“Except the room isn’t open to the public,” Hugh pointed out. “Maybe this Natasha person didn’t want anyone to think she’d worked on such an ugly room?”
“Actually, she did a great job with the room’s centerpiece,” Bessie said. “If anything, she should have been proud of what she’d accomplished.”
“How does the vandalism tie in with the murder?” Doona asked.
“If we knew that, we’d be closer to solving both,” John told her. “We aren’t sure if they’re connected or not, although we have to believe that they are.”
“I thought Pete was pretty sure that Michael was responsible for the vandalism,” Bessie said.
“He is,” John said. “I’d feel better if we had some idea of a motive, though.”
“He hated Mr. Hart and hated to see a tribute to him,” Doona suggested.
“Possibly,” John said.
“If he hated Mr. Hart that much, it suggests he could have killed him as well,” Bessie said.
“And now we can’t question him about it,” Hugh said.
“What about his death? Was that murder?” Bessie asked.
“We’re waiting for the autopsy results,” John told her. “At this point, I’m not ruling anything out.”
“I can’t see any reason for anyone killing him,” Bessie said after a moment’s thought. “He was just an ordinary person.”
“I understand he was flirting with Carolyn Teare quite heavily,” John said.
“He was flirting with her and with Natasha,” Bessie said. “But he was quite drunk as well.”
“We’re trying to retrace his steps from when he disappeared the first time,” John said. “And we’re talking to his friends and acquaintances on the island and across. It’s possible that his death has nothing to do with the other incidents.”
“But it doesn’t seem likely,” Bessie said.
John shrugged. “We’re also talking to Carolyn and Richard Teare, and everyone at the Alzheimer’s Research Fund. We’re looking for motives for murder as well as any hint as to why he might have wanted to kill himself.”
Bessie sighed. “We didn’t talk about means or opportunity for any of this.”
“It seems that just about everyone involved with ‘Christmas at the Castle’ knew that Mr. Hart had moved to the Seaside Hotel,” John said. “No one appears to have an unimpeachable alibi for that evening.”
“Michael told me that Mr. Hart was trying to blackmail him,” Bessie said. “Maybe he was doing the same with others?”
“We’re looking into Mr. Hart’s finances,” John told her. “I’m not sure if that will tell us anything or not, but it needs doing. No one else has come forward with a story like Michael’s, at least not yet. We’re also considering the possibility that someone came over just to kill the man, but that raises the question of how they knew where to look for him.”
“Maybe he rang them when he got to the hotel,” Doona suggested.
“Aside from his call to Michael, there were no outgoing calls from his mobile or his room. He might have rung someone from the Teares’ home before he left there, but Carolyn says he didn’t.”
“We’re jumping all over the place and I’m getting confused,” Bessie said. She finished her tea and poured herself more. “So where are we?” she asked them all.
“For Mr. Hart’s murder, it seems that everyone involved with ‘Christmas at the Castle’ had the means and the opportunity to kill him,” John said. “Nearly everyone also had some sort of motive, although some are much stronger than others, of course. If you had to name a murderer from that list, who would it be?” he asked Bessie.
Bessie nibbled a biscuit while she thought. “I suppose, if I had to, I’d go for Richard Teare,” she said eventually. “I think he had the strongest motive, even though I’m not really clear on what it was. If not him, then Michael. If Mr. Hart was trying to blackmail him, then he had a pretty strong motive.”
“Anyone else want to throw a guess in?” John asked.
“I’d vote for Richard Teare as well,” Doona said. “I don’t want to blame poor Michael, as he has ended up dead, too.”
“It would be neater if it was Michael,” Hugh said. “He killed Mr. Hart, destroyed the tribute room, and then killed himself. That makes perfect sense.”
“Michael’s death is complicated,” John said. “The man kept disappearing, so it’s impossible to say who knew where he was and who didn’t. His phone had several cryptic texts on it that we can’t trace. It seems someone was in contact with him when he was missing, but we don’t know who.”
“You can’t work out where the calls came from?” Bessie asked.
“We’re working on it,” was all that John could tell her.
“I think we’re just going around in circles,” Bessie said after another biscuit.
“I don’t think we’ve solved anything, that’s for certain,” Doona said.
“Sometimes it helps to just talk things through with a different audience,” John said.
“But not this time,” Bessie added with a rueful smile.
John shrugged. “I think it’s helped me shuffle up the suspects a bit,” he said. “I’ll be taking a closer look at Richard and Carolyn Teare tomorrow.”
“If Richard did kill Mr. Hart because he was jealous, then maybe he killed Michael for the same reason,” Doona said.
“It’s a possibility that needs looking into,” John replied.
“I’m having lunch with Laura Meyers on Wednesday,” Bessie told the others. “Maybe she saw or overheard something relevant, but she doesn’t realise it.”
“She has been questioned rather extensively,” John said.
“But maybe no one asked her the right questions,” Bessie countered with a smile. “I’m sure you didn’t ask her who she thought the murderer was, but she might have her own ideas and they might be interesting.”
“You know I don’t like you spending time with suspects,” John said.
“She isn’t a serious suspect, surely,” Bessie countered.
“We’re still investigating her background,” John reminded her. “Make sure you meet somewhere public.”
“We’re having lunch at that little Italian place on the promenade. It’s very public,” Bessie told him.
“Very good. Are you meeting with anyone else in the next few days?” John asked.
“I’ve nothing else planned, but it is a very small island,” Bessie retorted.
“Please let me know if you hear anything that might be relevant,” he instructed her. “Mr. Hart’s killer was smart, and if Michael was murdered it was very cleverly done.”
“Did Michael leave a note?” Bessie asked.
John shook his head. “I can’t answer that,” he said. “But I will tell you that we’re actively looking for handwriting samples from the man. I wish the autopsy results would hurry up, though.”
“It’s getting late,” Doona said. “I have to work at eight and I know John will want to be in his office by eight at the latest.”
“I’m not working until the afternoon tomorrow,” Hugh said. “But I promised Grace that I’d take her to breakfast before she has to go to work.”
“Did she find a teaching position, then?” Bessie asked.
“She’s still working as a supply teacher, but she’s covering someone’s maternity leave at the moment, so she’s going to be working for the rest of the school year,” Hugh replied.
“How nice for her,” Bessie said.
“She’s teaching Reception, and she loves the little ones,” Hugh said. “Most of them still listen pretty well. The big problem is keeping their attention for more than five minutes.”
“Now you all must take some of these treats home with you,” Bessie said as the party began to break up. “I can’t possibly eat all of these on my own.”
Bessie packed biscuits and tarts into small bags and handed them around. She took a few things for herself and then gave the bulk of the leftovers to
Hugh. “I know you’ll manage to eat them all,” she said with a laugh.
She locked up the door behind them all and then checked that both doors were locked up tight. Switching off lights as she went, Bessie headed for bed, her book in her hand. Once she was ready for bed, though, she decided it was too late to read. She slid under the covers and sighed deeply. Usually, after a session with John and the others, she felt as if they’d moved the investigation forward. Often she ended up with ideas for things she could do to help John learn what he needed to know. Tonight she felt as if they’d simply wasted their time. At least Hugh had brought biscuits and fairy cakes. The evening wasn’t a total loss.
Chapter Eleven
Bessie was in the shower on Monday morning when she started thinking about Christmas shopping.
“Christmas is Friday,” she told her mirror image as she stepped out of the shower.
She stuck her tongue out at herself and then dressed quickly. She’d been so busy at Castle Rushen that she’d let the whole month of December slip away from her. While she preferred to do her shopping early in the month, before the shops became too crowded, she had no choice now but to head into Ramsey immediately.
Or almost immediately. She rang and asked for a taxi to Ramsey at half eight. Most of the shops wouldn’t open much before nine, even if it was the week of Christmas. With some time on her hands, Bessie headed out for her morning walk. It was chilly and raining lightly, but she took deep breaths of sea air and didn’t mind the weather one bit. The idea of Christmas shopping made her feel like a small child again and she found herself humming a Christmas carol as she walked. Shaking her head at her foolishness, Bessie returned home and fixed herself a mug of hot chocolate as a special treat.
When Dave, her favourite driver, arrived right on time, Bessie felt even more cheerful.
“Good morning, Dave,” she called as she locked up her cottage. “And Happy Christmas.”
“A very Happy Christmas to you too, Aunt Bessie,” he replied. “But don’t be so quick to lock your door. I have a little something for you.”
He opened his boot and pulled out a small wrapped box. As Bessie reopened her door, he crossed to her.
“You shouldn’t have,” she exclaimed.
“It’s just a little something,” he said. “I told the wife that I’ve been driving you around for such a long time that it feels like I should give you a present, and she found this and thought you might like it. If you don’t like, please pretend you do the next time you see her.”
Bessie laughed. “I’m sure it will be perfect,” she replied. “But I’ll save it for Christmas if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine,” Dave told her. “And please don’t feel like you have to reciprocate.”
“But of course I have to get you something,” Bessie protested. “The giving part of Christmas has always been my favourite part anyway.”
Dave continued to protest as he drove Bessie to Ramsey. He let her out in front of the large bookstore that was one of her favourite places in the world.
“Please don’t buy me a present,” he said baldly.
Bessie just laughed. “I’ll see you outside of ShopFast in three hours,” she replied.
Inside the bookstore, Bessie couldn’t resist spending a little bit of time looking at books for herself. She forced herself to stop after she’d found the fifth title she wanted. “Nothing like buying Christmas presents for oneself,” she muttered as she made herself turn away from the mystery section.
In the self-help section she found a book on basic home repairs that she thought would be helpful for Doona. Next she found a gorgeous cookbook full of quick and easy recipes that she hoped might be useful for Hugh. John was trickier to shop for, and Bessie found herself wandering around the store a second time, happily browsing and thinking. Having no idea what the man liked to read in his free time, but knowing that that time was limited, she finally settled on a book of the best science fiction short stories of the past year.
Now she walked around again, this time looking for the one perfect present that could be given to just about everyone she knew. Every year she bought a simple little something that was appropriate for just about anyone and gave that same item out to her various friends around the island. One year it had been a simple but elegant candle holder, another year she’d found a small enamel box with the Laxey Wheel on it, and just last year she’d given everyone a photo frame with a Celtic design along the border. If she had more time, she’d have travelled into Douglas to look at the museum shop for something just right, but she was really hoping to get her shopping finished in this one trip.
After a while, she decided that she’d have to give up and move on. She paid for her purchases and headed out into the busy streets of the city. It only took a few minutes for Bessie to begin to feel fed up with the crowds. Everyone seemed to be pushing and shoving and trying to get ahead of everyone else. Babies were crying, cars were honking, and Bessie thought seriously about heading for a café to sip a drink until it was time for Dave to take her home.
Instead, she squared her shoulders and stood as tall as she could. At five feet, three inches she wasn’t exactly intimidating, but she did her best to march through the crowd directly to where she wanted to go. The little specialty gift shop had a huge window display of very expensive cut crystal. Bessie pushed her way inside and sighed with relief. There were only a handful of other shoppers in this particular store and several shop assistants were bustling around.
“Ah, Bessie, I’m so glad you stopped in,” one of the women called. “I was going to ring you later today. We just received a shipment of something I think you’ll quite like.”
Bessie smiled at her. “Thank you for thinking of me, Carol,” she replied, smiling at the woman who was co-owner of the shop. “I’d love to see what you’re talking about when you’ve finished there.”
Carol was just ringing up a customer, and of course the man in question had trouble getting his credit card to work and then changed his mind about half of his items. Finally, he wanted everything gift-wrapped. By the time he left, Bessie felt as if she’d thoroughly explored the entire small shop at least twice. While she found some lovely things, she couldn’t find anything that she thought might be the special something Carol was talking about.
“Come with me,” Carol said as she stepped out from behind the counter.
Bessie followed the woman through the shop and then through a door marked “Staff Only.”
“They were meant to be here by the first of December,” Carol told her. “But there was a problem with the production or something. Anyway, we finally received the shipment this morning and I haven’t even put them out yet. We commissioned them ourselves and we’re hoping to do one a year.”
She opened a large box on the table in front of them and then pulled a much smaller box from inside it. Handing the small box to Bessie, she grinned.
“Go on, open it yourself,” she suggested.
Bessie looked at the pretty red and green box. The top of it had the store’s name printed on it in silver letters. “The box is pretty,” she remarked as she lifted the lid. She gasped with pleasure and surprise as she looked at the contents.
“It’s pewter,” Carol told her. “We commissioned a local artist to draw Castle Rushen in pencil and then had the drawing made into pewter ornaments.”
Bessie pulled the round disc from its box. It was heavier than she’d expected it to be. It was the dull-silver colour of polished pewter, with Castle Rushen depicted on the front. The back of the disc had the name of both the store and the artist as well as the year.
“How much are they?” Bessie asked, holding her breath.
When Carol named a price that Bessie felt was more than reasonable, she smiled. “I’ll take, oh, lots of them,” she told the other woman.
Carol laughed. “You might need to be a bit more specific than that,” she said. “Or you can just buy the whole box and be done with it.”
As there were a hundred ornaments in the box, Bessie decided not to buy them all. She quickly counted up how many she needed for friends, adding in all of the “Christmas at the Castle” committee members and charity volunteers to the list. When she was finished, she wasn’t all that far off of buying at least half of the box.
“I’m going to give you a discount for buying so many,” Carol told her at the till. “Come back and visit us in the new year. I’d love your thoughts on what other landmarks you’d like to see in future years.”
“I will,” Bessie promised. The charge on her credit card was large, but Bessie didn’t mind. She loved the gorgeous ornaments and couldn’t wait to start giving them out to her friends.
“Oh, can you wrap just one of them?” she asked before she left the shop. She enjoyed wrapping gifts herself, but she wanted to give Dave his present when he took her home, in case she didn’t see him again before Christmas.
Feeling as if she’d accomplished a great deal, Bessie headed towards ShopFast. Along the way, she passed a store that did custom gift baskets and found she couldn’t resist stopping in.
“I need a basket for a friend who is in her early forties and needs to be spoiled,” she told the woman behind the counter. It only took a few minutes for them put together a basket of treats for Doona.
“Anything else today?” the woman asked.
While Bessie was very tempted to make up a basket for herself, the bag of books she’d bought herself weighed heavily on her arm and her conscience. “Not today,” she said eventually.
“It will take me a few hours to make up the basket,” the woman said once Bessie had paid for everything. “Do you want to stop back or should we deliver it somewhere?”
As Bessie’s large shopping bag was full of books and Christmas ornaments and she still had grocery shopping to do, she opted to have the basket delivered. “Deliver it to me,” she told the woman. “I’d like to give it to my friend myself.”
ShopFast was nearly out of shopping trolleys because of the crowds. Bessie put her shopping bag into her trolley and shook her head. It took up far too much of the space she needed to put groceries in.
Aunt Bessie Joins Page 17
