“I need to work out who had a motive,” Anna told her. “While Grace’s seems a bit thin, Hugh’s is considerably stronger.”
“Hugh didn’t have anything to do with Gennifer’s death,” Bessie said dismissively. “You need to take a good look at Elizabeth’s friends. One of them will have had a motive that’s much better than a tiny quarrel between two people in love.”
“Okay, then, what can you tell me about Elizabeth’s friends?” Anna asked.
Bessie shook her head. “I don’t really know anything about them,” she said.
“Which is why I’ve focussed my questions to you on the people you do know,” Anna replied. She sighed. “I know you have a special relationship with John Rockwell and that he seems to think you’re an asset to his investigations, but I would greatly appreciate your not trying to tell me how to do my job. I was CID in Derby for ten years before I came here. I know how to conduct a murder investigation and I’ll get the job done much more quickly without you interfering in it.”
Bessie flushed under Anna’s angry stare. “I’m sorry, but I worry about my friends,” she said eventually.
“You should only be worried about Hugh if you think he killed Gennifer,” Anna told her. “Innocent men have nothing to fear from me.”
Bessie thought about Niall Clague, a man who’d been guilty of nothing but a clouded memory. In her opinion, Anna had hounded the poor man to death, but Bessie didn’t dare accuse her of it. “Was there anything else?” she asked after a moment.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Anna told her. “If I didn’t have another appointment I’d ask you more about Hugh and Grace, but I don’t know that you’d be very cooperative anyway.”
Bessie stood up. She didn’t bother to defend herself, as Anna was quite right. The last thing she wanted to do right now was cooperate with the disagreeable woman.
“I hope I don’t have to see you again in regard to this investigation,” Anna told Bessie as she escorted her back into the reception area. “I’m expecting to have it wrapped up quite quickly and I’m sure you know better than to get involved.” She turned and walk back towards her office before Bessie had worked out a suitable reply.
“Is someone meant to be taking me home?” Bessie asked the girl behind the desk.
She wrinkled her nose. “Oooh, I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll just ring the inspector and ask, shall I?”
“Don’t bother,” Bessie said quickly. “I’ll get a taxi.”
“Right then, thanks for coming in,” the girl replied.
Bessie turned and headed out of the station. There was a taxi rank a few doors away, and if that was empty she could pop into the nearby pub and ring for a car from there. She didn’t want to spend another minute at the station. As luck would have it, there was a single car idling at the taxi rank. Bessie climbed in and gave the driver her address.
“That isn’t too far,” the man said cheerfully. “I don’t suppose you have any biscuits in the cupboard? You could make me a cuppa and I could forget to charge you for the short journey.”
Bessie laughed as she recognised the man. “Dale Sommers? What are you doing back on the island?”
“Ah, we all come back eventually,” the man told her. “I’ve been bouncing back and forth between here and Blackpool for the last few years, but mum’s health isn’t great, so me and the wife decided it was time to move back for good. I’m retired anyway, but the taxi is a good excuse to get out of the house and make a bit of spare cash. Mostly, though, it gets me out of the house. Mum and the wife get along like a house on fire and they’re always nagging me to do things. I’d rather drive a car full of drunk lads to Port Erin than listen to those two when they get going.”
“You don’t mean it,” she said as they pulled up to her cottage.
“Nah, they’re both wonderful and I love them dearly, but it’s nice to get out a couple days a week with the taxi anyway.”
“Come in for that tea, then,” Bessie suggested. “Although I won’t be having any as I’ve been invited to tea later this afternoon.”
“Do you need a ride for that, then?” the man asked as he walked Bessie to her door.
Bessie looked at the cloudy skies and shrugged. “It’s only a short distance down the beach, but I might do, if it’s raining. I’d hate to ruin my special occasion clothes.”
“Going to Thie yn Traie for tea?” Dale asked. “It was those lads there that I was thinking of earlier.”
“They were drunk and you took them to Port Erin?” Bessie asked, surprised.
“Actually, I collected a bunch of them at Ronaldsway,” Dale told her. “They were well drunk when they got off their plane and they were, um, not enjoyable company on the trip to Thie yn Traie.”
“I don’t suppose you got their names?”
Dale frowned. “I heard there was some trouble up at the mansion last night,” he said. “I don’t want to be talking about things I shouldn’t.”
“One of the young women who was staying there was killed,” Bessie told him. “The police need to know everything they can about her friends. Maybe you can help.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother the police,” Dale said hastily. “I was just talking, like, telling you about the life of a taxi driver, that’s all.”
Bessie made the man some tea and put some biscuits on a plate. “So tell me about the life of a taxi driver,” she said encouragingly. “Tell me about collecting that group from the airport. How many people did you collect?”
“I had four in my cab, and my mate, he had another three in his. Mrs. Quayle booked us, you see. She likes to use local companies. She’s a real lady, is Mrs. Quayle.”
Bessie smiled at the assessment of her friend. “Was anyone particularly badly behaved?” she asked.
Dale shrugged. “All of them,” he said. “I took the guys and my mate took the ladies. It seemed best to split them up because they were all fighting pretty badly.”
“Were they now?”
“Oh, aye,” Dale said. “One of the women was really unhappy about being on the island and she wasn’t shy about blaming her boyfriend for dragging her here.”
“Did she have red hair?” Bessie asked.
“Yeah, I didn’t catch her name, but she was really pretty. She was by far the prettiest of the girls.”
“That was Gennifer,” Bessie told him. “She’s the girl who died last night.”
Dale put his cup down and frowned. “That’s really sad,” he said. “She was something special with all that red hair and those long legs. She was pretty awful to her boyfriend, though. She seemed as if she was used to getting her way, and it was clear that coming to the island was Nigel’s idea.”
“Yes, someone else told me that as well,” Bessie said. “What about the others? What were they like?”
“I didn’t pay much attention to the girls; as I said, they went in the other car. To be honest, next to that redhead, they pretty much faded into the background. I felt sorry for Nigel. I only got his name because she kept talking so loudly about how Nigel had ruined her weekend.”
“And the other men?”
Dale shrugged. “They seemed like typical spoiled rich kids, really. One of them was nicer than the others, but mostly they all seemed cut from the same sort of tall, dark, handsome and rude cloth.”
“Did you overhear what they were talking about on the journey to Thie yn Traie?” Bessie asked.
“At first the others were all teasing Nigel about his girlfriend.” Dale flushed. “Some of the conversation was pretty rude. I won’t repeat it.”
“That’s fine,” Bessie assured him.
“Mostly they were talking about, well, which girls they were planning to, um, well, sleep with while they were here. Someone told Nigel to give up on his girlfriend and just, um, well, be intimate with Emma, whichever one she is.”
“Do you know why they suggested Emma?”
“The one guy, he was shorter than the others, he said somethi
ng about Emma being in love with Nigel for years and everyone laughed,” Dale shook his head. “I wasn’t really paying that much attention, you know. I was just driving. They were just typical fares, drunk, rude and cheap.”
“You should stop in at the police station and tell them about all of this,” Bessie told the man. “They’re trying to find out all they can about the dead woman and her friends. Your friend should make a statement as well.”
“I don’t want to be bothering the police,” Dale said firmly. “Anyway, I shouldn’t be repeating what I heard in my taxi. It’s like with a solicitor, privileged communication or whatever.”
Bessie frowned, but she wasn’t surprised. In her experience, very few people were eager to talk to the police.
“I hope you don’t mind if I repeat what you’ve told me to a friend of mine,” she said instead. “He’s with the police, but he’s not part of this investigation. He was actually one of the guests at the party. I told him I’d share anything interesting that I heard with him.”
Dale shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said. He swallowed the last of his tea. “Now, what time do you need to be at Thie yn Traie?”
“Oh, goodness, in about twenty minutes,” Bessie exclaimed. She’d been so interested in their conversation that she’s nearly forgotten about tea with Mary. “I need to change into something more appropriate.”
“You run up and change,” Dale said. “I’ll wash up the dishes, just like I did when I was a teenager. You really did train us well.”
Bessie grinned and then headed up the stairs. As she changed into a grey dress and pulled her black jacket on over it, she thought about what Dale had said. She’d always welcomed her teenaged guests, letting them spend the night with her when they were struggling to get along with their parents. But she had strict rules. She often felt that her rules were part of the attraction. As so many parents tried to be friends with their children and raise them in an environment with hardly any structure, the regulations at Bessie’s must have made it feel like a safe place.
Everyone who stayed knew exactly what Bessie expected. If she served tea and biscuits, it was guest’s job to take care of the washing-up. Bessie smiled as she patted some powder on her nose. No doubt a great many coddled young men and women in Laxey had done their first lot of washing-up in Bessie’s tiny cottage.
Back downstairs, Dale was just drying the last cup. He put it in the cupboard and then turned to Bessie. “I’ll drive you over. It’s raining too heavily for you to walk, no matter how much you’d like to.”
Bessie glanced out the window. The man was right; the rain was coming down in sheets. She pulled on her waterproof coat and her Wellington boots, tucking her low black heels into a small bag. She’d just have to change once she’d arrived at Mary’s mansion.
“What about an umbrella?” Dale asked as Bessie opened her door.
“Too windy,” was Bessie verdict.
Dale helped Bessie into his car before getting in himself. By that time he was soaked through.
“You need to go home and change out of your wet things,” Bessie told him.
“I think I’ll give myself the rest of the day off,” he said cheerfully. “Any excuse, you know.”
Bessie chuckled. The drive was a short one. Dale insisted on parking and walking Bessie to the mansion’s front door. Bessie rang the bell and then waited under a small overhang to be admitted.
“You get back to the car and get home,” she told Dale. “There isn’t room for both of us under here and there’s no need for you to get any wetter.”
Dale took a step towards his car before Bessie spoke again.
“But wait, I haven’t paid you,” she said.
“It’s on me,” the man replied. “After all the times you welcomed me into your home when I was a spoiled, self-absorbed teen, a few rides is the least I can do.”
Bessie would have argued, but just then the door behind her opened.
“Ah, Miss Cubbon, do come in,” Bruce said, stepping backwards and bowing.
Dale used the interruption as his chance to get away. When Bessie turned back to him, he was already in the car, starting the engine. With a sigh, Bessie walked into Thie yn Traie.
“Mary told us you were coming for tea,” Bruce said. “I do hope you’ll be able to lighten the mood in there.”
“I can’t imagine how awful this is for Mr. and Mrs. Carter-Maxwell,” Bessie replied. “I’m not sure anything I can say will help.”
Bruce shrugged. “At least, with you here, I’ve someone else to talk to,” he said. He offered Bessie his arm and the pair made their way into the house.
“You look tired,” Bessie told the young man.
“We didn’t get to bed until quite late last night,” Bruce said. “And then I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get Gennifer out of my head. I feel as if I might never sleep properly again.”
“Perhaps you should see a doctor,” Bessie said. “They can give you something to help for a few days, until the shock has worn off.”
“I’m fine,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “Someone has to stay sane around here.”
Bessie wondered what he meant, but didn’t get the chance to ask as they arrived at the great room. A large group of people were gathered in one of the seating areas, and Bruce and Bessie headed for them. They were only halfway across the room when Mary jumped up to meet them.
“Ah, Bessie, there you are,” she said, sounding relieved. “Come and meet Gennifer’s parents.”
Mary took her other arm and Bessie found herself being almost dragged across the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter-Maxwell, this is Miss Elizabeth Cubbon. She’s our nearest neighbour and a dear friend.”
Bessie smiled at the couple who were sitting together on one of the couches. Mr. Carter-Maxwell had a full head of grey hair and he looked like a banker or a solicitor. Bessie would have placed him in his early sixties, if she’d had to guess his age. His wife wasn’t much younger, which surprised Bessie. It appeared that the woman was doing her best to fight the aging process, though. Her face had an artificially tight appearance that suggested cosmetic surgery. They were both dressed in black, the clothes obviously expensive.
“You must call me James,” the man said, nodding his head at Bessie.
She’d been about to offer her hand, but the nod stopped her.
“And I’m Harriet,” his wife added, giving Bessie a chilly smile.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” Bessie said.
“Do sit down,” Mary said. “They’ll be bringing tea in shortly.”
Bessie took the nearest empty chair and found herself sitting between Emma and Howard. Elizabeth and the rest of her friends were scattered in chairs and on couches that made up something like a circle. No one was looking at anyone else.
“Gennifer was a beautiful girl,” Bessie said once she was settled. “I was never blessed with children, and I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you,” Harriet said after an awkward silence. She looked at her husband for a moment and then back at Bessie. “It is difficult, of course.”
“I must go and see how the staff is getting on,” Mary said.
After more uncomfortable silence, Bessie felt she had to speak. “I didn’t get a chance to get to know Gennifer, so I know nothing about your family. Do you have other children?”
Again, Harriet looked at her husband before she spoke. He was staring straight ahead and didn’t meet her eyes.
“Our sons, Charles and Andrew, are older than Gennifer, and we have a second daughter, Millicent, who is two years younger,” the woman finally replied.
“I’m sure they’re a comfort to you,” Bessie murmured, feeling as if everything she was saying was wrong.
“Of course,” the woman agreed.
Bessie looked around at the others, but they all appeared busy inspecting the carpet under their chairs, the view out the window or their fingernails. Bessie was jus
t about to try again when Mary came back in, followed by two maids with large tea trolleys.
“Here we are, then,” Mary said.
For a few minutes everyone was busy getting drinks and filling small plates with finger sandwiches, scones and tiny cakes. When everyone settled back into their seats with their hands full, Bessie could only hope some of the tension had been relieved.
“When will the rain stop?” Howard asked suddenly. “It feels as if it has done nothing but rain since we arrived.”
Mary and Bessie exchanged looks. “It does rain a great deal here in the winter,” Bessie told him.
“And in the summer,” Elizabeth chimed in. “It’s a small island surrounded by sea. If it isn’t raining, it’s just stopped raining or just about to rain.”
“It isn’t that bad,” Mary said.
“It really is,” Elizabeth retorted. “And don’t get me started on the fog.”
“And now we’re stuck here,” Nigel complained. “The police won’t let us go anywhere until they work out what happened to Gennifer.”
“From what the woman they sent to talk to us said, that shouldn’t take long,” James Carter-Maxwell said. “She seemed to think she knows what happened. She just needs to find enough evidence to make an arrest.”
“Really?” Bessie said. “I didn’t realise the inspector was that far along in the investigation.”
“She seems to think a young police constable was involved,” Harriet said. “Young people today.” She shook her head.
Bessie quickly swallowed half of her cup of tea to keep herself from speaking. As much as she wanted to defend Hugh, there was no point in upsetting the grieving parents. More than anything, she was angry at Anna Lambert, but there was nothing she could do about her.
“Well, I hope they get it sorted quickly,” Howard said. “I don’t mind spending the weekend here, but I have to be at work on Monday morning.”
“We all do,” Sarah said. “And some of us can’t go running to mummy and daddy if we lose our jobs, as well.”
“Oh, please,” Elizabeth groaned. “I know it was difficult when your parents turned you out and told you that you had to do something with your life, but they’ve bankrolled everything you’ve done since. You know if your little shop went under tomorrow, they’d bail you out again. Anyway, you hardly ever work there. The last three times I’ve visited, you weren’t anywhere near the place.”
Aunt Bessie Knows (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 11) Page 8
