1 Aunt Bessie Assumes (18 page)

“I assume you don’t have any objection to
my visiting Thie yn Traie again?” Bessie asked.
 
“I really should pay my respects for
Samantha.”

Rockwell frowned.
 
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he
told Bessie.
 
“Two people in that
house have been murdered in the last week.
 
I would think it would be best to stay well clear of it.”

Bessie thought for a moment before she
answered.
 
“I understand what you’re
saying,” she told the inspector.
 
“But I really feel like I should pay my respects.
 
Besides, I might be able to find out
more about Maeve and Donny and Vikky’s past there.
 
And I can see how Mrs. Pierce is really
doing.
 
I’m sure they’ll tell me
things they would never tell you.”

The inspector shook his head.
 
“It might be dangerous,” he told
Bessie.
 
“Going to pay your respects
is one thing, but going to snoop is another.
 
And I’m not comfortable with you doing
either at this point.”

Bessie grinned at him.
 
“What if I promise not to snoop?” she
asked.
 
“I’ll just go and do the
polite thing and then leave.
 
At
least I might get to see Mrs. Pierce and get an idea of how she’s doing.”

Rockwell sighed.
 
“I can’t stop you, of course,” he said
slowly.
 
“And it might be helpful if
you can see Mrs. Pierce.
 
When I
went to see her after Samantha’s body was found, her doctor wouldn’t allow me
to speak to her for more than a few moments.
 
Of course, that was when we were told
she had an alibi.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled then,”
Bessie grinned at him.
 
“Tomorrow
morning I’ll walk over and have another little chat with Mr. and Mrs. Pierce
and whoever else is at home.”

“And tomorrow night we’ll hear all about
what they said,” Doona added.

“Of course,” Bessie grinned.
 
“I think it’s Hugh’s turn to bring the
food.”

Hugh blushed and then grinned.
 
“Is pizza okay with everyone?” he asked
hopefully.

Everyone laughed, but then agreed that
pizza was fine.

“I’ll bring pudding,” Doona offered.
 
No one objected.
 

Minutes later Inspector Rockwell was
escorting Doona to her car and Bessie and Hugh were getting ready to turn in
for the night.
 

“I hope you sleep well,” Hugh said
politely to Bessie.

“I always do,”
Bessie
answered him, choosing to ignore her difficulties from the previous evening.
 

But when she got into bed a short while
later, she again found herself unhappily tossing and turning.
 
As Hugh’s snores began to make their way
up the stairs she found that once more sleep was being evasive.
 
She sat up and grabbed a nearby book
that she had deliberately brought up the stairs with her for just such an
eventuality.
 
She read several
chapters before she finally felt sleepy enough to turn out the light.
 
Once she settled in, much later than
normal, she happily fell asleep almost immediately.

Chapter Ten

The next morning Bessie was shocked awake
by Hugh’s alarm, ringing loudly from the floor below her.
 
Her own internal alarm had missed six
and she had slept right through until seven.
 
She frowned as she threw back the covers
and climbed into her robe.
 
She
would get Hugh and herself some breakfast while he was in the shower and would
take her own shower later, she decided.
 
It seemed like the most sensible solution to her oversleeping.

Hugh’s incessant whistling while in the
shower didn’t improve Bessie’s mood.
 
By the time he’d had some breakfast and headed off to work, Bessie felt like
crawling back under the covers and simply waiting for the weekend from under there.
 

After a shower that quickly ran cold
thanks to Hugh’s earlier ablutions, she dressed and then headed out for a short
stroll, hoping some fresh air might improve her mood.
 
Just steps away from her door, the skies
opened and Bessie got thoroughly drenched as she turned and walked back to her
cottage as quickly as she could.
 

“Well, really,” Bessie said as she slammed
her front door.
 
“Can anything else
go wrong today?”
 
She quickly tapped
on her wooden table to stave off any bad fortune that might follow such a
pronouncement, and then she dragged herself into the nearest bathroom to try to
dry off.

The phone was ringing its annoyingly
insistent tone as she gave up and headed up the stairs to change.
 
She hesitated on the third step,
wondering if it was worth turning around or not.
 
Doona’s voice on the answering machine
answered the question.

“Bessie, are you there?” Doona asked.
 
“If you are pick up quick, otherwise,
call me when you get this message.”

Bessie grabbed the receiver and switched
off her answering machine.
 
“I’m
here,” she said, a bit breathlessly.

“I can’t say much,” Doona sounded excited,
“but there’s about to be an arrest in the murder cases.”

Bessie felt a sharp pang of something like
disappointment.
 
She had been
enjoying the investigation more than she had realised.
 
She frowned at herself as she replied to
Doona.
 
“Who’s about to get
arrested?” she demanded.

“Ah, arrested is probably too strong a
word,” Doona backtracked.
 
“Someone
is about to be brought in to, um, help with our inquires.”

“But who?” Bessie said impatiently.

“Jack White,” Doona whispered.

“Who is Jack White?” Bessie asked,
confused.

“You know, if you think about it,” Doona
answered.

“Stop teasing,” Bessie said
frustrated.
 
Then she snapped her
fingers.
 
“The Laxey and Lonan
chemist?” she asked.
 
“What on earth
does he have to do with the murders?”

“Well,” Doona began.
 
“It looks like, um, yes, well, if you
turn off at the last junction and then take the second left, we’re the first
building on the right.”

“What?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s fine.
 
You can come in any time and report your
missing cat,” Doona rattled on at her.
 
“We’re happy to take your statement and, obviously, we will do our best
to help you find little Fluffy.”

Bessie laughed.
 
“Fluffy?
 
Come on, if I did have a cat I would
give it a much better name than that.
 
I take it someone has just walked in and you can now be overheard?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” Doona answered.

“Can you call me back later?” Bessie
asked.
 
“When it gets quieter?”

“Certainly, ma’am.
 
I’d be happy to do that.”

Bessie sighed after they had said polite
goodbyes and she’d hung up her phone.
 
She had been planning on walking over to Thie yn Traie this morning, but
what with oversleeping and then the rain, the plan was less appealing now than
it had been last night.
 
Besides, it
would probably be best to see what Doona had to report before she went to see
the Pierce family.
 
If Jack White
was the
killer, that
would certainly put a different
spin on her visit.

While Bessie waited for Doona to call her back,
she tried to remember everything she knew about Jack White.  It wasn't
much.  She knew he had moved to the island only six months or so earlier,
replacing the retiring John Corkill as the dispensing chemist at the small
Laxey branch of the local chain.  

He was much younger than the man he’d replaced,
somewhere in his late-thirties, she reckoned.
 
He was much more attractive than the
portly and balding man he had replaced as well.
 
Bessie remembered dark brown, almost
black, hair and vivid blue eyes.
 
He
was almost exactly what Bessie had always pictured when people spoke of someone
“tall, dark and handsome.”
 
There
had been some gossip when he first arrived about his behaviour with young and
pretty customers, but that had died down fairly quickly.
 

Last month, the chain had been purchased by a
large British company, and the hours at the Laxey branch had been cut as Jack
White began to split his time between there and an even smaller store in Lonan.
 

Bessie wasn't fond of putting chemicals into her
body unnecessarily, so she rarely needed the services that chemists like Jack
offered.  There had only been one occasion since the man arrived when
Bessie had needed a course of antibiotics for a particularly nasty throat
infection.
 
In her brief visit to
his shop, Bessie had found the man to be perfectly pleasant to deal with.
 

The obvious inference to make from the news of
his arrest was that he was the local source for Daniel's drug supply.
 Bessie frowned as she considered it.  Surely it wasn't good business
practice to kill your customers, she mused.
 
There had to be more to the story than
she knew.

She frowned at her silent phone and then paced a
few times around her kitchen.  The rain had slowed to a miserable drizzle,
at least temporarily, but she didn't dare go for a walk and risk missing
Doona's call.  As she frowned at the phone again, it rang, startling her.

“Okay,” Doona didn't bother with preliminaries.
 “All I know is one little thing and it’s going to be part of a press
conference in a few hours, so I’m not telling tales.
 
Just don’t repeat this until after
four.
 
Apparently Jack White was
supplying prescription drugs to someone in the Pierce household.
 Unfortunately for Mr. White, he was doing so without a prescription.” 

“What does that have to do with the murders?”
Bessie asked.

“Maybe nothing,” Doona admitted.  “But it's
enough to get the man arrested and for Inspector Kelly to get all the credit.” 

“So what happens now?” Bessie asked.

“Inspector Kelly has been questioning Mr. White
all morning,” Doona told her.  “He only stopped when Mr. White’s advocate arrived
and insisted on a break.  The Inspector and the Chief Constable are giving
the press conference I mentioned to talk about this latest break in the murder
investigation.”

“Do they really think he's the killer, then?”

“It sounds like it,” Doona answered.  “I
don't know all of the details, but we’ll all know more after four o’clock.”

“Maybe I should get over to Thie yn Traie before
that, then,” Bessie said thoughtfully.  “I can see if they've heard about
the arrest and let them know about the press conference.”

“And poke around a bit,” Doona added.  

“Well,” Bessie said, “I'm curious how they'll
take the news, that's for sure.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Doona told
her friend.
 
“Inspector Kelly might
be convinced that Jack White is guilty, but there are still several other
suspects and they all live at Thie yn Traie.”

Bessie sighed.
 
“I wish I could be a fly on the wall
while they’re questioning Jack White.
 
I’d love to know what he’s telling them.”

“I don’t know anything else, and I couldn’t tell
you if I did,” Doona answered her.
 
“I only found out that little bit because I overheard a phone call that
I shouldn’t have.
 
Inspector Kelly
isn’t talking to anyone except the Chief Constable.
 
Even Inspector Rockwell got told that he
has to wait for the press conference if he wants to know anything.”

“I’ll bet that didn’t go over well,” Bessie
chuckled.

“He wasn’t pleased,” Doona told her.
 
“But he stayed polite about it
anyway.
 
I suggest you just sit
tight and wait and see what I can tell you tonight.
 
We’ll meet at seven as planned and by
then everything that the police are willing to release will be public
knowledge.
 
And maybe Inspector
Rockwell will know even more.”

Bessie sighed.
 
“I suppose I can wait to pay my respects
until tomorrow,” she said slowly.
 
“It’s a miserable day anyway.
 
Walking to the Pierces’ doesn’t really appeal to me.”

Bessie ate a quick lunch and then curled up with
a book, frowning at the steady rain that was falling outside her window.
 
A nice hot cup of tea took the chill
off, in spite of the dampness.
 
She
was so deeply involved in her fictional tale that she barely registered the
ringing telephone.
 

It rang half a dozen times before Bessie really
heard it.
 
She sighed when she
remembered that she’d turned off her answering machine when Doona had rung
earlier.
 
If she hadn’t, the machine
would have picked up by now and she would have been able to completely ignore
the whole thing.

After ten rings she decided she had better
answer the call.
 
Anyone that was
willing to hang on that long deserved an answer.
 
She walked as quickly as she could to
the phone and grabbed it after more than a dozen rings.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you are there.”
  
The slightly breathless voice was
familiar, but Bessie couldn’t place it immediately.
 
“I figured I needed to let it ring a
whole bunch so you had plenty of time to get yourself up and answer.”

Bessie frowned.
 
Vikky Pierce, as rude
as ever.
  
“What can I
do for you, Mrs. Pierce?” Bessie said coolly.

“Oh, well, the thing is, like, the police have
just rung,” Vikky told her.
 
“It
seems likely that we’re going to be allowed to leave tomorrow, which is great.
  
I can’t wait to get off this island.”

“Leave tomorrow?” Bessie echoed.
 
“I suppose that means that they’ve found
the murderer?”

“I guess,” Vikky said vaguely.
 
“I didn’t talk to them.
 
It was the Chief Constable what called,
and he talked to Mr. Pierce.
 
I only
know what Mr. Pierce told us all.
 
Which is what I just said.
 
We’re
going to be allowed to leave tomorrow.”

“I see,” Bessie said, trying to keep her
surprise out of her voice.
 

“Anyway,” Vikky continued.
 
“I went up to pack and then I realised
that I still have your clothes.
 
I
mean the staff washed them and everything, but I never got around to returning
them to you.
 
I just wanted to tell
you that I’m going to give them to Bahey and she can get them back to you.
 
Is that okay?”

Bessie thought quickly.
 
“Actually,” she told the woman, “I’d
rather just pick them up this afternoon if I might.”

“I guess.”
 
Bessie could almost hear Vikky’s shrug.
 
“I mean, I’ll be here if you want to
stop by.”

“I do,” Bessie said firmly.
 
“I wanted to come by and pay my respects
for Samantha anyway, and it sounds as if I need to do that today or else you’ll
all be gone.”

“Well, yeah,” Vikky answered.
 
“We’re all eager to get out of
here.
 
This hasn’t been the most
pleasant visit ever for any of us.”

“No, of course not,” Bessie agreed.
 
“I’ll walk over now.
 
It should take me about twenty minutes
to get there, as I still have to come along the road.”

“Okay, I’ll tell everyone you’re coming.
 
It will make a nice break from sitting
around and staring at each other, I guess.”