“Someone told me that Julie Randall used to be late regularly, but then she stopped. Maybe you need to work out what she started doing differently and then encourage the others to do the same.”
The man frowned. “I don’t think that will work,” he said stiffly.
“Oh, I thought maybe she found a way to motivate herself to start being on time.”
“Not Julie,” Alan said bitterly. “She found a way to stop getting into trouble, that’s all she did.”
“Oh?”
Alan looked around the room and then leaned in close to Bessie. “When your closest friend is married to a bank vice president, you don’t need to worry about silly things like being on time for work,” he told her in a whisper. “Sometimes you don’t even need to turn up for work at all.”
Bessie frowned. “But that isn’t fair,” she exclaimed.
Alan shrugged. “Neither is life,” he said. He swallowed the rest of his tea and then spun on his heel and walked back behind the desks. He stopped to say something to Annabelle, who was dealing with a customer, and then disappeared through the door behind her.
“That looked like an interesting conversation,” Doona said to Bessie.
“It was,” Bessie agreed.
“Bessie, you must meet the bank’s newest recruit,” Grace’s father said. “This is Marcus Porter. Marcus, this is Elizabeth Cubbon. She’s an island institution.”
Marcus grinned and stuck out a hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you,” he said brightly.
Bessie took the offered hand as she studied the man. His dark hair was neatly combed and had just enough grey running through it to look natural. He had brown eyes that looked warm and friendly as he shook Bessie’s hand. She’d been prepared to dislike the man after everything that Laura had told her, but now she found herself smiling back at him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replied. “Welcome to the Isle of Man.”
“Why, thank you,” he beamed. “Maybe you can tell me which tourist attractions are the best. I’m eager to see everything my new home has to offer, but I want to start with the most educational and work my way through them all.”
“The Manx Museum is always a good place to start,” Bessie said, wondering if Laura was still assigned there or if she’d been moved to a different site in the last few days. She didn’t want to send the man straight to Laura, obviously.
“I’ve driven past it a few times, mostly when I was lost,” the man said with a laugh. “Perhaps the next time I make that mistake, I’ll simply go inside and take a tour.”
“The castles are both worth a visit,” Bessie continued. “Castle Rushen and Peel Castle offer very different experiences, but both are fascinating and rich in history.”
“I should be taking notes,” the man teased. “I don’t suppose I could hire you as a tour guide?”
“You don’t need me,” Bessie assured him. “All of the sites have wonderful staff on hand. I’ve never met anyone who worked for Manx National Heritage who wasn’t brilliant at their job.”
The man nodded and then frowned. “That might be a small problem,” he said with a sigh.
“Oh?”
“My wife, or rather my former wife, works for Manx National Heritage,” he explained. “We didn’t part on the best of terms, you could say.”
“That’s a shame,” Bessie said, trying to pretend ignorance. “I know just about everyone with Manx National Heritage. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your former wife’s name?”
“Laura Porter,” he said. “Although she’s gone back to her maiden name. She’s calling herself Laura Meyers now.”
“I do know Laura,” Bessie said. “She’s lovely.”
“She is, yes,” the man agreed. “I was an idiot to let her get away, and if I could do things over again, we’d still be together.”
“I take it Laura doesn’t feel the same way?”
“I don’t know how she feels,” he said. “We had a terrible fight, she was…” the man trailed off. “I don’t think I should say anything further,” he said. “You know Laura and I shouldn’t be talking about her.”
“That’s fine,” Bessie said quickly. “Did you know Julie Randall?”
The man shook his head. “We met once, when I came through the bank and introduced myself to everyone, but we didn’t say more than a few words to one another.”
“When I saw her photograph in the paper, I thought it was Laura for a moment,” Bessie told him.
“They did resemble one another, didn’t they?” the man mused. “But I heard about Julie’s death long before I saw the papers. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d seen it and thought it was Laura. It would have been difficult, that’s for sure. I haven’t stopped loving her.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have moved to the island,” Bessie said gently.
Marcus nodded. “I do wonder if I’ve made a mistake in coming here,” he admitted. “I was headhunted for the job and they offered me quite a bit more money than I was making in the UK.” He sighed. “I thought it wouldn’t matter, that I was ready to move on, but I’m not sure I am.”
Bessie felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He seemed incredibly sincere. Then she remembered Laura’s face as she’d told Bessie about how he’d put her in hospital. “Perhaps you should consider moving back to the UK,” she said.
“I am,” the man told her. “But the island is lovely. I can see why people who do move here stay. For right now I’m focussed on learning my job and staying as far away from Laura as I can.”
“In that case, maybe you should skip the sightseeing for the time being.”
Marcus nodded. “I did wonder if there was somewhere that I could ring to find out where Laura was working and then simply avoid that site, but I didn’t want anyone to think that I was stalking her.”
Bessie frowned. That was exactly what it sounded like. “You haven’t seen her since you’ve been here?”
“No, not at all. I don’t even know where she’s living. I hope it’s quite far away from Douglas, really.”
“You don’t know where she’s living?” Bessie echoed.
“No. I had my solicitor send her a letter, warning her that I was moving here, but he sent it to her solicitor who was going to forward it on from there. I don’t even know if she got the letter. I hope she did. I’d hate to bump into her without her knowing I’m on the island.”
Perhaps Laura would feel better if she knew that the letter she’d received had been forwarded, rather than coming directly from Marcus, Bessie thought. If Marcus was telling the truth, a little voice said.
“Marcus, have you met all of the IT staff at this branch yet?” one of the men in suits asked.
Marcus shook his head. “I met most of them in my first week, but I know I missed a few.”
“Come and meet them all, then,” the man said.
“It was nice meeting you,” Marcus said to Bessie. He walked away, following the other man before Bessie could reply.
“So that was Laura’s ex,” Doona said. “I kept trying to overhear the conversation, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“That was probably wise,” Bessie told her. “He said a lot of interesting things. I just need to work out which ones were true.”
“If any of them were,” Doona suggested.
Bessie frowned. “He seemed like a really nice person,” she said. “I can almost see how Laura’s mother believed him over her. I can imagine many of their friends will have taken his side.”
“Poor Laura.”
“Yes,” Bessie replied thoughtfully.
“Having fun?” a voice asked.
Bessie turned and smiled at Annabelle Zelin, who was holding a biscuit and a cup of tea. “A lot of people came,” she remarked.
“Yeah, for the free food,” Annabelle said. “But at least a few of them have spoken to Humphrey. I’d say something, but I only get ten minutes away from my desk. I don’t have time to wait in the queue.”
Bessie was surprised to see that Annabelle was right. There was a short queue of people waiting to talk to Humphrey. Most of them were the men in suits who had all arrived together, but there were a few customers mixed in between them.
“Sidney had to take Stephanie home,” Annabelle said. “She needed something stronger than tea, I reckon.”
“She’s very upset about the loss of her friend,” Bessie suggested.
“I think she has mental health issues to go along with her physical problems,” Annabelle whispered. “Sidney never brings her to anything any more, although he always has a new excuse every time.”
Bessie opened her mouth to ask another question, when Annabelle suddenly stiffened. “And there’s Alan, ready to reprimand me if I’m thirty seconds late back to work. It was nice seeing you again,” she said over her shoulder as she headed back behind the counter.
Alan was staring at his watch and frowning as she slid into her place and took down the “closed” sign that blocked customer access to her desk.
“I’m getting a little bit tired of these people,” Doona whispered. “Maybe we could leave?”
“I’m ready if Grace is,” Bessie agreed. “I have a lot to think about.”
Grace was also ready to leave. She grabbed a few extra biscuits and said a few words to her father, and then the three women made their way back to Doona’s car.
“That was interesting,” Bessie said. “I can’t help but feel as if I heard something important, but I’m not sure exactly what. I need to think about everything that was said.”
“And you need to ring John and repeat the conversations to him,” Doona reminded her.
“Maybe we need another session to talk it all through,” Bessie said. “Do you have plans for tonight?” she asked Doona.
“I never have plans,” Doona laughed.
“Hugh can be there,” Grace told her. “I promised my father that we’d come over for dinner tonight. I’m sure Hugh will welcome an excuse to get out of that.”
“Oh, dear,” Doona said.
“No, it’s fine,” Grace assured her. “But we just had dinner there yesterday. I’m sure Hugh has seen enough of my parents for this week.”
While Doona drove, Bessie rang John Rockwell and suggested dinner at her cottage.
“I’ll bring Chinese,” John told her. “And I’ll have Pete bring pudding again if he can come.”
“Perfect.”
While Bessie had been on the phone, Grace had sent Hugh a text. “He’ll be at your cottage at half five,” she told Bessie.
With everything arranged, Bessie sat back and tried to order her thoughts. It didn’t work, though. Various snippets of conversation kept replaying in her mind, but she couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing. After a few frustrating minutes, she looked out the window at the beautiful island she called home and tried to relax.
After dropping Grace off, Doona took Bessie back to her cottage. “I just need to pop home and change,” she told Bessie. “This dress is too formal for our little gathering and I can’t wait to get out of these tights.”
Bessie laughed. She was having the same sort of thoughts about her formal wear. Once she’d changed, she took herself for a long walk, strolling as quickly as she could past the holiday cottages that were filling up steadily with this week’s guests. She walked past Thie yn Traie and would have continued on for longer, but a glance at her watch had her turning for home.
It took a few extra minutes to make her way back across the sand, as several families were now taking advantage of the late afternoon sunshine. A large sandcastle was going up not far from Bessie’s front door. She smiled politely at the small children, who were trying to build the castle as tall as possible, before continuing on her way.
Back at home, she ran the vacuum through the ground floor and dusted a few surfaces that seemed to need it. The bathroom also needed a quick tidy, and she was just finishing that when she heard the first knock on her door.
Chapter 12
Bessie greeted Hugh with a hug. “I think I’ve seen more of Grace than of you lately,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I’m not too happy about her going to the memorial service or the thing at the bank today,” Hugh said. “But she said she had to go to support her father and Mr. Randall, and I get that. Thank you for keeping an eye on her.”
“She didn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her,” Bessie told him. “She’s quite capable of taking care of herself.”
“I know,” Hugh nodded. “But I still worry about her. I’m just so crazy about her, you know?”
Bessie grinned. “I know. And she’s crazy about you, too.”
“I don’t understand that at all,” Hugh said. “I still can’t believe my luck.”
Another knock on the door had Bessie letting Doona in. “John was just getting into his car as I drove past,” she told the others. “He’s going to collect the food and then he’ll be here.”
Pete was next to arrive, carrying a large bakery box.
“That doesn’t look like a leftover cake,” Bessie remarked as she let him in.
“No cakes today,” he told her. “But they had a huge number of fairy cakes for some reason. I bought a variety of different flavours.”
“Oh, yummy,” Doona exclaimed.
By the time John arrived, Bessie had served drinks to everyone, and they were all trying to talk themselves out of having fairy cakes as a starter.
“Sorry I’m late,” John said. “The Chinese place was having some sort of banquet, and whoever took my order didn’t actually write it down or fill it. It took them ages to sort it all out.”
“That doesn’t sound like them at all,” Bessie said.
“No, they’re usually very efficient,” John agreed. “The man I spoke to on the phone has only been there for a short while, and I got the feeling that he might be looking for a new job soon. Anyway, they wouldn’t let me pay for any of this, and I’m sure I got a few dishes I didn’t order along with the rest.”
It took several minutes for John and Hugh to set out all of the boxes of food, and by the time they were finished Bessie’s kitchen smelled wonderful.
“Hugh, since you’re there, you may as well start,” Bessie suggested, handing the man a plate.
Within a few minutes everyone was sitting at the table with a very full plate and a cold drink.
“While we eat, why don’t you run us through today?” John asked Bessie.
Bessie took a few bites of her dinner and then repeated as much as she could of the conversations that she’d had at the reception. Even though she paused occasionally for additional bites, everyone else was still finished eating before she’d cleared half of her plate.
“You may as well all get second helpings,” she said after she’d wrapped up her report. “There’s plenty.”
Plates were refilled. When everyone was sitting back down, John cleared his throat. “There were several interesting comments in your conversations today,” he said. “But rather than go back over them, let’s try tackling means, motive, and opportunity again in light of the new information.”
“I thought everyone had the means and opportunity,” Bessie replied.
John shrugged. “Okay, let’s talk about motive, then,” he said. “Where should we start?”
“The widower,” Hugh suggested. “He thought Julie was cheating on him, so he killed her.”
“I don’t believe it,” Bessie said stoutly. “I mean, I might believe that Julie was cheating on him, but I can’t see him as the killer. He’s simply far too nice.”
“You know that it doesn’t work like that,” John said.
Bessie sighed. “I do,” she agreed. “But in this case, I really don’t think he killed her. He seems genuinely devastated by her death. If she was cheating, I think he’d have been crushed, but I also think he would have just divorced her and let her go.”
“Okay, we’ll put him at the bottom of the list,” John said.
> “I’m not sure about that,” Pete interjected. “People are most likely to be murdered by those closest to them. I think he needs to be considered seriously. He knew when she’d be home and that she’d be leaving the car in the back because they were planning to go out again, after all.”
“Who’s next?” Hugh asked.
“Alan Rossini,” Doona suggested. “I thought he was creepy and odd.”
“He is a little creepy,” Bessie agreed. “But I can’t see any motive, really.”
“Maybe he killed her because he was tired of her being late all the time and he couldn’t fire her,” Doona suggested. “It seems like something he might do.”
Bessie opened her mouth to object and then sighed. “I don’t think he’s quite that odd,” she said. “But he did seem very upset that she was able to get away with being late regularly.”
“Maybe he was in love with her,” Hugh said. “Maybe she wasn’t getting into trouble because he wasn’t telling anyone she was late. Maybe he’s just trying to cover his tracks now.”
“That’s possible,” John said. “What do you think?” he asked Pete.
“The man struck me as being too bland and colourless to be a killer,” Pete said. “I can’t see him being in love with Julie. I don’t think he ever noticed her as a person. He seems to see all of the women who work for him as interchangeable cogs in a wheel. If you ask him about any one person in particular, he seems to have great trouble remembering which one she is, even with photos.”
“I think if he was going to start killing the staff who didn’t do what he wanted, he’d kill them all,” Bessie said. “And once he’d cracked and started down that road, I can’t see him waiting a week or more to kill the next victim. He’d try to get them all as quickly as possible.”
“That’s a horrible thought,” Doona said, shuddering.
“I think he’s near the bottom of the suspect list,” John said.
“I’ll concur for now,” Pete said.
“I think it’s time for fairy cakes,” Bessie said.
Hugh and Doona cleared away the dinner plates while Bessie put the boxes of leftover food into the refrigerator. Once those jobs were done, Bessie handed the bakery box to Pete, who put it in the centre of the table and opened it.
Aunt Bessie Needs Page 18