told her. He turned back to the other man. “I’m sure we can work this out,” he told him.

  The pair stepped out into the hallway. Bessie could hear the low murmur of voices but couldn’t make out what was being said. Eventually the inspector returned.

  “Dr. Harrison is going to make the arrangements for your move,” he told Anne. “You should be more comfortable in a private room.”

  “How am I supposed to pay for that?” Anne demanded. “I know private rooms cost a fortune. I’m already going to have to find some money for another car.”

  Rockwell held up his hand to stop the complaints. “The Isle of Man Constabulary will be happy to pick up the tab for your private room. It will be far less bother than all of the paperwork I would have to complete if you were murdered.”

  “That isn’t funny,” Andy complained.

  “Neither is attempted murder, but your mother isn’t taking that seriously,” Rockwell retorted.

  Two hospital staff came in now to move Anne to her new room. They disconnected the various pieces of equipment that were monitoring her and then disengaged the wheel locks on the bed.

  “Ready to go?” one of them asked Anne cheerfully. He didn’t wait for a reply; instead, he began to pull the bed towards the doors that had been propped open. His companion pushed the bed from the other end and Bessie, Andy and the three policemen followed behind.

  Anne’s bed was pushed all the way to the end of the hallway, where a small private room sat alone amid supply cupboards and the staff break room.

  “You can’t get much safer than this,” one of the hospital staff remarked loudly. “There aren’t even any windows.”

  “Oh, great,” Anne muttered from the bed.

  Inspector Rockwell motioned for the others to wait in the corridor as he followed Anne into the room. After a moment, he beckoned everyone inside.

  Bessie looked around the small room. There was just enough space for the large hospital bed and very little else. A small chest of drawers was tucked into one corner and a small tray table on wheels was flat against the wall. That left just enough room for one small visitor’s chair. The two staff members had quickly reconnected everything and Bessie and Andy slid back into the hall to give them enough space to get out of the tiny room.

  Back inside, Bessie could see the door opposite the entrance door that led to the teeny adjoining bathroom. Both the room itself and the bathroom seemed dark and dreary, possibly because of the lack of windows. It was clear that no real effort had been made towards decorating the space. The walls were beige, the floor was beige and everyone’s skin looked beige in the harsh artificial light.

  “Okay, it isn’t the most attractive space,” Inspector Rockwell admitted, “but it will be easy to keep you safe here.” He motioned to the two uniformed constables and they followed him out of the room, shutting the door behind them. With the door shut, even with fewer people in it, the room felt positively claustrophobic.

  Bessie tried to start a conversation with Anne, but every comment she made was greeted with the same icy silence. Andy looked from Bessie to his mother and back again, an embarrassed expression on his face.

  “Mum, can’t you just....” he began after Bessie’s third attempt at engaging the injured woman.

  Anne held up a hand. “I’ve got a terrible headache,” she complained. “I think I need the doctor to give me something for the pain.”

  Andy leaned over and pressed the call button. Bessie edged towards the door.

  “Maybe I should just leave,” she suggested in a quiet voice.

  “That might be best,” Anne told her, sighing. “I don’t mean to be rude, really I don’t,” she told Bessie. “But I’m in a lot of pain.”

  Bessie nodded. “I’ll get out of the way, then. I hope you feel better soon.”

  She took the half step needed to reach the door, but it swung open before she touched it.

  Inspector Rockwell stuck his head into the room. “Pete and Doug will be out here to screen your visitors,” he told Anne. “Is there anyone you specifically do not want to see?”

  Anne frowned. “I don’t want to see anyone,” she said. “Only my son should be allowed into the room.”

  The inspector nodded. “We can arrange that,” he said. “We’ll have the officers tell potential visitors that it’s doctor’s orders so that no one gets the
ir feelings hurt.”

  Anne gave the inspector a thoughtful look, then she sighed. “That would be great,” she said.

  “Bessie, can I buy you a cup of tea in the café?” Rockwell asked.

  Bessie smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Um, Bessie?” Andy said something to his mother and got a nod in return. “Um, if you don’t mind waiting a little bit, I’ll give you a ride home once Mr. Teare comes back. I mean, if he does hire a car for us, like.”

  “I’ll wait in the café,” Bessie told him. “If you aren’t down in an hour or so, I’ll just grab a taxi home.”

  “That sounds good,” Andy grinned.

  “I hope you feel better soon,” Bessie told Anne as she left the room.

  “Thanks,” Anne said grudgingly.

  Bessie and Inspector Rockwell walked to the lift in silence. As it slowly descended, the inspector let out a long sigh.

  Bessie glanced at him, but he shook his head. There were a few other people on the lift; they couldn’t talk there.

  Luckily the spacious café was all but deserted. Rockwell led Bessie to a table in the back corner of the room. No one else was anywhere near them. A waitress took their order, with Bessie getting soup and a sandwich to go with her tea. Inspector Rockwell ordered a toasted teacake.

  “It is lunchtime,” Bessie pointed out.

  Rockwell glanced at his watch. “So it is,” he sighed. “The day has really run away from me.” When the waitress brought their tea, he added soup and a sandwich to his order.

  “So, what do you think of all of this?” the inspector asked Bessie as they sipped their tea.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Bessie sighed. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill Anne. She doesn’t have any money. Really, if I had to think of one person that would be happier with her dead, it would have been Moirrey.”

  “Why Moirrey?” The inspector asked.

  “I don’t know the ins and outs of the agreement between Ewan and Robert, but it’s possible that Anne’s death would have simplified things with regard to her cottage. If Anne died before she’d caught up on her payments, I’d bet Moirrey could have reclaimed the cottage as her own. I’m sure Andy would have fought it, but I suspect he could have been bought off fairly cheaply. He wouldn’t have any idea of the true value of the property, of course.”