“And you shouldn’t be drinking at all,” Donny said in an exasperated tone. “You’ve been given a load of medication that doesn’t mix with alcohol.”
“I’ll only have one,” Mrs. Pierce promised her son as she reached for the glass her husband held out to her.
“But….”
“Oh, leave them alone,” a bored voice sounded from the doorway. “Let them get drunk if they want, they’re in mourning.”
Bessie studied the young woman who now entered the room. She was young, maybe twenty-five, blonde and very pretty, but she had a spoiled and petulant look about her that rather ruined her natural attractiveness.
“You aren’t helping, Sam,” Donny sighed.
“I wasn’t trying to help.” The woman shrugged her shoulders and then turned to Bessie. “So who are you then?”
“I’m Elizabeth Cubbon,” Bessie answered. “I live just down the beach from here and I came to pay my respects to Mr. and Mrs. Pierce.”
The girl raised an eyebrow. “Being neighbourly, not nosy?”
Bessie found herself almost liking the young woman. “Just neighbourly,” she assured her. “You haven’t told me your name,” she added.
“Oh, I’m Samantha Blake, but everyone calls me Sam,” the woman shrugged. “I’m Donny’s girlfriend, I guess.”
Donny made a sound that Bessie couldn’t even begin to interpret.
“The children all came for my husband’s birthday,” Mrs. Pierce told Bessie. “He turned sixty on Sunday and we had a small family party here. There was supposed to be a bigger affair back in London next month, although I don’t think we’ll go ahead with that now.”
“We never should have come,” Daniel Pierce muttered darkly into his drink. “Danny would be okay if we had just stayed home.”
“Really?” Bessie couldn’t keep the doubt from her voice. There was no polite way to press the issue, though. Luckily, Daniel continued.
“He must have stumbled across some homeless person or maybe a drug deal or something on that beach,” the man told Bessie. “And he got stabbed because of it.”
Bessie counted to ten before she replied, carefully working to keep her voice even. “I’ve lived on that beach since before you were born,” she told the man just a little sharply. “We don’t have homeless people or drug dealers spending time there.”
Daniel shrugged and then swallowed the rest of his drink. “We should have insisted that they honeymoon somewhere warm,” he muttered. “And we should have insisted on a proper wedding, too.”
“Was the wedding a small event, then?” Bessie asked, letting the subject change.
Samantha laughed and then answered for Daniel. “The wedding wasn’t much of anything,” she said. “Vikky dragged poor Danny off to the registry office and got him locked down before he knew what hit him.”
“Sam, that’s enough,” Donny said tersely. “Danny loved Vikky very much. They dated for six months or so before they got married and they were going to have a proper bash in a few months, once the weather was nicer. The thing was, neither one of them wanted to wait to actually get married and start their lives together.”
“Didn’t turn out to be much of a life together, though, did it?” Samantha drawled.
“Sam!” Donny looked at her furiously.
“I don’t know why you have to be so horrible about me.” This time Bessie recognised the voice from the doorway.
“Vikky, please don’t pay any attention to Sam.” Donny rushed over to Vikky’s side and took her arm. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a concerned tone.
“I’m okay,” Vikky answered softly. “I think I’m still in shock.”
“That isn’t surprising under the circumstances,” Donny said soothingly. “Come and sit down and rest.”
“I didn’t know we had a guest,” Vikky said as she suddenly noticed Bessie.
“I just came to pay my respects.” Bessie was tired of repeating herself. “I do hope you’re feeling better today,” she added.
“Oh, you’re the woman from yesterday, aren’t you?” Vikky asked. “You were there when I found Danny.”
“Yes,” Bessie said gently. “I was there and then you came back to my house for tea, remember?”
Vikky wrinkled her nose and Bessie could see her trying to concentrate. “I guess so,” she said eventually. “The doctor was here earlier and he gave me something to make me feel better. I’m sort of out of it a bit.”
“Never mind,” Bessie told her. “You’ve had a huge shock.”
Donny led the young widow to a seat near the window and then sat down next to her, still holding her hand tightly. Bessie glanced over at Samantha, who rolled her eyes and sighed deeply.
Mr. and Mrs. Pierce seemed oblivious as they sipped their drinks. They were both staring into space in different directions. Bessie shook her head.
“I suppose I should be going, then,” she said generally.
“Oh, thank you for coming,” Mrs. Pierce answered vaguely.
Vikky glanced up and waved before turning back to her conversation with Donny, who simply ignored Bessie.
“I’ll walk you out,” Samantha offered. “I would hate for you to get lost in this monstrosity.”
Bessie grinned at the younger woman. “I’d appreciate that,” she told her.
“Mr. Pierce seems pretty certain that the murder was random,” Bessie remarked as the pair made their way through the house.
Samantha laughed. “And yet he can't explain how the weapon came from this very house.”
“The knife came from Thie yn Traie?” Bessie asked in surprise.
“Yep,” Samantha grinned. “Not only that, but it was part of a set that Mr. and Mrs. Pierce just gave the happy couple as a wedding present on Saturday night.”
“My goodness,” Bessie exclaimed. “How on earth can Mr. Pierce explain that?”
“Oh, he has some theory about Danny taking the knife on the walk with him, you know, for protection.” Samantha waved a hand. “It's all nonsense, of course, but it's what he wants to believe.”
“How on earth did you find out about the knife, anyway?” Bessie asked curiously.
“When you’re as important as Mr. Pierce, the police share information with you,” Samantha said with a shrug. “I think the Chief Constable himself called and talked to him.”
Bessie frowned. Doona was worried about saying anything she shouldn’t, and yet the Chief Constable was having cosy chats with the victim’s father.
They had nearly reached the front door now, and Bessie deliberately slowed her pace. “So do you have your own theory about what happened?” she asked the young blonde.
“Sure,” Samantha shrugged. “But no one wants to hear it.”
“I'd love to hear it,” Bessie told her eagerly.
A wary look came over Samantha's face. “Yes, well….” she prevaricated.
“Sam, where are you?”
Samantha jumped as Donny's voice echoed down the corridor.
“I'm just showing our guest out,” she called back down the hall.
“Well, hurry up, will you? Vikky wants to go for a walk and I need you to sit with my parents.”
“And it's all about what Vikky wants,” Samantha said grimly, turning back towards Bessie.
“You were going to tell me your theory on the murder,” Bessie reminded her.
Samantha sighed. “But now I have to go baby-sit the grieving parents while Vikky takes my boyfriend for a ride.”
“I thought Donny said she wanted to go for a walk,” Bessie said sweetly.
Samantha laughed. “For an old lady, you're kind of cool,” she told Bessie. “Meet me tomorrow around one at the Laxey Wheel and we can chat about my theory.”
“Oh, but....” Bessie didn't get to finish. Instead Donny suddenly came storming down the hall towards them.
“Come on, Samantha, I need you,” he demanded.
The beautiful blonde rolled her eyes at Bessie and then said a quick goo
dbye.
“Don’t forget, the Laxey Wheel at one,” Samantha whispered in Bessie's ear just before she followed Donny back towards the great room.
Bessie frowned as the pair disappeared from view. She wanted to hear Samantha's theory and she didn't want to wait until tomorrow. After a moment, she sighed and then turned to the door. She pulled on the coat and boots she had left at the door and grabbed her umbrella, then she pulled the door open and looked out at the cluster of reporters who were still hanging around at the top of the drive. Sighing even more deeply, she stepped outside.
“Aunt Bessie?” The voice came from her left. She turned to see one of the security guards from earlier standing there.
“You probably don't remember me,” the man said, looking at her shyly. He grinned and Bessie suddenly placed him.
“Robert, Robert Clague,” she smiled. “Your parents ran the Laxey post office for a few years in the eighties. Of course I remember you. You still have the same shy smile that you had when you were seven. You tried to eat your own body weight in shortbread every time you stopped to visit me.”
The man laughed. “That's about right,” he told Bessie. “I still remember your shortbread biscuits. They were something special.”
“I didn't realise you were working for the Pierce family now,” Bessie said.
“Oh, I'm not,” Robert corrected her. “I work for Manxman Security Services. The family has hired us to help out because of what happened yesterday.”
Bessie nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Anyway,” Robert continued, “I'm done for the day; how about I give you a ride home?”
“That would be wonderful,” Bessie couldn't help but gush a bit. She had found the visit emotionally draining and the thought of fighting her way through the reporters and then walking home the long way around seemed almost too much.
“I haven't made shortbread lately,” she said in an apologetic tone. “But I'm sure I can find you something to go with a nice cup if tea when we get there.”
“That sounds great,” the man grinned. He escorted Bessie to a newer model car with the security company's name painted on the side. They climbed in and Bessie was surprised when Robert drove off in the opposite direction from the gates.
“There's a service entrance around the back,” Robert told her as the house disappeared from view. “There may be a few reporters out there as well, but most of them are at the main gate. There's more to see there.”
As it happened, only a single reporter was sitting inside a stationary car just outside the service entrance gate as they approached. Robert tapped a code into a panel near the gate and it slid open soundlessly. The reporter barely looked up.
“I guess we aren't interesting in this car,” Robert shrugged.
On the drive he brought Bessie up-to-date on his parents, who were now retired and living in Blackpool. Over tea and biscuits he politely, but consistently, refused to answer any questions about the Pierce family. Bessie couldn’t even get him to admit to having formed any impressions of any of the family members in the limited time he had spent in their company.
After a short time, he was on his way. As soon as he was gone, Bessie listened to her answering machine messages and called back the few people who had called whom she was actually interested in speaking with, ignoring the rest.
Chapter Five
“I'm coming over after work,” Doona told her when Bessie called her back at the police station. “And I'm bringing Chinese, so you don't have to cook.”
Bessie didn't argue. She loved Chinese food and she was always happy to have a night off cooking. “You’d better bring extra,” she told Doona. “Hugh might be here.”
“Why would Hugh be there?” Doona wondered.
“He's sleeping on my couch at the moment. He has some crazy idea that I need protecting.”
“Good for him,” Doona cheered. “I told you he's really a good guy.”
“I'm reserving judgment for now,” Bessie told her friend.
Doona just laughed and then said her goodbyes.
Bessie spent what was left of the afternoon cleaning the bathrooms, her least favourite job, and then working on her research. She was due to give the paper in early May, and at the moment she had little more than a vague notion of what she was going to say.
Two solid hours of hard work left her feeling far more confident about the conference. She pushed back from her desk and checked the clock. Doona would be arriving in around an hour. Bessie grinned to herself. She'd worked hard all afternoon and she didn't need to worry about cooking anything. It was definitely time to curl up with a good book.
She had an agreement with the bookstore in Ramsey; they sent her the newest releases in a number of different series that she enjoyed and billed her monthly. She'd received a package from them yesterday afternoon, but with all the excitement, she hadn't even opened it yet.
Now she carefully cut through the tape and pulled open the box, inhaling the wonderful papery aroma of new books. She smiled at her new acquisitions, excited to find four new titles from some of her absolute favourite authors. After a moment's indecision, she grabbed the latest in an American private detective series and, cup of tea to hand, settled in to read.
Loud and persistent banging dragged her back home from the California seaside. Bessie looked around, slightly disoriented at the sudden return to reality.
The banging didn't let up, so Bessie closed a bookmark into the book and headed towards the door.
“I was starting to worry about you,” Doona told her when Bessie let her in.
“I was lost in the latest Sue Grafton,” Bessie explained.
“Ooo, I just got that one myself,” Doona answered. “I'm saving it for the weekend so I can read it straight through.”
While they talked, Doona was busy unpacking several large bags of food. The kitchen filled with sweet and spicy smells that made Bessie's mouth water.
She'd only just pulled plates from the cupboard when there was another knock on the door.
“I thought I smelled Chinese food,” Hugh grinned as Doona let him in.
“You have perfect timing,” Doona grinned back at him. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
The threesome filled plates and then settled in comfortably around Bessie's table.
“So, how was your visit to Thie yn Traie?” Doona asked, after most of the food was gone.
“Interesting,” Bessie answered. “They're a strange lot.”
“How so?” Hugh asked.
“Well, the dead man's father thinks the killing was random, for a start.”
“Anything is possible,” Hugh said.
“I heard a rumour that the knife came from the house,” Bessie replied.
“I couldn't possibly confirm or deny any rumours,” Hugh said stiffly. He then caught Bessie's eye and winked at her.
“Right,” Bessie said. “So Daniel Pierce, Sr., is convinced that there are deadly homeless men wandering around Laxey Beach, either that or murderous drug dealers. Meanwhile, his wife, I'm afraid I didn't catch her first name, has been medicated by some well-meaning doctor who probably doesn't realise how much the woman drinks.”
“Her name is Margaret,” Doona told Bessie. “I saw it on her statement.”
Hugh shot Doona a look.
“What?” Doona demanded. “I'm not telling her anything that isn't public knowledge.”
“Just be careful,” Hugh said quietly. “We both have to be careful talking to civilians. Inspector Rockwell doesn't like gossip and rumours.”
“I'd suggest he's moved to the wrong little island, then,” Bessie laughed. “Gossip is what keeps this island running.”
“So the victim's parents were odd,” Hugh said. “Did you meet anyone else?”
“Apparently Danny had a brother,” Bessie said. The other two nodded.
“He seemed odd as well. Not exactly sad at the loss of his brother, and it seemed to me that he's getting awfully cosy with the
widow as well.”
Hugh shook his head. “I bet Samantha isn't too happy about that,” he commented.
“Samantha didn't seem happy about much of anything,” Bessie said.
“Samantha is the goregous blonde, right?” Doona checked. “She came in to the station with the family, but no one was talking to her while they waited.”
“She's supposed to be Donny's girlfriend, but they didn't seem to be getting along very well this afternoon,” Bessie told the others. “I’m going to meet her tomorrow afternoon at the Laxey Wheel so we can talk properly.”
Hugh shook his head. “I don’t think you should be getting so involved in this,” he told Bessie. “Paying your respects is one thing, but arranging to meet up with one of the suspects is another. Amateurs have no part to play in a police investigation.”
“Nonsense,” Bessie told him. “I’m not getting involved in anything. The poor girl needs someone to talk to, that’s all. Things are very tense at Thie yn Traie at the moment and she needs a break and a sympathetic ear. We probably won’t talk about Danny at all, just Donny and the wicked widow woman.”
Doona laughed. “That’s a good way to describe her,” she told Bessie. “I don’t know why I don’t like her. I only spent two minutes with her. But there is definitely something unpleasant about her.”
“She just lost her husband. I don’t think she was too worried about being pleasant,” Hugh suggested.
“She isn’t just unpleasant,” Bessie said. “She’s impolite.”
Hugh shook his head. “I didn’t get that at all. She seemed liked a lovely young woman dealing with an unexpected tragedy in the best way she could.”
Bessie shrugged. “I don’t think Samantha is very fond of her. I expect I’ll get an earful about her tomorrow.”
Hugh frowned. “If Inspector Rockwell finds out that you’re running around meeting up with suspects, he isn’t going to be happy.”
“I can’t see that what I do is any of his business,” Bessie replied stoutly. “He has a murderer to find. He doesn’t need to worry about me having a friendly chat with someone. Why would Samantha be a suspect anyway? What possible motive could she have for killing Danny?”
Aunt Bessie Assumes: An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Page 7
