“It was your wife who spoke at the service,” Bessie said as she shook the man’s hand. “I do hope she’s okay.”
“She’s incredibly sad and, well, shaken up by the whole thing,” the man said. “Murders happen on television dramas, not on the Isle of Man.”
Bessie bit her tongue. In the past year and a half she’d seen more than her fair share of murders, but she didn’t want to discuss that with a stranger.
“Where is Stephanie?” Grace asked. “I was looking forward to seeing her. It’s been years.”
“Unfortunately, she went home,” Sidney replied. “She’s been suffering with migraines since, well, for several days. Today was the first time she’s been out of the house since we heard about Julie. The service was very difficult for her.”
“I knew Julie when she was a teenager in Laxey,” Bessie said. “She and her family moved to Douglas when she was in high school.”
“Yes, of course, because of the problems with her teacher at the Ramsey high school,” the man replied. “Julie told me all about it. If it happened today, of course, the man would have been fired and never been allowed to teach again, but she always insisted that she wasn’t the least bit traumatised by the incident.”
“It still shouldn’t have happened,” Bessie said firmly. “I’m surprised she talked to you about it, though. I would have thought it was something she’d want to forget.”
The man shrugged. “She seemed to think it was almost funny,” he said. “Not the way the teacher behaved, but the fight that she got into over the matter. The way she told it, she and the other girl were screaming and shouting and nearly came to blows. Looking back, Julie always said she couldn’t believe they got that upset over a man who was rather dull and a terrible kisser.”
“Her husband paid a beautiful tribute to her,” Bessie said. “He was clearly deeply in love with her.”
“Yes,” the man said sharply. “Although I didn’t hear all of his remarks. I came in late. I was at work, but I wanted to be there in time to support Stephanie.”
“That was nice of you,” Grace said. “I’m sure she appreciated it.”
“I’m not sure she noticed,” the man said with a rueful smile. “Anyway, the kids were there. It was our daughter who led her off when she broke down.”
“She looks a lot like you,” Bessie said.
“Thank you. I think both of our children look more like me than my wife, but that may just be wishful thinking,” he replied.
“I don’t know that I saw your son, but you’re right about your daughter, anyway,” Bessie assured him.
“They’re over by the food table,” Grace said, gesturing towards the opposite side of the room.
Bessie looked over and then smiled. The two children were standing together. Their resemblance to one another was striking. They both had their father’s dark hair and slender build. From that distance, Bessie couldn’t see anything of their mother in them at all.
“I should go and see how they’re doing,” Sidney said. “They won’t know many people and, well, these things are awkward for everyone, aren’t they? I’ll tell Stephanie you were asking about her,” he told Grace. “She might be at the bank on Monday. If you come in, maybe you’ll see her there.”
“I’d like that,” Grace replied.
The man nodded at Bessie and then walked away to join his children. He said a few words to his daughter that made her roll her eyes and walk away. After a moment, the son followed, with their father on his heels.
“That’s odd,” Grace said. “It looks as if they’re leaving.”
Bessie watched as the trio made their way to the nearest exit and then left. Sidney waved to a few people along the way, but didn’t stop to speak to anyone. “And they’ve gone,” she said to Grace.
“I would have thought he’d want to stay to support Humphrey,” Grace said.
“Maybe he’s worried about Stephanie,” Bessie suggested.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Grace replied. “Oh, there’s Alan Rossini. Did you want to meet him?”
“Yes, please,” Bessie said.
Doona had been chatting with Grace’s mother; now she broke away and joined Bessie and Grace. “Did you get Sidney Harris to confess?” she asked Bessie.
“I wish. He didn’t say much, and then he and his children left,” Bessie replied. “Grace is going to introduce me to Alan Rossini now.”
“Oh, I’d like to meet him,” Doona said. “He was Julie’s supervisor at the bank, right? I still think he’s probably embezzling from the bank and Julie found out.”
“I hope not,” Grace said.
The man was standing near the drinks table, so the trio made their way towards him, talking about getting themselves drinks.
Bessie helped herself to a cup of tea and then turned to the man, who was standing next to her.
“Such a sad occasion,” she said.
“Do I know you?” the man asked.
“Mr. Rossini?” Grace jumped in. “Goodness, I haven’t seen you in years. How are you?”
“Grace Christian? I’m not sure I would have recognised you if I passed you on the street,” the man said. “Although your father has pictures of you all over his office, of course.”
“This is my dear friend, Elizabeth Cubbon,” Grace told the man. “She knew Julie as a child.”
“How nice,” the man replied. He turned away from Bessie, who exchanged glances with Grace.
“Bessie, this is Alan Rossini,” Grace added. The man nodded in Bessie’s direction. “Mr. Rossini was Julie’s supervisor at the bank.”
“Call me Alan,” the man said curtly before turning around to get a cup of tea.
“And this is Bessie’s friend, Doona Moore,” Grace added.
Alan glanced up from his cup and nodded in Doona’s direction.
After a moment, Grace tried again to engage the man in conversation. “It was such a shock, hearing about Julie’s death,” Grace said.
The man glanced back towards Grace and gave her a tight smile. “Yes, I’m sure it was.”
“She was just an ordinary person,” Grace burbled. “I can’t imagine why anyone would murder her. Can you?”
“Me?” Alan asked. “I barely knew the woman.”
“You were her supervisor. You must have seen her at work every day for years,” Grace suggested.
“I run a large department with over twenty employees,” the man said pompously. “Ms. Randall only worked part-time for us and I make it a point not to get involved in the personal lives of my staff.”
“Was she working for you when she was sick?” Doona asked.
“She worked for me for nine years,” the man replied. “I believe her husband said she had cancer around four years ago, so I imagine so.”
Bessie was shocked that the man seemed to be suggesting that he hadn’t know when the woman was undergoing cancer treatment. Surely she discussed the matter with her coworkers and her supervisor?
“I would have thought she would have had to take a lot of time off to deal with treatments,” Grace said.
“Perhaps she did,” the man shrugged. “Human resources handles scheduling. My job is to supervise the customer service staff on the bank floor. If she needed time off, she would have requested it through HR, not me.”
“But you don’t remember her missing a lot of work at the time?” Bessie asked.
“As I said earlier, I have over twenty staff at any given time. You wouldn’t believe how many of them get sick or decide to have babies or whatnot. I can’t possibly keep track of all of them and their personal lives. I get the schedule from HR and I note when someone is late or doesn’t turn up for their shift, and HR handles the necessary disciplinary action. I can’t see why this is any of your concern, though,” he said to Bessie with a frown.
Bessie counted to ten before she replied. “Julie was a sweet girl, and I was very upset to hear that she’d been killed,” she said slowly. “We’d lost touch when she moved to Dougla
s, and I suppose I’m trying to work out whether she’d found happiness or not.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy you.”
“Yes, well, as I said, I have a large staff to manage. I can’t get bogged down in everyone’s private issues,” the man repeated himself.
“Bessie, Doona, let’s go and talk to a few of my friends,” Grace suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Bessie said. She and Doona followed Grace across the room to a circle of young women who were standing in one corner. Bessie recognised a few of them as having spoken at the memorial service. Just before they reached the group, Grace stopped.
“I didn’t remember Mr. Rossini as being quite that horrid,” she said to Bessie in a low voice. “I can’t believe that he didn’t know that Julie was sick.”
“He did seem rather cold,” Bessie said. “But he’s probably very good at his job.”
“He seems like the type who could happily embezzle millions away from innocent customers,” Doona said. “Especially little old ladies and orphan children.”
Grace and Bessie both laughed. “If he is embezzling, I’ll bet he’s covering his tracks well,” Grace said.
“Or maybe he was secretly in love with Julie and that’s why he’s acting so cold,” Doona suggested.
“I don’t think he’s capable of loving anything,” Grace muttered, glancing back at the man who was standing by himself sipping his tea.
“Grace Christian, is that you?” a voice called.
Grace laughed and then stepped forward to hug the woman who had spoken. “Except I’m Grace Watterson now,” she told the girl.
“And you didn’t invite me to the wedding?” the girl demanded. “I mean, I didn’t invite you to mine, but that’s not important.”
“You’re married?” Grace asked.
“About a year ago,” the girl replied. “We just had a quiet ceremony, me and him and our parents and that was about it.”
“We had a pretty small wedding as well,” Grace told her. “Although Hugh is a police constable so we had a lot of police there.”
“If I weren’t happily married, I’d be angry that you didn’t invite me. I love a man in uniform,” was the reply.
“Annabelle Andrews, these are my friends, Elizabeth Cubbon and Doona Moore,” Grace said.
“It’s Annabelle Zelin now, though,” the girl said. “I went from A to Z in a day.”
“Annabelle and I were at school together,” Grace told Bessie and Doona. “She worked at the bank with Julie, as well.”
“I knew Julie when she was a teenager,” Bessie told the other woman. “I was shocked to hear that she was murdered.”
“It is odd,” Annabella agreed. “I always thought murders only happened on telly, although I know there have been a lot of cases up in the Laxey area in the last year or so. Still, this is the first time I’ve ever known anyone who was murdered.”
“What was Julie like?” Grace asked.
“She was okay,” Annabelle replied. “She was older and she kind of kept to herself. And she was only part-time, so I didn’t see her that often. She was always nice, but only as much as she had to be, if that makes sense. I came today for Mr. Randall as much as for her. He was one of my favourite teachers in school.”
“Mine, too,” Grace agreed.
A couple of the other women who were chatting together joined the group, and for a moment introductions went in every direction. Bessie wasn’t sure she’d quite caught everyone’s name, but she kept her mouth shut as the conversation worked its way back to Julie Randall.
“She used to bring these gorgeous chocolates in every so often,” one of the women said. “They were from some shop in France, and she had a friend who travelled there once a month or so and brought her back a box.”
“Oh, I remember those,” another exclaimed. “She started bringing them about a year ago and then one day she stopped.”
“Yeah, I asked her about it and she said her friend wasn’t going to France anymore, but I think she just decided to keep them all for herself,” Annabelle said.
Everyone laughed. “I wouldn’t blame her,” the first woman said after a moment. “They were really wonderful chocolates.”
“Before she got sick, she used to bake,” someone said. “Cakes and biscuits and all sorts. She would bring something in every Friday. That was back in the days when even part-time staff had set schedules, before, well, before.” The woman glanced over at Alan Rossini and clamped her lips shut.
“Before what?” Grace asked.
“Mr. Rossini made some changes about five years ago, right after I started, really,” Annabelle told her. “Everyone used to have a fairly regular schedule that only changed when someone needed holiday time or was sick or something. Mr. Rossini decided it would be better to change things up so that everyone would have a chance to open or close or work the late-night shift.”
“It wasn’t a very popular decision,” one of the women added.
“It’s hard for those of us who have children,” another chimed in. “He blames everything on human resources, saying they do the schedules, but he has a hand in them, that’s for sure.”
“The only one who never complained about the change was Julie,” Annabelle added. “Somehow, every week when the new schedule came out, it perfectly suited her and the time she wanted off or needed to be off for her treatments and things.”
“Yeah, it was weird. I was begging people to take my late shifts so I could be home when my kids got out of school, and she never had to change a shift because of chemo or anything,” a woman said, her tone slightly bitter.
“Was it just down to luck?” Grace asked.
Annabelle shrugged. “It might have been, I suppose. She cut her hours down to only about ten a week, so I suppose it’s possible she was just lucky with her hours, week after week.”
“Is there another possible explanation?” Doona asked.
Annabelle glanced at the others and then looked around the room. Finally she leaned forward and spoke quietly. “That was about the same time she and her husband began to get friendly with Sidney and Stephanie Harris. As I understand it, she met Stephanie in hospital and they became the closest of friends. With Sidney being a vice president, he could have pulled a few strings to make sure his wife’s friend was being well taken care of, I suppose.”
“And Alan didn’t object?” Grace wondered.
“Ha! He probably didn’t even know it was happening,” Annabelle said. “He’s incredibly thick, really. He can just about manage his job, as long as everything is running smoothly, but there’s a reason why he isn’t actually responsible for making the weekly schedules. He’d make a mess of it if he had to do them.”
“He’s been at the bank for a long time,” Grace said.
“Yeah, and he’s risen as high as he ever will,” Annabelle replied. “When he started, he was a customer service rep himself, and he slowly worked his way up to be a supervisor. In those days, there were only about four people in the whole department, so it wasn’t too difficult. Now he has a large staff of both full- and part-time staff and he’s in over his head.”
“Why do they keep him?” Doona asked.
“Because he understands the computer system better than anyone else,” Annabelle replied. “When we get a customer with questions about their account, Mr. Rossini can track down the issue on our computers super quick. He’s brilliant with computers, just rubbish with people.”
“He should move into the IT department, then,” Grace suggested.
“He wants to, but he keeps getting turned down. They prefer to hire people with degrees and he doesn’t have one. He was shortlisted for the last opening, but in the end, they brought someone over from across,” Annabelle replied.
Bessie bit her tongue before she could ask any hasty questions. Annabelle had to be talking about Marcus Porter. “Was Mr. Rossini terribly disappointed?” she asked, trying to work out how to bring Laura’s ex-husband into the con
versation naturally.
“It’s hard to tell with Mr. Rossini,” Annabelle said with a laugh. “Anyway, the new guy seems nice enough. He came through last week to introduce himself. He’s really cute, even if he is probably fifty. If I weren’t happily married, I’d be tempted to crash my computer in the hopes that he’d be the one to fix it.”
“Except he isn’t doing that sort of thing,” one of the other girls told her. “I already tried that and it was Stuart who turned up, same as always.”
“How disappointing,” Annabelle laughed.
“I was hoping the new guy might be here today,” the same girl said. “But he hasn’t turned up.”
“He’ll probably make an appearance on Monday,” Annabelle suggested. “I think everyone from corporate is expected to come through and be seen to be suitably saddened by Julie’s sudden death.”
“What’s happening on Monday?” Doona asked, even though Bessie was sure she knew exactly what the women were talking about.
“The bank is having a, well, I don’t know what you’d call it,” Annabelle said. “A tribute, maybe? On Monday afternoon, from two to four, they’re going to have biscuits and tea and coffee for anyone and everyone in memory of Julie. It’s sort of weird, but I think they’re trying to be nice.”
“It sounds very nice,” Bessie said. “I’m sure many of the customers who got to know her over the years will appreciate the chance to come in and talk to others about their memories.”
“She did have several favourite customers,” Annabelle agreed. “We all do, really, although Julie was a real favourite among a certain group of little old dears who always took about ten times longer than they should have to complete the simplest of transactions. Julie never minded when they stood at her counter, going on and on about their latest grandbaby while they dug around for a pen or whatever. She was much more patient than I am, that’s for sure.”
Aunt Bessie Needs Page 14
