“Too much risk. I can’t have Richard locked up. He needs to be out here, earning money.”
“And you’re prepared to live with a murderer, for the sake of the money?” Bessie asked.
“You make it sound so dramatic when you put it that way,” Carolyn complained.
“You’re the one who said you think he did it,” Bessie pointed out.
“Well, maybe he didn’t,” Carolyn snapped. “Maybe it was Michael. He’d already punched Christo. Maybe he found Christo in Douglas and finished the job.”
“Several people here seem to think that someone followed Mr. Hart from across,” Bessie said. “Maybe Mr. Hart’s death had nothing to do with anyone on the island at all.”
“That’s probably it,” Carolyn said. “I did my best to let people know he was coming. It was all meant to be good publicity for our event. I do hope I didn’t accidently let his killer know where to find him. Oh, goodness, his death could have been my fault.”
Bessie had had enough of the other woman’s drama. “Why don’t we leave the investigation up to the police, and we can focus on getting the castle ready for Friday?” she suggested. “We have the auction to set up and I’m sure we need to do some finishing touches around the place.”
“And I still have to set up my tribute room,” Carolyn said. “Although I think my staff has that well in hand. Anyway, it’s time for the committee meeting. We really must get going.”
She headed off towards the banquet room, leaving Bessie shaking her head behind her. I’ve been here all day, Bessie thought as she followed Carolyn. We’ve been waiting for you.
The committee meeting didn’t take long. They went over everything that still needed to be finished and then split into groups to get to work. No one mentioned Christopher Hart or the murder investigation. Bessie spent an hour helping Laura with tickets and by five o’clock everything was just about finished. The only thing left to do was add some fresh flowers in some of the rooms. Those were due to be delivered on Friday morning.
“I dare say we can take tomorrow off,” Mark told Bessie as he drove her home. “All of the last-minute jobs can’t be done until Friday, so there’s no reason for anyone to even be at the castle tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe, after all the hard work, that we’re done a day early,” Bessie replied. “There were times when I didn’t think we’d ever finish.”
“I was worried, when Mr. Hart first arrived and wanted to change everything, that we were in trouble,” Mark confided. “Natasha’s changes have been much more manageable.”
“And she’s done wonderful things,” Bessie said. “I thought it all looked beautiful anyway, but it looks even better now.”
Mark dropped Bessie at home. They agreed that he’d collect her on Friday morning. She planned to spend the day at the castle, bringing her formal wear for the evening grand opening with her.
“I’ll ring you if anything comes up between now and then, otherwise I’ll see you on Friday,” Mark told her.
With an unexpectedly free day to fill, Bessie fixed herself a light evening meal while she tried to decide what to do with her Thursday. She missed spending time with her friends in Laxey, but they would all be at work during the day. She was just about to ring to book a taxi to take her to Ramsey the next day when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Bessie, it’s Pete Corkill. I was hoping I might be able to come to see you tomorrow morning before you head down to Castletown.”
“I’m not going to Castletown tomorrow. We’re all ready for Friday, and Mark has given us all the day off.”
“In that case, can I buy you breakfast somewhere?”
“Why don’t you come here?” Bessie asked. “I can do a full English breakfast. I haven’t done that in ages.”
After the inspector agreed, Bessie checked her refrigerator. She hadn’t done a proper grocery shop in weeks, because she’d been so busy going back and forth to Castletown. Without a trip to the shops, she’d never be able to fix breakfast the next day.
Bessie quickly made a list of what she needed and then headed out the door. She walked up the hill to the small shop at the top. Fully expecting the disagreeable young woman whose father owned the shop to be behind the till, she forced a smile on her face before she walked in.
“Anne? Are you working here again?” she asked, surprised to find her old friend, Anne Caine, stocking shelves.
“Would you believe the owner’s daughter has run off to Scunthorpe with some lad she met at TT? Apparently, they met in the beer tent and stayed in touch after he went home. I gather she and her dad had a disagreement about something and off she went,” Anne told her.
Bessie shook her head. “Good luck to her,” she said. “I hope she’s happy there. She always seemed miserable here.”
“Oh, aye,” Anne laughed. “She never made a secret of that, did she? Her father is furious, of course, but she’s over eighteen and can make her own mistakes.”
“Are you back for good, then?” Bessie asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Anne said, waving a hand. “I don’t have to work, which is the ultimate luxury. But I really miss working, as well. I told the owner that I’ll cover until the new year and then we’ll have to talk. The shop is closed from Christmas Eve until the second of January, anyway, so it isn’t much of a commitment.”
Bessie found what she needed for the breakfast she’d promised Pete. “Is Andy coming home for Christmas?” she asked as Anne rang up her items.
“Only for a few days,” Anne replied. “He’s going to be here for Christmas Eve and then he’s going back on Boxing Day. He’s been invited to be the resident chef at some fancy country house from Boxing Day until the new year.”
“That should be good experience for him,” Bessie said.
“Yes, and his friend, Sue, is going as well. She’s going to be his assistant chef for the week. I think that’s the main reason he took the job.”
Bessie chuckled. “They seemed well-suited when I met her at my Thanksgiving dinner.”
“They’re perfect for each other,” Anne agreed. “I really liked her and I know Andy thinks she’s wonderful. He just has to persuade her to see him as more than just a friend.”
“Did you get tickets for ‘Christmas at the Castle?’” Bessie asked.
“I did. I’m bringing Andy and Sue with me, as well. We’re coming on Christmas Eve for the auction. Now that we have a little bit of money, I think we should be supporting local charities.”
Bessie smiled at the woman. Anne had worked hard, often holding down two jobs at once, to support herself and her son over the years. A recent inheritance had given her access to more money than she’d ever imagined having. Bessie had wondered if Anne and Andy might spend at least some of it on extravagances, but thus far she’d seen no sign of them doing anything but behaving very cautiously and sensibly with their new wealth. That Anne was looking to give back to the community only reinforced Bessie’s delight in Anne’s good fortune.
“If I don’t see you between now and then, I’m sure I’ll see you at the castle on Christmas Eve, then,” Bessie told Anne before she headed back down the hill.
At home, she put away her shopping and then got ready for bed. Feeling like a change, she found a book she’d hidden away for a rainy day. It was the newest title by one of her favourite authors. When it had arrived from the bookstore in Ramsey in one of their regular shipments, she’d hidden it from herself, determined to wait to read it when she knew she needed a real treat. Tonight felt like the right night for her indulgence.
With a box of chocolate truffles on the bedside table, Bessie climbed into bed and got lost in one of her favourite fictional worlds. Hours later, the chocolates were gone and Bessie was blinking hard and trying to pull herself back to reality.
“Reality is overrated,” she told her mirror image before she brushed her teeth and went to bed.
She kept her walk short the next morning, and had breakf
ast ready to go when Pete Corkill arrived.
“I didn’t actually start cooking yet,” she told him as she let him in. “Everything cooks so quickly, it seemed better to wait.”
He sat at the kitchen table while Bessie began to cook. “You can talk while I work, if you want,” she told her guest. “I’ve made breakfast often enough that I don’t really need to concentrate.”
“Why don’t we talk about ‘Christmas at the Castle’, rather than the case,” the inspector suggested. “I’d like more background, if possible.”
“I think I told you everything I know,” Bessie said. “Was there something specific you were wondering about?”
“You said that Carolyn Teare brought Christopher Hart across. Do you know how she happened to choose him, rather than some other designer?”
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t the slightest idea,” Bessie replied. “I didn’t know we needed a designer until she announced that she was providing one. I’d also never heard of the man before she mentioned him.”
“Who selected the members of the committee?” Pete changed the subject.
“I suppose that was Mark Blake. He asked me to join. I’m sure when he asked me, he told me that Mary Quayle and Marjorie Stevens had already agreed to help. He also asked me if I had any suggestions for other members, but I couldn’t think of anyone to add.”
“So who suggested Carolyn Teare?”
“You’d have to ask Mark,” Bessie said. “I’d say, but no, I shouldn’t.”
“Yes, you should,” Pete told her. “Whatever you were thinking, I’d like to hear it, even if it’s just speculation.”
Bessie shook her head. “I was just going to say that it’s likely she suggested herself, but that doesn’t sound very nice.”
“But she might have?”
“She often volunteered for committee positions, especially where there was expected to be a lot of publicity,” Bessie said.
“So she likes to do volunteer work?”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Bessie said ruefully. “She likes to serve on various committees, but I don’t think she particularly likes to work.”
Pete chuckled. “I take it you aren’t fond of her,” he said.
“I just feel that, if you’re going to volunteer for something, you should be prepared to work hard,” Bessie explained. “Carolyn prefers to throw money at the first sign of any work that needs doing.” She sighed. “There’s always a place for that, of course, especially with non-profit organisations.”
“Who selected which non-profits would be involved?” Pete changed the subject again.
“At our first meeting, Mark asked for suggestions,” Bessie said. “We ended up inviting about ten different groups to take part, but only five of them were interested or able to put something together in time.”
“I don’t suppose you remember who suggested which groups?”
Bessie thought while she turned over bacon and sausages. It was no good. “It was too long ago and it didn’t seem important at the time,” she told the man. “We were all throwing out ideas and discussing different groups. I don’t recall anyone being strongly in favour of any one group over any other, if that helps.”
“Was anyone particularly opposed to any group?”
Bessie shook her head. “I don’t remember anyone opposing any of them,” she said. She pulled down plates and piled food onto them. After delivering the plates to the table, she poured coffee for them both and then sat down opposite the man.
“There was a short debate about whether we should allow groups that use professional fundraisers rather than groups that just use volunteers,” she said after she’d taken a few bites. “Marjorie really wanted to only use volunteer groups, but Carolyn felt that the Alzheimer’s Research Fund was worth including, no matter how they raise their money.”
“How did you feel?”
“I wanted the event to be as inclusive as possible. I thought we should ask every non-profit on the island to take part.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It was a question of scale,” Bessie explained. “This is the first year MNH is trying this and Mark didn’t want things getting too big too fast. We’d have had enough problems if all ten groups we did ask agreed to take part, as we only wanted to use a handful of rooms. I think, for the first year, the size is just about right.”
“If Marjorie had won the argument, who wouldn’t have been included?”
“Michael Beach and the Alzheimer’s Research Fund, and Harriet Hooper and the Manx Animal Care Team,” Bessie replied.
“That would have made it a much smaller event,” Pete remarked.
“That was one of the points that was raised in the discussion,” Bessie recalled. “We hadn’t actually asked anyone yet, but both of those groups were on our short list and we didn’t want to cut the list down too far. It turned into a fairly long discussion, actually.”
“Did it become heated?”
Bessie shook her head. “Everyone kept calm and presented their point of view politely. It was our first meeting, after all. We were still trying to work together.”
“But that changed? When?”
“I wouldn’t say it changed,” Bessie prevaricated. “As we got to know one another better, there were, of course, some disagreements, but mostly we stayed focussed on creating the best possible event.”
“Tell me about the disagreements,” Pete invited her. “Breakfast is excellent, by the way.”
“Thank you. I should make myself a proper breakfast more often,” Bessie said. “As for our disagreements, most of them were just over silly little things. We couldn’t agree on how to decorate the courtyard, for example.”
“And who won that argument?”
“We were still debating the issue when Carolyn brought in Christopher Hart and told us all that he would be deciding what would be going in that space. He sent his instructions to MNH and they ordered and hung the decorations.”
“And you all went along with that?”
Bessie sighed. “Sometimes it’s better not to argue,” she said. “Carolyn offered to pay for all of the decorations if we went with Mr. Hart’s plan. The less MNH has to spend for the event, the better, of course.”
“So Carolyn won that argument. Tell me more.”
“Carolyn wasn’t happy about the plans for the MNH room, either,” Bessie recalled. “She wasn’t at the meeting where it was discussed and voted on, and when she found out we’d decided in her absence she put up a bit of a fuss.”
“Let me guess, Mr. Hart was going to change that room,” Pete said dryly.
Bessie chuckled. “He was, now that you mention it. And no, I really hadn’t realised that Carolyn was using Mr. Hart to get everything the way she wanted it at ‘Christmas at the Castle.’ I suppose, because I’m not the scheming type, that I simply never thought about it.”
“I’m not sure that it has anything to do with Mr. Hart’s murder, but it’s interesting,” Pete said.
Bessie cleared away the breakfast dishes and poured more coffee. “Surely, Carolyn wouldn’t have killed him if he was helping her get her way.”
“Unless that’s what the argument was about,” Pete suggested. “But what can you tell me about Richard Teare, Carolyn’s husband?”
“Carolyn told me yesterday that she thinks he killed Mr. Hart,” Bessie said.
“But you don’t agree,” Pete said. “Or you would have brought it up before now.”
“I don’t know,” Bessie said. “You would think a wife would know her husband better than anyone. I’ve only met Richard Teare a few times, but he really doesn’t seem like a murderer to me.”
“Experience has taught me that most murderers don’t seem like the type,” Pete said.
“Carolyn said that she thought Richard killed Christopher because he thought she was having an affair with the man,” Bessie said. “Maybe I simply don’t think he cares enough about Carolyn to kill over an affair.”
�
�You don’t think he loves his wife?”
“She was a trophy wife when she was young,” Bessie explained. “Richard is quite a bit older than she is and I suspect her charm has faded somewhat over the years.”
“But maybe she’d never cheated on him before?”
“I don’t think she cheated this time,” Bessie said. “I didn’t get the impression that Mr. Hart was interested in anything other than Carolyn’s money.”
“Whether they had an affair or not, what matters is what Richard Teare thought was happening,” Pete pointed out. “Does he seem like the jealous type?”
“I’ve probably only spoken to him ten times in my life,” Bessie said. “I remember, vaguely, when he and Carolyn were first married. He was very possessive of her then, but in the last few years they seem to have drifted apart.”
“No children?”
“No, Richard has some from his first marriage. I’m sure Carolyn said something once about him not wanting to go through all of that again.”
“So if he wasn’t jealous over Mr. Hart’s relationship with Carolyn, what other possible motive could Richard have had for killing him?”
“I have no idea,” Bessie said. “I don’t know anything about Richard’s business interests, so I couldn’t tell you if they were tied to Mr. Hart in any way. If Richard was going to kill someone, I’d be inclined to think it would be over money matters, rather than his wife, though.”
Pete made a note in his notebook and then nodded at Bessie. “Okay, so that’s a possible motive for Richard Teare to investigate. Who else had a motive?”
“You know he and Michael had a fight earlier in the day. I don’t think that gives Michael a motive for murder, but it might be worth looking at.”
“We’re looking very closely at Michael, actually,” Pete told her. “He has a temper and he’s admitted to being in Douglas that evening. If he’s telling the truth about Mr. Hart’s attempt to blackmail him, he seems to have given himself a fairly strong motive.”
“Why would he lie?”
“Maybe he’s trying to distract us from something else we’d find if we dig,” Pete said. “Or maybe he’s trying to justify the murder, to himself, if not to us.”
Aunt Bessie Joins Page 8
