Aunt Bessie Needs

by Diana Xarissa

  “Just be careful,” John warned her. “Don’t try to talk to people, but do keep your ears open.”

  “I think we can manage that,” Bessie said. “I’m going to try to have a word with Grace’s father, as well. He might be able to tell me more about Alan Rossini and Sidney Harris.”

  “And you’re going to talk to Marjorie,” John reminded her.

  Bessie stood up and made a note on the calendar on the wall by the telephone. “Now I won’t forget,” she said with a grin.

  “Ring me after you’ve spoken with her if you learn anything interesting,” Pete instructed her. “I’ll want to hear what she said, interesting or not, anyway, so if you don’t ring me, expect me to ask about it after the memorial service.”

  Bessie nodded. “Which do you think is more likely, that someone meant to murder Julie Randall or that Laura was the intended victim?” she asked the man.

  “At this point, I don’t have any solid facts pointing towards either scenario,” Pete replied. “The general rule is to assume the dead person was the intended victim, so that’s how I’m working the case, but, well, I’m probably fifty-fifty either way at the moment.”

  “I’d tend to agree with Pete,” John said. “It’s horrible to think that the killer killed the wrong person, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It’s a lot more difficult to investigate the case if the wrong victim died, though.”

  “I’m glad this is your job and I just have to deal with reception,” Doona said. She gathered up all of the empty cake plates and began to run hot water in the sink. Hugh quickly collected teacups and cutlery for her as she started washing plates.

  “I’ll give you a ride home after we finish the washing-up,” Hugh offered Doona. “You came with John, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Doona agreed. “That would be great. Then John can get home and get some sleep.”

  “What about the rest of the cake?” Bessie asked. “Someone should take it home.”

  “It’s Pete’s cake,” Doona pointed out.

  “And Pete doesn’t need the extra calories,” Pete said, patting his tummy. “Hugh, why don’t you take it home. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Are you sure?” Hugh asked. Bessie nearly laughed at the excitement she could see in the man’s eyes. She’d enjoyed the cake, but she couldn’t imagine being that excited about being given the leftovers.

  “I’m sure,” Pete grinned and then winked at Bessie. She imagined that he was thinking along the same lines.

  “I’ll get out of the way, then,” John said as he stood up. “Bessie, I’ll probably ring you tomorrow night to hear how the memorial service went.”

  “You know you’re always welcome to come over,” she replied.

  “I know, but Friday is my night to talk to the kids. I need to be home when they ring,” he explained. “We’re trying to plan all of the things we’re going to do this summer, but I think the list is starting to get unmanageably long.”

  “Are you planning to take them anywhere?” Bessie asked.

  “We’ve been talking about having a few days in Spain. I have a colleague in Barcelona whom I helped out once when I was still in Manchester. He’s always insisting that I should come and visit and let him show me the sights. It would be something different for the kids, anyway.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Bessie said.

  “We’ll have to see if I can find the time off work. With Anna being transferred, it’s going to be harder for me to get away,” he replied.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Doona said. “But I’m still very pleased that Anna is going.” She did another little dance at the sink, making everyone smile.

  “Do you and Grace have everything arranged for tomorrow?” Hugh asked.

  “Tell her I’ll ring her in the morning, once Doona is sure she can come with us,” Bessie told him.

  “She’ll be fine,” John assured her.

  “Tell her I’ll ring her in the morning with the time that Doona and I will be collecting her,” Bessie corrected herself.

  “I’ll collect you around one,” Doona said. “We’ll collect Grace on our way out of town.”

  Bessie opened her mouth, but Hugh held up a hand.

  “I know, tell Grace you’ll collect her shortly after one,” he said, grinning broadly.

  Bessie laughed. “That sounds about right,” she said.

  After letting Pete and John out, Bessie helped Hugh and Doona finish tidying the kitchen. It wasn’t a very large space, so it didn’t take them long.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Doona said as she gave Bessie a hug.

  Hugh hugged her as well, but with only one arm, as he was clutching the remains of the cake with the other.

  “We’ll keep a close eye on Grace,” Bessie assured the man as she escorted the pair to the door. “We’ll be in a public place in the middle of the afternoon, as well.”

  “I know,” Hugh said with a sigh. “But I can’t help but worry. One of the things I love about Grace is that she’s a primary schoolteacher. She doesn’t see the bad things that happen in the world, the ones I have to deal with every day. I’m not comfortable with her being this close to a murder investigation.”

  “She’s been through it before,” Doona reminded him. “And she did just fine.”

  Hugh nodded. “And she’d be furious if she knew I was fussing,” he said. “Please don’t tell her.”

  Bessie and Doona both laughed and then Bessie watched as her friends made their way to Hugh’s car. Doona waved as they drove away. After locking up behind them, Bessie took herself off to bed. Memorial services could be difficult. She wasn’t looking forward to Friday.

  Chapter 8

  Bessie woke up at six and smiled at the sun that was shining outside her window. A long walk on the beach left her feeling much less anxious about the day ahead. Walking along the water’s edge nearly always calmed her spirits, whatever was bothering her. She had a regular booking with her car service for every Friday morning. A car took her to Ramsey for her weekly grocery shop. Once she was back from her walk, she got ready to go.

  The driver today was one of the regulars, and he and Bessie had a good chat about local politics while he drove.

  “Who’d want to be a politician? That’s what I want to know,” the man said as he pulled up in front of ShopFast. “It’s the wrong kinds of people going into politics these days. You can’t trust any of them, not one little bit.”

  “Thank you,” Bessie said, simply ignoring the man’s final rant. “Are you coming back for me in ninety minutes?”

  “Not me, that’s my lunch break. I’m not sure who they’ll send, but someone will be here,” he assured her.

  Bessie grabbed a trolley and began a slow circuit of the shop. Sometimes she was organised enough to bring a list, but today wasn’t one of those times. Instead she simply put most of the things that looked good into the trolley. By the time she reached the bakery, the trolley was getting full.

  “Bessie, there you are,” a loud voice said.

  Swallowing a sigh, Bessie turned around and smiled at Maggie Shimmin. “Maggie, how nice to see you,” she said politely, if not entirely truthfully.

  Maggie nodded. “I saw you had your friends from the police over last night,” she said.

  “Really?” Bessie asked. “I didn’t think you and Thomas were at the cottages at night very often.”

  “We have a lot of guests coming for this weekend. The season is starting to pick up and we had more cottages to get ready than Thomas could manage during the day yesterday. I went to help him finish the last few yesterday afternoon, but we didn’t actually finish until late evening.”

  “My goodness, the cottages are hard work, aren’t they?” Bessie replied.

  “Oh, aye, and they’re meant to be Thomas’s problem, not mine, but here I am, shopping for our guests. He offers them a welcome basket full of everything they might need for their first night and morning, you see. But then I’m the
one who has to do all of the shopping.”

  Bessie glanced into the other woman’s trolley. It was full of egg cartons and loaves of bread, along with packets of bacon and sandwich meats. “I’m sure your guests are hugely grateful,” she said. “No doubt grocery shopping is the last thing they want to do when they arrive.”

  “Oh, aye, they love the service. Thomas tacks on a huge surcharge, but no one has ever complained. Mind you, with the price of petrol he may have to put the charge up.”

  “I don’t want to keep you,” Bessie said. “You must be in a hurry to get back and get all the groceries distributed among the cottages.”

  “Yes, of course, but what were the police doing at your cottage last night?” Maggie demanded.

  “Mostly just visiting,” Bessie said.

  “And talking about poor Julie Manners, I bet,” was Maggie’s reply.

  “Did you know her?”

  “We went to school together before she moved to Douglas. She got herself into some trouble with a teacher and another girl, and her parents thought it would be best to move her away.”

  “Yes, I remember that,” Bessie said. “Only vaguely, though. I didn’t realise that you were at the school at the same time.”

  “Oh, I’m a lot younger,” Maggie said, but then she always claimed to be much younger than she was. “But it was a huge scandal. Everyone at the school knew about it.”

  “And then Mr. White left the island.”

  “He did, aye, and got himself into even more trouble.”

  “Did he?”

  “Oh, yes, didn’t you know? He went to Birmingham for a year, and then they fired him because he started spending too much private time with a student, same as here, except I gather it was just one girl and not over half the class. Anyway, from there he went to Australia.”

  “Australia?” Bessie echoed. If the man was in Australia, then it was unlikely that he had anything to do with Julie’s death.

  “He didn’t stay there, though. Something happened, you can guess what, and they kicked him out of the country. He tried Canada next.”

  “And how did that work for him?” Bessie asked as Maggie went silent.

  “Oh, last I knew he was still there. He ended up marrying one of his students, but not until a few years after she’d left school, so no one could really complain.”

  “And he hasn’t been in trouble since?”

  “Not that I know of,” Maggie told her.

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “When he left the island, he agreed to keep in touch with Sherry Summers. I don’t know if you remember her?”

  Bessie nodded and tried hard not to frown. Now that she’d heard the name again, she recognised it. Sherry Summers was the girl who had fought with Julie over Mr. White. Bessie hadn’t kept track of the girl, who’d left the island as soon as she’d finished school, but remembered hearing that Sherry had had three or four husbands by the time she was thirty.

  “Sherry and I are still friends,” Maggie told Bessie. “We used to ring one another once a week or so, but now we usually email. Anyway, when Mr. White left, he and Sherry started writing back and forth. Now they use email, too, as I understand it.”

  “They’ve kept in touch for all these years?” Bessie was surprised.

  “Sherry likes to keep in touch with people. I’d have probably stopped talking to her six months after she left if it had been totally up to me, but she kept calling and now she keeps emailing. Maybe it’s the same with her and Mr. White; she just keeps writing and he feels as if he had to write back, at least occasionally.”

  “Well, it’s interesting to hear that he’s in Canada,” Bessie said. “Do you remember his Christian name?”

  “George,” Maggie said.

  “Where’s Sherry now?”

  “She’s in the north of Scotland somewhere, not far from John O’Groats. She just married her sixth husband, and she’s a step-mum for the first time, which is proving interesting, at least as she tells it.”

  “Fascinating,” Bessie said. “Pete might want to talk to her.”

  “Pete Corkill from the police? Why? They don’t think Julie was killed because of what happened with George White when she was sixteen, do they? That’s a crazy idea.”

  “Do you have a better idea as to why she was killed?” Bessie asked.

  “Oh, she lives in Douglas,” Maggie said, waving a hand. “Bad things happen in big cities all the time. That’s why we live up here in the north, you know.”

  It took Bessie a moment to work out how to reply to Maggie’s assertion. “I think you’ll find that Douglas is very safe,” she said eventually. “The police are working hard at finding a motive for Julie’s murder. If you think of anything, do let Pete Corkill know.”

  Maggie nodded. “They’ll probably find that it was something completely random, though. Maybe she played her music too loud or parked in someone else’s parking space. She worked for the bank, too, so maybe there’s something there. Maybe she was embezzling from the bank or maybe she found out that someone else was. Those are all a lot more likely than anything to do with George White and Sherry Summers, anyway.”

  “You’re probably right.” Bessie couldn’t be bothered to argue. “And now I really must hurry. My taxi will be waiting for me.”

  Grabbing a few last-minute things, Bessie made her way to the tills and then out into the car park. Dave, her favourite driver, was parked in a space, reading the newspaper. As soon as Bessie saw him, he jumped up and crossed to her. “I’m sorry I missed you on the outgoing journey,” he said as he took the trolley from her and began to push it towards his car. “I had to take a couple to the Sea Terminal, and when we were nearly there, she remembered that she’d forgotten something and we had to go back to Ramsey and then back again.”

  “Oh, dear, I hope they didn’t miss their ferry,” Bessie exclaimed.

  “They were still there in plenty of time,” Dave replied. “Although you’d never have believed that if you’d heard how her husband went on and on about it. He was well beyond furious. He actually suggested that she’d done it on purpose to make them miss the boat.”

  “Why would she do that?” Bessie asked as Dave loaded her shopping into his boot. Once they were both in the car and he was pulling out of the car park, he answered the question.

  “They’re going across for his brother’s wedding,” he told Bessie. “And apparently his wife doesn’t get along very well with his family. He suggested that she was trying to make them miss the wedding, and then she started shouting about how his mother had worn black to their wedding, so it was hardly surprising that she wasn’t anxious to see everyone again.” Dave shook his head. “Families are hard work.”

  “They really are,” Bessie said with a smile. “Although sometimes I think we make it hard on ourselves. She should have just told him to go to the wedding by himself.”

  “Oh, that came up,” Dave laughed. “Remember, I drove them nearly into Douglas and then back to Ramsey and then to Douglas again. She wasn’t leaving him on his own with his ex-girlfriend, who is, apparently, the bride’s sister.”

  “Maybe she’d be better off if he got back together with her,” Bessie said dryly.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Dave laughed. “They certainly didn’t seem very happy together.”

  When they reached Treoghe Bwaane, Dave insisted on carrying her shopping inside for her. While he was doing that, she slipped a few biscuits into a bag for him. “A little snack for later,” she told him as she handed him the bag.

  “Many thanks,” he said.

  Bessie put everything away and then sat down to make a few phone calls. She started with Marjorie.

  “Moghrey mie,” she said when her friend answered.

  “Moghrey mie,” Marjorie replied. “Kys t’ou?”

  “Ta mee braew, but I have a, well, a sort of sensitive thing I need to talk to you about,” Bessie replied.

  “Please don’t tell me you
’re dropping the class,” Marjorie said quickly.

  “No, of course not,” Bessie replied.

  “That’s okay, then,” Marjorie said. “But what’s wrong?”

  Bessie sighed. “I don’t want you to tell me anything that’s personal or private,” she began. “But I’m concerned about Laura. The woman who was murdered looked so much like her that I’m worried that she might have been the intended target.”

  “I can’t talk about Laura’s personal life,” Marjorie said hesitantly.

  “I’m not asking you to,” Bessie replied. “She’s told me a few things that have suggested one possible suspect. She won’t talk to the police, but I’ve passed along what I know to John and Pete.”

  “That was probably wise,” Marjorie said.

  “I don’t want you to tell me anything at all, really,” Bessie assured her. “But I wanted you to be aware of the issue. If there’s anything that has happened at work that you think might be a concern, I’d like to suggest that you talk to Pete Corkill about it.”

  “At work?” Marjorie repeated. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I’m not sure what I mean, either,” Bessie admitted. “I can’t imagine anything that could happen at a Manx National Heritage site that would lead to murder, but, well, I don’t understand anything ever leading to murder, really.”

  “There’s only been one person that I’ve ever thought I could possibly murder,” Marjorie told her. “And someone else took care of that for me.”

  “If you could see if Laura has had any complaints filed against her or there’s any record of her having altercations with customers or other staff members, that sort of thing, it might help,” Bessie said, trying not to think about Mack Dickinson and his untimely death.

  “I’ll ring over to our human resources people and see what I can find out,” Marjorie replied. “But I’m pretty sure I’d have heard about it if there were any problems. Laura is a nice woman who’s worked hard to learn about the island and the sites where she’s assigned. I know I’ve never heard a direct complaint about her from either the public or anyone on staff.”

  “If you do find out anything, please let Pete know,” Bessie said. “He doesn’t want to make a formal request because, well, there’s no way of knowing if Laura was the target or not.”