Harold shook his head. “I can only guess that when he came back out for the question-and-answer session he was going to announce that his talk was all an elaborate hoax. I know he did something similar at a conference about seven years ago, getting everyone in the crowd excited and then using his follow-up talk to discuss how easily he’d managed to create a believable fake presentation.”
Bessie shook her head. “Mack was up to something more complicated than that,” she whispered to Doona. “I wish I knew what it was.”
Harold continued. “I must add, as well, that I was lucky to get that slide identified so quickly. I suspect the others will be harder to trace. Mack was very clever when he made his selections. If they are all as obscure and believable as the one I’ve managed to track down, it could take years to sort them all out. I mustn’t speak ill of the dead, but it is just possible that Mack was hoping to advance his career with his ‘finds.’”
“Does that sound more likely?” Doona asked Bessie.
“I’m afraid it does,” Bessie shrugged. “Mack could have refused to show the slides to anyone after his talk. George Quayle had already offered to fund an excavation. Mack could have done quite well out of his charade.”
“But surely his career was on the line if he was caught?” Doona demanded.
“Maybe,” Bessie replied. “But Mack was always doing things like this.” She shook her head. “Maybe not quite like this,” she clarified. “But he was often getting himself into some sort of trouble or another and then talking his way out of it. You heard what Claire said. He got into trouble in Anglesey and managed to get away with his reputation intact. Mack could be very convincing when he needed to be and I’m sure he had a backup plan in case he was caught right away.”
Doona shook her head. “I’m not sure if I wish I’d met the man or not.”
“I’m going to wrap things up for today,” Harold told everyone. “Anyone who is interested in what we discover as we dig deeper into Mack’s so-called ‘findings,’ should send me an email. I’ll send out periodic updates as we go along.”
“So that’s that, then,” Rockwell said as the crowd began to disperse. “The murderer is in custody. The missing slides are all accounted for. And Mack’s big announcement turns out to have been a clever hoax. I think that’s quite enough excitement for one day, don’t you?”
Bessie grinned. “I’m still supposed to go back for another chat with Bambi,” she reminded the inspector. “I can’t imagine that she’ll have anything to add to today’s revelations, but at least I can fill her in on what she missed.”
Rockwell grinned. “I’ll drive you over. Doona and I can wait in the lobby while you talk to her and then we can go out for a celebratory dinner, on me.”
“Um, I’ll pay my own way, like,” Hugh interjected. “But I’d love to come as well.”
The inspector laughed. “You’re more than welcome,” he told him. “And dinner is on me, but you can pay for the bottle of champagne.”
“That sounds like a fair deal,” Hugh grinned.
Bessie needed several minutes to extract herself from the crowded foyer. Nearly everyone seemed to want a quick word with her about Mack, Claire and the Roman hoax. When Marjorie saw her, Bessie found herself engulfed in a huge hug.
“I can’t thank you enough for figuring out what happened to Mack,” Marjorie told Bessie. “I feel like I can finally sleep again tonight.”
“I do feel sorry for Claire,” Bessie admitted to Marjorie. “Mack treated her quite badly.”
“He treated a lot of us quite badly,” Marjorie replied. “Maybe we should have all banded together like in Agatha Christie and took turns to stab him.”
“You don’t mean that,” Bessie told her friend.
“I suppose not,” Marjorie said with a sigh. “But I must admit I feel, I don’t know, free somehow now that Mack’s dead. I feel like I can finally get on with my life in a way I didn’t before. And I feel like a horrible person for feeling that way.”
Bessie hugged her friend tightly. “Well, at least something good has come out of Mack’s death, then,” she said. “I just hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to be tempted to leave the island.”
“Oh, good heavens, no,” Marjorie exclaimed. “This is home now and I’m not going anywhere.”
“There was something you didn’t tell the police,” Bessie said. “Can you tell me now?”
Marjorie flushed and looked down at the floor. “I really don’t think….” she began. She sighed and then looked at Bessie. “I was with Mack in the cuillee for a short time before his talk,” she said.
“You were?”
“When he went in to get ready, I followed him into the cuillee.” Marjorie’s eyes filled with tears again. “I’m so embarrassed to admit it, but he, well, he just about persuaded me to forgive him. We actually made arrangements to meet for a drink after the question-and-answer session.” Marjorie blushed even brighter. “We were going to meet at my house. I wrote my address on the back of my business card and Mack tucked it into the bag with his injectors. I was worried that the police would find it, but I guess Claire found it instead. I can’t believe he made drink plans with her as well. I’m such an idiot when it comes to men.”
“Marjorie, I’m so sorry,” Bessie said, wishing she could do something to help her friend. “Why don’t you bring an overnight bag tomorrow night and after class you can come over to my cottage. We’ll drink a bottle of wine together and talk about anything and everything. My spare room is reasonably comfortable, especially if you’ve had a bottle of wine.”
Marjorie laughed through her tears. “I’d love that, Bessie, thank you.”
Bessie hugged her one more time and then moved on. She had a quick word with Harold, congratulating him on his discovery. Luckily for Bessie, nearly everyone in the room wanted to talk to him as well, so he could do little more than shake her hand before someone else pulled him away.
Joe was standing next to the tea table, mindlessly eating chocolate biscuits as Bessie made her way around the room.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked him with real concern.
“Yeah, I am,” he replied. “I’m having dinner with Helen Baxter and a couple of her friends. I’ll be flying back to London tomorrow to continue my research and my studies, but I hope to get back here one day soon, maybe after the new research centre opens.”
“When you come back, give me a call,” Bessie told him, handing him a slip of paper with her contact details on it. “I’d love to see you again.”
“I’ll do that,” Joe promised, tucking the paper into a pocket. “Thanks for everything.”
Bessie and her friends arrived at the lift at the same time as Liz, who pulled Bessie into a huge hug.
“Thank you for figuring it all out,” she told Bessie, as tears filled her eyes. “I know Bill will be pleased that it’s all over and done with and no one will be asking me any more questions.”
“I think we’re all glad it’s all over and done with,” Bessie told her.
At the front door to the museum, Hugh headed off to find his car and head for the restaurant they had agreed upon. It wouldn’t be busy on a Sunday night, and no one would mind if he took up a table for four on his own while he waited. Bessie suspected that he’d order himself a snack anyway, something to keep him going until the others arrived.
Rockwell drove Bessie and Doona to Noble’s. Inside, Bessie bypassed the information desk and headed straight for the private wing. She tapped in the code that she’d seen Sue use and smiled to herself as the doors swung open. When she arrived at the information desk, she was pleased to be told that she was expected and cleared to visit Bambi.
“Ms. Marks is going back to London tomorrow,” the nurse on duty told her. “We’ve just had a call from the police giving the final okay.”
“She must be happy about that,” Bessie replied.
The nurse shrugged. “You go on down and ask her yourself,” she suggested.
Bessie walked down the hallway and knocked lightly on Bambi’s door.
“Come in,” a voice called.
Bambi was sitting in the same chair she’d been in earlier. Her father and Clive Henderson were side by side on the couch. Bessie could feel tension in the atmosphere as she stepped into the room.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said tentatively.
“Not at all,” Clive said smoothly, getting to his feet. “We’re just finalising our travel plans for tomorrow. The sooner we can get this young lady back to London, the better.”
Bambi snorted and muttered something under her breath. Her father shook his head and then stood up and smiled at Bessie.
“Miss Cubbon, thank you for coming back to see Mar, er, my daughter again. I’m sure she appreciates your efforts,” he said.
“It was no problem,” Bessie assured him. “As it happened, it’s been quite an exciting afternoon and I wanted to share some of what Bambi missed at the conference with her, if she’s interested.”
“Yes, Inspector Corkill was here a short time ago. He filled us in on your, um, unmasking of Dr. Dickson’s murderer. I’m sure the police are very grateful and I know my daughter will sleep better knowing that that woman is behind bars.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Bambi erupted. “I’m sitting right here. I can speak for myself.”
Bessie grinned at her, addressing her directly. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Claire also admitted to switching your water bottle for a drugged one,” she said.
“Yeah, which was disappointing, because after you left I started thinking about it and I was pretty sure I’d figured out that she’d done it,” Bambi replied. “I couldn’t wait to see you again to tell you, but now everyone knows she did it.”
“I’m sure Inspector Corkill appreciates that you were able to confirm Claire’s version of events,” Bessie told her.
“Yeah, well, he would appreciate it a lot, if certain people would let me talk to him,” Bambi said with a scowl.
“Margaret, we’ve been all through this,” Nigel said sternly. “I think you need to get your things packed up and then get some rest. Thank you for coming, Miss Cubbon.”
Nigel took a step towards Bessie, as if to usher her out the door. Bambi stepped forward and held up a hand.
“I think I’d like to take a short stroll with Aunt Bessie,” she announced. “Just down the corridor for a cup of tea. We’ll be right back.”
Before her father or his solicitor could reply, Bambi almost dragged Bessie out into the corridor. “Hurry,” she whispered in Bessie’s ear. They were halfway down the hall before Bessie could reply.
“Are you planning on running away?” she asked the girl.
Bambi laughed. “Oh, it is so tempting,” she told Bessie. “But no, I really just want ten minutes alone with you and a cup of tea.”
“I’m surprised they aren’t following us,” Bessie said, glancing behind them as Bambi pushed open the door to the television room.
“They won’t want to cause a scene,” Bambi assured her. “One of them will wander in casually in about five minutes, just to check that I’m okay.”
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Bessie asked curiously as the girl filled the kettle with water and switched it on.
“Mack was planning to move to America,” she said.
“Mack was planning what?”
Bambi laughed. “He was planning to move to America. Apparently some little university in some obscure town in the middle of nowhere offered him a ridiculously inflated salary to come and start an archeology programme for them. I think they thought that having a British archeologist would give them some class or something.”
“I thought he was planning a big excavation here?” Bessie asked.
“He was hoping to get a big lump of money from George Quayle for a dig here, but then use it to pay for his relocation to the US,” Bambi told her.
“But that’s fraud,” Bessie exclaimed.
“And that’s why my father doesn’t want me to tell anyone about it. He says that I could be prosecuted because I knew about the plan.”
“But the plan didn’t work,” Bessie said.
“I know, but my father is all about covering his butt. Or in this case, my butt. I wasn’t going to tell you, but after everything you’ve done, finding Mack’s killer and all, I figured you deserve to know.”
“But why wasn’t the university in the US covering his moving costs?” Bessie asked.
Bambi shrugged. “I don’t know the whole story,” she replied. “Maybe Mack was trying to get as much as he could out of George before he moved on. I know that there’s something in George’s past that Mack knew and was holding over him. It’s just possible that the whole exercise was just a fancy way for Mack to get George to hand over a bunch of blackmail money.”
“Mack was blackmailing George?” Bessie shook her head. “Poor Mary.”
“Yeah, apparently a lot of the money is Mary’s and George can’t just do whatever he wants with it. The whole Roman remains thing might have been dreamed up between George and Mack, for all I know.”
Bessie sighed. “The police should know all of this,” she told the girl.
“And they will,” Bambi told her. “Just not right away. My dad is being super about everything right now and I need to play nice with him. I promise I’ll give a formal statement to someone in London in a few days, once we get settled. For now, though, I’m keeping quiet and I hope you will as well.”
“Everything you’ve told me is just hearsay,” Bessie replied. “The police wouldn’t be interested in hearing it from me.” Bessie knew that wasn’t strictly true. Inspector Rockwell would be very interested, and she planned to tell him everything she’d been told as soon as she had a moment alone with him. There was no evidence that George Quayle was involved in anything illegal at this point, but Bessie would feel better knowing that Rockwell was keeping an eye on him.
The kettle came to a boil and clicked off just as the door to the room swung open. Nigel Marks stuck his head in. “Everything okay in here?” he asked brightly.
“Everything’s fine,” Bambi replied in a monotone. “Bessie and I were just having a little girl talk, but she needs to get going.”
“I do, actually,” Bessie said. “I’m having dinner with some dear friends.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Nigel suggested, offering Bessie his arm.
“Take good care of yourself,” Bessie said to Bambi. “If you ever come back to the island, please give me a call.”
“Thank you for everything,” Bambi told her, giving her a quick hug. “You should look me up the next time you’re in London.”
“I might just,” Bessie grinned, knowing full well that she rarely travelled to London and, even if she did, she would never contact Bambi there.
Bessie took the offered arm and followed Nigel from the room. He waited until they were nearly to the wing’s exit before speaking.
“I hope she didn’t say anything, um, off the wall,” he said. “She’s still suffering badly from the drugs she was given by that woman.”
“We just chatted about Mack and their relationship,” Bessie told him. “I think she’s still a bit overwhelmed by everything that happened this weekend.”
“I can certainly understand that,” Nigel replied. “I certainly never wanted my baby girl caught up in a murder investigation.”
“No, of course not,” Bessie said. “At least now she can go home and start sorting out her life.”
“Yes, we’ve been talking about a lot of different options,” he told Bessie. “I think she’s probably going to go back to school, maybe in fashion design.”
“Good for her,” Bessie grinned. “I hope I see her work in glossy magazines some day.”
“Me too,” Nigel replied.
The pair crossed the lobby slowly, with Bessie shooting a warning look at Inspector Rockwell as they went. She’d rather Nigel didn�
��t know that the inspector was one of her friends.
“Bessie, there you are,” Doona crossed the room. “All set?”
Bessie thought about performing introductions, but Nigel didn’t give her time. “I’ll just leave you with your friend, then,” he said, giving her a small bow. He’d disappeared back down the hall before Bessie had a chance to reply.
“Should I feel insulted that he didn’t want to meet me?” Doona laughed.
“Count your blessings,” Bessie answered wryly.
Inspector Rockwell joined them and they were quickly off to join Hugh at the restaurant on the Douglas promenade. Half an hour later, the foursome was seated around a large table in the nearly empty restaurant. Everyone had ordered and the champagne that Inspector Rockwell insisted on had been delivered.
“To Bessie, a brilliant historian, incredible detective and wonderful person,” Doona said, raising her glass.
“To Bessie,” Hugh and Rockwell repeated.
Bessie blushed a bright red. “Now don’t you fuss like that,” Bessie chided her friends. “I’m none of those things, really.”
Doona laughed. “You’re all of those things and more. I forget to mention what a great friend you are. Your friendship means the world to me, it truly does.”
Bessie blushed even more. She thought about arguing further, but worried it might just bring on more compliments she didn’t feel were entirely deserved. Instead, she took a sip of champagne and then smiled at her friends.
“To friendship,” she said, raising her glass.
“To friendship,” the others repeated.
Glossary of Terms
Manx to English
cuillee
back room or small room off a kitchen
Ellan Vannin
Isle of Man
fastyr mie
good afternoon
kys t’ou
how are you?
moghry mie
good morning
skeet
gossip
ta mee braew
Aunt Bessie Considers (Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 23