“They do say there’s someone out there for everyone,” Rockwell shrugged. “And Moirrey was quite wealthy. I’m surprised she didn’t attract a man sooner, really.”
“Moirrey wasn’t stupid,” Bessie said. “I think she would have been suspicious if anyone she knew started flirting. I think the mystery man almost had to be from across.”
“You’re ruling out Matthew Barnes now, then?”
“The kids would have recognised him,” Bessie pointed out. “I’m not ruling him out for murder, but apparently he wasn’t the boyfriend.”
“It all helps build up the picture,” Rockwell sighed. “But I’m not sure the new information brings us any closer to the murderer.”
“From everything I’ve heard, I suspect the pair broke up some time before Moirrey died anyway,” Bessie suggested.
“Based on what?”
“Well, Janet Munroe said that he had been coming around a couple of times a week, but that he didn’t visit once in the last week before she died.”
“Maybe his wife found out,” Rockwell suggested.
“Whatever, I can’t believe that I spent an evening with Moirrey and she never gave one hint that she was dating. I think if they were still dating she would have said something at class.”
“You certainly knew her better than I did,” Rockwell answered. “But broken up or not, I still want to find him.”
“So how do you go about doing that?” Bessie asked.
“We’ll have to request passenger lists from the airlines and the ferries,” the inspector sighed. “And copies of rental contacts from the hire car firms. That’s probably a better place to start. There should be fewer of them and we can narrow the list by age and gender as well.”
Bessie nodded. “What happens once you find him?”
“Assuming he is across, we get one of our colleagues in his area to ask him a few questions and then go from there. It will all take time, but we should be able to locate him eventually.”
“I can’t imagine him having a motive for killing Moirrey, though,” Bessie sighed. “And even if he did, where does Anne Caine fit into all of this?”
“Great questions,” Rockwell told her. “I wish I had answers, but to be honest, something else is bothering me.”
“Really? What?” Bessie asked.
“Andrew Teare,” he replied. “I know he didn’t kill Moirrey; he wasn’t even on the island when she died. But there’s something about him I don’t like.”
“Have the DNA test results come back yet?” Bessie asked.
“No, we won’t have those for several more days.”
“But you don’t think he’s who he claims to be?”
“I don’t know,” Rockwell said in a frustrated voice.
“If he isn’t Andrew Teare, who could he be?” Bessie asked.
“I’ve absolutely no idea,” Rockwell admitted. “He’s has all the right identification and he talks quite easily about his childhood on the island. I can’t imagine who else he could possibly be.”
“But you don’t trust him?”
“I don’t like him and I don’t like the way he’s playing up to Doona,” the inspector told Bessie. “I just think he’s up to something.”
“There’s something I don’t like about him either, but that might just be because he’s suddenly Matthew Barnes’ best friend and I don’t trust Mr. Barnes.”
Inspector Rockwell grinned. “Want to help me do some checking up on the man?” he asked Bessie.
“What did you have in mind?” Bessie replied.
“I want to get his fingerprints. I want to run them through the system and see if I get any hits. If they come back unknown, then I’ll worry a bit less about Doona.”
“Do you think he’s a criminal?”
“I think he makes me uncomfortable,” Rockwell shrugged. “Maybe it’s just me, but I’d like to find out for sure whether he has a criminal record or not.”
“So what’s your plan?”
The inspector outlined his idea, which was fairly simple. Bessie would invite Andrew Teare over for tea and a chat. After the man left, the inspector would pick up his teacup and have the fingerprints checked.
“Is that strictly legal?” Bessie asked.
“Probably not,” Rockwell admitted. “Anything I learn would be inadmissible in court. But I’m not worried about that for now. Let’s find out who he is and then, if there’s a problem, I’ll figure out a way to get his fingerprints legally.”
They spent a few minutes fine-tuning the plan before the inspector headed for home. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck finding me a flat?” he asked at the door.
“Sorry, no,” Bessie replied. “There are lots of holiday rentals, but I haven’t been able to find anything long-term.”
Rockwell nodded. “I may just have to buy myself a little flat,” he told Bessie. “That might be the easiest option.”
“They’ll be plenty to rent in October,” she grinned. “Once all the holiday makers head home all the holiday rentals will be going cheap.”
“October seems a long way off,” the inspector sighed. “For tonight I guess I’d better get back to Ramsey.”
It was too late to ring Andrew Teare, so Bessie headed up to bed after turning off the phone’s ringer. Anyone who called overnight could leave a message. Bessie had decided some time ago that she was too old to be running up and down stairs in the middle of the night. It was just about the only concession she was prepared to make to her age.
Upstairs, she checked in with Jason who was shaking his head over the book.
“I totally did not see that coming,” he told Bessie. “It was very cleverly done. Are all of her books like that?”
Bessie laughed. “Pretty much,” she told the boy. “Remind me in the morning and I’ll dig out a few that I can lend you.”
“Really? That would be awesome,” Jason grinned.
Bessie always kept a handful of extra copies of some of her favourite books that she bought up at charity shops. In that way she could lend them to friends and not worry if they never came back. In all of her years of lending, she’d only ever had two books not returned to her, which she didn’t think was too bad considering she must have lent hundreds.
Bessie got ready for bed and then lay in her room listening to Jason as he washed his face and climbed into the bed in spare room. She loved having occasional visitors; they made her cottage feel cosier, somehow. And as long as young Jason only stayed the one night, she’d feel that way about him. It was visitors who stayed longer who often started getting on Bessie’s nerves.
Chapter Thirteen
Jason left right after breakfast; eager to get home with the stack of novels that Bessie lent him. Bessie spent her morning walk mentally rehearsing what she was going to say to Andrew Teare when she called him.
He was staying in Ramsey at the newly refurbished Seaview Hotel. Built in the 1930s, it had once been Ramsey’s premier hotel, although Bessie had always lamented the lack of originality in the name. It had been sold in the 1970s to a consortium of investors from across and had been allowed to fall into disrepair. A year or so ago, a local developer had bought the property and he’d wasted no time before remodeling, repairing and updating the place.
It had hosted a grand reopening the week before Easter, and Bessie had already been hearing good things about the place. Certainly the reception desk seemed efficient, quickly patching Bessie through to Andrew Teare’s room.
“Ah, Mr. Teare? It’s Bessie Cubbon. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” The voice on the phone seemed unnecessarily loud to Bessie, as if the man was shouting. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I was hoping I could do something for you,” Bessie chuckled. “I’m making American-style brownies this afternoon and I thought you might like some.”
“Now that sounds wonderful,” the man replied. “What time should I be there, and shall I bring Doona, or are we not sharing?”
; Bessie laughed. “Why don’t you come around four o’clock?” she suggested. “And, actually, I’d rather you didn’t bring Doona. I’d like a chance to have a chat with you on your own.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, and Bessie started to worry that the plan had failed before it had even started, when Andrew finally spoke.
“I should warn you,” Andrew said after the awkward pause. “You aren’t really my type. I prefer to date women with tattoos.”
Bessie laughed uneasily, trying to react naturally. “What makes you think I don’t have a tattoo?” she teased.
Andrew laughed. “I guess I’ll see you at four,” he told her.
Bessie hung up the phone and blew out a long breath. The silence had been weird, but hopefully, the rest of the plan would go smoothly. She rang Inspector Rockwell and filled him in.
“I’ll see you at half-three,” he told Bessie. “We’ll go back over everything then.”
Bessie got busy then, making up several pans of brownies for all of the people to whom she had promised them. Jennifer’s family only lived a short walk away, and Bessie made her visit there a short one. She delivered the brownies and thanked Jennifer for the information she had been able to provide and then had a short chat with Sandy, Jennifer’s mum. Jennifer was right, her mother was recovering quickly, and Bessie felt bad that she had to keep her visit short.
“I’ll come back and visit again next week,” Bessie promised Sandy. “And I’ll bring something else from my new cookbook with me.”
Back at home, Bessie tidied up and paced around her cottage anxiously. When Andrew Teare knocked on Bessie’s door at exactly four o’clock, Bessie was flustered.
“Oh, my, you’re right on time and I’m not,” she told the man as she opened the cottage door. “Please come in.”
Bessie waved a gloved hand at him. “Sorry, I was just finishing the washing up,” she explained, clapping the brightly coloured gloves she was wearing together. “I didn’t realise how much mess a pan of brownies could make.”
“They smell wonderful,” Andrew told her as he shut the cottage door behind himself and walked into the kitchen.
“I hope so,” Bessie grinned. “They were ever so much bother.”
Andrew laughed. “Now I know why I don’t bake.”
“Anyway, please sit down,” Bessie told him, gesturing towards the small kitchen table and chairs. “I’ll just finish the last few bowls, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Andrew smiled amiably and settled into a chair.
“Now before you get too comfortable,” Bessie laughed. “Can I put you to work?”
Andrew jumped up. “Of course you can,” he assured her.
“I thought we’d stick to the American theme,” she told him. “I picked up something called ‘American-style lemonade’ at ShopFast. Would you mind terribly pouring it into the glasses?”
Andrew grinned. “I think I can just about handle that.”
Bessie laughed and turned back to the sink. She quickly finished washing the last of the dirty dishes and then rinsed them. With a sigh, she pulled off her gloves and joined Andrew at the table.
“How is it, then?” she asked as he put a glass to his lips.
“It’s, um, interesting,” he replied.
Bessie laughed. “Oh dear, maybe I don’t even want to try it.” She took a cautious sip from her own glass and laughed again. “Interesting was a good word for it,” she told Andrew. “Should I make some tea?”
Andrew laughed. “I think I’d rather have tea, if you don’t mind,” he told her.
“I don’t mind,” Bessie replied. “I’d rather have tea as well.” She carefully collected the glasses full of lemonade and set them on the counter. She’d poured the bottle of lemonade into a large glass pitcher and she removed that as well, putting it into the refrigerator.
“You never know,” she shrugged at Andrew. “One of the neighbourhood kids might drop by and he or she might love it.”
“As far as I’m concerned, they’re welcome to it,” Andrew told her.
Bessie had already filled the kettle just in case the lemonade was disappointing, and now she set out teacups and milk and sugar while she waited for the kettle to boil. She took the plate full of brownies from the counter to the table and handed Andrew a small plate. “Here you are,” she told him. “You may as well get started while we wait for the kettle to boil. I hope these are less disappointing than the drink was.”
Andrew took a brownie and bit into it. Bessie couldn’t help but watch him closely as he chewed. After a moment he grinned at her. “They’re delicious,” he said. “Really chewy and chocolatey, the way a brownie should be.”
“Oh good,” Bessie sighed and sank down at the table next to the man. She picked up a brownie of her own and took a cautious bite. “You’re right,” she said a moment later. “These are really good.”
Andrew laughed. A moment later the kettle boiled and Bessie quickly made a pot of tea. They both fixed their own drinks exactly as they liked them and then Bessie sat back down at the table with Andrew.
“I appreciate your stopping by,” she said, a bit hesitantly.
“You promised me brownies,” the man grinned. “I couldn’t possibly have said no.”
“That’s good to know for the future,” Bessie grinned back at him. “If ever I need to talk to you, I’ll bake brownies.”
“Oh, you needn’t go to too much bother,” he waved a hand. “I’ll come visit you for a cuppa and just about anything sweet.”
Bessie laughed. “I have to say, the brownies were more work than I thought they would be. The next time I want to chat with you, you might just get shortbread or something out of a packet from the shops.”
Andrew grinned. “That works too,” he assured her. “But what did you want to talk with me about?”
Bessie sighed. “This is awkward,” she began. “I mean, I feel like a meddling old lady.”
Andrew shook his head. “Just say whatever is on your mind,” he suggested. “If I think you’re meddling, I’ll tell you so.”
“It’s just….” Bessie sighed again. “Okay, the thing is, I’m worried about Doona.”
“Why? Is there something wrong?”
“I guess I should say that I’m worried about you and Doona,” Bessie replied.
“Ah,” the man frowned. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her, is that it?”
Bessie shook her head. “It isn’t that at all,” she replied. “I just worry about my friend. Her last divorce was ugly and nasty and it took her a long time to get over it. I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”
“I’m not planning on hurting her,” Andrew protested.
“I wasn’t suggesting that you were,” Bessie shrugged. “No one ever plans on hurting someone else, do they? I just worry that things are moving really fast between you two. You seem to be spending so much time together….” She trailed off, unsure of where to go next with the conversation.
“Is that it?” Andrew asked. “Am I taking her away from spending time with you?”
Bessie flushed. “I don’t want you to think I’m jealous or anything,” she stammered. “I don’t begrudge you the time with her, really I don’t.” She sighed again. “I’m just worried, that’s all. You’ve turned up after many years away and you’ve lived all over the world. I would hate for you to take Doona away, I guess.”
“Bessie, I think it’s sweet that you are so protective of Doona,” Andrew told her, patting her hand. “And I can assure you that I don’t have any plans for taking Doona away from the island in the foreseeable future. But please try to remember that Doona is a big girl and she can look after herself.”
Bessie cast her eyes downward, feeling like a fool. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Doona’s become very important to me in the last couple of years. I guess I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
Andrew patted her hand again. “Never mind,” he s
aid briskly. “Let’s just enjoy our tea and brownies and not mention it again.”
Bessie smiled at him. “That would be wonderful,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me about some of your adventures in America and Australia?” she suggested.
Andrew spent the next half hour entertaining Bessie with stories about his years in Australia. He happened to be an excellent storyteller, making Bessie laugh out loud repeatedly as he shared his many mishaps and missteps “down under.”
“Oh my, look at the time,” he said after a particularly long story involving a kangaroo, a can of beer and three unsuspecting German tourists. Bessie was still wiping away tears of laughter from her eyes as he jumped up.
“I’m taking Doona out for dinner,” he told Bessie. “I really must go and get changed. I promised her dinner in the dining room at the Seaview and I need a jacket and tie.”
Bessie grinned. “I hope all those brownies haven’t spoiled your dinner,” she told him.
“No chance,” he grinned back. “Once I start looking at the menu I’ll be starving.”
“Menus can do that, can’t they?” Bessie smiled. “I haven’t been out for dinner in what feels like ages. One of theses days you must let me treat you and Doona to a meal.”
“I’d like that,” Andrew told her. “And I know Doona would as well.”
He started picking up plates and teacups, but Bessie waved him away. “You get off and get ready for your big date,” she told him. “I can clear up.”
“Are you sure? I hate to leave you with a mess.”
“It’s only a couple of plates and a few teacups,” Bessie laughed. “It’s fine.”
Andrew offered one final half-hearted protest before moving on to thanking Bessie for the tea and brownies.
“Nonsense,” Bessie told him. “Thank you for coming over and for not thinking too badly of me for interfering in Doona’s life. I’d be ever so grateful if you didn’t mention that part of our conversation to Doona.”
Andrew grinned. “You can consider my lips sealed by chocolate brownies,” he said.
As she shut the cottage door behind the man, Bessie let out a sigh of relief. The visit had been even more of an ordeal than she had expected. After several minutes she looked out the window in the kitchen. She could see that the parking area beside her house was empty.
Aunt Bessie Believes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery) Page 19