Aunt Bessie Believes

by Diana Xarissa

  “Moirrey’s housekeeper? What possible motive would she have had?”

  “Apparently, Moirrey had recently terminated her employment and told her she had two weeks to get out of the cottage she was living in,” Rockwell told Bessie.

  “Moirrey dismissed Janet?” Bessie repeated slowly. “But Janet has been working for Moirrey since just before Ewan died. She was the only person I know who could put up with Moirrey for any length of time.”

  “Well, apparently Moirrey decided she’d had enough of Janet.”

  “Surely being let go isn’t a motive for murder, though?” Bessie asked.

  “She was being kicked out of her home as well,” Rockwell reminded her. “But she wasn’t going without a fight, apparently. She’d been in touch with Doncan Quayle and was planning to take Moirrey to court.”

  “In that case, I would suspect Moirrey of trying to kill her, not the other way around,” Bessie laughed. “I’m sure she didn’t take kindly to the idea of her hired help taking her to court.”

  “Presumably not, but I’m surprised you didn’t know anything about this,” Rockwell told Bessie.

  “I am as well,” Bessie shrugged. “I would guess that Janet wasn’t exactly bragging about losing her job and Moirrey wouldn’t have said anything, at least not to me.”

  “Moirrey doesn’t appear to have said anything to anyone,” Rockwell sighed. “Right now I only have Janet’s version of events to go on. Although I have no reason to doubt them, it’s always nice to have independent confirmation.”

  “I’ll give it some thought and ask around, if you like,” Bessie suggested. “If you don’t mind it becoming common knowledge?”

  “Let me think about that one,” Rockwell replied. “In the meantime, we have one other thing to discuss.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Who was Moirrey dating?” Rockwell asked.

  Bessie felt her jaw drop. “Moirrey was dating?” she asked, shock evident in her tone.

  Rockwell laughed. “Apparently that’s news to you,” he replied. “Although I shouldn’t be laughing. I was really hoping you’d know the identity of her secret boyfriend.”

  “It’s definitely news to me,” Bessie answered. “I’ve not heard anything about it anywhere.” She shook her head. “Are you sure she was dating?”

  “Not entirely,” he shrugged. “This has all come from Janet Munroe and, as I said, no one has been able to confirm anything she’s told me. According to Janet, Moirrey recently bought a bunch of new clothes and started going out in the evening wearing them, with her hair all done up and with makeup all over her face. She claims that about a month ago or more she started seeing a car coming and going from Moirrey’s cottage at odd hours as well. When she asked Moirrey about it, apparently Moirrey giggled and wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “Well, that certainly sounds like a boyfriend,” Bessie said slowly. “But no one I know ever mentioned seeing her out with anyone. And believe me, if she had been out on a date, everyone on the island would have been talking about it.”

  “Oh, that I do believe,” Rockwell laughed. “Can you think of any reason why she would want to keep her boyfriend a secret?”

  “I can only guess. Maybe he was married or otherwise involved somewhere? Or maybe he wasn’t her social equal and she was embarrassed to be seen with him? Or maybe he was a she?”

  “You think Moirrey was gay?” Rockwell asked.

  “I didn’t think Moirrey was interested in anyone except herself,” Bessie answered. “I’ve no reason to think she was gay, but if she were, I would think she would want to keep it quiet.”

  “Okay, how about a list of possible suitors?”

  Bessie shook her head. “I can’t even begin to guess. I suppose she might have met someone in Douglas at some event. There are always new comeovers at events there. Maybe she met someone and it carried on from there.”

  “But you don’t think it was anyone local?”

  “I haven’t heard of anyone local sneaking around or doing anything unexplained lately,” Bessie shrugged. “How long ago did it start?”

  “Janet wasn’t sure, but she reckoned at least a month ago, maybe more.”

  “That’s a long time to keep a secret on an island this small,” Bessie remarked. “Whoever he was, he must have been really motivated to keep it quiet. And there must have been some very good reason why Moirrey kept it quiet as well. It wasn’t like her to keep good secrets. I can see her not wanting to talk about getting rid of Janet, but she liked to tell everyone how wonderful her life was whenever anything good happened.”

  “And you can’t think of anyone in Laxey that she wouldn’t have wanted people to know she was involved with?”

  “Well, perhaps if Jack Caine was still around, he might be a candidate,” Bessie said thoughtfully. “There were all sorts of rumours years ago about Jack and Moirrey, but that was back when Moirrey was little more than a teenager. As soon as Anne heard the stories, she put a stop to Jack spending any time alone with Moirrey, and that was the end of that, as far as I know.”

  “And as I said earlier, Jack’s been off the island for the last two months.”

  “Exactly,” Bessie shrugged. “I mean, there are a lot of married men of the right sort of age in Laxey, but I can’t see Moirrey getting involved with any of them. Sorry, but this is difficult. Aside from the rumours about her and Jack, there’s never even been a hint that she was interested in anyone.”

  “Never mind,” Rockwell sighed. “Maybe you can poke around a little bit and see if you can find out anything from any of your sources?” he suggested. “Ask about a boyfriend and also about Janet getting let go.”

  “Absolutely,” Bessie promised. She glanced at the clock. It was too late to start ringing around tonight, but tomorrow would be an interesting day. If Moirrey had been dating, someone had to know about it.

  The inspector finished off his last piece of shortbread. “I suppose I should get going,” he said.

  Bessie smiled at him. “You’re welcome back anytime,” she told him.

  “I may stop by tomorrow night again, if you don’t mind. I’m hoping you might have some hint as to the identity of the mysterious boyfriend by then.”

  “That doesn’t give me much time,” Bessie said, “but I’ll do my best.”

  The inspector got to his feet. “Oh, one more thing,” he said in an offhand manner. “Doona has been suspended with pay until the investigation is wrapped up.”

  Bessie’s jaw dropped again. “What? Why?”

  “It turns out her fingerprints are all over the prescription bottle that held the switched tablets.”

  Bessie just stared at him for a minute. “But, hang on, Moirrey dropped one of her bottles in class Easter Monday night,” she told Rockwell. “Doona was kind enough to pick it up for her. It just figures that that was the bottle that was tampered with, poor Doona. But at least there’s a perfectly logical explanation for her prints being on it.”

  Rockwell smiled at Bessie. “I’m ever so glad that your account matches Doona’s,” he told Bessie. “We still have to question the others in the class, but it seems like a logical enough explanation to me.”

  “So you can unsuspend Doona?”

  “Unfortunately it isn’t that easy,” the inspector said in an apologetic tone. “Inspector Kelly and the chief constable both feel that it’s better if we wait to reinstate her until after the killer is behind bars.”

  “But that could take ages,” Bessie argued. “You just more or less told me that you’ve no idea who did it.”

  “Which is all the more reason why we have to be so careful. We were lucky we even found out it was murder; we have to tread very carefully. There has already been some suggestion that someone in the constabulary was being paid to ignore the evidence that it was murder, or even that Dr. Quayle was paid to certify natural causes when he knew it wasn’t. If the press discover that one of our own staff left fingerprints all over what is essentially the mu
rder weapon, the conspiracy theorists will go crazy.”

  “Who’s making ridiculous suggestions like that?” Bessie demanded.

  “Matthew Barnes, for one,” Rockwell told her. “He may well just be trying to shift attention away from himself, but the press seem inclined to listen to him. Unfortunately, that means Doona is off the job until we get things sorted.”

  “You can’t believe one thing that man says,” Bessie argued. “Poor Doona must be very upset.”

  “Not so you can tell,” Rockwell told her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She seems to be taking advantage of the unexpected time off,” he said grumpily. “As far as I can tell, she’s spending all day every day with Andrew Teare.”

  Bessie opened her mouth to ask more questions, but the look on the inspector’s face stopped her. It seemed that he didn’t like Moirrey’s brother, and while Bessie wanted to know why, she didn’t want to upset the man any further.

  “I’ll have to call Doona first thing in the morning and find out how she is doing,” she told Rockwell.

  “That’s a great idea,” the inspector replied. “You can update me on her as well when I see you tomorrow. I’m not allowed to contact her while she’s on suspension.”

  Bessie frowned but bit her lip. She walked to the door with the inspector. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said.

  “Why don’t I bring pizza?” Rockwell suggested. “I’ll try to be here a little bit earlier as well.”

  “That sounds great,” Bessie grinned. “Feel free to bring Hugh if you think he can help as well,” she suggested.

  “I might,” Rockwell shrugged. “He’s pretty busy with his own romance at the moment, though.”

  Bessie grinned. “I heard he was dating, but no one seems to have any details. Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Some girl from Douglas. I guess they met at a club there a couple of days ago and have been spending every spare minute together ever since. I can’t remember her name, but if you really want to know, I’ll make sure to find out before tomorrow.”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Bessie grinned. She opened the cottage door and waited for the man to walk out.

  “Oh, one more thing,” the inspector said casually. “Can you keep your eyes open for a little rental flat in the area? Just one bedroom will do.”

  “Who’s looking for a flat?” Bessie asked.

  “Me,” Rockwell grinned. “The drive back and forth to Ramsey late at night is getting old fast. Besides which, I seem to wake up the whole house when I come in. The wife and I figured it might be better for everyone if I rented a little space here in Laxey. That way, when I have to work late, I can just stay there instead of driving home.”

  Bessie considered him for a moment. “I don’t know of anything right now,” she said finally. “But I’ll ask around. I’m sure you’d prefer a proper flat to just renting a room in someone’s home.”

  Rockwell nodded. “Since it’s especially for when I’m working late or irregular hours, I think I need something with its own entrance. I’m not sure how many flats there are in the area, though.”

  “I’m sure Thomas Clague would have given you a good deal on one of the new cottages over the winter,” Bessie told him. “He can’t rent them out. No one wants a beach holiday in January, and I bet he would have loved the idea of a resident police inspector staying there in case there were any problems. But now that spring is here, he’s probably booked solid until October.”

  “Well, I guess if I haven’t found anything else by October it might be worth considering,” the inspector told Bessie. “In the meantime, let me know if you hear about anything else.”

  “I surely will,” Bessie answered. “I’m going to be calling everyone I know tomorrow to find out about Moirrey’s boyfriend and Janet; I’ll ask about flats as well.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” The inspector smiled and thanked Bessie again for the tea and shortbread and then he was gone, into his car for the ten-minute commute back to Ramsey.

  Bessie looked at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock. The inspector’s wife probably wasn’t going to be pleased when he got home. Upstairs, she crawled into bed and almost immediately fell asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  After her walk the next morning, Bessie settled in to make some phone calls. The first three people she called were all full of interesting skeet, but none of them had heard about Janet or had any idea who Moirrey might have been dating. None of them knew about any flats for rent, either.

  She put the phone back down and filled the kettle. She’d call Doona once she’d made a pot of tea. Before she had time to turn the kettle on, though, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Aunt Bessie? Er, um, sorry, but I couldn’t think who to call. It’s Andy, Andy Caine.”

  “Hello, Andy, what can I do for you?” Bessie kept her voice calm, hearing tremendous strain in her caller’s.

  “It’s mum, that is, the police just rang. Mum crashed in her car going over the mountain. They’ve taken her to Noble’s, you see, and, well, my car won’t start.”

  Bessie could hear the tears the young man was struggling to hold back. “I’ll call my taxi company and we’ll be around to pick you up just as soon as we can,” Bessie told him. “You are at your mum’s cottage, right?”

  “Yeah,” Andy replied.

  “While you’re waiting for me, you should pack up a suitcase for your mum,” Bessie suggested. “Pack her some pyjamas and slippers and her bathrobe. She’ll want her hairbrush and her toothbrush and maybe a book or a magazine or something like that.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Andy said. “I can do that.”

  “Well, you get busy and I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

  Bessie hung up and rang her taxi service. She was lucky they had a car in the area, even if it was being driven by her least favourite driver.

  Mark Stone was always grumpy and dissatisfied with life. When Bessie told him where she was going, he began to grumble immediately.

  “Anne Caine’s cottage? Don’t expect they’ve paved that road properly yet, have they? It’ll play havoc with my suspension that road will. Don’t suppose she could walk out to the main road to meet us, no?”

  “We’re actually picking up her son,” Bessie answered coolly. “Anne’s been in an accident.”

  “Oh, aye, well, women drivers, you know? Well, I don’t reckon you do, but still.”

  Bessie briefly considered arguing with him, but decided there was no point. She wasn’t going to change his mind and she preferred that he keep his focus on driving.

  Andy was standing at door to the cottage with a small suitcase in his hand when they arrived. He looked totally bewildered and no more than ten years old.

  Bessie climbed out of the taxi and gave him a huge hug. “Come on then, let’s get to Noble’s.” With the suitcase stowed in the boot, Mark headed out of Laxey.

  “All the way to Douglas,” he began to complain. “I told the dispatcher I wanted to be on short trips today. My stomach’s bothering me and....”

  “I’m sorry, Mark,” Bessie interrupted in her sweetest voice. “But as this is rather an emergency, do you think you could just drive?”

  The driver gave her a look she couldn’t read, but she was far more interested in talking to Andy than she was worried about what Mark Stone thought of her.

  “So, who called and what exactly did they say?” she asked the young man.

  Andy sighed. “Hugh Watterson called. We were at school together, you know. Anyway, someone from the Douglas constabulary called the Laxey station and Hugh took the call. Someone saw mum go off the road and called 999. The police checked the plates and called Laxey to find out about family. Hugh knew I was back on the island because he talked to me about Moirrey, so he called me.”

  “Do they know what happened?”

  “No,” Andy said, rubbing his face with his hand. “Hugh said they got mum out and then they were going to
tow the car into Douglas where the police and the insurance people could have a look. The car was so old; I guess it’s not surprising that something went wrong. I don’t think it would have passed an MOT if we were across, you know?”

  Bessie sighed. “Did Hugh give you any indication of how badly hurt your mother is?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

  “Not really; he just suggested that I make my way to Noble’s at my earliest convenience.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Bessie said, feeling slightly reassured.

  “I don’t know,” Andy replied. “I mean he wouldn’t exactly have encouraged me to speed to get there, would they?”

  Bessie grinned in spite of her tension. “Probably not,” she agreed.

  They made the rest of the journey in silence, with Bessie holding on tightly to Andy’s hand. When they arrived at the hospital, Andy climbed out of the car, just barely remembering to grab the suitcase and hold the door for Bessie.

  “Put today on my account,” Bessie instructed Mark, ignoring the flash of annoyance that passed over his face. He’d be worried about his tip, she supposed, but she’d make sure he got one. She didn’t like him, but he had delivered her safely to her destination in reasonable time.

  Inside the front doors, Bessie led Andy to the information desk. “We’re here about Anne Caine,” Bessie said in a hushed voice to the woman behind it.

  She typed a request into her computer and peered at the screen. “Oh, aye, they’ve just sent her up from A & E to ward eleven. You can take the lift up to the second floor and then turn left and follow the signs.”

  Bessie smiled at Andy. “If they’ve sent her up to the ward, she must be doing okay.”

  “I guess,” Andy muttered.

  The pair rode the lift silently, and then followed the signs down the corridor until they reached the doors to ward eleven. Andy held the door open for Bessie and they made their way to the nursing station.

  “Good morning,” Bessie smiled at Helen Baxter, a thirty-something blonde with an interest in the medical history of the island. The two had met at a conference some months earlier and Bessie had immediately liked the intelligent and energetic woman.