“I like that idea,” Eoin said. “We’ve had dozens of temporary workers over the years and some of them were quite capable of killing a man, I reckon.”
“I don’t suppose you remember any of their names or know where they are now?” Bessie asked.
“I don’t suppose I do,” Eoin said. “Fen might have kept track of a few of them, but once they left here, I didn’t really care where they went or what they did.”
“What about any that were here when Jacob Conover was on the island?”
Eoin shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t really keep track. In those days Niall was in charge, anyway. I was just one of the hired help.”
“Until you and Fenella fell in love,” Bessie said.
“Best thing that ever happened to me,” the man replied.
Bessie smiled to herself as she saw the look that came over the man’s face. He was clearly still deeply in love with his wife, even after all of their years together.
He pulled up in front of the farmhouse and turned to Bessie. “I really hope you don’t upset Fen,” he said anxiously. “She hasn’t slept properly since that body turned up. I’m hoping, given enough time, she’ll forget all about it.”
“I should think she’ll sleep better once the police work out what happened to the man,” Bessie replied. “And the only way they’re going to do that is if everyone answers all their questions with as much information as they can provide.”
“I’ve told them everything I know and so has Fen,” Eoin said angrily. “Anyway, you aren’t the police, so you don’t need to bother my wife.”
“I’ll just have a cup of tea and chat about the weather,” Bessie said in her most reassuring voice. “Thank you for letting me see the turkeys. I’m really looking forward to the feast.”
“I’ll have them delivered to The Swing Bridge in plenty of time,” Eoin told her.
Bessie got out of the car and walked up the path to the house. If Eoin felt that strongly about it, she wouldn’t ask Fenella any questions, no matter how difficult that might be. She knocked and then turned and smiled at Eoin, who was still sitting in the car watching her. When Fenella opened the door, Bessie gave Eoin a quick wave and then quickly entered the house.
“Did he tell you not to talk about the body?” Fenella asked as she led Bessie into the spacious kitchen.
“I promised him I won’t ask any questions,” Bessie told her.
Fenella sighed deeply. “That man,” she said tiredly. She waved Bessie into a chair at the small wooden table in one corner of the kitchen. Bessie watched as the other woman switched on the kettle and piled a few biscuits on a plate.
“Sorry they aren’t my own,” she said as she put the plate on the table. “I don’t bake very often these days. Eoin doesn’t care if they’re store-bought; he doesn’t eat much anyway, with his health.”
“I’m certainly not going to complain,” Bessie told her. “You’re being kind enough to provide tea and biscuits, after all.”
Fenella smiled. “I know you only want to talk to me about the body, no matter what you promised my husband.”
Bessie shook her head. “I’m happy to talk about whatever you’d like,” she told the woman. “But I am curious about the body and I would like to know who it was and what happened to him.”
Fenella nodded. “It is a strange thing, isn’t it? I can’t believe the body has been there all this time and we never knew about it. But it worries me as well.”
“I suppose you must worry that your father was involved,” Bessie replied, carefully making her remark a statement, not a question.
Fenella got up from the table and began to fix the tea. She didn’t reply until after it was poured and served. Then she sat back down and looked at Bessie. “He doesn’t remember me,” she said sadly. “And it’s harder and harder for me to remember what he was like before, when he was younger and his mind was sharp.”
“He was a very hard-working man,” Bessie said. “He loved this farm and he loved you. He was so proud of you, and of everything that you did.”
“I remember I came third in a race on sports day when I was in year three or four. You might have thought I’d won an Olympic medal the way he carried on when I told him.”
Bessie reached out to pat Fenella’s hand as the woman’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s so hard,” she told Bessie. “Sometimes he has moments where he remembers something from long ago, and we laugh and reminisce together and it’s almost magical, and then suddenly he’s lost again.”
“I’m so sorry,” Bessie said.
Fenella took a deep breath and then straightened in her chair. “Still, mustn’t complain. He’s happy where he is, even if he gets confused a great deal. I visit when I can, but the farm takes up a lot of my time. If he did know what was happening, he’d understand.”
Bessie nodded. “He would at that,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll go and see him one day soon. I’d like to do that.”
“I’m sure he’d like that as well,” Fenella said. “He loves visitors, even though he rarely recognises anyone. If you take him some chocolate biscuits, he’ll like you even more.”
Bessie laughed. “I think I can manage that,” she said.
“Please don’t ask him about the body,” Fenella said. “He’s so confused anyway, there’s no telling what he’d say.”
“I won’t,” Bessie promised.
“That police woman, she’s going to interview him, she said,” Fenella told her. “Like you can interview someone in that state.”
“Inspector Lambert?” Bessie asked.
“That’s the one,” Fenella agreed. “She talked to me for hours, and then asked Eoin the same questions. I’m sure she’s going to ask my father all manner of things he can’t possibly answer.”
“She has a job to do,” Bessie said.
“I know, but my father might say anything,” Fenella complained. “He might confess to murder or even blame Eoin for it. He’s not in his right mind.”
“I’m sure they’ll take that into account,” Bessie assured her. “And it’s just possible he might remember something that’s relevant.”
“Except you can never be sure with him, whether he’s actually remembering something or just making things up.”
“But with the body found here, she has to talk to him,” Bessie said. “It was his farm in those days. If anyone ought to know what happened, it’s him.”
Fenella nodded. “But whatever he knows is now trapped inside a very fragmented brain,” she said sadly.
A dozen questions popped into Bessie’s head, but mindful of her promise to Eoin, she washed them all down with a sip of tea. Fenella was watching her closely and after a minute she chuckled.
“You did say you’d promised Eoin not to ask anything,” she said. “But I can’t stand seeing you biting your tongue so hard. For what it’s worth, I don’t really remember Jacob Conover at all. I was eighteen the summer he was here and I was busy learning all about running the farm.”
She looked down at the table and blushed. “Eoin was just starting to court me that summer as well,” she said quietly. “But I didn’t really notice until later. I’d never really had a boyfriend so I just thought he was being nice for the longest time.”
“It’s a good thing he was persistent,” Bessie said with a laugh.
“He told me once that he very nearly gave up on me. I gather there were one or two other young ladies who were not quite as stupid about men as I was. Eoin didn’t go to the pub very often, but I don’t think he was short of company when he did stop in for a drink.”
Bessie smiled. “He was a good-looking young man,” she remembered. “I think there were a few young women who were quite disappointed when he married you.”
Fenella nodded. “Of course, there were a few men who were disappointed as well,” she pointed out. “But that was mostly because I was the heir to the Clague farm.”
“You were a lovely young woman,” Bessie said stoutly. “I’m sure
more than one man in the village would have taken you out, given the opportunity.”
“But my father wasn’t about to let that happen,” Fenella told her. “He didn’t want me to get married until I was older. Eoin only managed to court me because he was here on the farm. My father didn’t really notice our relationship was developing until it was too late and Eoin was asking for my hand. If it had been anyone else, my father would have chased him away for sure.”
“You don’t remember the man, but his body was found on your farm,” Bessie mused.
“Which isn’t a question, but I will answer what you want to know,” Fenella said with a grin. “Unfortunately, it isn’t much of an answer, though. I haven’t the slightest idea why he was on our farm. I suppose it’s possible he was killed somewhere else, though, and the body was just hidden here.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Bessie said. “Although that does rather complicate things. I’d much rather think that he came up here to talk to one of the farmhands after the pub and that person accidently killed him and hid the body.”
Fenella nodded. “I quite like that solution,” she said. “We’ve had a huge number of farmhands over the years. Most of them didn’t last long, though. Farming is hard work and many of them decided to move across and try to find something that was easier and paid better.”
“Farming is hard work,” Bessie agreed. “I’m not sure how you’ve managed to keep it up for all these years.”
“It’s my farm,” Fenella told her. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve kept in touch with any of the farmhands you’ve hired over the years,” Bessie said.
“Only a few,” Fenella told her. “Eoin isn’t the least bit sentimental, but some of them, the ones who stay for a year or more, become almost like family. I usually insist on getting a forwarding address for them and I usually write, at least once or twice. If they write back, I keep up the correspondence.”
“So what’s the longest you’ve kept in touch with anyone?” Bessie asked.
“Oh, I have one man I write to who worked here in the forties,” Fenella told her. “He got married and ended up going down the pits in Yorkshire. He and my father were friends and he used to write every year about how much he missed the island and hated it in the mine. I still get a card every Christmas from him. His wife died about twenty years ago, but his kids are all over there, so he’s never come back.”
“I wonder if anyone you’re still in touch with would remember Jacob,” Bessie said thoughtfully.
“I didn’t think of that,” Fenella exclaimed. “I’ll have to go through my book and see who might have been here at the right time.”
“I don’t know, if I’d killed someone and hidden the body, if I’d keep in touch or not,” Bessie mused.
“I think I’d simply disappear,” Fenella said. “You could do that in those days.”
Bessie didn’t get to reply. A loud buzzing noise interrupted their talk.
“Someone’s at the door,” Fenella said. “You stay here and I’ll go see who it is.”
Fenella was back a moment later, with Inspector Anna Lambert following close behind her.
“Would you like a cuppa?” Fenella asked the woman.
“No, thank you,” Anna answered coolly. “I just have a few quick questions. I can wait until Miss Cubbon leaves. I don’t want to interrupt your visit.”
“I just came to see my turkeys,” Bessie told her. “And then Fenella was kind enough to make me some tea.”
“Indeed,” the woman said, frowning.
Bessie got to her feet. “I’ll just ring for a taxi,” she said, feeling flustered. She dug out her mobile. After a short conversation, she smiled sheepishly at the other women. “It’s going to be a few minutes,” she said apologetically. “I can wait in another room or outside, if you’d like.”
“Don’t be silly,” Fenella said. “Sit back down and have another biscuit. The inspector can ask her questions in front of you. I haven’t anything to hide.”
For a moment Bessie thought the policewoman was going to argue, but after a long pause she smiled tightly.
“If you prefer,” she said. Anna sat down on the edge of one of the chairs and looked from Fenella to Bessie and back again. “How many farmhands do you have working here at any given time?” she asked.
“Oh, it varies depending on the time of year,” Fenella answered. “At harvest time we have more, but this time of year we only have one or two. Eoin and I do most of the work.”
“So you don’t employ most of them all year around?” Anna asked.
“No. We only have one or two men that are here all year. They have quarters on the east end of the farm.”
“And have either of them been here since the nineteen-fifties?”
Fenella laughed. She sobered quickly under Anna’s icy stare. “Sorry, but I don’t think either of them were born in the nineteen-fifties,” she replied. “We hire men who are young and strong. It’s a tough job and most of them don’t do it for more than a year or two before they move on. The ones that really love it, they start saving up and buy their own little plots as soon as they can so that all of their hard labour goes to their own profits, not someone else’s.”
“Do you still keep in touch with any of your former farmhands, then?” was Anna’s next question.
Fenella nodded. “That’s just what Bessie and I were discussing when you arrived,” she exclaimed.
“Really?” Anna said, giving Bessie a hard look.
“Yes, she was wondering if anyone who used to work here might remember Jacob,” Fenella said, apparently oblivious to Anna’s darkening mood.
“Yes, I was just wondering the same thing myself,” Anna said. “I’d appreciate it if you could make me a list of everyone who was here in the fifties, with their contact information.”
“Of course I can,” Fenella agreed.
When she didn’t move, Anna spoke again. “Now,” she said in a commanding voice.
“Oh, I didn’t, that is, of course.” Fenella got up from the table. “I’ll just go and get my book,” she said.
Bessie grabbed a biscuit and took a huge bite, focussing all of her attention on the crumbly treat. She could feel Anna’s eyes on her, but she wasn’t brave enough to look up. After only a moment, Fenella was back.
“Here we are,” she said brightly. “Now, let me see.”
The doorbell sounded, and Bessie sighed with relief. Her taxi had arrived. She said a quick good-bye to Fenella who was now busily turning pages in her address book. She gave Bessie a distracted wave as Bessie rushed from the room. At the front door, Bessie picked up her handbag.
“I know John is rather fond of you.” Anna’s icy voice stopped Bessie as she reached for the door handle. “But I’ll thank you to stay out of my investigation.”
Bessie glanced over at the woman and nodded. “Of course,” she muttered. She pulled the door open and nearly tripped over her own feet in her eagerness to get out of the house.
“Steady on,” Dave laughed, taking her arm. “I do hope you haven’t seen a ghost.”
“Oh, no,” Bessie told him. “Although I think that might have been less scary.”
Chapter Nine
Dave drove Bessie home, and she immediately fixed herself a cup of tea to calm her nerves. It took two cups of tea and a fancy chocolate biscuit to finally make her feel better.
“And I haven’t even done anything wrong,” Bessie said to her mirror image as she washed the chocolate off her fingers. “I might have been snooping a little bit, but I didn’t ask Fenella any questions about the body. It’s only natural that she wanted to talk about it, anyway.”
She made a face at herself. “That woman has me talking to myself,” she muttered as she walked back into the kitchen. “This will never do.” She looked out the window at the beach. A bit of sea air and exercise were exactly what she needed.
November was always cool and there was a
light wind blowing in across the sea, so Bessie put on a warm coat before she ventured out. She put her head down and marched steadily across the sand, trying to clear her mind. She’d reached Thie yn Traie before she began to feel soothed by the sounds of the sea. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, she looked up the cliff at the house perched above her. There were lights on inside and she found herself wanting to climb the stairs to see what was going on. She shook her head and forced herself to turn away from temptation.
After walking a short distance farther, Bessie decided to head for home. She turned around and then gasped. There were two people descending the stairs from Thie yn Traie to the beach. Bessie stopped and watched as they made their way down the steep steps. There was something familiar about the couple, but Bessie was too far away to be certain who they were. When they reached the ground, they turned and began to walk towards Bessie.
“Mary?” Bessie called as she watched their approach. “George? What are you two doing down here?”
George and Mary Quayle were both smiling brightly when they reached Bessie’s side. Everyone exchanged hugs.
George had been partners with Grant Robertson and had been questioned by the police for many weeks as they investigated Grant’s businesses. He’d never been formally arrested, and eventually the police had determined that he hadn’t been involved in Grant’s illegal activities. While George had been busy with the police, Mary had gone across to stay with family and friends. Bessie hadn’t realised that the woman had returned to the island.
“I was going to ring you later,” Mary said. “I just got back to the island last night.”
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Bessie replied. “I wanted to invite you and George to my Thanksgiving feast, but I wasn’t sure if you would be here.”
“I’m back now and not thinking of going away again anytime soon,” Mary said emphatically.
“I don’t plan on letting her go away again,” George added in his booming voice.
Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9) Page 13
