“I want a complete account of your conversation with Mr. Pierce,” the inspector told her. “But that can wait until after you finish your general statement.”
Bessie nodded. “I headed for the mine, but when I got inside it was empty, so I turned around to go. Then I heard a mobile ringing. I tracked the phone down to the mine cart and when I looked inside I found Samantha’s body as well. I immediately left the mine and called Hugh. Once he arrived I came over here and had tea and sticky toffee pudding while I waited for whoever wanted to talk to me.”
Inspector Rockwell nodded and made a few notes before he spoke. “Sticky toffee pudding sounds wonderful. I still haven’t had any lunch and now it looks like it might be some time before I get any.” He ran a tired hand over his face before he continued. “Anyway, your statement matches what Hugh has reported, but I’m much more interested in what you haven’t said than in what you have.”
“Meaning what exactly?” Bessie asked.
“Well, firstly, meaning what on earth were you doing climbing the Laxey Wheel on a wet and cold day in March? I can almost understand why Donny Pierce and the others were here, but why you?”
Bessie sighed. She hoped she wasn’t about to make the inspector angry or get Hugh into trouble. “I was supposed to be meeting Samantha here,” she said reluctantly. “When I was at Thie yn Traie yesterday we arranged to meet here at one o’clock today.”
Inspector Rockwell nodded slowly, his face flushing with what Bessie assumed was repressed anger. He took a long slow breath before he spoke again. “I see,” he said tightly.
Bessie smiled innocently at him, sipping her tea so that she wouldn’t start apologising. In her mind she had done nothing wrong, but the look on John Rockwell’s face suggested that he didn’t agree.
“If you had thought to mention that to me last night,” he said eventually, “we might have been able to have some people in place here. We might even have been able to prevent Samantha’s murder.”
Bessie shook her head. “I was meeting an upset young woman who was having a hard time with her boyfriend and his family. She just needed someone to talk to, not a police bodyguard.”
“And yet she’s dead.”
Bessie frowned and then felt unwelcome tears welling up in her eyes. Was it possible that Samantha had been murdered because of their plans to meet today? “I can’t believe that our planned meeting had anything to do with her murder,” she said eventually, as much to herself as to the Inspector.
“Why not?”
“Well, why would it?” Bessie demanded.
“Why don’t you take me back through your conversation with her yesterday?” Inspector Rockwell suggested.
Bessie closed her eyes and tried to remember exactly what had been said. “She walked me to the door,” Bessie began. “We were talking about Daniel Pierce’s theory, about the killing being random. I suggested that she must have her own theory and she admitted that she did, but she didn’t want to discuss it then. She suggested the meeting time and place.”
“Who could have overheard your conversation?”
“I don’t think anyone could have,” Bessie tried hard to remember. “We’d left the family in the great room. Donny came out while we were talking, but he was too far away to overhear anything except our goodbyes.” Bessie paused and shook her head again.
“What is it?” Inspector Rockwell asked.
“Robert Clague,” Bessie said slowly. “He suddenly appeared next to me in the hallway as I was leaving. I suppose he might have been able to overhear the conversation. But he didn’t have any reason to kill anyone. He’s only just been hired by the family for security. I doubt he even knew the younger Daniel Pierce and he must have just met Samantha yesterday when he came to work for the family.”
Rockwell nodded absently, making notes in his notebook. “Interesting,” was his only comment.
The Inspector took Bessie through her day several times over, checking and rechecking her story. Then they spent a very long time discussing her conversation with Donny Pierce at the top of the wheel.
“Donny gave his statement to Inspector Kelly,” Rockwell said after Bessie had completed the third retelling of the conversation. “I think Kelly is quite fond of the idea that all of this trouble is drug-related.”
“Why? I hate thinking that there might be drug problems on this island.”
Rockwell shrugged. “I think he’s hoping to catch a murderer and break up a drug cartel in one fell swoop. He’s angling for a promotion into Douglas.”
“I hope you aren’t planning to move to the capital as well,” Bessie said with a sigh.
“No, ma’am,” Rockwell grinned at her. “I really like it up north. Ramsey already feels like home, for me anyway.” Something flashed across his face that Bessie caught and would wonder about later.
“I’m glad you like it here,” Bessie replied.
“I really do,” the man assured her. “I also enjoy being head of my own small investigative division. The Douglas CID is bigger but, dare I say it, more convoluted. Up here I get to run things the way I see fit. Of course, if I don’t get this murder solved, I might find myself out of any job.”
Bessie frowned. She was starting to like the man, in spite of his origins. Well, not everyone could be born Manx. “I hope that doesn’t happen,” she told the man.
Before Rockwell could answer, his phone buzzed insistently. He pulled it from a pocket and frowned at it.
“I have to take this,” he told Bessie apologetically. “It’s the Chief Constable.”
Bessie nodded as he rose and walked towards the far corner of the room. Within seconds, however, he was back.
“And now I have to run,” he said, his tone somewhere between apology and exasperation. “I’d like to stop by and visit with you tonight,” he told Bessie. “Hopefully, around the same time as last night, if that’s okay?”
“Certainly,” Bessie agreed.
“I’m sure Hugh and Doona will be there as well,” he grinned at her. “We can bash around a few ideas and see what we come up with.”
Bessie grinned back at him. Yes, she was definitely starting to like him.
She finished her tea and then sat back in her chair. Neither inspector had actually told her that she was free to go, but she was sure she had outstayed her welcome at the small pub. She rose to her feet and headed slowly towards the front room, hoping there might be a taxi waiting at the rarely used taxi rank outside.
She was only halfway to the door, carrying the shopping bag that now seemed to weigh a ton, when it burst open and Hugh bounced in, seemingly full of an unusual amount of energy.
“Ah, there you are, Aunt Bessie,” he said brightly. “I’ve been instructed by Inspector Rockwell to see you home safely.”
Bessie nodded. “It was kind of the inspector to think of me,” she remarked as they made their way out of the pub after Bessie had settled her bill and exchanged a few words of thanks with the proprietor.
“He’s convinced you’re the key to solving this thing,” Hugh whispered to her once they were safely buckled up in Hugh’s car. “He told me to make sure I take especially good care of you.”
Bessie grinned. “Well, that is all very nice, but I really don’t know anything, you know.”
“But you have the best connections of anyone in the area,” Hugh reminded her. “Inspector Rockwell wants to tap into your network.”
Bessie shook her head. “I doubt that anyone I know actually knows anything useful,” she told Hugh. “But I’m happy to help as much as I can. I quite like Inspector Rockwell.”
“He’s a good guy,” Hugh said, a touch of surprise evident in his voice. “He seems to know what he’s doing as well.”
Bessie wondered if Hugh was contrasting Rockwell to Kelly, but didn’t voice the question. Whatever Hugh thought of his competing bosses, he would be wise to keep it to himself.
Back at home, Bessie worked hard to find things to do to keep herself busy. She
returned every phone message on her answering machine and called a few other friends as well. If Inspector Rockwell wanted to hear all of the latest skeet, the least she could do was try to find out as much of it as she could. Luckily none of her friends had heard about the incident at the Laxey Mine yet, and she wasn’t about to mention it. An hour later her head was full of marriage, divorce and baby news, but she had learned nothing of interest about the murder on her doorstep.
Keeping herself busy, she pulled two containers of her homemade spaghetti sauce from her freezer. Spaghetti Bolognese would be perfect for dinner for them all tonight. Although she was already tired from all of the walking she had done that day, she headed up the hill to the small shop at the top.
Catering to a small community that was increasingly ignoring it, the shop carried a little bit of just about everything. Bessie bought a few pounds of minced beef and an extra box of dried spaghetti noodles. She also added a freshly baked baguette, some butter and a bulb of garlic; a large bag of “mixed salad greens” finished off her selections.
Back at home, she cooked the mince and then added it to the sauce in a large pot. She left it simmering on the stove while she curled up with the book she had never managed to get back to the previous evening. Aside from an occasional break to stir the simmering sauce, she managed to put the very real victims that she had discovered out of her mind as she immersed herself in the fictional murder mystery.
She sighed as she turned over the last page. Everything was wrapped up neatly and the murderer was on his way to prison. She could only hope for a quick and easy resolution to the real life case as well. She stretched and then checked the time. It was past six and she was surprised that Doona hadn’t appeared yet.
Her telephone message light was blinking frantically at her when she headed back into the kitchen. She’d forgotten to turn the ringer back on yet again. “You did that deliberately, so you could read without interruption,” a little voice in her head said accusingly. Bessie ignored the voice and played through her latest messages.
It appeared that word had now leaked out about her discovery of the second body. Bessie didn’t even bother to write down the caller’s names this time; they were mostly the same people she had spoken to earlier in the day. She wasn’t in the mood to call anyone back right now and she had no doubt that they would call again if they didn’t hear from her.
There were only two messages that interested her. Doona had called to say that she, Hugh and Inspector Rockwell would all be arriving around half-seven. She was to call Doona back at the station before seven to let her know what sort of food they should bring. A quick call to the station to reassure Doona that she had their evening meal well in hand left Bessie with only one other call to return. Thoughtfully, she replayed the message that had been left.
“Oh, Bessie, oh darn, I hate these machines. Oh, it’s, um, it’s Bahey, Bahey Corlett. I’m still staying at Thie yn Traie, but I’m having lunch with my sister Joney tomorrow and I thought maybe you would like to join us? We could talk about old times and things. Call me back?”
Bessie wrote down the number that Bahey had left, wondering exactly what “things” the other woman had in mind. There was no doubt that Bahey would have a lot of inside information about the Pierce family. How much of that she would be willing to share was another matter. There was only one way to find out.
She nearly changed her mind about lunch when she discovered that the sisters were meeting in Foxdale at Joney Kelly’s house. It wasn’t that she had anything against Foxdale; it was just a long journey and taxis were expensive. Bahey solved the problem by offering to pick Bessie up along the way.
“Mr. Pierce is going to have one of his staff take me in one of their cars,” she explained. “I never learned to drive, either. We can easily pick you up. Mr. Pierce won’t mind.”
It was past seven when Bessie finally got off the phone with Bahey. She quickly filled her largest pot with water and put it on to boil. Then she mixed up garlic butter and spread it thickly over the baguette she had sliced open. By the time her guests arrived, she had lightly tossed the salad with some homemade dressing and had set the table for four.
Doona arrived first, and she gave Bessie a huge hug.
“Kys t’ou?” she asked.
“Ta mee braew,” Bessie answered with a grin. “Actually, I’m not really fine, I’m quite upset, but I don’t know how to say that in Manx.”
The two friends laughed as Doona hugged her again.
“Was it awful?” Doona asked.
“It was pretty bad,” Bessie shrugged. “I’ve been keeping myself really busy. I finished that book I had started and I did some shopping so I could cook for us all. As long as I’m busy, I don’t have to think about it.”
“Well, I brought a bottle of wine,” Doona told her. “Make sure you have a few glasses to help you sleep.”
Bessie shook her head. “You know I’m not much of a drinker. I’ll have a glass with dinner, but I don’t think it will help me sleep.” She shuddered when she thought about trying to sleep tonight. Closing her eyes still brought back that same unwanted image. She looked at Doona and forced herself to smile. Doona looked far too worried about her, that wouldn’t do.
“I’m fine,” Bessie insisted. “It was just a shock, that’s all. Some spaghetti and a good long talk with everyone will set me to rights.”
Doona nodded slowly, doubt still evident in her eyes. She didn’t get a chance to reply, however, as just then Hugh arrived. The women heard the car approaching and Bessie pulled the door open as he parked.
He was holding something awkwardly as he climbed out of his car. Bessie frowned, puzzled, as he juggled the oddly shaped parcel and his car keys as he walked to her door. It was too dark to figure out exactly what he was holding.
At the door he stopped and then blushed and pulled the package from behind his back. It was a large bouquet of flowers. Bessie looked at him curiously.
“I, uh, well, that is,” Hugh blushed even more brightly. “I thought that you’d had an awfully hard day,” he struggled to explain. “I thought some flowers might brighten things up for you.”
Bessie was touched beyond words. She took the flowers from Hugh and was annoyed to find tears in her eyes.
“Thank you so much,” she managed to choke out before turning away and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. Doona came forward, chattering excitedly and filling in the uncomfortable silence.
“What a beautiful bouquet,” she enthused. “Did you get it from that new flower shop in Lonan? I don’t know how they expect to do any business out in the middle of nowhere like they are, but they sure do have beautiful flowers. Let me get them in a vase. Oh, and they’ve included a packet of cut flower food, very nice of them. I hope they last a good long time. The last time I got flowers from ShopFast they were brown and horrible in only a few days. But these are so lovely, I’m sure they will just last and last.”
While she wittered on about nothing, she filled a vase with water, added the flower food and put the bouquet into it. Hugh finally stopped blushing once the flowers were safely settled into the middle of the kitchen table, and Bessie had managed to compose herself as well. She shot Doona a grateful look as she heard more tires crunch on the ground outside.
By the time she had the door open again, Inspector Rockwell was out of his car and heading toward the door. He had something in his hands as well, and Bessie could only hope that it wasn’t more flowers. She definitely didn’t want to cry in front of the inspector and it felt as if her emotions were somewhat close to the surface tonight.
“When Doona said you were cooking, I figured the least I could do was bring pudding,” John Rockwell announced as Bessie showed him in. He handed Bessie the bakery box that he had been carrying. She said a polite thank you as Doona nearly snatched the box from her hands.
“Oooh, what lovely thing have your brought?” Doona cooed as she put the box down on the counter and pee
ked inside. “It looks chocolatey,” she said excitedly as she turned back towards the others.
Bessie chuckled at her friend and then put the pasta into the now boiling water. The foursome ate their salad while the pasta cooked and then Bessie served up steaming plates of it, smothered in sauce, with the toasty hot garlic bread. While they ate, everyone seemed determined to keep the conversation away from the recent murders.
Instead, Inspector Rockwell entertained them all with funny stories from his days in police training and on the force in Manchester. It was only over pudding, a rich chocolate cake, that the conversation finally came around to what they had all come together to discuss.
“This is delicious,” Bessie said as she dug into her cake.
“It’s amazing,” Doona moaned. “Where did it come from?”
Rockwell named a small bakery in downtown Ramsey. “I had to go back into Ramsey to meet with Inspector Kelly and some others just before I came here, so I grabbed the cake while I was there,” he explained.
“That’s lots of running up and down the coast for you,” Doona remarked.
“I don’t mind,” he told her. “I had a forty-five minute commute in Manchester and that was on a good day. Anyway, it was important to talk to Aunt Bessie again.”
Bessie grinned. “Inspector Kelly didn’t seem to think so,” she said.
“We have very different approaches to investigation,” Rockwell replied mildly. “And we have different theories as to what happened.”
“So what’s your theory, Inspector?” Doona asked.
The man smiled at her. “While we’re off-duty, I think you can all call me John,” he said. “But just because we are off-duty doesn’t mean I’m going to start talking out of turn. My theories are only that, theories, and while I can’t prove anything, it would be irresponsible of me to discuss them.”
“So what did you want to talk with me about?” Bessie asked.
“A couple of things,” he told her. “Firstly, when you found Daniel Pierce’s body, did you happen to see a mobile phone anywhere around? Maybe lying on the sand or sitting on a rock nearby?”
Aunt Bessie Assumes: An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Page 11