Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9)

by Diana Xarissa

  John nodded. “I understand he’s a farmer now,” he said.

  “It’s funny, isn’t it? I reckon he ended up doing what he knew, once he’d calmed down a bit.”

  “Fenella said something about him visiting soon.”

  “Yes, I think she said he and his wife are arriving tomorrow,” Bessie confirmed.

  “Are you going to see him?”

  “I wasn’t really planning on it,” Bessie said in surprise. “Why?”

  “I just wondered,” John said, waving a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Anna or I will be interviewing him, but I thought you might have a chance to chat with him as well.”

  “I’ll have to see if I can find an excuse to visit the farm,” Bessie mused. “I was just there to see my turkeys, so I’ll have to think of another reason.”

  “You should probably stay away from the farm,” John said. “Anna won’t welcome the interference, and you know I don’t like it when you’re caught up in murder investigations. Whatever happened on that farm all those years ago, I have to believe that at least one of the people who lives there knew about it.”

  “You mentioned Eoin and Niall as suspects; what about Fenella?” Bessie asked.

  “She’s on the list,” John said. “She was only eighteen that summer, and she claims she doesn’t remember the man, but she might be lying.”

  “I suppose, if she did kill him, she would lie, wouldn’t she?” Bessie speculated.

  John shrugged. “I think, if it were me, that I’d admit to having met the man once or twice, but nothing more. Lying is dangerous. We only have to find one witness who remembers seeing her with Jacob on some occasion and we’ll know she was lying. Then we’ll want to know why she was lying.”

  “But you haven’t found anyone who ever saw them together yet, right?”

  “No, but we still have a lot of people we need to find and question,” John said. He sighed deeply. “I think this might be my least favourite case ever,” he told Bessie. “After forty years, most of the possible witnesses have died, moved away or forgotten what happened back then. I’m not sure we’ll ever know who killed Jacob Conover.”

  “I do hope Anna doesn’t push poor Niall too hard,” Bessie said.

  “Poor Niall might be a murderer,” John pointed out.

  Bessie thought for a moment. “I can’t come up with a motive for him,” she said. “Unless it was just an accident and all he did was hide the body.”

  “That’s still a crime,” John said.

  “But not nearly as bad as murder.”

  The pair talked in circles for another half hour until John suddenly noticed the time. “You’ll be wanting to get some dinner,” he said to Bessie as he stood up. “I didn’t mean to stay so long.”

  “No worries,” Bessie laughed. “I’ve eaten so much shortbread that I’m not really hungry.”

  “I’d better get home. I have a few things left to finish before the kids get here on Friday afternoon,” John said.

  “I can’t wait to see them again,” Bessie said. “I hope they aren’t too bored at the Thanksgiving feast. It is going to be mostly adults, after all.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine. It will do them good to spend some time working on their social skills, and if they get too bored, we can always leave right after the meal.”

  “Don’t rush off before pudding,” Bessie exclaimed. “Have you ever tried pumpkin pie?”

  “No,” John shook his head. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

  Bessie laughed. “I will insist that you have a very thin slice,” she said. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat more than a single bite, but I do like everyone to try it. It’s one of the mainstays of an American Thanksgiving.”

  “I’ll try it, if you want me to,” John told her.

  “There will be apple pie as well,” Bessie said. “If you don’t like the pumpkin, you can switch to apple.”

  “I love apple pie,” John said. “And I don’t have it very often.”

  “I make one now and again,” Bessie said. “But never in November. That way it’s truly special on Thanksgiving.”

  “Thank you for the tea, the biscuits and the conversation,” John said at the door. “Let me know if you run into Nicholas Faragher while he’s here. I don’t expect you to quiz him about the murder, but I’d be interested to hear his thoughts on the subject if it comes up.”

  Bessie let him out and then sat down to think. She needed to find an excuse to visit the Clague farm so that she could talk to Nicholas. The matter was on her mind as she fixed herself a light meal. After she’d mindlessly eaten it, she took a short, moonlit walk along the beach. The wind had died down and the rain had stopped, but it was quite cold. She inhaled the salty sea air and smiled to herself. Whatever the weather, she loved her island. She’d just let herself back in when the phone rang.

  “Bessie, it’s Fenella up at the Clague farm. Nicholas is arriving tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d like to come for tea? I’m afraid we’ll have nothing to say to the man and his wife, and Eoin and I thought that you might be able to help keep the conversation flowing. You did know him when he was younger, after all.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Bessie said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. She didn’t want Fenella to know how eager she was to see Nicholas.

  “I’ll have Eoin come and collect you,” Fenella told her. “He’ll be at your cottage around half two, if that’s okay?”

  “That’s fine,” Bessie replied.

  After a final tidying up of the kitchen, Bessie found a book that promised to be far less interesting than the one from the previous night. She was determined to get some much-needed sleep tonight. Tomorrow seemed like it might be a quite interesting day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The rain hadn’t returned when Bessie got up on Wednesday morning. She took that as a good omen and headed out for a longer walk. She walked past the holiday cottages, which were still dark, and on past Thie yn Traie, which was also unlit, at least as far as Bessie could tell from the beach. Half an hour later, she finally turned around and headed for home. Thie yn Traie was still dark, but there were lights on in some of the holiday cottages as Bessie strolled past them. She waved to Thomas, who was hard at work in one of them, before she finally made her way home.

  In her kitchen, she slipped off her shoes and sank into the closest chair. She was tired from the long walk, but she felt better than she had in a long while. The physical exertions had helped to clear her head, although she wasn’t sure she was very happy with some of the ideas that had entered into it.

  Feeling as if she needed to chat with a friend, Bessie rang the police station.

  “Laxey Neighbourhood Policing, this is Doona. How can I help you?”

  “Ah, Doona, I just wanted to hear a friendly voice,” Bessie said. “This whole business with Jacob Conover is upsetting me.”

  “Why don’t I bring you some lunch in a little while,” Doona suggested. “I’m only doing a short shift today, so I have the afternoon off.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Bessie asked. She hated feeling as if she was a burden to her friends.

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Doona said firmly. “I’ve been wanting to visit anyway, I just haven’t had the time. I’ll be there right around midday with sandwiches from the new shop that just opened over the road.”

  Bessie hung up and smiled. She was ever so grateful for her friends. Transcriptions for the museum easily filled the rest of the morning. Shortly before Doona was meant to arrive, Bessie sat back and grinned.

  “I think I might just be getting the hang of this,” she said to herself. “And it’s much more interesting than I thought it might be, as well.”

  In the kitchen, she refilled the kettle and switched it on while she waited for her friend. Doona’s car pulled up next to the cottage only a few minutes later.

  “Hello, dear,” Doona said as she hugged Bessie. “I’m sorry you’re feelin
g upset.”

  Bessie squeezed her friend tightly. “You would think, after everything that’s happened in the last year or so, that I would be getting used to such things, wouldn’t you?”

  “I do hope none of us ever get used to murder,” Doona replied.

  Bessie pulled out plates as Doona unpacked sandwiches, crisps, and other goodies. Once Bessie made tea, the pair sat down to eat.

  “Is there something specific bothering you about the case?” Doona asked.

  “I just can’t help feeling that Niall was involved in some way,” Bessie replied. “I feel bad for Fenella. She has enough problems with both her father and Eoin being ill. It can’t be easy for her.”

  “Do you think she suspects her father?”

  “She must,” Bessie said. “I can’t see how anyone else could have hidden the body and the suitcases there, at least not without Niall noticing.”

  “What about Eoin?”

  “That would be even worse for Fenella,” Bessie said with a sigh. “But I have to believe that one or both of them had to be involved in hiding the body, even if they didn’t have anything to do with the murder.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t murder,” Doona suggested. “The coroner hasn’t determined a cause of death yet and isn’t likely to, from what I’ve heard. It was too long ago and the body is badly damaged from its years underground. Maybe the poor man just slipped and fell and hit his head on something.”

  “Then why hide the body?”

  “Maybe everyone was quite drunk and they were worried they’d be blamed for his death?” Doona said. She shrugged. “There could be any number of possible explanations, all much nicer to consider than murder.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Bessie said. She took a bite of a sandwich and then smiled at Doona. “This is really good.”

  “The place is new, but the young constables have all been saying good things. We seem to have something new in there every month. I don’t know why nothing lasts very long. It seems like the guys eat there, whatever they’re serving, just about every day.”

  “I understand restaurants are very hard work and that some huge percentage of them fail every year,” Bessie said. “Although that little corner of Laxey does seem to have worse luck than most.”

  “And luck is probably at least part of the equation,” Doona said.

  When the sandwiches were all gone, Bessie pulled out the last of the shortbread.

  “Oh, goodness, you know I love this,” Doona exclaimed as Bessie handed her a serving.

  “I’m ever so grateful for you coming over,” Bessie said after a while.

  “I don’t think I helped at all,” Doona replied. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

  “Not really. It’s just nice to have pleasant company. I’m going up the Clague farm this afternoon to see Nicholas and meet his wife.”

  “Does John know?”

  “I don’t think so. I was going to ring him once I got home.”

  “Make sure that you do,” Doona said. “He’s keeping a close eye on the farm and its residents at the moment.”

  “He has the same suspicions about Niall or Eoin as I do, doesn’t he?”

  “I’m not sure who he suspects,” Doona replied. “But I know he’s interested in everything that happens on the farm.”

  “I talked to John yesterday and he suggested that I should try to chat with Nicholas,” Bessie told her friend.

  “It would be interesting to see if he remembers Jacob, especially considering his brother claims not to,” Doona replied.

  “I’m kind of dreading the visit,” Bessie admitted. “I think that’s why I was so unhappy this morning. I’d rather leave the whole matter to the police.”

  “If it’s left to Anna, Niall will get the blame,” Doona said. “She really doesn’t like him for some reason, and she seems to be convinced that he’s faking his illness.”

  “Well, he’s had his doctors fooled for many years, then,” Bessie retorted. “I’m really struggling to like Anna Lambert.”

  “I think you’d struggle to find anyone at the station that likes her, even a little bit,” Doona said. “She’s all sorts of difficult.”

  Bessie laughed. “That’s an interesting description, and one that seems accurate.”

  “Do you need a ride up to the farm?” Doona asked as she and Bessie began to tidy up from their lunch.

  “No, Eoin is collecting me.”

  “Please ring me if you need a ride home,” Doona said. “I’m not doing much of anything this afternoon.”

  “We’ll see how it goes,” Bessie told her. “Fenella didn’t mention having Eoin bring me home, actually.”

  After Doona left, Bessie paced around her kitchen for a few minutes. She was feeling very anxious about the meeting ahead. Finally, she took a deep breath and gave herself a stern lecture.

  “You’re going to see Nicholas and meet his wife. If you can find out anything to help John wrap up a forty-year-old murder, that’s good too, but it isn’t really very likely. Just relax and enjoy catching up with an old friend.”

  When she’d finished her little pep talk, a voice in her head just had to argue. “You weren’t exactly friends with Nicholas Faragher,” the voice reminded her. “In fact, you barely knew him.”

  Bessie ran a comb through her hair and added a touch of lipstick to her lips. It seemed best, all things considered, to simply ignore the voice in her head, so that’s what she did. She was standing at the door watching when Eoin arrived. Bessie was struck again by how unwell he looked.

  “How are you?” she asked, trying to sound casual, but feeling concerned.

  “I’m fine,” he said brusquely. “Are you ready? Fenella was sorry she said I’d collect you, as now she’s been left alone with Nicholas and Sarah.”

  Bessie quickly locked her cottage and followed the man to his car. She’d barely shut the door when he started the engine and pulled away.

  “Is Fenella finding it awkward talking to them, then?” Bessie asked after a moment.

  Eoin shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve nothing much to say to them, though.”

  “Surely it’s nice to see your brother again?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Bessie waited for Eoin to continue, but he remained silent on the rest of the journey. For once they weren’t held up by livestock, and Bessie felt as if the drive had been a very quick one as Eoin parked next to the farmhouse.

  “You go on in,” he told Bessie. “The door won’t be locked. I need to check on a few things at, um, with the sheep. Tell Fenella I’ll be less than an hour.”

  “Thank you for the ride,” she said as she climbed out of the car. She’d only just shut the door before Eoin was pulling away. Shaking her head, she climbed up the steps to the house. She knocked once and then pushed the door open.

  “Hello? Eoin said I should just let myself in,” she called. “Hello?”

  “Bessie? We’re in the kitchen; come on back,” Fenella’s voice reached her.

  Bessie walked through the house, practicing how she might smile when she reached the kitchen. Before she got there, though, Fenella met her.

  “There you are,” Fenella said. “You’re right on time. The kettle has just boiled. But where is Eoin?”

  “He said he had to check on something to do with the sheep,” Bessie told her. “He said to tell you that he will be here in less than an hour.”

  Fenella frowned. “I’ll bet,” she muttered under her breath. “Come and see Nicholas then,” she said to Bessie, giving her a bright smile.

  Bessie could tell the smile was fake, but since she’d just forced a similar expression onto her own face, she didn’t comment. In the kitchen, the guests were sitting at the table. They both got to their feet as Bessie and Fenella entered.

  “Aunt Bessie,” the man said, “you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “I can’t say the same about you,” Bessie replied, looking him up and down.

  Nichola
s laughed. “I was skinny as a rail and full of the devil when you last saw me. I imagine I’ve changed a great deal.”

  Bessie nodded as she took in the man’s altered appearance. He’d gained weight, but most of it appeared to be muscle. Nicholas was clearly a man who worked hard at some physical labour. He was mostly bald and his green eyes twinkled as he watched Bessie studying him.

  “I hope I’ve turned out okay,” he said now. “I got myself in with the wrong sort of friends for a few years there, but Sarah soon sorted me out.” He gestured towards the woman standing next to him.

  Bessie smiled at her. She looked to be around the same age as her husband. She was solidly built, with dimples and rosy cheeks. Bessie thought she looked like a kindly grandmother.

  “It’s ever so nice to meet you,” Sarah said to Bessie. “Nick never talked much about his childhood on the island, but whenever he did, he always had fond memories of you.”

  “Did he?” Bessie blurted out without thinking.

  The couple laughed. “I started working on the farm, at least part-time, when I was fifteen,” Nicholas told her. “And I pretty much hated it. I didn’t want to have to work so hard when other people were just sitting around all day doing what I thought were easier things. Anyway, you used to come up to see your Thanksgiving birds and you used to bring cakes or biscuits with you. It was always such a treat, those homemade goodies. It was about the only thing I liked about the farm for those years I was working here.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I don’t remember doing that,” she said.

  “I remember,” Fenella told her. “When I was little, your visit seemed to mark the start of Christmas for me. You used to bring me little presents as well, when I was a child.”

  “I do remember that,” Bessie said after a moment. “I used to tell Niall to keep whatever I brought you for Christmas day.”

  “But he never did,” Fenella said. “He used to give my the gifts the same day you were here. As he never did a lot for Christmas itself, sometimes your visit was even better than Christmas day.”