“Oh, thank goodness,” Mary gasped. “I was afraid he might ask me to do that, since it’s my unit. I was terrified.”
Bessie patted Mary’s hand. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing the dead man herself, but her curiosity overwhelmed her fears. She really wanted to see if she knew the person.
“I should ring George,” Mary suggested. “He’ll want to know what’s going on.”
“I think you should check with John first,” Bessie said.
“There’s no rush, I guess,” Mary replied with a shrug. “He’s probably in a meeting or something anyway.”
A short time later, John was back. He helped Bessie from the car and led her a short distance towards the ambulance.
“His face doesn’t look too bad,” John told her. “Don’t feel like you have to have a good look or anything, either. Just a quick glance will do.”
“Okay,” Bessie said, taking a deep breath.
“And I’m interested in your impressions and thoughts as well,” John added. “If you don’t recognise him, but you think he looks like someone or there’s something familiar about him, let me know. This isn’t a formal statement at this point, it’s just a conversation.”
“Got it,” Bessie murmured, her mouth feeling dry.
John stared hard at her. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bessie said in a shaky voice. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time almost sounding like she meant it.
John nodded and then waved to the ambulance men. They slowly pushed the stretcher towards their vehicle. When they reached Bessie’s side, they stopped and pulled the sheet down from the man’s face. Bessie glanced at it and then gave it a second, longer look.
“Can I see what he’s wearing?” she asked John.
John had the men pull the sheet down further and Bessie glanced at his tattered clothes.
“I think….” she began, but John held up a hand.
“Get him out of here,” he told the men. They nodded and pulled the sheet back over the body before loading it into the ambulance. John took Bessie’s arm and led her a short distance away. They watched the vehicle pull out before John spoke.
“Did you recognise him, then?”
“No,” Bessie said. “At least, not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know who he is, but I’ve seen him before,” Bessie explained. “At least I think I have.”
“Where?” John asked.
“Lying on the carpet in a ground-floor flat in the building on Seaside Terrace,” Bessie said.
John looked as surprised as Bessie had felt when she’d seen the body.
“I think it’s time you tell me every last detail about last month and the things that went on at Seaside Terrace,” John said.
A young officer approached tentatively. “Um, Inspector? Sir? We were just wondering what you wanted us to do next.”
John frowned and shook his head. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he told the young woman. She walked away before he spoke to Bessie again.
“I’m going to have one of the constables take you home,” he told her. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I would rather you don’t talk to Mary Quayle anymore for the moment. If you’re right about seeing the man on Seaside Terrace, that complicates things.”
“Can I say goodbye to Mary?” Bessie asked.
“Yes, but nothing more,” he replied. He stood next to her as she talked to Mary through the car window.
“John’s going to have me taken home,” she said. “I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
“That’s silly. I can run you home,” Mary replied.
“Actually, Mrs. Quayle, I’d rather you stayed here for the moment. I need you to go through the unit now that the body has been removed and tell me if anything is missing,” John interjected.
Mary frowned. “I suppose I can do that,” she said, clearly reluctant.
“Is there anyone I can ring that you’d like to have with you while you do so?” John asked.
“I’d really like to keep Bessie,” Mary answered.
John frowned. “I’m sorry, but Bessie is feeling a bit worn out by events,” he said. “I’d really like to send her home.”
Bessie did her best to look tired as Mary looked at her. “I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I didn’t think. This has to have been a terrible strain on you.”
“I’m fine, really,” Bessie said. “But I would like to go home.” That wasn’t strictly true. She really wanted to stay and watch the investigation unfold, but John wouldn’t allow that and he clearly didn’t want her talking to Mary at the moment.
John walked Bessie over to one of the young officers and introduced them. “Can you please take Miss Cubbon home and then sit with her until I get there?” he asked the man.
“Certainly, sir,” the man replied smartly.
Bessie bit back a sigh. Clearly John didn’t want her talking to anyone if he was leaving an officer with her.
Feeling rather dissatisfied with the whole thing, Bessie climbed into the passenger seat of the man’s police car and buckled up. She glanced at her watch and shook her head. It wasn’t quite midday; it felt much later.
The drive back to Laxey seemed to take forever. Bessie tried to make conversation with the young constable, but he gave only polite but mostly monosyllabic answers to her questions. She finally gave up and watched the scenery go by. When they reached the outskirts of the village, Bessie had to give him directions to her cottage. As he parked in the small parking area outside it, he spoke.
“You have a wonderful view, don’t you?”
“I do indeed,” Bessie answered. “But come inside and let’s have some tea.”
In the small kitchen, Bessie pointed him to a seat at the table and then put the kettle on.
“It’s midday, I suppose we should think about lunch,” she mused.
“I’m fine,” the young man told her.
“Well, I’m hungry and I hate the thought of eating in front of you. At least have a little something,” she suggested. She found some cold turkey in the refrigerator and sliced a loaf of bread that she’d picked up at the local shop the previous day. She added a block of cheese and a jar of pickle to the collection and then turned to the man.
“Make yourself a sandwich,” she suggested. “Or two, even.”
While he put together a couple of very generous sandwiches, Bessie poured crisps into a bowl. She didn’t usually have them in the house, but they’d been on offer in ShopFast a few weeks ago and she’d been hungry while she was doing her shopping. She was grateful now to have someone to offer them to, as she knew she’d never eat more than a handful.
The kettle boiled and Bessie poured out two cups of tea before making her own sandwich. She added a few crisps to her plate and then sat down across from the man.
“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name,” she said after she’d taken a few bites. “As it looks like you might be stuck here for some time, I feel I ought to know it.”
The man smiled. “I’m Gary Harper,” he replied.
“It’s nice to meet you, Constable Harper,” Bessie said. “Did you grow up on the island or are you a more recent resident?”
“Please call me Gary,” he said. “I grew up in Liverpool, mostly, but I started dating a girl and she was offered a job over here. I came with her, but I had trouble finding work, and then there were some openings on the police and I was lucky enough to get the job.”
“How long ago was that?” Bessie asked.
“Oh, I’ve been a constable for nine years,” the man replied.
Bessie hoped she didn’t look as shocked as she felt. The man looked, at least to her, as if he were no more than eighteen.
Gary laughed. “I know I don’t look it, but I’m thirty-two,” he told her.
“You really don’t look it,” Bessie said. “What happened to the girl you came over with?”
“I wish I c
ould say that we’re married now with a couple of kids, but our relationship didn’t last much past police training. She decided she didn’t really want to stay on the island, and I felt like I had too good of an opportunity to pass up with the police, so she went back to Liverpool and I stayed here.”
“I’m sorry,” Bessie said.
Gary laughed again. “Don’t be,” he told her. “She’s currently on her third husband and I’m still very happily single. The only good thing that came out of that relationship was my moving here. I love this little island, even if I am stationed in the wilds of Jurby.”
Bessie settled back in her chair and marveled at the difference in the young man. He’d been so quiet on the drive, she’d been worried about having him in the cottage for any length of time. Instead, he turned out to be bright and interesting and full of lots of entertaining anecdotes about policing.
“You should write a book,” Bessie told him after he finished a long story about a drunk man, a stolen wheelchair, and a lamp post that had Bessie laughing out loud.
“Ah, maybe some day,” Gary told her.
A knock on the door interrupted. Bessie smiled at Hugh when she opened it.
“This is a nice surprise,” she told him as she let him in.
Hugh smiled and nodded. “Inspector Rockwell has asked me to come and relieve Constable Harper,” he explained. “Apparently he’s needed back in Jurby.”
“I suppose it’s good to be needed,” the young man said with a laugh. “It was very nice to meet you,” he told Bessie politely. “And I really appreciated the lunch and the tea and biscuits.”
Bessie quickly packed a dozen biscuits into a bag for him for the journey back to Jurby. After a moment of token protest, the man thanked her profusely and then headed out. Bessie shut the door behind him and smiled at Hugh.
“I suppose you need some tea and biscuits as well,” she teased.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Hugh told her with a sheepish grin.
Bessie refilled the kettle and set it to boil. While she waited, she opened a new box of biscuits and filled the plate in the centre of the table. Hugh took the offered small plate and put a few biscuits onto it. They were gone by the time Bessie poured the tea.
“It’s already four o’clock,” Bessie told him. “You don’t want to eat too many biscuits. You’ll spoil your dinner.”
Hugh’s hand, reaching towards the large plate, stopped short. “I suppose you’re right,” he said sadly.
“A few more probably wouldn’t hurt, though,” Bessie added, laughing to herself as Hugh’s face lit up. Really, he was still so like the teenaged boy who used to visit it was shocking, she thought.
“So, why exactly are you sitting with me?” Bessie asked after she’d drunk some tea and nibbled her way through a biscuit of her own.
“I’m not sure,” Hugh said with a shrug. “John just rang and told me to come over here and sit with you until he gets here.”
He looked around the small room, as if afraid someone might be listening, and then leaned in towards her. “He did say that I’m to, well, politely request that you not make or answer any phone calls.”
Bessie looked at his flushed face and smiled. “So you’re here to keep me from ringing people and gossiping about what I saw this morning,” she said.
Hugh looked down at the table. “I’m not sure what’s going on,” he muttered.
“I would have thought that John could trust me,” Bessie said, beginning to feel a bit annoyed. “If he told me not to ring anyone, I wouldn’t.”
“I think he’s really worried about this because of the, well, rather important people involved,” Hugh told her. “I gather George Quayle has turned up, with his advocate in tow, and they’re not very happy that Mary wasn’t allowed to ring George right away.”
“John just asked her to wait, that’s all,” Bessie said, eager to defend John, even if she wasn’t happy with how he was treating her.
Hugh held up a hand. “I’m just telling you what I heard. John didn’t tell me anything, but he wouldn’t.”
Bessie nodded. The senior policeman usually kept as much as he could to himself.
A faint clicking noise had Hugh looking around. “What was that?” he asked.
“It’s the answering machine,” Bessie explained. “I’ve the volume all the way down, so it just clicks when it takes a call. It’s been clicking away all afternoon.”
Hugh nodded. “I suppose, all things considered, we’d better just leave it clicking,” he told Bessie.
“Am I allowed out of the cottage?” Bessie asked.
“Where did you want to go?”
“Just for a stroll up the beach,” Bessie replied.
“I guess we could do that,” Hugh told her.
Bessie bit back a sigh. She’d thought she could have a walk on her own. She hadn’t expected Hugh to join her. She had no intention of taking her mobile with her, so it wasn’t like she could ring anyone while she was out there.
There was a strong breeze blowing in off the sea and Bessie was glad she’d grabbed a jacket. She set off along the beach at a brisk pace, smiling to herself as Hugh seemed to struggle a little bit to keep up. She walked as far as Thie yn Traie before turning back towards home. Hugh was a good many paces behind her and she enjoyed feeling alone for a few moments as she walked back towards him. She was used to living and being on her own, and a day like today, spending nearly all of it in the company of others, was difficult for her.
She’d only just reached Hugh when she heard her name.
“Bessie? Bessie Cubbon? There you are,” the voice shouted.
Bessie turned around and saw Maggie Shimmin coming out of one of the rental cottages.
“Hi, Maggie, how are you?” Bessie asked.
“I’m fine,” Maggie said, waving the question away with her hand. “But what’s going on in Jurby? I understand they found a body.”
Hugh took a step forward. “I’m afraid Miss Cubbon can’t answer any questions right now,” he said stiffly.
Maggie looked at Hugh and frowned. “Is that Hugh Watterson?” she demanded angrily. “I remember you when you were in nappies. I can’t believe you have the nerve to try to stop Bessie from talking to me.”
“I’m not stopping Bessie from talking to you,” Hugh countered, his voice calm. “But I am asking you both to refrain from discussing an active police investigation.”
“I know what’s going on here,” Maggie said, narrowing her eyes. “This is all because it’s Mary Quayle who was hiding the body, isn’t it? She’s too posh to get arrested so you’re trying to cover it all up, aren’t you?”
Bessie laughed. “Maggie, whatever else you’ve heard, I can assure you that Mary had nothing to do with anything criminal whatsoever,” she said firmly.
Hugh gave her a warning look and Bessie clamped her lips together. She’d try to stay quiet, but she knew she couldn’t if Maggie kept accusing her friend of things.
“Hmmph, well, that’s not what I heard,” Maggie said sharply. She glanced from Bessie to Hugh and back at Bessie. “I don’t suppose you can tell me who you found?”
Bessie shook her head. “I can tell you that I didn’t know the man,” she said, earning another stern look from Hugh. “And now I think I’d better stop talking.”
“I’ve a cottage to get cleaned. I can’t stand here chatting all afternoon,” Maggie announced, spinning awkwardly on her heel in the wet sand and stomping back up the beach.
Bessie looked at Hugh and sighed. “Maybe having you with me isn’t such a bad idea,” she said. “If Maggie had dropped in to see me, I’m afraid I might have told her a lot more than I should. Imagine accusing Mary of hiding the body, though. As if that’s even a remote possibility.”
“Now, Bessie, you know that John will have to consider every possibility,” Hugh reminded her as they headed back to Bessie’s cottage. “Even the ones that seem highly unlikely.”
“He might have to, but I certainly don’t,�
� Bessie replied. “There’s no way I’m willing to give that idea even a moment’s consideration.”
They’d only just been back inside for a few minutes when there was a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” Hugh said, leaping up from his seat.
Bessie was so surprised at seeing the usually languid Hugh jumping up that she didn’t object.
A moment later, Doona bustled into the room. “You aren’t answering your phone,” she told Bessie.
“Hugh isn’t letting me,” Bessie replied, smiling to take the sting from her words.
“Really? He could have let you answer when I rang,” Doona said.
“I’ve turned the answering machine down,” Bessie explained. “John doesn’t really want me talking to anyone right now.
“Yes, well, next time you should listen to who’s ringing and answer when it’s me,” Doona told her.
“Was there something important that you needed?” Bessie asked.
“No,” Doona laughed. “I just hate being ignored.”
Bessie and Hugh both laughed at that.
“Actually, I was ringing to let you know that John’s bringing food,” Doona continued. “He’ll be here around six, if all goes well.”
Bessie glanced at the clock. “I suppose I can wait an hour,” she said. “Although lunch seems like it was a long time ago.”
“And there’s a lovely plate of biscuits in the middle of the table,” Doona said. “Whatever shall we do?”
The trio munched their way through the rest of the plate of biscuits, washing them down with another pot of tea. They filled the time talking about the weather, Hugh’s girlfriend, and property prices. Everyone avoided mentioning what they all really wanted to discuss.
It was nearly six o’clock when Bessie remembered to ask Doona about her date. “So how was dinner with Kevin?” she asked.
Doona frowned. “Turns out he’s sort of, but not exactly, separated from his wife.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means his wife is still across, but she may or may not be joining him eventually. Really, it means he’s hoping to do some cheating on her before she gets here, but if she finds out she might not come.”
Bessie shook her head. “What did you say when he told you that?”
Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 14