“If she was, I suspect we both know who was behind it,” Marjorie said darkly.
“Pete has done some preliminary investigating into Laura’s ex-husband,” Bessie told her.
“Good. I suppose it’s too much to ask that Pete gets him banned from the island.”
“I don’t believe there are any grounds for doing so at this stage.”
“No, and there won’t be before Laura turns up dead,” Marjorie sighed.
“Laura never pressed charges,” Bessie said. “At this stage, it’s her word against his.”
“I don’t have any reason to doubt her,” Marjorie said stoutly.
“I don’t, either, but the police can’t ban the man based solely on what she’s told you and me.”
“And she won’t talk to them because she had such a bad experience with the police at the time.”
“I’ve invited her to come and stay with me for a few days,” Bessie said. “But she doesn’t want to do that, either. I even offered to put her up in a hotel, but she insisted on staying at home.”
“I didn’t know anything about any of this until Wednesday,” Marjorie told her. “She came in to ask me about one of the books in the gift shop. I asked her if she was okay, because she looked upset, and I rather opened the floodgates. She was here for over an hour, telling me all about her marriage and her ex-husband.”
“She needs to talk to Pete,” Bessie said.
“She doesn’t think he’ll believe her. Apparently, her ex is very believable and charming. I probably shouldn’t repeat this, but she said that her own mother took his side.”
“Yes, she told me that, too,” Bessie sighed. “Pete is discreetly investigating her ex-husband, but he’s also considering whether anyone else might have had a motive, if Laura was the intended target. That’s why I rang you, obviously.”
“Like I said earlier, I can’t imagine anything that could have happened at work that would lead to murder, but I’ll see what I can find out. In the meantime, I’m going to encourage Laura to talk to Pete and also seriously suggest that she take you up on your offer and stay with you for a few days.”
“Thank you, er, gura mie ayd.”
Marjorie chuckled. “If I don’t ring you back, it’s because I didn’t find anything. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
Bessie felt better knowing that Laura had confided in Marjorie. The more people who knew about the possible threat that Laura’s ex-husband posed, the better. When she rang the police station, one of Doona’s coworkers answered.
“May I speak to John Rockwell, please? It’s Bessie Cubbon.”
“Please hold the line,” the woman said crisply.
“Bessie? How are you this morning?” John asked.
“I’m fine. I just thought I should fill you in on a few things.” She told him everything she could remember from her conversation with Maggie Shimmin. “If George White is still in Canada, it’s hard to imagine that Julie’s death had anything to do with him,” she concluded. “Especially if Sherry Summers is tucked up in northern Scotland.”
“I’ll check on both of them,” John promised. “But as you say, it seems less and less likely that there’s a connection. I think Pete will be disappointed. He was hoping you’d solved the case for him.”
“I wish I could. I talked to Marjorie this morning as well. She’s going to talk to someone in human resources to see if they have any idea of anything that might have happened with Laura at work that could possibly provide a motive for murder.”
“It’s unlikely, but it’s always worth checking,” John said. “And everything we can find out about Laura helps to build a better picture of her and her character.”
“You’re suggesting you don’t believe her about her ex-husband,” Bessie said flatly.
“I’m suggesting that there are two sides to every story, and my job is to try to find the truth that is usually in the middle between the two,” he countered. “I haven’t met Marcus Porter, and I think Laura seems like a very nice woman, but as I said, there are two sides to every story.”
“And she hasn’t told you her side herself,” Bessie added. “If she had, you would have seen how genuinely upset she gets when she talks about the man.”
“It would be helpful if she’d tell me the story herself,” he said. “The next time you speak to her, perhaps you should suggest that she talk to Anna or another of our female officers. Perhaps she’d feel more comfortable talking to one of them.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Bessie asked. “I’ll suggest it to her on Tuesday if I don’t see her before then. Or maybe I’ll ring her and suggest it sooner.”
“If you need me to arrange something let me know,” John said. “Anna’s actually very good at handling women who’ve been subjected to domestic violence, but we have several other officers to whom she could speak if you don’t think that Anna would be appropriate.”
“Who would you recommend?” Bessie asked.
“Either Anna or a woman I know in Douglas who’s a specialist in the area,” John said. “Karen, in Douglas, might be a better choice, actually, if only because she’s physically closer. Sometimes, when women are ready to talk, it’s best to get something arranged as quickly as possible.”
“Do you want me to ring Laura now and see if I can persuade her?” Bessie asked.
“She’ll be at work, won’t she?” John asked. “It might be better to wait until this evening. Karen is available twenty-four seven; it goes with the job.”
“The poor woman.”
“When I talked to her about it, she told me she usually gets no more than six or seven calls a year after hours and that every single one of them has been critical and life-saving. She wouldn’t trade what she does for anything.”
“And thank goodness we have people like her.”
“She’s pretty terrific, and she has an incredibly understanding husband as well.”
“I’ll try to ring Laura tonight, then,” Bessie promised. “And I’ll ring you if she agrees to talk to someone.”
After she disconnected, there was just time for a quick lunch before Doona was due to collect her. Bessie heated some soup, noting that her usually well-stocked freezer was nearly empty. She needed a weekend of making soup, spaghetti sauce, and the like soon before she ran out. At least she’d just been to the shops, so she had plenty of fresh bread to eat with her soup.
In her bedroom after lunch, Bessie changed into a black dress and low black heels. She wouldn’t feel comfortable in anything else at a memorial service, even though she knew the idea was an old-fashioned one.
“You look wonderful,” she told Doona when the other woman arrived a short while later. Doona was wearing dark grey, which Bessie was more than happy to concede was equally appropriate.
“Thanks. I feel a bit odd going as I didn’t know the woman at all,” she said. “I’m hoping no one will ask me why I’m there.”
“Tell them you’re looking after me,” Bessie suggested. “I know I don’t need looking after, but they don’t have to know that.”
Doona laughed. “You certainly don’t need looking after,” she said. “But I might just do that if I get stuck.”
The drive to the small flat that Hugh and Grace were renting didn’t take long. Grace ran out when Doona pulled up. She quickly climbed into the back of the car.
“I hope I look okay,” she said anxiously after everyone had said hello.
“You look lovely,” Bessie told her. Grace was wearing grey as well, and although it was a lighter grey than Doona’s dress, Bessie thought it was perfectly suitable for the occasion.
“Thanks. My dad rang last night and told me that I needed to wear black, but I don’t actually have a black dress,” Grace replied.
“Well, then, we’ll both be in trouble with your father,” Doona laughed.
“I was sure you’d both be in black and I’d feel terrible. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see Doona’s dress,” Grace confessed.
; Grace spent the rest of the journey telling the others about some of the children in her class, taking care not to mention any surnames, especially when the stories were about naughty behaviour.
“I love what I do, of course,” she said as they reached the church. “But getting bitten isn’t my favourite part of the job.”
“I can’t imagine,” Doona said. “I won’t complain as much about having to deal with the public in the future. At least no one has bitten me yet.”
Bessie shook her head. “I don’t think I appreciate how lucky I’ve been to not work all these years,” she said. “I have a new appreciation for Doncan and his clever money management.”
“Once we’ve found a little house and settled in, Hugh wants to start trying to put a few pounds away each month to give to Doncan to invest on our behalf,” Grace said. “Do you think he’d let us start with only a little bit of money?”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to help you, no matter how much or how little you have to invest,” Bessie said, making a mental note to ring Doncan to warn him. He generally only handled investments for his legal clients, as a special favour, but she was sure he’d help Hugh and Grace anyway.
Doona parked in the church’s car park and the trio made their way to the door. It was a large church that could probably comfortably hold several hundred people. It felt, therefore, rather empty with only fifty or so people scattered throughout the space.
“I need to sit with my parents,” Grace whispered. “You’re welcome to join me there, of course.”
“I think I’d rather sit near the back,” Bessie replied quietly. She’d spotted Grace’s mother and father near the front of the church. They were sitting with a cluster of others that Bessie assumed were all employees of the bank.
Grace nodded and then made her way forward, sliding into a space next to her father. Bessie and Doona selected an empty row about halfway down the aisle and sat. The service itself was fairly brief. It gave Bessie her first chance to get a look at Humphrey Randall, though.
He looked nervous when he came up to speak, but Bessie felt that if she had seen him in the street she would have guessed his profession. There was simply something about him that said “teacher” to her. He was nearly bald and he wore thick glasses. His dark suit looked a little bit small on him, as if he’d put on a bit of weight since he’d bought it, but he wasn’t fat by any means, just a few pounds heavier than he used to be. He cleared his throat before he said a few words.
“I just want to thank you all for coming out today,” he began. “I’m still in shock, really, and I doubt I’ll remember anything that I say or do today, so please bear with me. Julie meant the world to me. I first met her when she was sixteen and I tried, and failed, to teach her trigonometry.”
Several people in the crowd chuckled. Humphrey shrugged and gave them a small grin.
“She was just one of a classroom full of teenaged girls who laughed and giggled and mostly ignored me, and I have to admit that she didn’t make that much of an impression on me at the time. Something she wasn’t very happy to hear when I saw her again twenty years later.”
Again, a few people chuckled. Bessie found herself smiling, even as she felt incredibly sorry for the man.
“Twenty years later, we were both older and I hope wiser,” he continued. “I wasn’t a fairly new teacher who was still slightly concerned that teenaged girls were a completely different species, and she wasn’t a teenaged girl anymore. We’d both been through our fair share of relationships, the good, the bad, and the ugly, so we started out slowly, just having a drink together now and then, both being careful not to mention the L-word or make plans for more than a few days ahead.” He sighed and shook his head. “Looking back now, we wasted a lot of time, but we took things at the pace that felt safe and comfortable.”
Bessie glanced at Doona, wondering if she could see echoes of her relationship with John in what the man was saying. Doona was wiping a tear from her eye.
“We grew closer and closer and started making plans for, oh, maybe a few weeks ahead after a couple of years,” the man said, smiling. “And then, about five years ago, Julie was diagnosed with cancer. That was the moment when I knew I wanted to marry her.”
There were a few gasps from the crowd. Bessie was pleased that she wasn’t the only one surprised by the turn the story had taken.
“I proposed to her on her last day of chemo and we got married a few weeks later. When you nearly lose someone, you appreciate them so much more. I can honestly say that I told Julie I loved her every single morning and evening for the last four years. That’s not to say that we never disagreed or had bad days, but no matter how bad, no matter how angry I was, I always told her I loved her before we went to bed. Right now that’s one of the few things I’m clinging on to.”
Doona leaned over and put her arm around Bessie. “He didn’t kill her; I’d stake my life on that,” she whispered.
“If he did, he could win an award for his acting,” Bessie agreed.
“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you all for coming. It really does mean a lot me, seeing you all here, even those of you that I’ve never met. Just looking out and seeing all these faces, faces of people whose lives were touched in some way by Julie, helps. It reminds me that she was here and she mattered. She mattered to me and I hope she mattered to you.”
He looked around the room and then shrugged and took a step backwards. Several teenagers who were sitting together near the very back began to applaud and then stopped as they realised they were the only ones doing so.
“Must be students,” Bessie whispered to Doona.
“I felt like clapping,” Doona told her. “The poor man deserved applause. It was a lovely speech.”
“It was one of the nicest tributes I’ve ever heard,” Bessie said. “I hope Pete can work out what happened quickly. I’m sure that will help the poor man find peace.”
A few other people got up and said a few words, including a couple of women who had worked with Julie. Bessie was waiting to hear from Alan Rossini, Julie’s supervisor from the bank, but he didn’t speak.
“Finally, a few words from one of Julie’s closest friends, Stephanie Harris,” the vicar announced after a short while.
The woman who came to the lectern looked exhausted. Her hair was frizzy and caught in a lopsided ponytail. She was wearing a black dress that was somehow both baggy at the front and tight at the back, and her makeup had been applied too heavily by an unsteady hand. Bessie knew she was in her fifties, but she looked older.
“Julie and I were friends for many years. She was very special to me and I, that is, I, I’m sorry, I just don’t think I can,” she stopped and looked at the vicar, tears flowing down her face.
“That’s fine,” he said gently. “It’s a difficult time for you. We understand.”
A girl of about seventeen walked out of the front pew and took the woman’s arm. Stephanie looked at her for a moment and then let the girl lead her away.
“Everyone is more than welcome to join the family and friends in the community centre for coffee,” the vicar announced.
Bessie looked at Doona. “Let’s hope we can talk to a few people,” she said. “Including Stephanie Harris, who seems devastated.”
“I don’t like her,” Doona hissed.
“She’s understandably upset,” Bessie suggested.
“Maybe, but she’s upstaging the widower, which is bad form.”
Bessie nodded. “I’m sure she doesn’t mean to.”
“I’m not,” Doona shot back.
Bessie picked up her handbag, and she and Doona slowly followed the crowd out of the church itself and then into the large community centre behind it.
Chapter 9
“Let’s find Grace first,” Bessie suggested. “We promised Hugh we’d keep an eye on her.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s safe with her father,” Doona replied. “But as you wanted to talk to him as well, that’s probably a good idea.”
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Grace was standing with her parents in a small group of people. Bessie recognised a few of the women who’d spoken at the service within the group. There was no sign of Stephanie Harris.
“Ah, Bessie, how nice to see you again,” Grace’s father said, giving Bessie a hug. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding.”
“That was a much happier occasion,” Bessie said.
“It was indeed,” the man agreed. “This is terrible. Julie was a nice woman. I still can’t quite get my head around the idea that she was murdered.”
“Everything I’ve heard about her suggests the same,” Bessie agreed. “Her husband’s words were very touching.”
“They were. I’ve only met the man a few times when the bank has had social occasions, but I’ve always thought he seemed perfect for Julie. He was a rock for her when she was undergoing her treatments.”
Bessie couldn’t bring herself to question the man. Not only was he Grace’s father, but he was clearly upset about the loss of his colleague. Instead she engaged him and his wife in some small talk for a short while. After a few minutes, Grace touched her arm.
“Did you want me to introduce you to Sidney Harris?” she asked quietly.
Bessie nodded. “Where is he?”
“He’s just walked in. He’s standing by the door,” Grace said.
Bessie turned her head and tried to find the man in question. “I thought you said he was overweight,” she said to Grace after a minute. “If that’s him, he’s not at all what I was expecting from your description.”
“I almost didn’t recognise him,” Grace admitted. “I haven’t seen him in a year or more. He’s lost a lot of weight and I’m pretty sure he’s colouring his hair now, as well.”
Bessie thought about that as she followed Grace across the room. Grace made a point of meandering around, saying quick hellos to various people, as they made their way towards Sidney Harris.
“Mr. Harris, my goodness, I almost didn’t recognise you,” Grace said, looking convincingly surprised when they reached his side. “This is my dear friend, Elizabeth Cubbon. Bessie, this is Sidney Harris. He works in the corporate offices with my father and he and his wife, Stephanie, were very dear friends with Humphrey and Julie.”
Aunt Bessie Needs Page 13
