“You mean today is a bank holiday,” Bessie corrected him. “It’s nearly time for me to get up.”
John looked at the clock. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you tonight.”
“We both needed to talk about things, at least a little bit,” Bessie replied. “I shall sleep better knowing that you don’t think Hugh did it either.”
John nodded and got up from the table. He needed to use both hands to push himself up and steady himself.
“Maybe you should just sleep in my spare room,” Bessie suggested.
“I’m only a short distance from home. I appreciate the offer, but I’d much rather sleep in my own bed.”
“I can ring for a taxi.”
“I’m fine,” John insisted. “At this hour of the morning, the roads will be deserted anyway.”
Bessie walked him to the door. When she opened it, the cold wind nearly took her breath away.
“Well, that’s woken me up for sure,” John said as he struggled to button his coat.
Bessie watched as he climbed into his car and slowly drove away. Back in the kitchen she piled the used plates and cups in the sink. The washing-up could wait until she’d had some sleep. After a quick check that both doors were securely locked, Bessie climbed the stairs and got ready for bed.
Bessie glanced at her clock as she snuggled under the duvet. In only a few hours, her internal alarm would probably try to wake her. She was certain there was no way it would succeed, however.
When Bessie next opened her eyes, it was nearly ten o’clock. She sat up in bed and stared at her clock. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that late, but it must have been when she’d been ill. After a shower, she got dressed automatically, paying little attention to the clothes she pulled from her wardrobe. In the kitchen, she set a fresh pot of coffee brewing and slid bread into the toaster. While she waited for it to pop, she did the washing-up from the night before. She was still so tired that the events of the previous evening felt almost unreal to her.
It wasn’t until after her first cup of coffee that she looked at her answering machine. Of course the message light was flashing frantically. Bessie thought about leaving the ringer on her phone switched off, as she did during the night, because she knew the phone would probably be ringing all day. Sighing, she turned the ringer on and pressed play on the machine. Nearly all of the messages were from friends around the island who’d heard about Gennifer’s sudden death.
It seemed from the tone of the messages that most of them seemed to think her death had been a tragic accident. Bessie felt a tiny twinge of hope that they were correct and that she’d misunderstood what Anna had said on that subject. The last call was from police headquarters.
“Mrs. Cubbon, this is Carol at the Laxey Constabulary. Inspector Lambert has some more questions for you and will be sending a car to collect you at one o’clock this afternoon to bring you to the station to meet with her. Please ring me back if you have any questions.”
Bessie had several questions, but she didn’t think ringing back the station would help. She frowned at the answering machine. Her phone rang before she’d decided what to do.
“Bessie, it’s Doona. I was just ringing to see how you are.”
“I’m fine,” Bessie said automatically. “Very tired, of course. How are you?”
“The same,” Doona replied. “I’m off work until Monday, but then I’ve been reassigned to Douglas until Gennifer’s murder is solved.”
“It was murder, then?” Bessie asked.
“Apparently,” Doona said. “I’m not being told anything officially, but from what my sources have said, it was murder.”
Bessie didn’t doubt Doona’s sources as they would be her coworkers at the Laxey police station.
“Of course,” Doona continued, “no one is saying much of anything, especially to me, as I was there and must be considered a suspect.”
“John said he’s being sent to Castletown,” Bessie said.
“Yes, I gather he is, if he doesn’t just take a leave of absence.”
“And Hugh is being suspended.”
“As I understand it, yes,” Doona said. “Which suggests that he’s really a suspect.”
“Which is nonsense,” Bessie said firmly.
“Of course it is,” Doona agreed quickly.
“I’ve been summoned to see Anna this afternoon,” Bessie said. “I shall have a word with her about poor Hugh.”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea. If I were you, I’d just answer her questions and not say anything else about anything at all.”
“I’m not afraid of Anna Lambert.”
“I am,” Doona admitted. “Although I have to work with her; you don’t.”
“And you don’t while you’re in Douglas,” Bessie pointed out.
“True, every cloud has a silver lining,” Doona agreed.
“I don’t suppose your sources have given you any useful information?”
“No one from the station is meant to be speaking with me at all,” Doona replied. “I ran into a nameless source at the bakery this morning. He gave me a quick hug and said he was sorry to see me tied up in another murder investigation. That’s all I got.”
“Well, if it looks as if Anna really is going after poor Hugh, we might have to try tapping your sources,” Bessie said.
“I’m sure John won’t let that happen,” Doona told her. “John knows Hugh isn’t capable of murder. I’m sure he’ll do everything he can to help.”
“I intend to do everything I can to help, as well,” Bessie replied. “Starting with ringing a few friends and asking some questions.”
“Bessie, you made Anna cross when you got involved in her last case,” Doona said. “You really don’t want her to think you’re poking your nose into this one. Especially not when you’re a suspect.”
“I’m not a suspect,” Bessie scoffed. “What possible motive could I have had for killing Gennifer?”
“You have about as much motive as I do, but every guest at the party is a suspect, whether they have a motive or not.”
“Hopefully, Anna is smart enough to realise who the real suspects are, though.”
“Who would you consider real suspects, then?”
Bessie thought for a moment. “I suppose Elizabeth’s friends are the only ones who might have had a motive,” she said eventually.
“Why don’t I come over tonight?” Doona suggested. “I’ll see if John and Hugh are free as well.”
“That sounds good,” Bessie agreed. “I’m going to ring Mary and see if I can find out more about Elizabeth’s friends.”
“Just be careful,” Doona said. “You don’t want Anna angry at you.”
“I care a good deal more about Hugh than I do about Anna,” Bessie retorted.
They agreed that Doona would come around six and bring Chinese food with her. “I’ll make something for pudding,” Bessie said.
“More Christmas cookies would be fine with me,” Doona told her. “It’s still the Christmas season, isn’t it?”
Bessie laughed. “Maybe I’ll make chocolate chip cookies, then. They’re good all year-round, not just at Christmas, anyway.”
“Perfect,” Doona said happily.
Bessie put the phone down and got up to check that she had what she needed for the cookies. She’d only taken a few steps towards the cupboard where she kept her baking supplies when the phone rang again. The little voice in her head suggested she ignore it, but she picked it up, hoping it might be someone she wanted to speak with. It was.
“Bessie, are you okay?” Mary’s voice was tense.
“I’m fine, really, just a little bit sad to see a young life cut short,” Bessie replied.
“Yes, it’s very sad,” Mary agreed. “Gennifer’s parents are flying over this afternoon. I’ve no idea what I can say to them. I feel so responsible.”
“That’s silly. You are in no way responsible for Gennifer’s death,” Bessie said firmly. �
��Just be your usual kind self and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“It’s just so awful,” Mary said. “I can’t imagine losing a child. They’ll be devastated. And even worse, she was murdered.”
“Do you know her parents well?” Bessie asked.
“I don’t know them at all. George has had business dealings with Gennifer’s father, but only tangentially, through other friends. Elizabeth went to school with Gennifer, but they weren’t really friends. Gennifer’s family is old money, you see. She was only at the party because she’s been seeing Nigel and he wanted to come.”
“Are they going to stay with you at Thie yn Traie?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” Mary exclaimed. “They’re only coming over for a few hours. They didn’t want to stay the night on the island. From what Mrs. Carter-Maxwell said, there was nothing suitable in terms of hotel accommodations, anyway. I gather they have very high standards.”
“So why are they coming?” Bessie had to ask.
“She said something about walking in her daughter’s last footsteps or something. Apparently Inspector Lambert would like to speak to them, as well. She’s coming to Thie yn Traie to talk to them at two.”
“Is she? I’m meant to be meeting with her at one. I hope that means my conversation with her will be a short one.”
“Mrs. Carter-Maxwell told me that she’s told the inspector that she can have twenty minutes of their time, but no more. Apparently, the inspector has agreed.”
“I wish I could tell her the same thing,” Bessie said. “I’ve never really cared about having a lot of money, but sometimes it does seem as if it has its advantages.”
“It has its disadvantages as well,” Mary told her. “Anyway, the reason I rang is to ask you for a favour, and I’m ever so sorry to do that after just asking for one yesterday that, well, didn’t exactly turn out for the best.”
“What can I do for you?” Bessie asked.
“I was wondering if you’d like to come to tea at three? I’m having a proper tea for the Carter-Maxwells and I really don’t want to face them on my own.”
“Of course I’ll come,” Bessie said quickly.
“Elizabeth and her friends will all be here, of course, but I’ve no doubt George will find some excuse not to come and I will feel rather alone with just the children for support.”
“I understand,” Bessie said soothingly. “It’s fine. I shall have to try to think of nice things to say about their daughter before I arrive.”
“Yes, that’s part of the problem,” Mary said. “I found her difficult to like, especially because she caused so many problems within the group. Elizabeth has had friends here on numerous occasions and this is the first time there has been any difficulty.”
“She was beautiful,” Bessie said, almost to herself.
“On the outside, anyway,” Mary replied.
Bessie found herself thinking about Gennifer as she made herself a light lunch. Beyond her looks, there seemed little that Bessie could think of to compliment the girl. She was still trying to work out what she could say to the bereaved parents when someone knocked on her door.
The young constable who’d arrived to collect Bessie for her interview with Anna Lambert was one that Bessie had only a nodding acquaintance with. She tried to start a conversation on the journey to the station, but he gave only monosyllabic answers to her queries about the weather and the traffic. She didn’t bother asking him anything about the case. No doubt he’d been told he wasn’t to speak to her.
He pulled up in front of the station with two minutes to spare. “I have to go out on patrol now, so you can just jump out here.”
“I haven’t jumped anywhere in years,” Bessie muttered as she climbed out of the car.
He pulled away as soon as she’d pushed the door shut behind her. Bessie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Just answer the questions, she told herself sternly as she crossed the pavement and pushed open the station’s door.
Chapter Five
The young, dark-haired woman sitting in Doona’s chair behind the reception desk was a stranger to Bessie.
“I’m Elizabeth Cubbon. Inspector Lambert wanted to see me,” Bessie told her.
“Ah, yes, Mrs. Cubbon. Take a seat and I’ll let the inspector know you’re here.”
“It’s Miss Cubbon, actually,” Bessie couldn’t resist saying.
“It’s what?” the girl asked.
“You called me Mrs. Cubbon, and I’m actually Miss Cubbon,” Bessie explained patiently.
“Oh, sure, whatever,” the girl shrugged and snapped her gum. Bessie walked over and sat down in the tiny reception space while the girl pressed a button on her phone.
“Miss Cubbon is here for you,” she said, putting loud emphasis on the first word. “She’ll be out in a bit,” the girl told Bessie as she put the phone down.
Bessie smiled and flipped through the magazines that were stacked on a small side table. They were all several years old and mostly seemed to be about home decorating. She shook her head and then settled back in her seat to wait. After a moment she felt her eyes beginning to close as her very late night caught up with her. She shifted in her seat. It simply wouldn’t do to fall asleep here.
“Ah, Miss Cubbon, thank you for coming in,” Anna Lambert was suddenly standing at Bessie’s elbow.
Bessie stood up and forced herself to smile. “Always happy to do what I can to help out in a murder investigation,” she said, putting as much energy into her words as she could muster.
“Indeed,” Anna murmured. “Come back to my office, please. I only have a few questions.”
Bessie followed the woman through the side door and down the short corridor. Anna stopped in front of an open door. “Here we are,” she said, gesturing for Bessie to enter the office.
Bessie walked in and looked around. Anna had been with the Laxey station for some months now, so Bessie was surprised to see that the room looked almost unoccupied. A beat-up metal desk sat in the very centre of the space. Behind it was a large desk chair. The chair in front of the desk was wooden and looked uncomfortable. A small metal filing cabinet was the only other piece of furniture in the room. There were a few sheets on paper on the desk, along with a computer and a phone, but there wasn’t a single personal item in the room.
“Please have a seat,” Anna said. She waited until Bessie was seated before she walked behind the desk and sat herself.
“This is nothing like John’s office,” Bessie said, almost without thinking. She knew John had a similar space a few doors away. He kept his space tidy, but he had photographs of his children on his desk and artwork on his walls.
“No, I prefer to keep my work space completely uncluttered,” Anna told her in a cool voice.
“Every inch of my cottage is cluttered,” Bessie said with a rueful grin. “I’ve lived there too long and acquired too many things for it to be anything else.”
“Perhaps you should have a good clear-out,” Anna suggested.
“Maybe one day,” Bessie replied.
“I wish we had more time for small talk,” Anna told her. “But I have other appointments this afternoon. I’d just like to ask you about Hugh and his girlfriend. What can you tell me about their relationship?”
Bessie’s first instinct was to refuse to tell the woman anything. She couldn’t imagine that Hugh and Grace’s romance was any of Anna’s business. “I’m not sure what you want to know,” she prevaricated.
“Are they serious about one another or just casual?” Anna asked.
“I believe they’re serious,” Bessie replied. “I’m pretty sure Hugh is planning to propose to Grace in the near future.”
“Really? Too bad they had that big fight last night, then,” Anna said.
“It was a minor disagreement,” Bessie said, hoping she was right. “Gennifer more or less threw herself at Hugh and he was too polite and embarrassed to deal with it the way Grace thought he should, that’s all.”
“Was G
race very angry?” Anna asked.
“She was pretty upset. I’m not sure angry is the right word, more sad.”
“At whom would she have been most angry, Hugh or Gennifer?”
Bessie shook her head. “She wasn’t angry. She was hurt that Hugh didn’t, I don’t know, chase Gennifer away maybe, that’s all.”
“How much of her upset did she direct at Hugh, and how much was aimed at Gennifer?”
The reworded question didn’t fool Bessie. Surely Anna wasn’t suggesting that Grace had murdered Gennifer? “I’ve no idea,” Bessie said. “I would imagine she was mostly upset with Hugh, as she didn’t even know Gennifer.”
“But she might have blamed Gennifer for coming between them.”
“She might have,” Bessie agreed, tired of the conversation. “You should really ask her how she felt.”
“I have done,” Anna replied. “But I have to consider that she might have reasons to lie to me.”
“You can’t think she had anything to do with Gennifer’s murder,” Bessie blurted out.
Anna raised an eyebrow. “At this early point in the investigation, everyone is a suspect.”
“I’m more likely to have killed Gennifer than Grace is,” Bessie found herself saying.
Anna sat back in her chair. “Are you now? Why is that, then? What did you have against the woman?”
“Nothing at all,” Bessie said, feeling frustrated. “I just meant that there’s no way Grace did anything, that’s all.”
“Grace was upset that Gennifer was trying to seduce the man she loves. It seems a fairly straightforward motive.”
“Maybe for some people, but Grace Christian is a primary schoolteacher and one of the sweetest people I know,” Bessie said defensively.
“When you’ve been doing this job as long as I have, you learn that anyone can commit murder, if suitably provoked,” Anna said condescendingly. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Grace killed Gennifer, although I haven’t totally eliminated her from consideration.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?” Bessie challenged, feeling both brave and foolish.
Aunt Bessie Knows (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 11) Page 7