Bessie shook her head. “You really should tell the police everything,” she counselled the young woman. “It could be important.”
“It was ages ago,” Liz replied airily. “Mack didn’t even recognise me when I came in. Besides, his death was an accident, right?”
Bessie shook her head. “I still think you should tell the police. There’s no reason why they should mention anything about it to your husband.”
Liz shook her head. “I don’t trust that Inspector Corkill,” she told Bessie. “He seems like the type who would tell Bill just because he could. If it turns out that it was murder, maybe I’ll say something.”
That was the best promise that Bessie could get from Liz, even though she kept trying for a few more minutes. Bessie was ready to give up anyway when Liz’s mobile rang.
“It’s hubby. He probably can’t figure out what to do about lunch,” Liz sighed. “I need to take this.”
Bessie sighed as well and then turned her attention back to the crowd. She spotted Helen Baxter grabbing herself a cup of coffee and headed towards her. “So did you ever get a chance to chat with Bambi last night?” she asked Helen after they’d exchanged greetings.
Helen laughed. “She’s actually really fun,” she replied. “We had a great conversation about expectations versus reality and I was really enjoying getting to know her. Unfortunately, her boyfriend didn’t seem to like watching her have fun and he dragged her away to talk to some group of researchers he knew from across.”
“That’s a shame. I think Bambi could really use a friend right now,” Bessie replied.
“Is she here?” Helen sounded surprised. “I didn’t think she’d bother coming back, now that Mack is, er, isn’t, um, well, you know.”
Bessie sighed. “She is here, somewhere, or at least she was. I hope if you see her you’ll lend her a sympathetic ear.”
“Of course,” Helen answered. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through. She and Mack weren’t getting along very well, but she did care about him.”
“And you’d never met Mack before last night?” Bessie double-checked.
Helen shook her head. “No, I’d never had that particular pleasure before,” she commented dryly.
“I know you said he was rather rude to you,” Bessie grinned. “But that was just Mack. He was a brilliant speaker.”
“He was indeed,” Helen agreed. “I thoroughly enjoyed his talk, even if I didn’t quite get what all the fuss was about.”
Bessie smiled. “Roman remains are the most sought-after archeological finds on the island. We know the Romans knew the island was here and we have evidence that they traded with people on the island, but what everyone wants to know is whether they ever settled here or not, and if not, why not? It seems, after last night, that Mack found proof that they did, indeed, have a settlement on the island.”
Helen shrugged. “It was all such a long time ago. I just don’t see what difference it makes.”
Bessie laughed out loud. “I’ll be honest with you, but you mustn’t tell anyone,” she said in a whisper. “I’m not sure I see what difference it makes either. I’m much more interested in our more recent ancestors. But a lot of people here would argue otherwise.”
Helen laughed and then looked around. “As long as we’re telling secrets, I have to tell someone about last night or I’ll just burst.”
“What happened last night?” Bessie said curiously.
“You know I said that Mack was rude to me when I tried to start a conversation?” she reminded Bessie.
“Yes.”
“Well, later, when I went back over and started chatting to Bambi, he kept giving me strange looks. After he dragged Bambi away, he left her with a group of people and came back over to me and started talking.”
“What did he want?” Bessie asked.
“Basically, he wanted me to go to bed with him,” Helen said bluntly.
Bessie gasped. “Pardon?”
Helen giggled. “He didn’t put it quite that way,” she said. “But that was what he meant. He actually apologised for being rude to me at first and then suggested that he could make it up to me over drinks later. Everything he said was carefully polite, but there was definitely a lot of innuendo and whatnot.”
Bessie shook her head. “What a horrible man, though I suppose I mustn’t speak ill of the dead.”
Helen smiled. “He was rude and very conceited,” she told Bessie. “But I wouldn’t have called him horrible. I think in his own, admittedly arrogant, mind, he thought he was paying me a compliment.”
Bessie bit back a dozen different retorts and then sighed. “Men.”
Helen grinned. “That just about sums it up,” she agreed.
The pair chatted about this and that until it was time for lunch. Helen had made arrangements with a friend from town to meet for lunch elsewhere, so Bessie headed down to the café on her own. She grinned at the man at the door, who was checking everyone’s conference tickets as well as trying to explain to an elderly couple why they couldn’t go in and get a cup of tea in the café because the conference was using the entire facility for the weekend.
Inside, she grabbed a plate and filled it from the generous buffet. Joe Steele was at a table with Claire Jamison and he waved Bessie over to join them.
Bessie sank down at the empty seat at their table and smiled at the pair. “Thanks for letting me join you,” she said. “It’s filling up fast in here.”
Joe grinned back at her. “You’re more than welcome. I really appreciated your help with the food last night. Today poor Claire had to try to identify what I might like for me.”
Claire laughed. “I can’t believe that the food here is that different from what you can get in the US,” she said. “What do they serve at conferences there?”
Joe shrugged. “I haven’t been to that many conferences,” he replied. “And a lot of the ones I went to weren’t very well-funded. Lunch was usually a plate of lunchmeat and a loaf of bread. If we were very lucky, there might be mayonnaise. Sometimes, actually just once, there were small bags of potato chips and chocolate chip cookies as well.” He sighed. “That was an excellent conference.”
“What was it about?” Bessie asked with a grin.
“I’ve no idea, but the food was fabulous,” Joe laughed.
The trio talked briefly about various conferences and events that they had attended, and then discussed their research.
“I’ve just about convinced Joe that he should come and do some digging around Anglesey,” Claire told Bessie. “He could do some interesting comparisons between Anglesey and the island.”
“I’m thinking about it,” Joe replied. “I’ve never been to Anglesey, and you make it sound very tempting.”
Bessie studied the young man’s face. He looked more than a little smitten with the attractive, if somewhat older, woman.
“Now that you’re taking a break from dinosaurs, do you have an area that you’re especially interested in?” Bessie asked him.
“After last night?” Joe asked. “I want to work on Mack’s Roman site, but then, so does every other archeologist here.”
Bessie shook her head. “First you have to find it,” she said.
Joe shrugged. “I figure someone else must know where it is, mustn’t they? A find this big and important can’t stay a secret for long.”
“I guess we’ll find out in time,” Bessie answered.
After they’d all stuffed themselves with the delicious lunch, pudding was served. Bessie helped herself to a few of the miniature pastries.
“American-style desserts last night and French-style pastries today,” Joe remarked. “Don’t the British do desserts?”
“We do puddings,” Claire told him. “Lots of lovely hot puddings that are best served dripping with hot custard or cream. Maybe we’ll get to sample something tonight after dinner, but if not, I make a terrific bread and butter pudding, and if you come and study on Anglesey I’ll whip one up for you.”
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br /> Joe laughed. “As if I needed any more temptations to get me there?”
After they finished their pastries and the tea that went with them, it was time for Marjorie’s talk. Joe and Claire were going to take a tour of the museum, a hastily arranged alternative to the bus excursion that had been cancelled. Bessie wandered down to the main theatre by herself. She was happy to find that Henry had saved her a seat in the front row.
“I thought I’d save you one at the front so you could hear everything,” he explained to Bessie in a loud whisper.
Again, she thought about arguing that there was nothing wrong with her hearing, but she didn’t. Instead, she settled into her seat and thanked Henry politely.
A few moments later George Quayle bounded in, with his wife, Mary, in tow. Bessie had never quite figured out what the lovely woman saw in George. The pair was surely evidence that opposites attract, as Mary was no more than five feet tall and was slender. She was quiet, and Bessie had known her for several months before Mary had begun to really talk with her. Bessie had eventually realised that Mary was terribly shy and, with George around, she rarely needed to exert herself.
Bessie watched as George waved to various people and shouted greetings towards them from the doorway. After a few minutes, he and Mary headed towards the seats marked “reserved” that were next to Bessie.
“Bessie, my dear, I’m so glad you came back,” George said in his booming voice.
“Why on earth wouldn’t I have come back?” Bessie asked.
“Well, after last night’s tragic accident.…” George trailed off and looked around the room.
“Oh, hush, George.” Mary Quayle shook her head and then took Bessie’s hand and pulled her to her feet for a hug. “Pay no attention to George,” she suggested. “No one is going to miss this wonderful conference just because of one unfortunate incident.”
“I don’t know,” George argued. “I suspect attendance will be down today. That’s why we came, you know,” he said to Bessie. “We wanted to make sure that everyone had a good turnout for their talks. Especially Marjorie.”
“That was kind of you,” Bessie murmured as she settled back into her seat.
Mary slid into the seat next to Bessie. “What’s Marjorie going to be talking about?” she asked her.
“The archives,” Bessie replied. “It should be an excellent presentation. She’s going to talk about what they actually have in there, what they are trying to get, and what they’d love to get their hands on. She told me that she’s got a few surprises for everyone as well. Apparently, she’s come across a few very interesting documents lately that no one knew they had.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Mary said with a smile.
“I certainly hope so,” Bessie grinned.
Marjorie looked upset and nervous after Harold’s introduction, but once she got into her talk, she visibly relaxed. Bessie thought she knew quite a bit about the museum archives, but she was amazed to learn more about the important items that the museum was looking after on behalf of the nation.
The forty-minute talk went quickly and the question-and-answer session was lively and informative. Marjorie seemed much more like her normal self as she answered questions about her beloved documents and papers.
“That was fascinating,” Mary said to Bessie when the question-and-answer session was over.
“Definitely one of the highlights of conference,” Bessie agreed.
“She was wonderful,” George interjected. “I didn’t realise how much wonderful material they had in those boxes and files down there.”
Bessie grinned. “I didn’t either, and I’ve spent a lot of time poking around in them myself.”
George waved at someone and shouted “hello” across the still crowded space. After a moment he shook his head. “I’m going to have go and say something to Jack,” he told his wife. “I’ll leave you with Bessie, shall I?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Mary said anxiously.
George walked away, pushing through the crowd as he climbed up the shallow stairs that the staggered seating in the room required.
Mary sighed deeply as the throng swallowed him up. “I do wish he wouldn’t insist on dragging me to these things,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” Bessie asked.
Mary flushed. “Oh, no, I’m having a wonderful time,” she replied too quickly. “It’s all just a little overwhelming, all these people and well, everything.”
Bessie nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for the shy woman. “It was kind of you to come,” she told her. “I’m sure Marjorie appreciated it.”
“George insisted,” Mary replied. “I was going to stay home and I think, if that man hadn’t died last night, George wouldn’t have minded. But he was really afraid that no one would be here today.”
“I think the opposite is true,” Bessie said, glancing around. She hadn’t realised just how much the room had filled up after she’d taken her seat. It looked as if every seat had been full and no one seemed to be in any hurry to leave, even though the talk was over.
“It does seem a very good turnout,” Mary said.
“I don’t think I recognise more than half of them,” Bessie said. “I wonder where they’ve all come from?”
“As long as they’ve paid their conference fees, I don’t care where they’ve come from,” Mary said stoutly.
“I hope everything’s okay for you and George,” Bessie replied cautiously.
Mary flushed. “Oh, everything’s fine,” she said. “I just worry....” she trailed off and looked down at the ground.
“Worry about what?” Bessie asked in her kindliest voice.
“Nothing,” Mary shook her head. “Nothing at all, really.”
“You know I’m always happy to lend an ear if something is troubling you,” Bessie told the other woman.
Mary smiled faintly. “Troubling me, yes, that’s a good way to put it. But I was raised that you didn’t bother other people with your troubles.”
“I was as well,” Bessie grinned. “But sometimes you need your friends.”
“Thank you for being a friend,” Mary told Bessie. “I’ve always wanted to ask you to come around for tea one day,” she said softly. “But I’m sure you’re much too busy.”
Bessie laughed lightly. “I’m never too busy for my friends,” she said firmly. “Let’s set a date now, before we both get back to our busy lives.”
The other woman smiled brightly and the two quickly compared their schedules, finally settling on a date that was only a little over a week away.
A moment later George reappeared, dragging what seemed like half the room with him. He pulled Mary into the group, shouting introductions at her while Bessie gratefully slipped away.
Bessie headed towards the back of the room, carefully skirting the crowd. She had about half an hour to fill before the start of the round table discussion that she was meant to be taking part in. The discussion had originally been scheduled for the Moore Theatre, and she wanted to try to catch Harold to find out its new location. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would work well on the stage in the main theatre, but they might not have a choice.
As she made her way towards the group that Harold was talking with, Bessie gave some thought to her conversation with Mary. The other woman seemed to be worried about money. Bessie wondered if she knew that her husband had offered to fund Mack’s excavations at the Roman site. In spite of the tragedy of Mack’s untimely death, Mary Quayle had good reason to be relieved that he wouldn’t be around to take George up on his generous offer.
Bessie had just reached Harold’s side when a sudden silence fell across the room. She turned around and saw that Inspector Corkill had just walked in.
“Ah, good afternoon, everyone,” the inspector said loudly. “I was just looking for Harold Smythe and Marjorie Stevens. I’d like a few minutes of your time, both of you, please?”
Marjorie had been chatting with
Harold and his group of friends, and now Bessie watched as she turned as white as a sheet.
“I can’t talk to him,” she whispered to Bessie, grabbing her arm. “You’ve got to sneak me out of here.”
“Don’t be silly,” Bessie hissed back at her. “You’ve got to talk to him. You’ve no idea what he wants. Maybe he just wants to talk about the archives.”
Marjorie shuddered and Bessie watched tears begin to fill her eyes. “I simply can’t do it,” she said again.
Bessie stared hard into her friend’s eyes. “You have to do it,” she said resolutely. “And you can do it. You just need to pull yourself together. Take two deep breaths and focus on getting yourself under control.”
The inspector hadn’t moved. Instead he was watching Bessie and Marjorie with an interested look on his face. “Is there something wrong?” he asked politely.
“I’m sorry, but Marjorie isn’t feeling well,” Bessie replied. “She was too nervous to eat lunch before her talk and now she’s feeling a bit lightheaded.”
“Perhaps you could take her and find her a snack while I talk with Dr. Smythe?” the inspector suggested.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Bessie replied. She took Marjorie’s arm and began to lead her out of the room.
“You won’t mind if I send a constable with you,” Corkill continued. “Just to make sure she’s ready when I need her.”
“Of course we don’t mind,” Bessie said. Now she was worried about her friend. If the inspector was putting a police guard on Marjorie, he had to suspect her of something.
Marjorie said nothing as Bessie escorted her from the room. Corkill’s uniformed constable was only a step or two behind. Bessie glanced back and saw that Harold had made his way down to where the inspector was standing, and the two seemed to be having an intense conversation.
Aunt Bessie Considers Page 9
