“We did. She remembered quite a lot about Hannah. The police may want to talk with you as well,” she added to Rosemary.
“How exciting. I’ve never spoken to the police before. Aside from the chief constable, of course. He’s a family friend. I’ve never been questioned in a murder investigation, anyway.”
“As I said, it may not have been murder,” Bessie reminded her.
Rosemary waved a hand. “It sounds much better to say that I’m going to be questioned in a murder investigation than anything else. That’s what I shall tell all of the children when I speak to them next.”
Eloise rolled her eyes and took a large bite out of a biscuit. Bessie hid a grin behind her teacup.
“Can you tell me anything else about Hannah?” Bessie asked as she nibbled on the last of her tiny cakes.
“She was very quiet, the perfect lodger, really. She was home every night quite early, although she did sometimes sneak out.”
“She did?” Bessie asked in surprise.
“Yes, it seemed out of character for her, but when I asked her about it she told me that she suffered from insomnia, so she often went for long walks when she couldn’t sleep. She thought that was preferable to walking around the house and risking waking us or Harold, who was usually up in the middle of the night anyway. That child never slept, which is why I discovered that Hannah was sometimes sneaking out, you see.”
Bessie nodded. “Do you think she was sneaking out to meet someone?”
Rosemary looked surprised by the idea. “Hannah? Whom would she have been meeting? The girl didn’t say boo to a goose. It could only have been a man at that hour, in secret in that way. I can’t imagine Hannah sneaking out to meet a man. She wasn’t the type.”
“Maybe she was meeting Daisy somewhere,” Bessie suggested.
“Oh, no. I met Daisy on a handful of occasions. The girl was bright and sensible. I guarantee she wasn’t sneaking out of her house at all hours to do anything. She worked very hard in a solicitor’s office every day from eight to six. Hannah didn’t work very many hours at all. That meant, if she needed them, she could have lazy days where she didn’t get out of bed until ten or eleven.”
Bessie nodded. “As I said, the police may want to speak to you. I should be going.”
“Must you?” Rosemary asked. “I’m enjoying our conversation. I haven’t felt this good in years.”
“It’s getting late and I need to ring Inspector Lambert and tell her what you’ve told me before she goes home for the night.”
“Inspector Lambert?”
“She’s an inspector at the Peel Constabulary,” Bessie explained.
“Oh, dear. I don’t want to talk to a woman,” Rosemary said. “I’ve seen photographs of your Inspector Rockwell. He’s lovely. I want to talk to him.”
“The case is Inspector Lambert’s to investigate.”
Rosemary made a face. “I’m sure she’s good at her job, but I’d much prefer talking to a man, especially a handsome young man. If Inspector Lambert comes, you must tell her that I’m unwell,” she told Eloise.
Eloise gave her a stiff smile. “If you say so.”
“I do say so. Tell her that I’m only prepared to talk to Inspector Rockwell because Bessie said he was the best.”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Bessie protested. “I’m trying to help Inspector Lambert.”
Rosemary shook her head. “At my age, I can be just as stubborn as my two-year-old granddaughter. Young, attractive men don’t even notice me any longer. If I can get one hanging on my every word for half an hour, I’m going to do it.”
Bessie chuckled. Rosemary clearly knew what she wanted. Too bad Bessie was the one who was going to have to explain the situation to John and Anna.
“I’ll see you out,” Eloise said as Bessie got to her feet.
“Thank you for your help,” Bessie told Rosemary. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you.”
“Likewise. You should visit more often.”
“You’re always welcome to visit me on Laxey Beach.”
Rosemary grinned. “That’s an invitation I might just take you up on, actually. I’ve never been to Laxey Beach, but I’ve heard a great deal about it. If I do come, you’ll have to show me where you found your first body and then show me the holiday cottage where everyone keeps getting murdered. I could see the stairs to Thie yn Traie, too. I’ve read about them in the paper many times. Can you see much of Thie yn Traie from the beach?”
“Just the wall of windows at the back of the great room.”
“That’s a shame, as I probably wouldn’t make it up the stairs,” Rosemary sighed. “Eloise, when you come back from showing Bessie out, we must check my schedule and see when we can go to Laxey.”
Eloise nodded and then led Bessie out of the room.
“I’ll do everything I can to discourage her from visiting,” Eloise said as they reached the front door.
“She’s more than welcome, as are you,” Bessie replied.
“That’s kind of you, but Rosemary rarely leaves the house. She isn’t as strong as she wants you to believe. Her memory isn’t as good as it seems, either. It’s possible she hasn’t remembered things exactly right.”
“It will be up the police to work out what to believe. They’re experts at dealing with witnesses.”
“If they do want to speak with her, please have them arrange it through me so that I can be present when they’re here. She did well today, but sometimes talking about the past upsets Rosemary.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Bessie promised.
She headed out the door. When she reached the street, she pulled out her mobile. Her favourite taxi company didn’t have anyone in the area.
“It’ll be about half an hour, maybe a bit longer,” the dispatcher told her apologetically. “There’s a taxi rank near the shop there. Maybe you can find a taxi there.”
Bessie thanked her and then walked back to the shop. There were two taxis at the rank and Bessie happily climbed into the first one. When she gave the driver her address, he stared at her blankly.
“Treoghe Bwaane? Never heard of it.”
“It’s on Laxey Beach.”
“I can find that,” he promised.
He did find it, but by the most circuitous route that Bessie thought she’d ever taken. She didn’t complain when he told her what she owed him for the journey, because she’d seen parts of the island along the way that she thought she’d never seen before. That had to be worth something, she reckoned.
At home, she rang Anna Lambert to tell her about her day.
“If you could have John speak to Rosemary Quayle, I think he’d get better results,” she concluded.
“I can arrange that,” she replied. “What are you planning to do next?”
“I thought I might see if I could find Harold Newman.”
“I’ve spoken to him and to his wife. She wasn’t best pleased, talking about Lauren Bell, but they both denied having any idea what happened to her.”
“Any idea where I might find him?”
“He has a small café in Onchan. It does tea and coffee and cakes and not much else. He told me he got tired of fish after so many years, but he wasn’t ready to retire. His son really runs the place, but he works there a few mornings a week. His wife works there as well, but she doesn’t work every day. She won’t there tomorrow, or so I was told.”
“So if I were to go in for a cuppa tomorrow morning, he would probably be there, but she wouldn’t. That might be for the best.”
“I’m sure it would. It’s been thirty-odd years since her husband’s affair, but she still hasn’t forgiven him.”
“I don’t blame her, really, although I do wonder why she took him back if she was that bothered about the affair.”
“She gave me her version of events. It more or less matched his. We can discuss it further after you’ve spoken to them,” Anna said.
“I don’t expect to speak to her,” Bessie replied. “What�
��s her name?”
“She’s Angela, and you may end up wanting to speak to her.”
“I’m intrigued now. I’m definitely going for a cuppa tomorrow.”
“Thank you for everything you’ve shared with me. I’m going to have someone interview Louise Larkin for me and if I can, I’ll have John talk to Rosemary Quayle and her daughter-in-law. Hannah seems unlikely to me, but we’ve already eliminated two of our five candidates.”
“Tracking down Daisy Evans might be useful,” Bessie said.
“I’ll have one of my counterparts in Leeds get to work on that. If she got married and moved away, we might not be able to find her, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“I hope so. She may well be the key to finding out what happened to Hannah.”
Bessie put the phone down. There were still a few hours to go before dinner, and she found herself feeling restless. What she really wanted to do was find Harold Newman, but Anna had said he worked mornings at his café.
A short walk in the rain didn’t improve her mood. Back at home, she headed up to her office and pulled out Onnee’s letters. She was already feeling inexplicably cross with the world. Finding out that Onnee’s baby had died couldn’t make her feel much worse.
An hour later, she had two more letters carefully transcribed. Now she sat back and read through them. When Doona rang, she couldn’t help but tell her what she’d discovered.
“I was just ringing to see how you are,” Doona said.
“I’ve just been working on Onnee’s letters. Did I tell you that she’d had her baby, but things went wrong in the delivery room and the doctors told her that the baby wasn’t going to survive?”
“Yes, and if the baby died, please don’t tell me.”
“The baby didn’t die, at least not yet,” Bessie said happily. “In fact, the baby seems to be doing incredibly well. Onnee reports that she’s feeding well and has begun smiling at her when she talks to her. The letters were cautiously optimistic, anyway. Clarence is still spending all of his spare time with Faith, but Onnee’s too busy with the baby to care at the moment.”
“That’s good news. I wish we could get some good news.”
“Nothing new on Sue?”
“Not really. She rang last night and talked to John for half an hour. He said she was completely lucid. She apologised for being ill and for not returning as scheduled, but insisted that she’ll be back soon and that the children will have to return to Manchester with her as soon as she returns.”
“Oh, dear.”
“John pointed out that they’re in the middle of the school year and can’t just drop everything to move back to Manchester, but she refused to discuss any other alternative. She told John that Harvey is completely behind her decision and that he’ll use every penny he has to drag John through the courts if he fights them.”
“My goodness. Did John talk to Harvey at all?”
“No. Harvey is angry that the police are investigating. It’s still an active investigation, as well. John got the impression that something was happening behind the scenes there, but he couldn’t work out exactly what.”
“Maybe Andrew has done something.”
“That was John’s thought, too. Anyway, I’ve told John that I’m prepared to use every penny that I have to help him fight back. I’ve no need for the money and I’d love to see it get put to good use. He’s insisting he won’t take my money, but I’m sure he’ll change his mind if it means keeping his kids where they belong.”
“Do the kids know about any of this?”
“Luckily they weren’t home when Sue rang. John told them both, after the conversation, that their mother was hoping to take them back to Manchester when she returned. They both told him that they don’t want to go.”
“What a horrible mess. I’m glad John has you on his side.”
“I just hope Sue truly is recovering and is actually going to come home soon. Even if there’s a long and horrible legal battle over the children, that’s better than all this uncertainty.”
“Surely the children are old enough to have some say in where they go?”
“We believe so, but John is worried that the courts will feel that Manchester is better for them, as that was their home for most of their lives. They have family there, and history.”
“Their father is here. That has to count for something.”
Doona sighed. “Until Sue gets back, there doesn’t seem to be much we can do. John is meeting with Doncan in a few days to talk through his options. We want to be prepared for whatever Sue does.”
“Good for him. I’m sure Doncan will be able to help.” The advocate was one of the smartest men Bessie knew. If anyone could help John win custody of the children, it was Doncan.
“Let’s talk about other things. What did you do today?”
Bessie told Doona all about her trip to Kirk Michael. “Tomorrow I’m going to visit the café in Onchan where Harold Newman works,” she added at the end.
“I have the morning off. If you’re going in the morning, may I come along? They have cake, I know they do.”
Bessie laughed. “You’re more than welcome, of course.”
They agreed that Doona would collect Bessie around nine before Bessie put the phone down.
Another short walk and a light dinner filled the next hour. After that, Bessie curled up with a book of logic puzzles and spent a few happy hours solving several of them. When she put the book down, she sighed.
“You’ve done all the easy ones now. Next time you’ll have to try a more difficult one,” she told herself in a low voice.
Grabbing the mystery she was halfway through, she went upstairs and got ready for bed. She read until her eyes refused to stay open any longer and then switched off her light and went to sleep.
It was another rainy day when she got up the next morning. Frowning, she made herself porridge for breakfast, which only darkened her mood. As she ate her way through the bowl, she reminded herself that porridge was good for her. That didn’t make it taste any better, though. As she washed her breakfast dishes, she wondered how porridge with chocolate sauce would taste.
“Hello, Bessie,” Thomas Shimmin called from the back of the very last holiday cottage as Bessie walked past.
She stopped and then walked up the beach to join him on the cottage’s patio. As she approached, she did her best to hide her shock. The man was a shadow of his former self, looking gaunt and drawn as he leaned on the sliding door while he waited for Bessie.
“How are you?” she blurted out as a greeting.
He chuckled. “I’m actually better than I look,” he assured her. “I’ve battled my way through pneumonia, a secondary infection, the flu, and a few other things I can’t even remember. I know I look horrible, but I’m actually feeling better than I have in months.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“I feel horrible about leaving so much for poor Maggie. She’s been working all the time, and you know Maggie, she never complains.” His words were accompanied by a knowing wink.
Bessie laughed. “I have seen a great deal more of her than is typical. She said something about having to paint the cottages.”
“That’s why I’m here. We’re storing all the paint in this cottage. It’s good for storage, even if we can’t rent it out any longer.”
“I thought you were having it torn down?”
“We are, eventually, but for now, it’s going to hold all the cans of paint and brushes and rollers and everything. We’re having security systems fitted to every cottage, including this one, as well.”
“Since this is the one that keeps getting broken into, that seems sensible.”
“We got a good price on the systems, so adding an extra one didn’t add much to the bottom line. We thought if we put security on all of them except this one, it would simply encourage people to break in here even more.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Anyway, I brought down everything we n
eed to paint and I’m very slowly moving it into this cottage. The men from the security firm are starting tomorrow, so if you see them around, don’t worry.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
Thomas nodded. “I’d better get back to work. Maggie will worry if I’m gone too long.”
“I’m surprised she isn’t helping you.”
“She was going to help, but she’s put her back out. The doctor has her on bed rest for twenty-four hours and she isn’t allowed to lift or move anything for a week. It will probably drive her to distraction.”
“Good luck,” Bessie said.
“I’m going to need it,” Thomas laughed.
Back at Treoghe Bwaane, Bessie only had a few minutes to get ready before Doona was due to arrive. It took some effort, but Bessie managed to keep the conversation away from Sue for the entire drive into Onchan. The small café had an equally small car park. Doona parked in the only empty space.
“I hope it isn’t too busy,” Bessie said. “I want a nice long talk with Harold Newman.”
When she pushed open the café’s door, she smiled to herself. There were only two other customers, a couple sitting in one corner talking intently with one another.
“Have you ever been here before?” Bessie asked Doona as Doona headed for a table near the back of the room.
“Several times. I lived in Onchan for a short while. I haven’t been here in many years, though. They used to do wonderful cakes.”
Bessie sat down across from Doona and looked around the room. Everything was clean and tidy, but the place looked tired and in need of freshening up. The door in the back wall swung open and a man walked out.
As he approached the their table, Bessie studied him. She would have put his age at about sixty-five, maybe seventy. The little hair that he had left was grey and his shoulders were stooped. He shuffled a bit when he walked, but his smile was bright as he greeted them.
“Good morning. It’s nice to see some unfamiliar faces for a change. We tend to get nothing but regulars in here,” he said.
“I used to be something of a regular,” Doona told him, “before I moved to Laxey.”
“And you’re Elizabeth Cubbon.” The man nodded at Bessie. “I’ve seen your picture in the paper a great deal. Everyone knows about Aunt Bessie, anyway, but the pictures let me put a face to the name.”
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