“It will be a shock to her, finding out her husband is dead.”
“I’d like to find her before she finds out, but that may not be possible. As I said, Dan Ross has the story, and it will be in tomorrow’s paper. I don’t think it’s likely that Walter’s wife reads the Isle of Man Times, but you never know.”
“Where were they living when Walter went to prison?”
“Liverpool,” John replied. “Right now I don’t know anything other than her name. It’s possible she has some connection to the island, though. It’s also possible that her husband did.”
“I asked him, when we spoke once, if he knew the island at all. He claimed that he’d barely even heard of it before he saw the post advertised somewhere. He also said he was really pleased with what he’d found now that he was here.”
“But he may well have been lying,” John sighed. “He may have grown up on the island, for all I know.”
“Surely not. Someone would have recognised him if that were the case. There was an article about him in the local paper the week he arrived, with photos of the man, after all.”
“I didn’t realise that,” John said. “I’m afraid I don’t always get the local paper. I don’t suppose you’ve kept that issue?”
“I don’t usually keep the papers for more than a day or two, but I have a small pile at the moment. A few months ago Grace asked me if I could start keeping the papers for her for art projects at school. She hasn’t collected them from me for a few weeks. Now that I think about it, she’s off for the summer. I don’t know if she’ll be going back to work in the autumn or not, with the baby on the way. I should ring her and see if she’s still going to want the papers.”
“But you think you may have the one with the article about Reverend Doyle?” John asked.
“Sorry, I do go on sometimes, don’t I?” Bessie laughed. “Yes, I just might. Wait here a minute and I’ll go and see.”
She was keeping the newspapers in a box in her office upstairs. It only took her a few minutes to find the right paper.
“Here you go,” she said when she got back to the kitchen. “The article is on page seven.”
John flipped through the pages and then stopped. “I don’t know if anyone would have recognised the man from his photo,” he said.
Bessie looked over John’s shoulder. “I didn’t realise at the time that he was standing in the shadow of the church like that,” she said. “It’s a dramatic sort of pose, but it does rather hide his appearance.”
“Indeed,” John replied.
As he read the accompanying article, Bessie read it over his shoulder. When she finished, she sighed. “He’s incredibly vague about everything, isn’t he? It didn’t strike me that way at the time, but reading it now, it seems like he was being evasive with every question.”
“Yes, his answers are superficially fine, but they don’t really tell us anything. He talks about his long and successful career and how excited he is to take on a parish of his own, without providing any information about where he’d been before or how long he’d been a priest.”
“What happens next, then?”
“Tracking down his wife is our first priority,” John told her. “I’m sure she’ll be able to answer a great many questions about the man. Right now we’ve no idea why anyone wanted the man dead. I’m hoping she might be able to suggest a motive or two.”
“Surely, she had a motive, if he’d run off with Ms. Hamilton and left her.”
“Maybe she threw him out,” John suggested. “Remember that Ms. Hamilton claims she only met the man a few months ago. She may not have had anything to do with the breakup of the marriage.”
“Maybe it hadn’t broken up,” Bessie said. “Maybe Mrs. Gray didn’t know her husband was even out of prison.”
“I think that’s unlikely,” John told her. “He was only sentenced to six months, and it wasn’t the first time he’d been in prison. The files indicate that they’d been married for several years, during which time Walter had been in and out of prison at least three or four times.”
“So the case is at a standstill until you find her?”
“We’re still doing everything we can on the case, but as Ms. Hamilton isn’t cooperating, we’re hoping Mrs. Gray will be able to fill in a lot of the blanks.”
“That’s just for motive, though, isn’t it? What about means and opportunity?”
“The man was stabbed with an ordinary kitchen knife. We’ve checked, and there are at least three shops in Douglas that sell the exact knife that was used. It’s also widely available across. Ms. Hamilton wasn’t certain whether she recognised it or not, but it’s entirely possible that the knife came from the vicarage’s kitchen. It’s of the same sort of quality as the rest of the utensils there.”
“So just about anyone had the means,” Bessie sighed. “What about opportunity?”
“As far as we can determine, Walter was home alone for most of the day. Ms. Hamilton went into Douglas quite early in the morning. She claims she’d told Walter that she wouldn’t be back before dark. The coroner is still working out the time of death, but his current estimate is some time between midday and five o’clock. At this point, I doubt there are many people on the island who can prove exactly where they were during those five hours.”
“Except Ms. Hamilton,” Bessie said thoughtfully.
“Yes, conveniently for her.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance that she’s faked her alibi?”
“As I said, we actually have video footage from a security camera that shows her with her friends for nearly the entire period. She does disappear once or twice, but not for long enough to have driven to Laxey and back.”
“Anyone could have rung the vicar and asked him to meet them in the graveyard,” Bessie said speculatively. “I can’t imagine him refusing.”
“The killer might also have come across the man by chance,” John pointed out.
“Did the killer take anything from the body?”
“Not as far as we can determine. Ms. Hamilton didn’t think that he was missing anything. His mobile phone was in his pocket and so was his wallet. He had about fifty pounds in his wallet, and Ms. Hamilton said that was what he usually carried.”
“Someone must have come over from across to kill him,” Bessie said. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“It’s one possibility, but in order for that to have happened, the killer had to have found him. From what we can work out, Walter did a very good job of disappearing from his old life. If we can find out how the killer found him, I think we’ll be a lot closer to finding the killer.”
“Did Walter have enemies, then?”
“I’m still looking into his past, but anyone who makes their living running cons is bound to make enemies. Once I know more about his past, we’ll be able to start tracking down the people he stole from, for a start.”
“It’s all a lot more complicated than it first appeared,” Bessie sighed. “I wonder how Pete feels, leaving behind such an interesting investigation.”
John laughed. “Pete loves a good investigation as much as anyone, but I’m sure he was more than happy to leave this one behind. He and his beautiful bride are going on the trip of a lifetime. I can’t imagine any case that would make him want to miss that.”
Bessie nodded. “They make such a lovely couple. I’m so very happy for them both.”
“Yes, me too,” John said, “which reminds me, I should be getting home. Doona has been looking after the children for long enough. Maybe if I hurry, they’ll still be up and I can take them back to my house for the night. Tomorrow is Sunday; I can have a later start, if nothing new comes in between now and then.”
As John got to his feet, his phone rang. He frowned and then answered it. Bessie watched his face as he gave monosyllabic replies. By the time he dropped his phone back in his pocket, she was sure something exciting had just happened.
“Has someone confessed?” she aske
d.
John shook his head. “No, but can you ring Doona and tell her that I’m still going to be working for several more hours, please?”
“What’s happened?”
He looked at her and then sighed. “You can’t repeat this, even to Doona, but we’ve found Dawn Gray.”
“Walter’s wife?”
“That’s the one.”
“And she’s willing to talk to you?”
“I don’t know about willing, but I’m going to go and find out.”
“Go? As in you’re going across to question her yourself?”
“Go, as in I’m going to walk down the beach and question her myself,” John told her. “It seems she and her family are having themselves a nice holiday on the Isle of Man right now. They’re staying in one of the holiday cottages.”
“They’re what?” Bessie stared at John. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” John told her.
Bessie walked the man to the door. “If I stay up, will you come back and tell me everything?” she asked in the doorway.
“I can’t repeat what the woman tells me. Anyway, it’s getting late, and you’ve already had a long day. I’ll come and see you tomorrow and tell you what I can.”
Bessie wanted to argue, but John was already walking away. She pushed the door shut and began to pace around the kitchen. If Walter’s wife was staying in one of the holiday cottages, then she had to be a suspect.
With her mind racing, she rang Doona. “John asked me to ring and let you know that he’s tied up on the case,” she told her friend.
“That’s fine. The children are ready for bed, anyway. We’re just watching another movie in our pyjamas, eating popcorn and drinking fizzy drinks. He probably wouldn’t approve of any of that.”
Bessie laughed. “I’m sure he wants the children to have fun, and maybe what he finds out tonight will break the case.”
“What’s happened tonight?”
“He’ll have to tell you about that. He just asked me to let you know that he’ll be busy for a few more hours.”
“I really don’t mind having the kids here. They’re both almost too well-behaved and polite, but I hate seeing John working so hard. He must be completely exhausted by this point. I don’t think he slept last night, and he probably isn’t eating, either.”
“I gave him tea and biscuits. I should have thought about it and offered to make him something more substantial.”
“At least he’s had tea and biscuits,” Doona sighed. “Now I’d better get back to the movie. James Bond is about to die a hideous death, and I don’t want to miss seeing that.”
“I suspect he’ll find a way out,” Bessie laughed.
“Yeah, it’s an old one with Sean Connery. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Bessie put down the phone and headed up to bed. Once she’d washed her face and put on her nightgown, she curled up with the book she’d been reading when John had arrived. It only took her a few minutes to discover that the author had left out a great many things throughout the story. On the last page, it was revealed that the killer was someone completely unexpected. Bessie shut the book and climbed back out of bed. The book went straight into the box in her spare room for books she planned to donate to a charity shop.
Back in bed with a different book, she quickly got lost in another world. After an hour that seemed to fly past, she reluctantly put the book down. She was too tired to keep reading, even though she was enjoying the story. Yawning, she switched off the light and snuggled down under the covers. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
As Bessie walked along the beach the next morning, she couldn’t help but wonder which cottage was currently housing Dawn Gray. She had no idea what the woman looked like, but that didn’t stop her from glancing into each cottage as she went, hoping to spot the woman. If she were honest, Bessie usually glanced into every cottage as she walked anyway, but perhaps with less interest.
By the time she’d reached Thie yn Traie, Bessie reckoned that she’d spotted at least three women who might have been the newly widowed Mrs. Gray. The beach was getting busier as she strolled towards home, and Bessie added another two possibilities to her mental list. As she reached Treoghe Bwaane, however, she changed her mind about all of them.
There was a large rock behind her cottage with enough room for two people to sit comfortably together. Bessie often sat there and watched the sea for hours on end. The woman who was sitting on the rock now, with tears streaming down her face, simply had to be Dawn Gray, Bessie decided, as she walked down the beach towards her. She was around the right age, maybe in her mid-forties, with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. Her T-shirt and shorts were just right for the beach and showed off a slender figure.
“I’m sorry. Am I on private property?” the woman asked as Bessie approached.
“The beach is public,” Bessie assured her. “You’re welcome to sit there all day if you’d like. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
“I’ve been better,” the woman said with a sigh, “but I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my problems.”
“I’m happy to listen if you need to talk to someone, actually, but it’s entirely up to you. I’m Elizabeth Cubbon, by the way. Everyone calls me Bessie.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bessie. I’m Dawn Gray. I’ve never really had a nickname, although I really always wanted one. There isn’t a short form for Dawn, is there?”
Bessie thought for a minute. “I don’t imagine there is, really,” she said eventually.
Dawn shrugged. “Do you live in that cottage, then?” she asked, nodding towards Bessie’s home.
“I do, yes. I’ve lived there since I was eighteen.”
“It looks quite tiny. Do you live alone?”
“Yes, I do. I always have. It was even smaller when I bought it. I’ve added on to it twice since I’ve owned it.”
“My goodness, I can’t imagine. I mean, it’s adorable, but it must have been quite claustrophobic before you added on to it.”
“I didn’t mind. It was just me, after all.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Maybe that’s what I need to do, buy a tiny little house somewhere and live on my own.”
“Some people don’t like living on their own,” Bessie said, “but it has worked for me.”
“I’m not sure how I’d feel about it, really. I haven’t ever lived completely on my own.”
“Maybe you should try it, then.”
“Maybe I should, except right now I think I’d feel awfully lonely. My husband just died, you see.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Bessie said. “Were you married long?”
“Six years, although to be fair, we were separated, and I suspect we would have divorced soon. In truth, I’m feeling far more emotional about losing him than I ever thought I would. It’s very strange, really.”
“Would you like to come inside for a cuppa?” Bessie invited the woman. She could hear John’s voice in her head, shouting at her for inviting a murder suspect into her home, but she ignored him.
“A cuppa may well be exactly what I need,” Dawn told her. She climbed carefully off the rock, avoiding the many puddles of water that surrounded it. Later, when the tide came in, the bottom of the rock would be submerged, but for now there was still patches of sand for her and Bessie to walk across.
“This is cute,” Dawn said as Bessie let her into Treoghe Bwaane. “And it feels larger inside than I expected.”
“Have a seat,” Bessie suggested, gesturing towards the kitchen table. She filled the kettle with water and switched it on before piling her best chocolate biscuits onto a plate. She put the plate onto the table in front of the woman and handed her a smaller plate for her selections. A few minutes later, the kettle boiled, and Bessie made the tea and served it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she sat down opposite the woman.
“Yes, no,
I don’t know,” Dawn said with a strangled laugh. “I feel as if I’ve talked about it no end, but then I don’t think I’ve really talked about it at all. Talking to a police inspector isn’t the same as talking about it, is it?”
“A police inspector?” Bessie repeated. “Is this about the man who was found at the Laxey Church recently?”
“It is, yes. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you know about it. Laxey is very small, isn’t it? I would imagine my husband’s murder is the most exciting thing that’s happened here in a great many years.”
Bessie took a sip of tea. The past year had seen far too many exciting things happen in Laxey, but she didn’t want to start telling the other woman about them. “I should tell you that I was there when the body was found,” she said after a minute.
“You were? How very odd.”
“I was with my friends who were getting married,” Bessie explained. “We were looking for the vicar, and when we were walking through the churchyard, one of them spotted the body.”
“How much more do you know?” the woman demanded. “Do you know that the man wasn’t really who he claimed to be?”
“I do, yes. I talked to a police inspector about the case last night, and he told me that much. Apparently, that fact is going to be in today’s local newspaper.”
“I wish I knew why Walter was pretending to be a vicar. His father was a vicar. Maybe that’s part of it. I simply don’t know.”
“I understand he’d been in prison until recently,” Bessie said softly.
Dawn nodded. “He was a career criminal. I didn’t know that when I met him, but it didn’t take me long to find out. He was arrested just a few weeks after we met. That’s when I found out his true identity. Before that, I thought he was the disinherited third son of a minor duke.”
“My goodness.”
“He was incredibly convincing, you know. After I found out who he really was, I loved watching him work. He could convince total strangers that he was anyone he wanted to be. It was amazing. Of course, I wanted him to find ways to use his talent for good, but he was addicted to the rush of making fast, easy money.”
“Except he kept getting caught,” Bessie pointed out.
Aunt Bessie Questions (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 17) Page 8