Bessie nodded at her. “You’re a strong woman,” she told her.
“In spite of all the money and the trappings that go with it,” Mrs. Pierce waved an arm to encompass the house and surroundings, “my husband and I have had to deal with our share of misfortune and even tragedy. And we’ve done so without medicating ourselves. Oh, yes, Mr. Pierce likes a few fingers of whisky now and then and I love a good glass of white wine, but we’ve never gone beyond that and we’ve always insisted that our children stay clear of such temptations as well.”
Bessie nodded, feeling at a complete loss as to what to say.
“Now you can run home and tell your police friends everything my mother has said,” Donny said angrily. “Then they’ll have to take another look at me and Vikky as suspects, I guess. Too bad I didn’t have any motive.”
Vikky sat up and gave him a dirty look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
Donny passed a hand over his face. “Nothing,” he muttered.
Vikky glared at him. “Just because I knew Jack White before he came over here, doesn’t mean that I had anything to do with anything,” she said angrily.
Bessie looked over at her in surprise and then bit her tongue. She was finding out much more than she bargained for already. If she started asking questions she might make people go quiet.
“Exactly how well did you know him?” Donny sneered at her.
Vikky shook her head. “He was friends with a friend of mine,” she sighed. “We went through all this when he was arrested,” she said. “I told you everything then.”
“Well, whatever your friend Mr. White is telling the police, it obviously means they suspect one of us. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they just let us go?” Donny sounded a good deal more sober suddenly.
“Maybe you should ask her,” Vikky suggested, pointing at Bessie. “You seem to think she has connections to the police.”
“I know she does,” Donny replied. “So, tell us, dear Aunt Bessie, what do the police think we’re guilty of?”
Bessie shook her head. “I don’t know anything.” She was sure she was repeating herself. “Doona is an old friend who visits often and Hugh has been sleeping at my place because he’s worried about my being on my own with a murderer running around. Neither one of them has told me anything about the case. Doona did mention Jack White’s arrest, but that was all she was able to tell me.”
Donny stared at her for a moment and then slumped back on the couch. “Never mind,” he said softly. “I’m a little drunk and a lot fed up and I’m looking for someone to blame. I can only assume that Jack White is trying to save himself by telling all sorts of lies and that the police have to figure out if there’s any truth in them before we can go.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Mrs. Pierce told her son soothingly. “Why don’t you go up and have a nap? I’ll have Bahey call you for dinner in a little while. I’ll see if she can make you one of your favourites.”
Donny smiled at his mother. “I’m really okay,” he told her gently. “But I guess a nap might do me some good.” He stood up and smiled at them all. “Sorry for my outbursts,” he said to them all before he turned to Bessie. “I do appreciate your taking the time to visit,” he told her. “I didn’t realise how much Sam meant to me until she was gone.”
Bessie nodded. “That’s often the case,” she said softly. Donny nodded and then walked slowly to the door.
“Thanks again,” he said softly, looking back at Bessie with tears in his eyes.
As the door shut behind him, Mrs. Pierce let out a sigh of relief. Bessie looked over at her.
“He’s suffering so much,” Mrs. Pierce told her sadly. “He idolised his big brother and he was really falling for Samantha. It’s been so very hard on him.”
“It must be very hard for all of you,” Bessie said sympathetically. “I wish there was something I could do….” she trailed off, unable to think of anything to offer.
“You can tell your police friends to let us go,” Vikky suggested grumpily. “Tell them that you’re sure we’re all innocent.”
Bessie just barely held back a sigh. “I wish, for your sake, that I had that sort of influence with them,” she lied politely. “Unfortunately, they aren’t interested in my opinion.”
Vikky shrugged. “I think I’ll go and have a cup of tea with the security guys,” she said as she climbed to her feet.
Mrs. Pierce watched her go with a sad look on her face. “I wish I could say that I thought she was suffering as well,” she told Bessie as the door swung shut behind Vikky. “But I’m not sure that she really cared about my son at all.”
Bessie reached across and patted the other woman’s arm. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered, feeling ineffectual.
“Thank you my dear,” Mrs. Pierce answered, giving Bessie a forced smile. “And now I must ask you to excuse me. I think that all this talking about naps has made me tired. I’m going to go and rest for a short time.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Bessie told her as she and the other woman both rose to their feet. “I hope you feel better after some rest. And I hope you have a safe journey home on Monday.”
“I just hope they let us leave on Monday,” Mrs. Pierce said tiredly. “I think we’ll all feel better getting away from here. And we have a funeral to plan as well,” she sighed. “That doesn’t even bear thinking about.”
Bessie patted her arm again and then, with the younger woman leaning heavily on Bessie’s arm, the pair made their way to the door. Bessie watched as Mrs. Pierce made her way down the hall, further into the house. Bessie could see that she was struggling to maintain her self-control as she turned a corner and disappeared from view. The sound of a tiny sob reached Bessie’s ears as she turned to walk back to where her coat and umbrella had been left.
Chapter Eleven
“Did you have a nice visit, then?” Bahey asked Bessie, appearing at Bessie’s side from somewhere in the depths of the house after Bessie had taken only a few steps away from the great room.
Bessie paused. “I wouldn’t call it nice,” she answered sadly. “The whole family seems so shattered.”
“Aye, they are at that,” Bahey told her. “And from what I’m hearing, it’s going to get worse.”
“What have you heard?” Bessie asked, trying to keep excitement from her voice.
Bahey looked around to make sure they couldn't be overheard. The pair made their way slowly towards the back door as Bahey spoke. “Mrs. Pierce was on the phone to the Chief Constable earlier, before you came,” Bahey whispered. “I was just taking her up a cup of tea and I couldn't help but overhear. She always puts her calls on the speaker because she has trouble hearing and she finds that easier.”
Bessie held back a grin. She had no doubt that Bahey could have helped it if she'd actually wanted to. “So what did you hear?”
“Mrs. Pierce was asking why they couldn’t leave. She's really desperate to get off the island now,” Bahey told her sadly. “Anyway, apparently Jack White has been telling the police all sorts of things. I guess the police have plenty of evidence that proves he was selling drugs, but nothing that ties him to the murders. Now he's afraid they're going to try to pin the murders on him, so he's talking fast and implicating everyone from Mr. Pierce himself to the men who empty the dustbins!”
Bessie shook her head. “No honour among thieves, I guess,” she said. “Still, I suppose we should be happy if he can help the police find the murderer. Assuming he really didn't do them himself.”
“The Chief Constable told Mrs. Pierce that there's a witness who saw Jack on the beach that night,” Bahey hissed.
Bessie gasped. “Has he admitted to being there?” she asked.
“Apparently, he told the police he was meeting Vikky,” the other woman said.
“Meeting Vikky? Why?”
“I guess he was the old boyfriend who sent the racy text message,” Bahey told her. “I’ve heard that he and Vikky used to be a coup
le. But the police aren't sure if Vikky got the message or not. Vikky claims that Danny took her phone away before Jack sent the message, so she never went to meet up with him.”
“And what did Jack say to that?”
“I don't know,” Bahey said frustratedly. “Mrs. Pierce didn't ask that.”
Bessie frowned in disappointment. “Did you hear anything else?” she asked.
“The rest of the call was all about how Danny couldn't possibly have been doing drugs,” Bahey sighed. “As if he were always the perfect child.”
“And he wasn’t?” Bessie asked.
“Oh, he wasn't too bad, I guess,” Bahey grinned. “He was never as bad as his brother, anyway. But they both had their share of teenaged, well, hijinks might be the right word. They both snuck drink out of their parents’ liquor cabinet on more than one occasion and I'm pretty sure they both at least tried drugs more than once or twice. I'm not suggesting that either of them got hooked on anything, but they weren't as sweet and innocent as their mum thinks, either.”
Bessie nodded. What Bahey was saying made sense. In her experience, few children were ever as perfect they appeared in their mother’s eyes.
“Anyway,” Bahey continued, “it seems that Jack White is busy pointing fingers in every possible direction and the police aren't willing to let the family go until they've checked out what he's saying.”
“No one seems happy about that,” Bessie said.
“No, I expect no one is happy,” Bahey agreed. “It's hard to tell with Mr. Pierce. He just keeps wandering off on his own. Mrs. Pierce doesn't seem to know what to do with herself. Mr. Donny is devastated and drunk most of the time and Miss Vikky just keeps behaving like a spoiled child.” Bahey sighed.
“What about the staff?” Bessie asked, remembering that Inspector Rockwell had mentioned them as possible suspects.
“What about them?” Bahey echoed. “I don't really know any of them. They were all hired locally, just for this visit. Apparently there’s a service in Ramsey that dealt with it all. I think the girls all come up from Douglas during the day, and I know the driver does. None of them are staying here, although the security team is working twenty-four hours a day, of course.”
“Doesn’t the family usually bring their own staff with them?” Bessie asked.
“When I worked for them, I always went wherever the family went, but the housekeeper who replaced me had to have an emergency appendectomy the day before they left. Her husband, who usually does most of the driving and errands, obviously stayed behind to be with her.” Bahey shrugged. “I can’t imagine any of the temporary help having any reason to kill Danny or Samantha.”
Bessie sighed. “If Jack White isn't the killer, then it must have been one of the family,” she said quietly.
Bahey shook her head. “It weren't,” she said emphatically. “It had to be something random if it wasn't Jack White. I bet Danny saw the text from Jack and went out to confront him. Either Jack killed him or he was doing a drug deal and Danny interrupted and the other guy killed him. That could have happened.”
Bessie nodded. “Yes, I suppose you're right,” she agreed. “But what about Samantha?”
“Maybe she followed Danny on the night he died and saw him get murdered. I don’t know, maybe she was trying to blackmail the killer or something.”
Bessie nodded again, this time with less certainty.
“Anyway, I just know it wasn't anyone in the family,” Bahey told her. “I've known them my whole life; they aren't killers, none of them.”
“You haven't known Vikky your whole life,” Bessie pointed out.
“Aye, but it's just too sad to think of her killing her own husband only days after their wedding,” Bahey answered.
Bessie thought about arguing with her friend but decided against it. In a way, Bahey was right. It was sad to suspect the young widow of killing her husband while on their honeymoon. Still, whatever Bahey thought, Bessie wasn't ruling Vikky out as a suspect.
“I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Bahey told Bessie. “I promised I'd make one of Mr. Donny's favourites tonight to try to cheer him up. Their temporary cook doesn't much like it when I'm in the kitchen, but tonight she's going to have to deal with it.”
Bessie grinned at her. “Have fun,” she said. “I've got a long and cold walk back along the road to home to get through before I get my dinner.”
Bahey disappeared back towards the kitchen as Bessie set the bag that Vikky had given her down and put her still damp coat back on. She buttoned it up tightly and then grabbed her umbrella from the corner where Robert had left it. With a resigned sigh, she pulled open the door and looked out at the relentless rain.
“The police have taken down the crime scene tape.” The voice was completely unexpected and it made Bessie jump.
“I didn't mean to startle you,” Robert Clague told her. “I noticed you were getting ready to leave and I wanted to tell you that the police have finally taken down the crime scene tape. You can walk home along the beach now. That has to be faster.”
Bessie smiled at him even as she wondered how long he had been standing near her. She certainly hadn't noticed his approach. How much of her conversation with Bahey had he overheard?
“That's good to know,” she told him. “It’s definitely faster, once I find my way down to the beach.”
“It isn't hard,” the man laughed lightly. “There are a series of short flights of stairs down to the sand. I'll take you down,” he offered.
“That would be great,” Bessie replied. She stepped outside and popped her umbrella up. Behind her Robert followed, pulling the door shut as he took her arm.
“Be careful,” he counselled. “Everything is probably slippery with all this rain.”
Bessie took his arm gratefully as they made their way along the driveway beside the house. After a short time, a path that skirted along behind the house appeared.
Robert stopped as something buzzed in his pocket. “Hello?” he said into his mobile phone that he struggled to shield from the rain. He sighed deeply and then disconnected the call.
“I would love to be able to walk you the rest of the way,” he told Bessie, “but I've got to get back and deal with an, um, issue that's come up. If you follow the path behind the house, after a short while it branches off down towards the beach.”
“I'm sure I'll find it,” Bessie told him, nearly shouting to be heard over the heavy rain that was pounding on her umbrella, the house roof and the ground around them.
“No doubt,” Robert grinned at her. “Take care of yourself,” he told her before he dashed away, presumably wanting to get out of the rain as quickly as possible.
“Can't say as I blame him,” Bessie said to herself as she followed the path. It insisted on winding around in a pointlessly circuitous fashion that was probably charming on a warm spring day, but was simply unnecessarily torturous in the heavy rain. The noisy banging on her umbrella began to make Bessie's head ache.
Finally, she came to a split in the path, with one fork clearly heading off towards the expanse of beach below. Bessie couldn't help but take a minute to admire the view, which was striking in spite of the weather. As she started down the first short flight of stairs, she paused. Could she hear footsteps behind her?
She turned cautiously, peering around her oversized umbrella. There was no one there. She continued down the steps, shaking her head at how her mind was playing tricks on her. As the first flight ended, she thought she heard another sound behind her. Again, carefully, she turned around. Again, she could see no one.
She sighed at her own jumpiness and took off down the short and winding path that led to the next flight of stairs. Again, she paused briefly to admire the view. Although she wasn’t that far from her own cottage, the view of the sea seemed completely different from here.
The next flight of stairs was longer, maybe twenty steps, and it was steeper as well. Bessie grabbed the handrail tightly with the hand that was also carrying
the bag that Vikky had given her. Holding the railing felt awkward as she started down the steps.
After two steps she heard yet another sound that seemed to come from behind her. She paused, wondering if it was worth turning around yet again. She listened intently but could only hear the drumming rain. She started down the next step, sliding her hand down the railing, trying to keep a firm grip on the slippery wet metal.
Suddenly two strong hands pushed her from behind. She grabbed at the railing, but couldn't hold on. The bag slipped from her grip and the umbrella flew from her other hand as she grasped at thin air. She felt herself tumbling downwards, out of control and unable to stop.
Chapter Twelve
Everything hurt. Bessie winced as she wiggled a single toe and a stabbing pain shot through her leg. She moaned softly.
“Oh, Bessie, are you awake?”
Bessie heard Doona's voice, but she didn't feel like answering. She could tell that she was in a bed somewhere and from the noises she could hear she reckoned it must be a hospital. She sighed to herself as she realised that her nose was so itchy she was going to have to move.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes and looked around. The first thing she spotted was Doona's worried face.
“Oh, Bessie, you’re awake then,” Doona said happily. “Let me get the doctor. I’ll be right back.”
Before Bessie could speak Doona had leapt up and run to the door. Bessie could hear her talking excitedly to someone in the hallway.
“The nurse is going to get the doctor,” Doona announced when she returned to Bessie's bedside. “He wasn't expecting you to wake up until at least tomorrow.”
As Bessie took a mental inventory of her aches and pains she thought that perhaps the doctor was right. Perhaps she would've been better off sleeping until the next morning.
Aunt Bessie Assumes: An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Page 16