“Ah, I haven’t been here for a TT yet,” Rockwell said. “I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to it or dreading it.”
“You probably won’t be sure after it’s over, either,” Doona laughed. “It brings a lot of people to the island and keeps many of the hotels and restaurants in business, but it also closes down a lot of the island’s roads off and on for a fortnight and that can be frustrating.”
“And it keeps the police extra busy,” the inspector told them. “I was told when I took the job here that no one is allowed to take any time off during the fortnight and that I should expect to work extra hours.”
“Ninety-nine per cent of the people that come and enjoy the TT are wonderful,” Bessie said. “Unfortunately, there are so many of them that even one per cent of them can cause an awful lot of trouble.”
“I guess I’ll find out next month,” Rockwell shrugged.
The tour ended at the museum library, but it was closed on Sundays. They wandered back past the gift shop, where the inspector spent several minutes looking over the extensive collection of books on Manx history.
“I give up,” he said finally. “Which one is the best for a basic history?” he asked Bessie.
Bessie laughed and then made a few suggestions. Rockwell bought everything she recommended and then added a few extras that had caught his eye. The clerk at the desk was happy to hold all of them in the shop until the conference finished so that he didn’t have to carry them around for the rest of the day.
“You’re really starting to feel at home on the island, aren’t you?” Bessie asked as they made their way back towards the front of the museum.
“I am indeed,” Rockwell told her. “And the more at home I feel, the more I want to know about the place.”
With a few minutes left to fill before lunch, the trio made their way back up to the education level foyer. Paul’s talk had, seemingly, just finished and the foyer was full of people grabbing drinks before lunch. As Bessie and her friends crossed towards the table with the tea and coffee, the lifts “pinged” open behind them and even more people began to join the crowd.
“This is crazy,” Doona gasped as the noise level in the space began to rise.
“Let’s head downstairs,” Bessie suggested. “We can be the first in the lunch queue.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Rockwell grinned. He turned back towards the lifts and led the other two out of the room.
Chapter Twelve
As it happened, they weren’t first in the queue for lunch. Bessie laughed as they rounded the corner to the café and spotted Hugh standing in front of the closed door. His nose was pressed to the small glass window in the door but he quickly straightened up and swung around as they approached.
“Oh, hi, um, I was just looking to see if you guys were in there,” Hugh stammered out.
“You were trying to get a good look at what’s on offer,” Doona teased. “Wipe the drool off your chin.”
Hugh blushed and then laughed. “I was just taking a peek,” he replied. “There were like a hundred people wandering around the upstairs foyer when I got here,” he continued. “Since I wasn’t sure where you all were, I figured I’d catch up with you here.”
“And here we are,” Bessie grinned at him. “And lunch is a classic British carvery. I’m really looking forward to it.”
Hugh’s eyes lit up. “I was feeling sorry for myself, because I’m missing me mum’s Sunday lunch, but this makes up for it for sure.”
Doona shook her head. “If I worried about food as much as you do, I’d weigh five hundred pounds.”
“I’m a growing boy,” Hugh said, patting his flat stomach.
“I’m a growing girl,” Doona laughed. “I’m just growing in the wrong direction.”
“Women worry too much about their weight,” Rockwell said. “All these models and actresses who weigh next to nothing give women unrealistic ideas of how they should look.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Doona told him. “You’re in terrific shape and I know you work out every day.”
Rockwell grinned. “Only during the week. I take weekends off,” he said. “And I enjoy working out; I don’t just do it to keep my weight down.”
“Maybe I’ve tried the wrong sorts of exercise, then,” Doona replied. “I’ve certainly never found any that I enjoyed.”
“We should start promoting exercise at the station,” Rockwell said. “We could convert the storeroom at the back into a small gym. I could bring my weights and equipment from home and everyone could use them. I’m sure we could get one of the local fitness clubs to do classes for us once or twice a week, as well.”
Doona shook her head. “It all sounds like hard work,” she said.
“Once you get started, you’d be hooked,” Rockwell said enthusiastically. “I’m going to talk to the Chief Constable about the idea next week. There are already shower rooms back there.”
“Yeah,” Doona said with a frown. “For the folks we’ve arrested.”
“But no one ever uses them,” Hugh chimed in. “We hardly ever have anyone in the short-term lockup anyway and I can’t remember the last time we kept anyone overnight.”
The discussion was cut short when the door to the café opened. Henry stuck his head out.
“Is it just you folks waiting for lunch?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“We’re a little early,” Bessie said apologetically.
“I thought we’d have a crowd by now,” Henry told her. “I guess everyone is too busy talking upstairs.”
“It was really crowded,” Bessie replied. “Maybe no one has noticed the time.”
“I’ll run up and make an announcement,” Henry said. “But in the meantime, you guys can get started on the buffet.” He glanced around, then spoke again in a whisper. “They let me eat a little bit ago and it was delicious,” he told them with a huge smile.
Everything smelled wonderful and Bessie quickly filled a plate almost to overflowing with thickly sliced roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli, sprouts and peas. At the end of the table, she stopped and poured a generous helping of gravy over everything.
Inspector Rockwell was a few steps ahead of her, and he’d already settled into a chair at a table in the back corner of the room. Bessie joined him now and the pair waited for Doona and Hugh to finish fixing their plates before they dug in.
“You never talk about your family,” Bessie said to the inspector. “I don’t even know your wife’s name.”
Rockwell looked startled and then shrugged. “She’s called Sue,” he said. “We have two kids, Thomas is fourteen and Amy is twelve.”
“And how are they finding the island?” Bessie asked.
“They’re having real trouble adapting,” Rockwell replied. “They miss their friends and our family back in Manchester and they don’t like the school in Ramsey, either.”
“Oh, dear,” Bessie frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” she said.
“It’s fine,” Rockwell assured her. “Sue and I are considering a number of different options.”
Bessie bit her tongue before she blurted out questions about what options they might be considering. “We’d all really miss you if you moved back to Manchester,” she said after an awkward pause.
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that,” the inspector said.
Within minutes, the small room began to fill with hungry conference attendees and the noise level rose accordingly.
“So how’s Grace?” Bessie asked Hugh, figuring that she’d started prying into people’s personal lives, so she might as well continue.
“She’s fine,” Hugh said with a shrug. “We don’t see all that much of each other at the minute. She’s busy with school and marking papers most nights, but we try to spend weekends together when we can.”
“I want to meet her one day,” Bessie told the young policeman.
“Yes, ma’am,” Hugh flushed and focussed on his dinn
er.
“I’m glad you got this corner table,” Bessie told Rockwell. “It feels out of the way of the crowd.”
“You’ll have to point out all of the suspects to me,” Hugh said. “I don’t know anyone.”
“Let’s not call them suspects,” Rockwell suggested. “People don’t tend to like being thought of that way.”
“None of the people we discussed last night is here yet,” Bessie told Hugh as she scanned the crowd.
“Ah, Helen Baxter has just walked in,” Doona hissed.
Hugh nodded. “Actually, I have met her,” he told the others. “She works out at Ramsey Cottage Hospital once in a while and me gran is in and out of there every other week for something or other. How did she know Mack again?”
“Apparently she didn’t,” Bessie told him. “But she tried to talk to him early in the evening and he was quite rude to her, apparently. She told me that later on that evening he actually propositioned her, though.”
“Why was he propositioning strangers if he was here with Bambi?” Doona asked angrily. “I know you said he always had a woman on the side, but surely he could survive with just Bambi for the few days they were going to be here?”
Bessie shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe he was just flirting or maybe Helen misunderstood him. If he was seriously trying to get her into bed, though, that suggests that his secret girlfriend wasn’t at the conference.”
Rockwell frowned. “But the mystery girlfriend is my favourite suspect,” he said.
“Surely, if she were here, Mack wouldn’t have been trying to pull another woman as well?” Bessie asked.
Rockwell shrugged. “Some men flirt with every attractive woman they meet,” he told her. “Even when they have no intention or even interest in following through.”
Doona shook her head. “I’ve met my fair share of them,” she sighed. “Although I guess I’m getting older, because it’s been a while.”
“George Quayle was flirting with you just this morning,” Bessie reminded her friend.
“Who’s that?” Hugh interrupted, nodding towards the door.
“Speak of the devil,” Bessie grinned.
George Quayle stood in the entrance, surveying the room. He waved and shouted greeting to various people, including Bessie.
“He looks familiar,” Hugh said, frowning.
“He’s only been back on the island for a short time, but he’s making a real name for himself,” Rockwell told Hugh. “He’s friends with the Chief Constable; you may have seem them together at some event or somewhere.”
“That must be it,” Hugh nodded. “How did he know Mack?”
“According to him, he didn’t,” Bessie replied. “Or at least not very well.”
“You sound suspicious of that,” Doona challenged her friend.
Bessie shrugged. “I find it odd that George insisted that Harold and Marjorie change the conference programme to accommodate Mack,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve never known George to do anything like that before. He’s usually very hands-off when he funds something. It makes me wonder if there wasn’t something behind it.”
“Like Mack blackmailed him into it?” Doona asked.
“Or George agreeing so he could get Mack here so he could kill him?” Hugh chimed in.
Bessie shook her head. “I think both of those ideas are a bit dramatic,” she said. “It was just somewhat out of character, at least as far as what I’ve seen of the man in the last year or so that he’s been here.”
“It is strange,” Rockwell agreed. “I think I need to try to have a chat with Mr. Quayle.”
“Don’t let Inspector Corkill hear you say that,” Bessie cautioned him.
Rockwell grinned. “Good point; maybe I’ll call Pete and tell him to have a chat with the man.”
“Oh, the lovebirds are here,” Doona announced.
Bessie waved back at Claire and Joe as they took their places in the buffet queue.
“The pretty brunette is Claire Jamison and the man with her is Joe Steele,” Bessie told Hugh.
“Didn’t you say that neither of them knew Mack before the conference?” Hugh asked.
“Joe told me that he met him Friday night and Mack was rude to him about his background in paleontology,” Bessie replied.
“That isn’t much of a motive,” Hugh replied.
“I’m surprised their paths had never crossed before, though,” Bessie added. “Joe said he’s been studying in London for almost six months and Mack was based there. The archeology world isn’t that big, even in London. I would have expected that they’d have at least met once or twice before this weekend.”
“Something else to ask Pete about,” Rockwell sighed.
“What about Claire?” Hugh asked.
“She’s another one who said she’d never met him, but Mack did do some excavating on Anglesey. Maybe she was doing research somewhere else during the time he was there, though. Harold didn’t think Mack was on Angelsey for long.”
“Speaking of Harold,” Doona smiled, “he’s the, um, plumpish man in the doorway.”
Hugh grinned. “He looks like a history professor,” he remarked.
“He does, rather,” Bessie agreed.
“He also looks very pleased about something,” Doona added.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Bessie said. “He wasn’t looking that happy this morning.”
“Well, he doesn’t look like a murderer,” Hugh said.
“Most murderers don’t look like murderers,” Rockwell said with a sigh. “If you could tell who’d done it just by looks, our job would be a lot easier, wouldn’t it?”
“Surely no one here looks like a murderer?” Doona asked, looking around the room.
“That guy looks shady,” Hugh said, after he’d done his own scan of the occupants.
Bessie followed Hugh’s line of sight and then laughed. “Poor Paul. He’s always complained that people don’t give him much respect because he looks like an aging hippy. Now you think he looks like a murderer.”
“Who is he?” Hugh asked.
“An archeologist and a very nice man,” Bessie answered. “And there’s no way he killed Mack. He didn’t arrive on the island until after Mack died.”
“Your friend Marjorie looks upset,” Hugh remarked, as she walked into the café.
Bessie sighed. “This whole conference has been horrible for her. I’m almost surprised she’s here today.”
“I didn’t know you knew Marjorie,” Doona said to Hugh.
“I interviewed her when we were investigating Moirrey Teare’s death,” Hugh said. “That’s how I know Liz Martin as well. I talked to them both very briefly, just to verify what happened in the class you all took together. And here’s Liz now.” Hugh nodded towards the door where Liz had just entered, still holding her husband’s hand.
“That’s her husband, Bill,” Bessie told Hugh.
“And both Marjorie and Liz knew Mack before this weekend, right?” Hugh checked.
“They both dated Mack at different times,” Bessie told him. “At least I hope it was at different times.”
“Oh, I hope so, too,” Doona exclaimed. “Liz and Marjorie seem to have become good friends. I’d hate to see them fight over Mack.”
“What about Bill?” Hugh queried. “He must have known Mack before if he went to school with Liz. Maybe he knew they’d dated and he was jealous?”
“As far as I know, he was home watching the children the night Mack was killed. I certainly didn’t see him at the conference before today,” Bessie replied.
“Well, I’m going to keep an eye on him,” Hugh said, narrowing his eyes and studying the man still standing near the door.
Bessie looked around, just as Harold finished filling his plate with food and then came across to Marjorie, who was still queuing. The pair had a quick conversation. When he’d finished speaking, Harold headed for a table near the back with his lunch while Marjorie continued to wait for her turn at the carvery.
“Indeed,” Bessie replied. “I think that’s the happiest I’ve seen her all weekend.”
“Maybe Harold has figured out who the murderer is,” Doona speculated.
“I think it’s more likely he’s found out something about Mack’s research,” Bessie told them. “And from the looks on both their faces, I’d be willing to bet it’s something that makes Mack look bad, as well.”
“So will he make a big announcement any minute now?” Doona demanded.
Bessie frowned. “Actually,” she replied, “he’s far more likely to wait and make his announcement during the final session of the conference. He and Marjorie are meant to be summing up the entire weekend in twenty minutes or less. He doesn’t have Mack’s flair for the dramatic, but I bet he won’t able to resist waiting until he has the entire conference hanging on his every word.”
“But I want to know what’s going on now,” Doona said in a whiny voice.
Bessie laughed as Rockwell shook his head. “Patience,” Bessie told her friend.
“Uh oh, everybody act casual,” Doona hissed.
“Why?” Hugh demanded.
“Inspector Corkill’s just walked in,” Doona said under her breath.
By the time Doona had finished speaking, Inspector Rockwell was on his feet, crossing to greet his Douglas counterpart.
“Pete, always nice to see you,” Rockwell said, offering his hand.
Bessie blew out a relieved breath when the other inspector took it with a smile that didn’t look entirely forced. “John, I didn’t know you’d be here today,” he said.
“Bessie’s a good friend,” Rockwell explained. “I wanted to hear her talk and I figured the least I could do is drive her up for the day.”
“Well, lunch looks tasty anyway,” Corkill replied, looking past Rockwell to meet Bessie’s eyes. “And now if I could just have a minute of Miss Cubbon’s time?”
Bessie stood up quickly, aware that every person in the room was watching the inspector’s every move. “Of course, Inspector Corkill,” she said politely.
Aunt Bessie Considers (Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 19
