“Peggy Cannon was very close to her son, Spencer. He moved across about fifteen years ago, but not by choice. His company transferred him to a site in the UK.”
“I don’t remember meeting anyone called Peggy Cannon,” Doona said.
“Oh, she passed away about five years ago,” Bessie told her. “She was a lovely woman but she couldn’t make jam to save her life. The other ladies often poked fun at her for belonging to their group in spite of that.”
“I suppose all of the others make perfect jam,” Doona said. “Especially Elinor.”
Bessie laughed. “They all make good jam, certainly, but they’ve had a lot of years to practice. The other woman I always thought was close to her children was Elizabeth Porter. She died in the seventies, though, and both her kids were already living across when she had her car accident.”
“At least with all the new tax regulations more companies are moving over to the island,” Doona said. “More kids can come back here after university instead of having to stay across to find jobs.”
“Elizabeth had two boys, and they were both really smart. I think the elder went to Oxford and the younger one went to Cambridge. I might have them backwards. Anyway, they both found work across after university, but they both used to visit their mum often, even after they married. The older one had a couple of kids, and Elizabeth loved being a grandmother.” Bessie sighed as she thought about the woman who had been her friend.
“Are you okay?” Doona asked, taking Bessie’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
“This thing with Nancy is churning up all sorts of memories,” Bessie told her. “For me and for everyone involved.”
“And maybe buried in someone’s memory somewhere, there’s a clue to who killed her,” Doona suggested.
The waiter delivered their puddings and Bessie sighed happily as she took her first bite.
“Agnes was close to her son, Matthew,” Bessie said after she’d scraped up the last bite from her plate. “It nearly broke her heart when he left the island.”
“Why did he go?”
“Again, we’re back to whispers,” Bessie replied. “Agnes would never talk about it, but everyone thought he was gay. What I heard was that her husband found out and kicked him out.”
“Poor Agnes,” Doona gasped.
Bessie smiled. “Even though she’d never admit why he left, she sometimes talked to me about him. She used to go across to see him at least twice a year. I gather he paid for it. I can’t see Agnes’s husband being willing to do so. He was a hard-working electrician, Agnes’s husband was, but he was always very careful with money. Their son, though, he was a very successful interior designer, so he could afford to pay for his mother’s visits.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died a couple of years ago. The skeet was that he had AIDS, but, of course, Agnes never talked about it.”
“None of them seem to have had very good lives,” Doona said.
“They grew up in difficult times,” Bessie replied. “They dated and started their married lives in the war years. Bringing up small children during the lean years that followed the war wouldn’t have been easy. And in those days you married for life, no matter how things turned out after the wedding.”
Doona shook her head. “If I’d have had to stay married to my second husband, I’d be in gaol for murder myself,” she told Bessie. “I do sometimes wonder if I didn’t give up too easily on my first marriage, but as he’s very happily married to someone else now, it’s no use speculating.”
Their waiter cleared the pudding dishes and offered them coffee, which they both declined.
“Maybe we should have another drink in the bar?” Doona suggested.
Bessie looked at her watch. “We haven’t time,” she replied. “Dave should be here in a few minutes to take us home. You’re welcome to come back to my cottage for a drink, of course.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Doona said.
A sudden buzzing noise, very close by, made them both jump.
“What on earth is that?” Bessie demanded.
“I think it might be your mobile,” Doona suggested.
“Oh, good heavens,” Bessie laughed. “I was playing around with the settings,” she told Doona as she dug around in her bag.
“I never seem to hear it, so I was trying to find something louder. This is definitely loud, but it isn’t very pleasant.”
She finally found the phone and answered it.
“That was Dave,” she told Doona after a brief chat. “He’s stuck on the mountain. Apparently there was a bad accident and they’ve stopped traffic both ways to let the emergency services through. He said he could try to get someone else sent for us, or, if we don’t mind a wait, he’ll be here as soon as he can.”
“Let’s wait,” Doona said. “I know he’s your favourite and I quite like him as well. If they send someone else, it might be Mark”
Bessie made a face. She didn’t like Mark any more than Doona did. “I told Dave we’d wait,” she told Doona.
“Let’s grab that drink in the bar, then,” Doona suggested.
The bar area was quiet. A young couple was sitting together in one corner, staring into each other’s eyes and barely speaking. A couple of middle-aged businessmen were scattered across the long row of bars stools. Bessie and Doona settled in at one of the small tables.
“Do you suppose there’s table service?” Doona whispered.
“I doubt it,” Bessie replied. “I’ll go to the bar. What would you like?”
“Just another glass of wine will do. Do you mind?” Doona asked. “It’s just that both those guys at the bar gave me the once-over as we came in and I’m not in the mood to get chatted up.”
Bessie laughed. “I’m in no danger there, at least.”
While she waited at the bar for their drinks, Bessie watched one of the men. He was staring at Doona and after a moment he got up and wandered towards her. Bessie quickly grabbed their drinks, arriving back at the table just in time to hear Doona’s response to whatever the man had said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak English,” Doona told him, smiling sweetly.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise.” The man nodded at Bessie as she put the drinks down and then ambled back to the bar.
Bessie swallowed her laughter with a sip of wine.
“If he’d been even a little bit sober, that wouldn’t have worked,” Doona told her. “But then, even a little bit sober he probably wouldn’t have come near me.”
“None of that,” Bessie scolded. “You’re a beautiful woman and there are lots of men who’d jump at a chance to go out with you.”
“If only they were queuing up,” Doona sighed. “I’m not really looking, but it would be nice to be asked once a while.”
Bessie laughed. “You just were asked,” she reminded her friend.
“Oh, yeah,” Doona laughed. The pair chatted about nothing much as they waited for their ride. Dave appeared in the doorway just as they were discussing whether or not to order another round of drinks.
“I’m so sorry, Bessie, Doona,” he said when he reached their table. “I ended up having to take someone from the sea terminal to Ramsey and then I got caught on the mountain.”
“Was it a very bad accident?” Bessie asked.
“From what I’ve heard, it was just the one car. It went off the road near Kate’s Cottage. Apparently it was travelling at a pretty high speed, because it rolled a few times. They were lucky nothing exploded or caught fire,” Dave told them.
“Fatalities?” Doona asked.
“They’re saying the driver was alone in the car. He or she didn’t make it.”
Bessie blinked back tears. “How sad,” she said with a sigh.
“It is, aye,” Dave agreed.
The threesome made their way out of the restaurant. Dave held the passenger door of his taxi open for Bessie while Doona climbed into the back. They made their way out of Douglas towards the coast road that would tak
e them back to Laxey.
Before they’d reached the outskirts of Douglas, they had to stop as a police car blocked the road.
“They’re bringing the crash car down from the mountain,” Dave said as they waited.
After a few minutes the flatbed lorry with the badly mangled car made its way slowly past.
Bessie gasped. “That looks like Agnes Faragher’s car,” she said in a shaky voice.
Chapter Seven
“Oh, Bessie, are you sure?” Doona asked.
Bessie couldn’t take her eyes off the wreck that was now past them. “No,” she admitted. “I’m not sure. But it certainly looked like it. It was such an old car, there can’t be many like it on the island, not any more. Her husband was very careful with his money and he bought that car second-hand probably twenty years ago. I was always amazed it was still running.”
“It did look like a very old car,” Dave said. “But it was in such bad shape, it’s hard to say exactly what it was. I’m very sorry, if it was your friend’s car, though.”
“Thank you,” Bessie murmured dazedly.
In the back, Doona had her phone out and was speaking to someone. Bessie’s brain couldn’t make sense of the words. She’d just seen Agnes; it couldn’t possibly have been her.
Dave made his way along the coast road as Bessie stared out at towards the sea. It was too dark to see the water, but Bessie’s eyes weren’t focussed anyway. After a few minutes, Doona dropped her phone in her bag.
Bessie knew, when Doona didn’t speak, that she was right about the car. She felt too numb to ask questions, though.
At Bessie’s cottage, Dave helped Bessie from the car and Doona opened the cottage door with the set of keys Bessie had given her a while ago. She helped Bessie into a chair at the kitchen table. A few minutes later, Bessie took the cup of tea Doona offered her, with muttered thanks.
“It was Agnes, then?” she asked, although she knew the answer.
“It was,” Doona said, patting her hand.
“I don’t understand,” Bessie said.
“No, neither do I,” Doona told her. “Right now it just looks like an unfortunate accident.”
Bessie shook her head. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” she said softly.
“Neither does John,” Doona said. “He’s going to be here in the morning to talk to you about this.”
“I should sleep, then,” Bessie said.
“Yes, you really should,” Doona agreed.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Come on, you can at least get ready for bed,” Doona said soothingly. She pulled Bessie gently to her feet.
Doona helped Bessie up the stairs and for once Bessie didn’t object to her friend’s fussing over her.
“I feel like I’m in shock,” Bessie said as she changed into her nightgown.
“You probably are. I don’t suppose you have any brandy?”
“I don’t want brandy,” Bessie said with a faint smile.
Doona helped her climb into bed and tucked the covers around her. “Get some sleep. I’ll be in the spare room if you need anything.”
Bessie’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, immensely grateful for her friend.
While it was a badly shaken Bessie who struggled to get to sleep that night, it was an angry and determined Bessie who woke up the next morning. She got up and showered and dressed, patting on her favourite rose-scented dusting powder purposefully. Downstairs, she boiled the kettle and fixed herself a cup of tea before setting out for a long walk along the beach.
At the base of the steps that led up to Thie yn Traie, Bessie took a few deep breaths. She’d walked fast and furiously to here and now she rested and watched the waves.
Someone had once pushed her down these steps, trying to kill her, and now she glared up at the wooden planks.
“I’m not that easy to get rid of,” she said in a loud voice. “And I won’t stand by and watch my friends die, either.”
She marched back past the rental cottages, ignoring the handful of holidaymakers who were slowly straggling out of them. Inside her cottage, she slid some bread into the toaster and turned the kettle back on. A few moments later, she could hear Doona moving around upstairs.
“Toast and tea?” Bessie asked her friend as a blurry-eyed Doona wandered into the kitchen a few moments later.
“Coffee might be better,” Doona said with a sigh. “I didn’t sleep well.”
Bessie filled the coffee pot and switched it on. A moment later the room filled with the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
“I didn’t sleep well, either,” Bessie admitted. “Coffee sounds wonderful. I should have thought of it.”
“You seem incredibly wide awake and full of energy, all things considered,” Doona said.
“I’m wide awake and I’m angry,” Bessie told her. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I intend to find out.”
Doona nodded. “I talked to John when I first woke up. He’ll be here in about an hour. He’s hoping you might have some ideas for him.”
“I hope he’s going to share some information with me,” Bessie said. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I’m sure he’ll share all that he can,” Doona replied.
Bessie rolled her eyes. “Hmph, what’s the use of being friends with a police inspector if he won’t give you inside information?” she grumbled.
Doona just laughed and poured herself a cup of coffee. After a quick sip, she gave Bessie a hug. “This is wonderful,” she said. “But I need to get through the shower and get out of here. I don’t want to be in the way when John gets here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bessie asked. “Since when would you be in the way? You and John are friends and you work together as well.”
“Yeah, well, as Saturday is my day off. Let’s just say I’d rather not spend time with my boss.”
Bessie stared at her friend. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Doona said, staring at the ground. “John’s just being difficult right now and I’d rather not get caught up in another of his bad moods, that’s all. I’m being cowardly and getting out of here and leaving you to deal with him.”
Bessie shook her head. “I’m not worried about John,” she said stoutly. “I’m just hoping he can help me figure out what’s going on. No one targets my friends and gets away with it.”
Doona looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she shook her head. “I’m going to grab a shower,” she told Bessie, heading for the stairs.
Bessie poured her own cup of coffee and then made herself some more toast. She tried to settle in with a book, but her mind was racing and she couldn’t concentrate. After several frustrated minutes, she took her coffee out to the large rock behind her house. Sitting down on the rock, she sipped the hot drink and watched the waves as they came closer and closer.
She listened to the children playing and people calling back and forth, watching them at least as much as she watched the water. They were all so carefree and happy, while she felt so sad and shocked.
Doona found her on the rock a short time later and gave her a big hug. “I’ll call you this afternoon,” she promised Bessie. “I’ll bring something for tea and stay over again tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Bessie replied. “I’m fine.”
“I know you are, but I haven’t anything better to do,” Doona said with a grin. “I’ll bring dinner and a couple of bottles of wine and we’ll get silly drunk and talk about everyone we know.”
Bessie smiled. “I hate when you make a fuss over me,” she reminded Doona. “But I won’t say no to tonight. I think I’d like the company.”
Doona had only just gone when Bessie saw the inspector’s car pull into the small parking area beside her cottage. She climbed down off her rock and headed back towards the cottage, intercepting the inspector before he had time to get to the front door.
/> “Hello, John,” she called. “I’m just here. Why don’t you come around to the back door?”
The man quickly walked around to join Bessie and the pair made their way inside.
“I have coffee,” Bessie told him after they’d exchanged greetings.
“I could use some,” John said with a sigh. “I had a very late night.”
Bessie filled a cup for him and then refilled her own mug. She glanced at the clock and then fixed up a plate full of biscuits that she sat in the middle of the table. Handing John a small plate, she piled a few biscuits on a plate of her own.
“Thanks,” he said as he grabbed a handful. “I didn’t get breakfast and I’m not sure if I got dinner last night or not.”
Bessie shook her head. “You need to look after yourself,” she said sternly.
John waved a hand. “Let’s not worry about me. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” Bessie said. John stared hard at her and Bessie felt herself flushing under the gaze. “I’m not okay,” she admitted. “I’m confused and bewildered and a little bit frightened, but mostly I’m angry at whoever is doing this to my friends.”
“As far as we can tell, Mrs. Faragher’s accident was just that, an unfortunate accident,” John told her.
“I don’t believe it,” Bessie said firmly.
“I don’t really believe it, either,” John told her. “It seems too great a coincidence, coming so soon after Nancy King’s death.”
“She was so upset by Nancy’s death,” Bessie said slowly. “Could she have, that is, can you tell if she might have done it on purpose?”
John shook his head. “While anything is possible, we have firm evidence that her brakes failed.”
“So she was murdered,” Bessie said grimly.
“There’s no definite evidence that her brakes were tampered with,” John said. “The car was over twenty years old and it wasn’t particularly well-maintained. Our police mechanic went over it meticulously and, at least in his preliminary examination, he can’t say for certain whether the brakes failed on their own or if the failure had outside assistance.”
“Why was she on the mountain road last night?” Bessie asked.
“I don’t know,” John replied. “No one I’ve spoken to seems to know, but I haven’t been able to see any of the jam ladies.”
Aunt Bessie Enjoys Page 10