Bessie shook her head. “I’ve always been a good sound sleeper,” she told the man. “I didn’t wake up once.”
Rockwell nodded, but looked unhappy. “Right, do you always go for a walk in the morning?”
Bessie nodded. “Every morning, if I’m able, regardless of the weather,” she told him. “I believe our bodies are ‘use it or lose it.’ I like to keep my mind sharp and my body as fit as I possibly can.”
“I’d have to say that I agree with that.” The man unconsciously patted his stomach. It was obvious, looking at him, that he worked hard to stay fit.
“You said something about working on a paper for a conference? What’s that about?”
“I’m an amateur historian,” Bessie explained. “I’ve been working with Marjorie Stevens at the Manx Museum Library on a number of projects. I’ve been indexing nineteenth-century wills and writing about my findings for the last few years. Lately, Marjorie’s been teaching me how to read seventeenth-century handwriting so that I can help her index some of the documents available from that time period as well. In May, I’m going to be talking at a conference at the museum about some of what I’ve found so far and what I hope to do in the future.”
Inspector Rockwell nodded, a slightly surprised look on his face. “Okay, so you worked on your research and then you had dinner with your advocate. After dinner you finished an interesting book and then went to bed. You slept well and then got up at six for a walk. The weather didn’t bother you?”
“No sense waiting around for a nice day,” Bessie told him. “By the time one gets here, I might not be able to walk any more.”
“What time did you set out on your walk?”
“It was around quarter past seven. I waited for the sun to start coming up, since it was so dark and gloomy out.”
“You didn’t take an umbrella?”
“It was too windy.”
The man nodded slowly. “So you were walking in the wind and the rain and it was nearly dark. I’m surprised you didn’t fall over the body.”
“I very nearly did,” Bessie told him. “I walk nearly the same path every day. I have done for many years. Of course the tide and wind bring driftwood and all sorts up onto the beach, so I’m always careful. But I wasn’t expecting to find a body lying there.”
“Did you touch the body?”
“Not intentionally,” Bessie shuddered. She closed her eyes and tried to think back. “I don’t think I did,” she said eventually. “It was dark and wet, but a full-grown man is pretty hard to miss. I saw him before I got close enough to actually fall over him.”
“Didn’t you try shaking him to wake him up?”
“No,” Bessie said. “I’m not sure why, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was dead. Possibly because the weather was so nasty. No one, no matter how drunk, could possibly have been sleeping in that.”
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Rockwell told her. “So you called the police and then went back to stay with the body until the police arrived?”
“Yes, although I made myself a quick cup of tea first. I put it in a travel mug and took it with me to try to keep myself warm while I waited.”
“Why didn’t you take the travel mug with you on your walk in the first place?”
“I like to walk as briskly as I can,” Bessie explained. “I would have had a cuppa as soon as I got in, but the whole point of the walk is to get exercise. Waiting for Hugh, however, was just standing around. I didn’t want to catch a chill.”
Rockwell nodded. “And when Hugh arrived, what happened?”
“We had a quick chat and then he decided to call for backup.”
“Can you remember exactly what you said in that ‘chat’?”
“Yes, but I’m sure Hugh can as well. You’d do better getting it from him. I’m sure he’s had to do a full report on this morning.”
“It’s always good to have two reports of the same conversation,” Rockwell told her. “You’d be surprised how often they vary.”
“Probably every time,” she said. “People’s memories are unreliable, but Hugh and I didn’t talk about much of anything. I told him about finding the body and then we exchanged a bit of local gossip and waited for his backup to arrive.”
“Did you discuss the identity of the murdered man?”
“No,” Bessie told him. “I didn’t have any idea who he was, and if Hugh knew him, he didn’t mention it.”
“Did you discuss how the man died?”
“Again, no. I thought he must have drowned or something. Hugh didn’t offer any opinions about what might have happened.”
“And when the widow arrived and identified the body, did you recognize her?”
“I’d never seen her before today.”
“And yet you invited her into your home. You lent her clothes and you fed her lunch. Are you always so welcoming to strangers?”
“Probably not,” Bessie told him honestly. “But I felt badly for her. She was meant to be on her honeymoon, and instead she found her husband’s body. The weather was awful and I hated the thought of her standing there watching the police poke and prod her husband.”
“So what did you two talk about?”
Bessie shrugged. “A little bit of everything, I guess,” she said vaguely. “Nothing specific.”
“Did she tell you anything about her relationship with her husband or with his family?”
“She said that she and family get along well and she was happy to spend her honeymoon with them. She said something about having a small disagreement with her husband last night. That was why she had her hair and makeup all done this morning. She wanted to look her best when he got back.”
“Got back from where?”
Bessie frowned. “She didn’t really say where he’d gone,” she told the inspector.
“And did she speculate on how he might have died?” Rockwell asked.
“She said he must have drowned or had a heart attack,” Bessie recalled.
“And yet when I mentioned murder, you didn’t seem surprised.”
Bessie shrugged. “How long have you lived here? You must know how fast the gossip chain is. I heard a rumour that it was murder almost as soon as Hugh left my cottage with the widow and I started returning phone calls from concerned friends.” She held her breath as she waited to see if he would believe her. She didn’t want Doona to be in any trouble.
Rockwell shook his head. “The rumour mill on this island is more efficient that its newspapers,” was his only comment on the matter.
“So it was murder?” Bessie pushed her luck.
“We won’t know anything for sure until we get the coroner’s report,” the inspector told her. “But for now, we are definitely treating it as murder.”
Bessie nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Inspector Rockwell said dryly. He had a few more follow-up questions for Bessie, but only a few.
“Thank you for coming in,” he said after they had quickly gone through her day one last time. “I’ll have Hugh run you home. He can collect the widow’s nightie from you for our lab tests.”
Bessie nodded, grateful that Doona had already mentioned the idea. She didn’t want Inspector Rockwell to know how shocked she had been when Doona had suggested it.
“You haven’t done anything like run it through the wash, have you?” the inspector asked.
“Of course not,” Bessie said, grateful that the inspector would never know how close she had come to doing just that.
Hugh was waiting in the lobby when Inspector Rockwell escorted her out.
“I’ll run you home, then, shall I?” he asked as Doona handed Bessie her coat.
“I’d be ever so grateful,” Bessie told the man.
She had never learned to drive, relying instead upon buses, taxis and the kindness of her friends. It was only in the last ten years or so that the matter had begun to become more of an inconvenience. Public transportation was losing its popularity wi
th generations of people who seemed to believe that having their own private automobile was vital. Bessie was still managing, but she was beginning to think that she might just have to take some driving lessons and get her own car if things kept going the way they were.
Chapter Four
Back at home and rid of the suspect nightie, Bessie felt unsettled. She walked around her cosy cottage, tidying and straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened. After a while, she decided to try again to take a short walk on the beach. Police tape and a shivering uniformed constable kept her from walking along her normal route. Instead, she turned in the other direction and made her way slowly across the sand.
She rarely walked this way because the road and a boat launch crossed the beach not far from her home. Busy in spring and summer, the area was all but deserted today. Bessie passed a single fisherman, sitting on the edge of the wall that ran along the road into the sea. A few lazy seagulls circled above her.
Temperatures were still chilly, and Bessie made it a short walk. Back at home she fixed herself her evening meal and sat down with her favourite Agatha Christie novel. Miss Marple would have already solved the case, she mused to herself as she turned the pages. The phone startled her when it rang just before nine. Bessie had ignored it for most of the afternoon, as more friends and acquaintances called to find out about the murder, but now she answered.
“I wanted to catch you before you turned in,” Doona told her friend. “I just wanted to check that you’re okay after today’s, um, excitement.”
“I’m fine,” Bessie insisted. “I had a short walk and a nice supper and now I’m reading Miss Marple and relaxing.”
“Don’t you be getting any ideas from Miss Marple,” Doona cautioned her. “Leave this one for the police.”
“I don’t have any intention of getting involved in the investigation,” Bessie assured her. “I just hope your police can figure it out quickly. I love living alone, but I will definitely sleep better when the murderer is behind bars.”
Doona offered to stay the night with her friend, but Bessie wouldn’t hear of it. A few minutes after the call ended, just as Miss Marple was about to announce who the killer was, Bessie heard a loud knock on her front door.
She dropped the book in surprise and then laughed at her jumpiness. It was probably just one of the neighbourhood kids wanting to stay the night because of a fight with his or her parents. She walked slowly into the kitchen and flipped on the lamp outside her front door.
“Hugh Watterson? What on earth are you doing here at this hour?” she demanded as she swung the door open.
“I, er, well.” Hugh blushed under the steely gaze and then cleared his throat. “The thing is,” he told her, “I was worried about you, being here all alone. I figured that I used to stay with you when I was having a hard time at home, so maybe you’d let me stay for a night or two now, just until the killer is locked up.”
Bessie smiled at the young constable. “Oh, Hugh, that’s very kind of you,” she told the man. “But really, I’m fine on my own.”
“I know you are,” Hugh assured her. He looked back and forth twice and then leaned forward to whisper to her. “The thing is,” he confided, “I’m hoping to help solve this case. And I think that being here, on the beach, might give me an edge. I’m closer to the suspects and everything, you see? If you let me stay, I can keep an eye on you in case the murderer comes back, and I’m closer to the action. We both win. What do you think?”
Bessie bit back her first thought and waited a second to consider his words. She had thought about the murderer coming back, and it seemed extremely unlikely that he or she would do so, but perhaps it would be helpful to have someone in the cottage with her. She was used to having guests; Hugh wouldn’t be any more trouble than anyone else. And it would be nice to feel like she was helping him out in his police work, too.
Hugh was watching her with an expectant look on his face. “All right,” she said eventually. “You can stay, at least for tonight.”
Hugh looked so excited that Bessie almost laughed out loud. She watched as he raced back to his car and grabbed a small suitcase out of the back. She had never seen the young man so energised. A moment later he bounded up the single step to her door and she had to step back quickly before he bounced right over her in his eagerness to get inside.
“The guest room is still in the same place,” she told Hugh.
“I was thinking it might be better if I slept on the couch in the sitting room,” Hugh replied. “Just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Bessie demanded. “What do you think is going to happen?”
Hugh shrugged. “I don’t know, but if it does happen, I want to be ready.”
Bessie bit back a laugh. One thing she knew about men, in spite of never marrying, was that there was little point in arguing with them if their minds were made up. “Suit yourself,” she said. “Blankets and pillows are in the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs. Get whatever you need and get settled in. I was just heading to bed when you arrived, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll go now.”
Hugh followed Bessie upstairs where she quickly provided him with a pile of blankets and pillows. She continued on to her own room, where she got ready for bed and then listened for a time as Hugh stomped around the cottage, presumably getting himself settled in for the night. Eventually the noises stopped and Bessie slid down under the covers. It had been a very eventful day, one she wasn’t eager to repeat.
It was three minutes past six when Bessie’s internal alarm woke her the next morning. She sighed as she looked out at another rainy day. At least it appeared that the wind was calmer. Not that she could get much of a walk in anyway, at least not in the direction she wanted to go. She dressed quickly and headed down the stairs. She could hear Hugh’s snoring before she even reached the top step and by the time she was at the bottom she couldn’t help but laugh at the sound.
She bustled around the kitchen, making tea and toast for herself and her guest. He was staying to help keep her safe; making breakfast seemed the least she could do. With the table set and the toaster full, she headed down the short hallway to the sitting room.
“Hugh?” she called gently. “Hugh, are you ready for some breakfast?”
Hugh didn’t move from his spot, sprawled across her largest sofa.
“Hugh? It’s Bessie; it’s time for breakfast.” Bessie took a few steps into the room and spoke loudly, but she seemed to make no impression on the sleeping man. It was just as well that no one had tried to murder me in my sleep last night, she thought. Hugh would have slept right through it and his snores would have drowned out any cries for help.
She studied the sleeping man for a moment longer and then shook her head. If he was that tired, she would just let him sleep. Back in the kitchen, she ate her own breakfast and sipped her tea. After some thought, she decided to postpone her morning walk until later in the day. And she figured out the perfect place to walk to as well.
A cacophony of noise at seven suggested that Hugh had set an alarm before he went to sleep the night before. After several minutes of odd noises, Hugh finally stumbled into the kitchen about quarter past the hour.
“Oh, ah, good morning, Aunt Bessie,” he yawned. “You’re already up and dressed, I see.”
“Yes,” Bessie answered. “I get up at six every morning. I’d go for my morning walk now if the police didn’t have half the beach blocked off for their investigations.”
“Oh, rather, well, yes.” Hugh rubbed his eyes. Bessie doubted that he was used to human interaction this early in the morning. “That is, I’m sorry about that, but we have to keep the beach closed until we know for sure that we’ve found all of the evidence. We’d never hear the end of it if we missed something important.”
Bessie nodded. It made sense; it just wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“Anyway,” Hugh continued, “I’ve got to get back to my apartment and grab a shower before work. What are you going
to get up to today?”
“You know you’re welcome to use the shower upstairs,” Bessie told him.
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” Hugh shrugged. “I’d rather stop home, though. Make sure everything’s okay there, check my answering machine for messages, that sort of thing.”
Bessie nodded, wondering idly if Hugh was hoping for a message from anyone in particular. There had been rumours about him and some girl from the neighbouring village of Lonan a while back, but they had died down pretty quickly. That was something to chat with him about tonight if he came back again, she decided.
“So I’ll be back around nine tonight, if that’s okay?” Hugh said as he slurped up the last of the tea that Bessie had left out for him. “What did you say you were going to do today?”
Bessie smiled. She hadn’t said, but she supposed there was no harm in telling the man. “I thought I would go and pay my respects to the family.”
“Whose family?”
“Why, Daniel Pierce’s family, of course. I found his body, and I’ve known the family for years. They’ve been summering here for over two decades. Whatever the circumstances of the man’s passing, it’s only polite to pay my respects to his family.”
Hugh narrowed his eyes at Bessie. “You’re not thinking of doing any amateur detective work, are you?” he demanded. “I know you read all those mystery books where little old ladies solve the crimes and leave the police looking dumb. You don’t have any ideas like that, do you?”
“Of course not,” Bessie soothed. “I’m just doing what is right and proper under the circumstances. Considering everything that’s happened, they probably won’t even let me in the door at the Pierce cottage, but at least I can feel better that I tried. As I said, it’s only right.”
Hugh nodded and grinned. “Mind you, if you see or hear anything that you think is suspicious around there, you will let me know, right?”
“You or Inspector Rockwell,” Bessie grinned back.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Hugh replied. “Of course, it would be a shame to bother Inspector Rockwell with most things. I mean, he’s a busy inspector and he doesn’t even know you. He might not understand how well you know the people on the island.”
Aunt Bessie Assumes: An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Page 5
