“They’re snickerdoodles, and before you ask, I don’t know why they’re called that,” Bessie replied. “Try one.”
Hugh didn’t have to be told twice. “They’re really good,” he said around a mouthful of cookie.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bessie said tartly.
“Sorry,” Hugh said, flushing.
As he helped himself to another snickerdoodle, someone knocked on Bessie’s door.
“You’d better get back in the sitting room,” she told him.
Hugh sighed. “Just when I’m getting my appetite back,” he groaned.
Bessie waited until she couldn’t hear his movements before she opened the door. Bruce Durrant grinned at her.
“I’m reliably informed that you have something called snickerdos and are willing to share them,” he said brightly.
“Actually, they’re called snickerdoodles, but I am more than willing to share,” Bessie said. “Come in and have some tea as well.”
Bruce sat down and looked around Bessie’s small and crowded kitchen. “How long have you lived here?” he asked.
“My entire adult life,” Bessie told him. “I bought the cottage when I was eighteen, although it was only two rooms then. I’ve extended it twice since.”
“It suits you,” Bruce said. “Even if it is a bit claustrophobic in here.”
The kettle boiled quickly as it was still warm from earlier. Bessie prepared two cups of tea and then sat down opposite the man.
“Have a cookie,” she encouraged him.
“Just the one,” he said. “Because I told Howard I would.”
He nibbled his way through it with a thoughtful look on his face. “It was good,” he said when he’d finished. “But one is quite enough.”
“So what brings you here?” Bessie asked.
“I had nothing else to do,” Bruce replied with a shrug. “And Howard said you had cookies. Believe it or not, that was the most exciting thing I’d heard in days.”
“And you don’t even like cookies,” Bessie added.
Bruce smiled. “No, but they were a good excuse to get out of the house and to talk to you.”
“What shall we talk about, then?” Bessie asked.
“Murder,” Bruce said dramatically.
Bessie picked up her tea and took a slow sip, leaving Bruce to speak again.
“I’ve heard that you don’t believe that the young police constable killed Gennifer,” he said after a long moment.
“I know he didn’t,” Bessie replied.
“I find that worrying. If he didn’t do it, who did?”
“I’m sure you must have some ideas in that area,” Bessie countered.
“I did wonder about Nigel, but he was busy elsewhere. Maybe Howard finally decided to get back at Gennifer for the way she’d treated him.” He frowned. “But I’m not serious. None of us would have hurt Gennifer, no matter how disagreeable she was.”
“Someone killed her,” Bessie pointed out.
“Maybe she had a fight with one of the cooks or maids or something. She was always quarrelling with someone. Pushing her off the cliff might have just been an impulsive thing. Maybe they didn’t think it would kill her. I had no idea it was high enough to kill someone, myself.”
“Of course, they had to get her outside first,” Bessie said. “That suggests some sort of planning.”
“Maybe she arranged a rendezvous with one of the Elizabeth’s father’s friends,” Bruce suggested. “But then it all went wrong.”
“Badly wrong,” Bessie said.
“But seriously, if you don’t suspect that constable, who do you suspect?” Bruce demanded.
“I don’t know anyone well enough to suspect them,” Bessie protested. “What can you tell me about your friends?”
Bruce laughed. “That’s very clever,” he said. “Ask me about them and see who seems like the best fit. Then you can work with your friend in the police to stitch them up and get the young constable off the hook.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Bessie asked angrily. “Because if it is, I have nothing further to say to you.”
“Don’t get all upset,” Bruce replied. “I don’t blame you for wanting to protect your friend. And luckily for you, I don’t feel the same way about my friends. Let me tell you all about them all. Where shall I start?”
An hour later Bessie felt as if she needed a hot bath. Bruce had shared a great deal of very personal information about every one of the guests at Thie yn Traie. Bessie now knew a great deal more than she wanted to know, but none of it seemed relevant to Gennifer’s murder.
“So there you are,” Bruce said, sitting back with a satisfied smile on this face. “Everything I know about everyone. Has it helped you work out who to pin the murder on?”
Bessie shook her head. “Finding the killer is a job for the police,” she said. “I’m just a curious bystander.”
“Indeed, me too,” Bruce said. “And on that note, I suppose I should head back to Thie yn Traie and send down the next victim, or should I say guest?”
Bessie flushed. “If any of the others would like to visit, I’d be happy to see them,” she said. “But not for any of the reasons you seem to think.”
“Yes, dear,” he replied patronisingly. He strode to the door and then turned back to Bessie. “Thank you for the cookies and the chance to unload. It’s been a diversion, if nothing else.”
Bessie waited until he’d let himself out before she walked over and locked the door behind him.
“What a thoroughly unpleasant man,” she said to herself as she did so.
“He was here for ages,” Hugh complained from behind her. “All I could think about was those cookies. He’d better not have eaten them all.”
Bessie had to laugh. “No worries,” she assured him. “He was too busy being mean and vindictive about his friends to eat anything.”
“Did he say anything especially interesting?” Hugh asked as he piled cookies onto a plate.
“Mostly it was just gossip,” Bessie said with a sigh. “He seemed especially interested in telling me which of the friends had slept with one another.”
“I’ll bet he hasn’t slept with any of them,” Hugh said.
“No, he hasn’t,” Bessie replied. “But Sarah is very taken with him, the poor girl.”
“She’s cute and she seemed nice, too. He should feel lucky she’s interested.”
“But he thinks he’s much better than she is,” Bessie said. “He was very scathing about her looks and he doesn’t think she’s very bright, either. Mind you, he was pretty cruel about all of them. He doesn’t much like anyone other than himself, as far as I could see.”
“So why did he even come across for the party? Why spend time with people he doesn’t like?”
“Ah, it seems young Elizabeth Quayle is the attraction,” Bessie told the man. “She was the only one he said anything nice about. And he grew quite enthusiastic about her for a few moments, before I reckon he realised he was giving himself away. Then he started criticizing her for still living with her parents, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it.”
“I wonder if Elizabeth knows?”
Bessie shrugged. “She mentioned it in passing, but she doesn’t seem to take it seriously. I’m not going to bring it up with her again unless it become relevant in the murder case,” she said.
She’d been so fascinated and appalled by her conversation with Bruce that she’d neglected her cookies. Now she gave the remaining batter a good stir and began to get another tray ready for the oven. She glanced over at Hugh and saw that he’d nearly cleared the plate in front of him.
“As glad as I am to see your appetite back, I think you’ve had quite enough cookies for now,” she said firmly. “It’s time for some lunch now.”
“If you’re busy with the cookies, I can make us both something,” Hugh offered. “If it isn’t anything too complicated, that is.”
Bessie laughed. “I’m happy with
anything, especially when I don’t have to prepare it myself.”
Hugh was inspecting the cupboards for ideas when the phone rang.
“Bessie, it’s Doona. John and I will be over around six with pizza, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course, that’s fine,” Bessie assured her. “I’ve been baking cookies, so we can have those for pudding. I think they’ll be especially nice with vanilla ice cream, and I just happen to have some in my freezer.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Doona replied.
“I’ve been talking to some of Elizabeth’s friends, but I don’t feel as if I’m making any progress,” Bessie added.
“I’ve been chatting with a few of my sources locally and I know John has been doing some digging of his own. When we put our heads together, I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” Doona said.
“I certainly hope so,” Bessie replied.
“John and Doona are bringing pizza later,” she told Hugh after she’d hung up the phone. “Let’s keep lunch fairly light.”
“Soup and sandwiches?” Hugh asked.
“Perfect.”
Hugh bustled around the kitchen, heating soup and making sandwiches while Bessie worked on getting the last two trays of cookies baked. Hugh had everything ready as Bessie slid the last tray out of the oven.
“This looks wonderful,” Bessie exclaimed, hoping she didn’t sound as surprised as she felt.
“It’s just tomato soup from a tin,” Hugh told her. “But I added a few herbs and spices and grated some cheese into it.”
Bessie took a cautious bite. “It’s delicious,” she told the young man.
“I toasted the sandwich bread. I hope that’s okay,” Hugh said. “I like it better than way. The bread doesn’t get as soggy.”
“It’s fine,” Bessie assured him, taking a big bite of the crunchy sandwich and finding that she quite liked that as well. “You’ve picked up a lot of new cooking skills since the last time you stayed with me,” she remarked.
“Oh, aye, Grace likes to stay in and cook most nights, and it’s cheaper than eating out as well. She’s taught me a lot and she has some really good cookbooks as well. They’re really fun to go through. Even if you don’t like the recipes, sometimes you can get ideas from the books.”
Bessie nodded. “I often buy cookbooks, but I rarely try the recipes. I just enjoy looking at the photographs.”
Bessie let Hugh have a few more cookies after he’d cleared both his plate and bowl, but she put the rest away for the guests she was expecting throughout the afternoon.
“I’d better hide a dozen for tonight or John and Doona will have to settle for ice cream on its own,” she told Hugh.
“Just don’t hide them in the sitting room with me, or you won’t have any for tonight for sure,” Hugh laughed.
Bessie was pleased to see him laughing and more importantly, eating again. He still looked tired and as if he was under considerable stress, but he’d improved dramatically since he’d arrived on her doorstep.
“I’m going to get back to my case files,” he told Bessie after he’d done the washing-up. “There’s a lot I want to talk to John about tonight with regard to, well, all of them.”
“I’m glad you’ve found something useful to do to keep you busy,” Bessie said.
The telephone rang again as Hugh left the room.
“Bessie? It’s Elizabeth. I just wanted to see if you’d solved it all yet or if you still want to talk to the others.”
“I’m nowhere near solving anything,” Bessie told her. “I’m really just trying to gather background information in the hopes that that might help John.”
“Well, I’m sure Bruce was full of loads of that sort of thing,” she drawled. “He loves talking about everyone and he never holds back.”
“He was very informative,” Bessie agreed. “But I’d still like to see everyone else. Oh, but I did speak to Sarah this morning, so I don’t need to see her again.”
“Yes, she mentioned seeing you on the beach before seven. I can’t imagine why she was even up, but that’s Sarah for you. Okay, I’ll find an excuse to send Nigel next. It will be nice to have him out of the house for a while as well.”
On that curious note, Elizabeth disconnected. Bessie was left to wonder what trouble Nigel was causing at Thie yn Traie as she waited for him to arrive.
Chapter Ten
When the knock on her door came, not much later, Bessie took a deep breath before she opened it.
“Hullo, I hope I’m in the right place. You’re Bessie Cubbon, right?” Nigel asked, looking as if he didn’t much care who she was.
“I am, yes,” Bessie answered.
“Elizabeth asked me bring this to you,” he told her, handing her a small box.
“Oh, good, yes, thank you,” Bessie said, taking the box. She set it on the counter behind her, curious as to what was in it, but unwilling to open it in front of Nigel. Whatever it was, it had worked as an excuse to get the man to Treoghe Bwanne.
“It’s Nigel, isn’t it? Why don’t you come in for a cuppa?” Bessie suggested. “I’m sure you won’t mind a few minutes away from Thie yn Traie.”
“More like they’ll be glad to have me out of the way for a while,” Nigel muttered, but he stepped inside the cottage.
“I should imagine everyone is getting quite fed up, being stuck here at the moment,” Bessie said as she refilled the kettle. “I shouldn’t be surprised if you’re all bickering with one another.”
Nigel barked out a short laugh. “Mostly they’re fed up with me,” he said. “But I can’t help how I feel. Gennifer was my soul mate and I’m lost without her.”
Bessie busied herself with getting out plates and teacups rather than respond immediately. From what she’d seen of the couple, she certainly wouldn’t have described them as soul mates.
Nigel remained silent until Bessie sat down opposite him, after she’d delivered tea and snickerdoodles to the table.
“We fought a lot,” he said before picking up a cookie and giving it a suspicious sniff.
“That must have been difficult for you,” Bessie said, keeping her tone neutral.
Nigel took a bite of his cookie and then washed it down with tea. “I can see why Howard was raving about these,” he said. “The woman who is cooking for us up at Thie yn Traie keeps making Eton mess for pudding. I suppose that’s because I went to Eton, but it gets a bit dull after the second day. These make a nice change.”
He nibbled his way through his first and then took a second cookie. Bessie deliberately remained silent, waiting to see what he’d say next.
“I’m usually the life of the party,” he told Bessie after a while. “But I just can’t do anything right now but sit around and miss Gennifer. She was, well, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“She was lovely,” Bessie agreed.
“And she understood me,” Nigel continued. “We barely needed to speak to one another. We just understood each other’s thoughts.”
As they’d been barely speaking to one another at the party, perhaps that was a good thing, Bessie thought.
“You seemed very upset with her at the party,” she remarked casually.
“Oh, I was. Gennifer didn’t like the island, you see, and she blamed me for our being here. She was getting back at me by pretending to be interested in other men. It didn’t mean anything.”
“What brought you all over here, anyway?”
“Howard,” Nigel laughed. “He’s been sort of involved with Elizabeth for a while now, but since she’s moved back here he hasn’t seen much of her. I gather she’d been nagging him to visit for months. This way, he was able to bring us all with him, so he didn’t have to be alone with her.”
“Oh, dear, that doesn’t sound good,” Bessie exclaimed.
“It’s just that he isn’t serious about her, that’s all. If he came for a weekend and it was just the two of them, well, she might start getting ideas.”
&nbs
p; Bessie stopped herself from asking what sort of “ideas” Howard was worried about. “But Gennifer wasn’t happy?” she asked instead.
“That’s an understatement,” Nigel replied. “She changed her mind about coming when we arrived at the airport and she saw the tiny plane we’d be travelling on. I managed to talk her onto the plane, but she complained about everything, just about nonstop, from the time we left until, well, you know.”
Bessie nodded. “I’m sorry. You must be heartbroken.”
“I am, yes. No one else here understands how I feel. They’re all still just dating one another casually. They don’t understand that Gennifer and I were serious. Her parents didn’t get it either. They thought I was just another of Gennifer’s friends. I tried to explain things to them, but they, well, they wouldn’t listen, really.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask her to marry you,” Bessie said as she reached for a cookie.
“Marriage is for our parents’ generation,” Nigel told her. “Gennifer and I had a connection that went beyond what a piece of paper can provide.”
Bessie nodded. “How long had you been together?” she asked.
“Not long enough,” was Nigel’s vague reply. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter if it was two hours or two days or two years. We were perfect for one another and we would have been together forever, if, well, if.”
“So who do you think killed her?” Bessie asked.
The man looked at her in surprise. “How should I know that?” he demanded.
“Surely you’ve given the matter some thought,” Bessie replied. “You were the person who was closest to her. Did you get the idea that she was afraid of anyone or worried about anything?”
Nigel shook his head. “There wasn’t anything. If I’d known that she was in danger, I would have stepped in and protected her, obviously. Anyway, I thought the police had a suspect, one of the men she was talking with early in the evening? Someone told me that.”
“As far as I know, the police haven’t arrested anyone,” Bessie said. “I suppose it’s fortunate that you have an alibi.”
Aunt Bessie Knows (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 11) Page 15