“Who knows?” Grant replied. “I gather he spent some time trying to find a hiding place of his own, but he couldn’t. By the time he realised what a mess he was in, Nigel had been arrested and Mark wasn’t sure where to turn. Luckily he rang my office and I was able to get him and tuck him up in Nigel’s storage unit before he did anything stupid.”
“So what happened to him?” Bessie asked.
“He managed to get his hands on a local paper,” Grant answered. “He found out that Adam’s body had been found and he went a little crazy. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but he wouldn’t believe me. I, well, I ended up having to defend myself against him.”
Bessie bit her tongue. John had told her that Mark had been drugged and stabbed. She didn’t trust herself to say anything at that point. After a long pause, Grant continued.
“Anyway, I left Mark in Nigel’s unit. When my advocate secured Nigel’s release on bail, I told him to take care of it. The last thing I expected him to do was put the body in George’s unit, but then Nigel isn’t the smartest man I’ve ever worked with.”
“What happened to Nigel?” Bessie asked.
“Oh, he’ll be here soon,” Grant answered. “He’s being very useful at the moment.”
“So why tell me all of this?” Bessie wondered.
“Your friend Inspector Rockwell is poking his nose in,” Grant said. “The Chief Constable informed me that he’s bringing in a specialist auditor to inspect the historical records at the bank. While I know Fredrick and I were very clever, it still won’t take an expert long to figure out what we did. By the time that’s done, though, I’ll be long gone. This way you can tell everyone what really happened. I don’t want people to think I actually killed anyone, now do I?”
“If you’re not coming back, I can’t see why you care,” Bessie said.
“Maybe I just needed to tell someone,” Grant suggested. “Maybe I’m going to kill you before I go.”
Bessie took a step backwards, trying not to let her fear show on her face. Grant laughed loudly.
“I’m not serious,” he told her. “Your friends would be so devastated. Poor little Doona would cry for weeks.”
“Why were you offering her a job if you knew you were leaving?” Bessie asked, glad that her voice was strong even though she felt as if she were quivering inside.
“I was hoping to give Inspector Rockwell a few bad nights,” Grant said with a laugh. “Mary commented once that the inspector is quite good friends with Doona, and I thought it would be fun to interfere with that. I’m not very fond of John Rockwell. Besides, how better to make it look as if it’s all business as usual than by trying to hire new staff? I certainly didn’t want anyone to know that I was planning to leave, now did I?”
“Where does George fit into all of this?” Bessie decided to keep asking questions. Maybe the police would show up while they were still talking.
“George? He’s very good at making money,” Grant told her. “And he’s just a little bit thick. I invested in George very early in my career and he’s repaid me a thousand times over.”
“But he was never involved in anything criminal?” Bessie asked.
“George was smart enough to figure out that I had more money than I should and even smarter when he never asked any questions about it. He knows his businesses were funded by dirty money, but no, he himself never actually got involved in anything illegal.”
Bessie held back a sigh. She was disappointed in George, but not surprised by the revelation. Hopefully, for Mary’s sake, he couldn’t be held responsible for anything that Grant had done.
A small boat appeared in the distance and Bessie watched as it drew closer.
“Ah, there’s my ride,” Grant said with a chuckle. “I’ll let you ask one more question and then I really must go.”
“Where will you go?”
Grant laughed. “Brilliant question,” he said. “But if I answered you then I really would have to push you over the edge.”
Bessie took another step away from Grant, glancing back towards the house. Mary was walking towards them slowly.
“Oh, look, Mary’s coming to see me off,” Grant said. “Here’s one other little fact for you, Bessie, my dear. Adam’s death was a tragic accident and Mark’s was self-defense, but I very nearly murdered someone once. Would you like to guess who?”
“George? Mary? Me?” Bessie guessed, watching the boat as it drew nearer.
“Mack Dickson,” Grant told her.
“Mack? Why?” Bessie was puzzled. Mack was an archeologist who’d been murdered in May. As far she knew, there was little or no connection between him and Grant.
“He was another one that was always looking for easy ways to make money fast,” Grant said. “He fabricated evidence to get funding for an excavation he didn’t intend to actually do.”
“And that made you want to kill him?”
“Mack had found himself a graduate student who was interested in researching the history of the bank,” Grant explained. “Apparently, Mack had heard the rumours about me and he’d decided it could be profitable to have someone do some digging around. I knew there were always rumours, but I kept enough people happy over the years that no one ever actually investigated properly. I’ve paid off auditors, bank officials, and policemen to keep everything quiet. Mack was going to oversee the student’s investigation and he meant for it to be a very thorough one, much like the one your inspector is planning.”
“So you were going to kill Mack?”
“I thought about it,” Grant said with a shrug. “Mack would have been happy with a large payoff. That’s what he was angling for. But then someone else took care of the problem for me. I offered the young student who was planning to do the research a substantial grant if he changed his topic to something else, and he was delighted to accept. I took that as a warning, though, and started making a few changes, even before I knew that Inspector Rockwell was starting his own investigation.”
“What sort of changes?” Bessie asked.
“Ah, you’ve run out of questions and time,” Grant replied. “Let’s just say I started planning for today and leave it at that.”
Mary had reached them now and she smiled tentatively. “You’ve been back here forever,” she said softly.
“I’m just going,” Grant said. “Tell George he knows what to do.”
Mary’s jaw dropped as Grant pushed aside the fencing and started down the steps to the beach. Bessie watched as the boat came closer and closer to shore. She fancied she recognised Nigel Green on the deck. Nigel and another man jumped off the boat and into the shallow water, using ropes to pull the boat as close to shore as possible.
“What’s going on?” Mary asked.
“Grant’s leaving by boat,” Bessie answered.
Grant had disappeared down the steep stairs and now Bessie spotted him on the beach. Within seconds he was on board the boat. The other two men quickly pushed it back out into the water and climbed aboard. Within minutes it was speeding away from the shore.
“I need to ring John,” Bessie told Mary.
Chapter Fifteen
After a short phone conversation, John told Bessie that he would come to the Quayle mansion to speak to her. Mary had her wait for him in the library, Bessie’s favourite room in the house. By the time John arrived, Bessie was several chapters into an Agatha Christie novel she’d been thrilled to find that she’d never read before.
“Bessie, we had a police boat in the water within half an hour of your call,” John told her. “But as we have no idea what direction Grant was headed, they haven’t found him yet.”
“I’m sure he was counting on that,” Bessie said. “He has to have a plan. And he has plenty of money to carry it out, as I understand.”
“We’re just starting to uncover exactly how much money,” John said. “The auditors are going to be busy for a very long time, I reckon.”
“But how could he get away with so much?” Bessie a
sked. “I mean, I know there have always been rumours, but surely someone should have noticed all the missing money?”
“One of the auditors tried to explain it to me,” John told her. “But he sort of lost me. What they’ve discovered so far, and they’ve only just started looking, is that, basically, he only took a tiny bit from any one person or company, but all those little bits added up over years and years. He also found a way to skim a rather larger portion of money from dormant accounts that was, apparently, very clever.”
Bessie shook her head. “I gather at least some of the plans were Frederick King’s,” she told John. She’d only told him a few key things on the phone earlier. Now she took him through the entire conversation with Grant.
When she’d finished, John sighed deeply. “You know I have to report all of this,” he told Bessie. “I don’t relish putting in the parts about the Chief Constable.”
“But some of this is his fault,” Bessie said. “He never should have told Grant that you were investigating him.”
“No, you’re right about that, but he is still my boss,” John replied.
“Well, maybe he shouldn’t be,” Bessie said grumpily.
John had her repeat the conversation a second time. “It’s all hearsay,” he said when she’d finished. “We don’t have any proof of anything and he’s just sailed away with the only real witness.”
“Do you think he’ll kill Nigel?” Bessie asked.
“He might, once he’s done using him,” John said. “I’m told killing people gets easier as you go along.”
Bessie shuddered. “I’m sort of surprised he didn’t push me off the edge,” she told John.
“He might have,” John said. “You should have insisted on talking somewhere else.”
“He was watching for his boat,” Bessie replied. “I didn’t know that at the time, of course, but every time I took a step away, he just stood still and laughed at me.”
“You should have gone back to the house,” John said.
“He wouldn’t have followed me and then we wouldn’t know everything he told me,” Bessie countered.
“But you would have been safe,” John replied.
“It was fine,” Bessie said, waving a hand.
“If you want to wait here for a little while, I need to talk to both George and Mary,” John told her, dropping the argument. “Then I’ll take you home.”
“Sure,” Bessie agreed.
She found her place in the book, eager to get back to the fictional world where murders are neatly solved and the bad guys always get caught. An hour later, John reappeared, just as Bessie finished the story.
“Let’s get you home, then,” John said.
Mary was waiting near the door to say goodbye, and Bessie gave her a big hug before she left.
“I’ll ring you tomorrow,” Bessie whispered to her friend.
John was very quiet on the drive, and Bessie was lost in her own thoughts. Back at home she felt restless, but a long walk along the beach helped to settle her mind. She fixed herself a light evening meal and then read until bedtime. She slept well and woke up feeling refreshed.
After breakfast and her morning walk, she made some phone calls.
“Doona? Are you okay?” she asked her friend, whom she’d reached at home.
“I’m fine,” Doona assured her. “I couldn’t have worked for him, really, even if I was terribly tempted by the money. So I’ve given up on my dream of paying off my mortgage any time soon and I’m moving on.”
They agreed that Doona should come over that evening, and then Bessie rang Mary.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m okay, but George is quite upset,” Mary answered. “It seems Grant left a huge number of half-finished projects behind and he cleared out his bank accounts as well. George is going to have to find the money to honour the agreements that he and Grant made all by himself now.”
“Oh, dear,” Bessie said. “Are you going to be able to manage?”
“We aren’t certain exactly what we’re going to do,” Mary replied. “By far my favourite idea is to sell the house, but George is resisting that at the moment.”
“George loves your house,” Bessie said.
“Yes, well, I hate it, so if we have to move, that wouldn’t bother me a bit,” Mary replied. “Anyway, we’ll have to see, once we’ve gone through everything with our advocate and Grant’s, just where we are.”
“I hope it all works out,” Bessie replied. “Please let me know if I can help.”
“I’d love to do lunch tomorrow,” Mary replied. “Maybe up in Lonan?”
“That sounds good.”
“I’d like to hear from you exactly what Grant said about George’s involvement in everything,” Mary continued. “George claims that he had no idea that Grant was doing anything criminal, but I’m wondering how true that is.”
Bessie thought for a bit before she answered. “Grant told me that George wasn’t involved in anything criminal,” she told her friend. “But we can talk about it over lunch.”
“I’ll pick you up at half eleven,” Mary said.
Bessie hung up and fixed herself a cup of tea. She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to tell Mary. Grant had said that George had deliberately turned a blind eye to what was happening. Now Bessie wondered if there would be any criminal charges filed against George as things were investigated further.
Doona arrived at six with John and Hugh, and enough food for an army.
“I hope you don’t mind that we all came,” John said, handing Bessie a bakery box. “We brought a selection of Italian dishes, and tiramisu for pudding.”
“You’d be welcome even if you came empty-handed,” Bessie told him. “But everything smells delicious, so I’m glad you brought it.”
The foursome ate for some time before John spoke up.
“I have some news,” he told Bessie. “We found the boat that Grant left on.”
“Where?” Bessie asked.
“It was drifting at sea between here and Liverpool,” John said.
“No one was on board?” Bessie asked.
“We found a body,” John said solemnly. “It’s been identified as Nigel Green.”
Bessie put her fork down, suddenly far less hungry. “What happened to him?”
“He’d been shot at close range,” John told her. “There was no sign of Grant or the second man you saw on the boat when it collected him.”
“Where could they have gone?” Bessie asked.
“That’s what we’d all like to know,” John replied.
“How do you get off a boat in the middle of the sea?” Doona asked.
“We’re guessing that they got picked up by another boat,” John said. “One of the life rafts was missing. We suspect Grant had everything arranged in advance, including the second boat.”
As it seemed like there was nothing else to say on that subject, they ate their tiramisu and talked about far more pleasant topics.
When John was leaving, Bessie had to mention the painting that was still sitting in her spare room. “I don’t know what I should do with it,” she told him.
“Hang on it for now,” John told her. “It will all get sorted out eventually.”
Early the next morning Bessie received a phone call from one of the staff at the Quayle’s home, informing her that Mary had decided to go and spend some time with relatives across and wouldn’t be able to have lunch with Bessie as planned.
A few days later, on Wednesday afternoon Bessie and Doona made their way into the small chapel in Port St. Mary where Adam’s memorial service was being held. The service itself was fairly short, although both of Adam’s brothers said a few words. Sarah didn’t speak and Bessie felt very sad as she watched the woman cry in her husband’s arms the entire time.
The family invited everyone to gather at the nearby café for tea and coffee after the service. It seemed to Bessie that everyone there was whispering about Grant and George.
&nbs
p; “I heard George Quayle has been arrested,” one woman whispered loudly.
“They’re saying he stole millions and is trying to shift the blame on to poor Grant Robertson now that he’s disappeared.”
“Maybe George killed Grant so he wouldn’t get found out,” the first woman said excitedly.
Bessie bit her tongue as Doona deliberately steered her away from the women.
“Poor Mary,” Bessie whispered to her friend. “But has George been arrested?”
Doona shrugged. “I gather he’s being questioned extensively,” she told Bessie. “But I think they have far too much digging to do to start making any arrests yet.”
“Thank you for coming,” Sarah interrupted them. “I, well, that is, thank you for coming.”
Bessie smiled and took the woman’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I hope it helps to know it was an accident.”
“Nothing helps right now, but I’m sure it will help in the future,” Sarah said sadly.
“For what’s it worth, I believed Grant, at least as far as Adam’s death was concerned,” Bessie told her.
Sarah nodded. “I suppose he had no reason to lie. It was all so long ago. I am grateful that we finally know what happened to Adam, anyway. He’s going to be buried down here, in Port St. Mary, so I can be close to him.”
Bessie hugged her tightly and they agreed that they should get together soon.
“Thank you for everything,” Sarah whispered to Bessie. “I did decide to keep Mr. Hiccup, after all.”
Glossary of Terms
Manx Language to English
moghry mie
good morning
kys t’ou
How are you?
ta mee braew
I’m fine.
House Names – Manx to English
Thie yn Traie
Beach House
Treoghe Bwaaue
Widow’s Cottage (Bessie’s home)
English/Manx to American Terms
advocate
Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 23