1 Aunt Bessie Assumes (6 page)

“I’d have to say that I agree
with that.”
 
The man unconsciously
patted his stomach.
 
It was obvious,
looking at him, that he worked hard to stay fit.

“You said something about
working on a paper for a conference?
 
What’s that about?”

“I’m an amateur historian,”
Bessie explained.
 
“I’ve been
working with Marjorie Stevens at the Manx Museum Library on a number of
projects.
 
I’ve been indexing
nineteenth-century wills and writing about my findings for the last few
years.
 
Lately, Marjorie’s been
teaching me how to read seventeenth-century handwriting so that I can help her
index some of the documents available from that time period as well.
 
In May, I’m going to be talking at a
conference at the museum about some of what I’ve found so far and what I hope
to do in the future.”

Inspector Rockwell nodded, a
slightly surprised look on his face.
 
“Okay, so you worked on your research and then you had dinner with your advocate.
 
After dinner you finished an interesting
book and then went to bed.
 
You
slept well and then got up at six for a walk.
 
The weather didn’t bother you?”

“No sense waiting around for
a nice day,” Bessie told him.
 
“By
the time one gets here, I might not be able to walk any more.”

“What time did you set out on
your walk?”

“It was around quarter past
seven.
 
I waited for the sun to
start coming up, since it was so dark and gloomy out.”

“You didn’t take an
umbrella?”

“It was too windy.”

The man nodded slowly.
 
“So you were walking in the wind and the
rain and it was nearly dark.
 
I’m
surprised you didn’t fall over the body.”

“I very nearly did,” Bessie
told him.
 
“I walk nearly the same
path every day.
 
I have done for
many years.
 
Of course the tide and
wind bring driftwood and all sorts up onto the beach, so I’m always
careful.
 
But I wasn’t expecting to
find a body lying there.”

“Did you touch the body?”

“Not intentionally,” Bessie
shuddered.
 
She closed her eyes and
tried to think back.
 
“I don’t think
I did,” she said eventually.
 
“It
was dark and wet, but a full-grown man is pretty hard to miss.
 
I saw him before I got close enough to actually
fall over him.”

“Didn’t you try shaking him
to wake him up?”

“No,” Bessie said.
 
“I’m not sure why, but there was no
doubt in my mind that he was dead.
 
Possibly because the weather was so nasty.
 
No one, no matter how drunk, could
possibly have been sleeping in that.”

“I guess I can’t argue with
that,” Rockwell told her.
 
“So you
called the police and then went back to stay with the body until the police
arrived?”

“Yes, although I made myself
a quick cup of tea first.
 
I put it
in a travel mug and took it with me to try to keep myself warm while I waited.”

“Why didn’t you take the
travel mug with you on your walk in the first place?”

“I like to walk as briskly as
I can,” Bessie explained.
 
“I would
have had a cuppa as soon as I got in, but the whole point of the walk is to get
exercise.
  
Waiting for Hugh,
however, was just standing around.
 
I didn’t want to catch a chill.”

Rockwell nodded.
 
“And when Hugh arrived, what happened?”

“We had a quick chat and then
he decided to call for backup.”

“Can you remember exactly
what you said in that ‘chat’?”

“Yes, but I’m sure Hugh can
as well.
 
You’d do better getting it
from him.
 
I’m sure he’s had to do a
full report on this morning.”

“It’s always good to have two
reports of the same conversation,” Rockwell told her.
 
“You’d be surprised how often they
vary.”

“Probably every time,” she
said.
 
“People’s memories are
unreliable, but Hugh and I didn’t talk about much of anything.
 
I told him about finding the body and
then we exchanged a bit of local gossip and waited for his backup to arrive.”

“Did you discuss the identity
of the murdered man?”

“No,” Bessie told him.
 
“I didn’t have any idea who he was, and
if Hugh knew him, he didn’t mention it.”

“Did you discuss how the man
died?”

“Again, no.
 
I thought he must have drowned or
something.
 
Hugh didn’t offer any
opinions about what might have happened.”

“And when the widow arrived
and identified the body, did you recognize her?”

“I’d never seen her before today.”

“And yet you invited her into
your home.
 
You lent her clothes and
you fed her lunch.
 
Are you always
so welcoming to strangers?”

“Probably not,” Bessie told
him honestly.
 
“But I felt badly for
her.
 
She was meant to be on her
honeymoon, and instead she found her husband’s body.
 
The weather was awful and I hated the
thought of her standing there watching the police poke and prod her husband.”

“So what did you two talk
about?”

Bessie shrugged.
 
“A little bit of everything, I guess,”
she said vaguely.
 
“Nothing
specific.”

“Did she tell you anything
about her relationship with her husband or with his family?”

“She said that she and family
get along well and she was happy to spend her honeymoon with them.
 
She said something about having a small
disagreement with her husband last night.
 
That was why she had her hair and makeup all done this morning.
 
She wanted to look her best when he got
back.”

“Got back from where?”

Bessie frowned.
 
“She didn’t really say where he’d gone,”
she told the inspector.

“And did she speculate on how
he might have died?” Rockwell asked.

“She said he must have
drowned or had a heart attack,” Bessie recalled.

“And yet when I mentioned
murder, you didn’t seem surprised.”

Bessie shrugged.
 
“How long have you lived here?
 
You must know how fast the gossip chain
is.
 
I heard a rumour that it was
murder almost as soon as Hugh left my cottage with the widow and I started
returning phone calls from concerned friends.”
 
She held her breath as she waited to see
if he would believe her.
 
She didn’t
want Doona to be in any trouble.

Rockwell shook his head.
 
“The rumour mill on this island is more
efficient that its newspapers,” was his only comment on the matter.

“So it was murder?” Bessie
pushed her luck.

“We won’t know anything for sure
until we get the coroner’s report,” the inspector told her.
 
“But for now, we are definitely treating
it as murder.”

Bessie nodded.
 
“I guess that makes sense.”

“I’m glad you think so,”
Inspector Rockwell said dryly.
 
He
had a few more follow-up questions for Bessie, but only a few.
 

“Thank you for coming in,” he
said after they had quickly gone through her day one last time.
 
“I’ll have Hugh run you home.
 
He can collect the widow’s nightie from
you for our lab tests.”

Bessie nodded, grateful that
Doona had already mentioned the idea.
 
She didn’t want Inspector Rockwell to know how shocked she had been when
Doona had suggested it.

“You haven’t done anything
like run it through the wash, have you?” the inspector asked.

“Of course not,” Bessie said,
grateful that the inspector would never know how close she had come to doing
just that.

Hugh was waiting in the lobby
when Inspector Rockwell escorted her out.
 

“I’ll run you home, then,
shall I?” he asked as Doona handed Bessie her coat.

“I’d be ever so grateful,”
Bessie told the man.
 

She had never learned to
drive, relying instead upon buses, taxis and the kindness of her friends.
 
It was only in the last ten years or so
that the matter had begun to become more of an inconvenience.
 
Public transportation was losing its
popularity with generations of people who seemed to believe that having their
own private automobile was vital.
 
Bessie was still managing, but she was beginning to think that she might
just have to take some driving lessons and get her own car if things kept going
the way they were.

Chapter Four

Back at home and rid of the suspect
nightie, Bessie felt unsettled.
 
She
walked around her cosy cottage, tidying and straightening things that didn’t
need to be straightened.
 
After a
while, she decided to try again to take a short walk on the beach.
 
Police tape and a shivering uniformed
constable kept her from walking along her normal route.
 
Instead, she turned in the other
direction and made her way slowly across the sand.

She rarely walked this way because the
road and a boat launch crossed the beach not far from her home.
 
Busy in spring and summer, the area was
all but deserted today.
 
Bessie
passed a single fisherman, sitting on the edge of the wall that ran along the
road into the sea.
 
A few lazy
seagulls circled above her.
 

Temperatures were still chilly, and Bessie
made it a short walk.
 
Back at home
she fixed herself her evening meal and sat down with her favourite Agatha
Christie novel.
 
Miss Marple would
have already solved the case, she mused to herself as she turned the
pages.
 
The phone startled her when
it rang just before nine.
 
Bessie
had ignored it for most of the afternoon, as more friends and acquaintances
called to find out about the murder, but now she answered.

“I wanted to catch you before you turned
in,” Doona told her friend.
 
“I just
wanted to check that you’re okay after today’s, um, excitement.”

“I’m fine,” Bessie insisted.
 
“I had a short walk and a nice supper
and now I’m reading Miss Marple and relaxing.”

“Don’t you be getting any ideas from Miss
Marple,” Doona cautioned her.
 
“Leave this one for the police.”

“I don’t have any intention of getting
involved in the investigation,” Bessie assured her.
 
“I just hope your police can figure it
out quickly.
 
I love living alone,
but I will definitely sleep better when the murderer is behind bars.”

Doona offered to stay the night with her
friend, but Bessie wouldn’t hear of it.
 
A few minutes after the call ended, just as Miss Marple was about to
announce
who
the killer was, Bessie heard a loud knock
on her front door.
 

She dropped the book in surprise and then
laughed at her jumpiness.
 
It was
probably just one of the neighbourhood kids wanting to stay the night because
of a fight with his or her parents.
 
She walked slowly into the kitchen and flipped on the lamp outside her
front door.
 

“Hugh Watterson?
 
What on earth are you doing here at this
hour?” she demanded as she swung the door open.

“I, er, well.”
 
Hugh blushed under the steely gaze and
then cleared his throat.
 
“The thing
is,” he told her, “I was worried about you, being here all alone.
 
I figured that I used to stay with you
when I was having a hard time at home, so maybe you’d let me stay for a night
or two now, just until the killer is locked up.”

Bessie smiled at the young constable.
 
“Oh, Hugh, that’s very kind of you,” she
told the man.
 
“But really, I’m fine
on my own.”

“I know you are,” Hugh assured her.
 
He looked back and forth twice and then
leaned forward to whisper to her.
 
“The thing is,” he confided, “I’m hoping
to help solve this case.
 
And I
think that being here, on the beach, might give me an edge.
 
I’m closer to the suspects and
everything, you see?
 
If you let me
stay, I can keep an eye on you in case the murderer comes back, and I’m closer
to the action.
 
We both win.
 
What do you think?”

Bessie bit back her first thought and
waited a second to consider his words.
 
She had thought about the murderer coming back, and it seemed extremely
unlikely that he or she would do so, but perhaps it would be helpful to have
someone in the cottage with her.
 
She
was used to having guests; Hugh wouldn’t be any more trouble than anyone
else.
 
And it would be nice to feel
like she was helping him out in his police work, too.

Hugh was watching her with an expectant
look on his face.
 
“All right,” she
said eventually.
 
“You can stay, at
least for tonight.”

Hugh looked so excited that Bessie almost
laughed out loud.
 
She watched as he
raced back to his car and grabbed a small suitcase out of the back.
 
She had never seen the young man so
energised.
 
A moment later he
bounded up the single step to her door and she had to step back quickly before
he bounced right over her in his eagerness to get inside.

“The guest room is still in the same place,”
she told Hugh.

“I was thinking it might be better if I
slept on the couch in the sitting room,” Hugh replied.
 
“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Bessie demanded.
 
“What do you think is going to happen?”

Hugh shrugged.
 
“I don’t know, but if it does happen, I
want to be ready.”

Bessie bit back a laugh.
 
One thing she knew about men, in spite
of never marrying, was that there was little point in arguing with them if
their minds were made up.
 
“Suit
yourself,” she said.
 
“Blankets and
pillows are in the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs.
 
Get whatever you need and get settled
in.
 
I was just heading to bed when
you arrived, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll go now.”

Hugh followed Bessie upstairs where she
quickly provided him with a pile of blankets and pillows.
 
She continued on to her own room, where
she got ready for bed and then listened for a time as Hugh stomped around the
cottage, presumably getting himself settled in for the night.
 
Eventually the noises stopped and Bessie
slid down under the covers.
 
It had
been a very eventful day, one she wasn’t eager to repeat.

It was three minutes past six when
Bessie’s internal alarm woke her the next morning.
 
She sighed as she looked out at another
rainy day.
 
At least it appeared
that the wind was calmer.
 
Not that
she could get much of a walk in anyway, at least not in the direction she
wanted to go.
 
She dressed quickly
and headed down the stairs.
 
She
could hear Hugh’s snoring before she even reached the top step and by the time
she was at the bottom she couldn’t help but laugh at the sound.

She bustled around the kitchen, making tea
and toast for herself and her guest.
 
He was staying to help keep her safe; making breakfast seemed the least
she could do.
 
With the table set
and the toaster full, she headed down the short hallway to the sitting room.

“Hugh?” she called gently.
 
“Hugh, are you ready for some
breakfast?”

Hugh didn’t move from his spot, sprawled
across her largest sofa.
 

“Hugh?
 
It’s Bessie; it’s time for
breakfast.”
 
Bessie took a few steps
into the room and spoke loudly, but she seemed to make no impression on the
sleeping man.
 
It was just as well
that no one had tried to murder me in my sleep last night, she thought.
 
Hugh would have slept right through it
and his snores would have drowned out any cries for help.

She studied the sleeping man for a moment
longer and then shook her head.
 
If
he
was
that tired, she would just let him sleep.
 
Back in the kitchen, she ate her own
breakfast and sipped her tea.
 
After
some thought, she decided to postpone her morning walk until later in the
day.
 
And she figured out the
perfect place to walk to as well.

A cacophony of noise at seven suggested
that Hugh had set an alarm before he went to sleep the night before.
 
After several minutes of odd noises,
Hugh finally stumbled into the kitchen about quarter past the hour.

“Oh, ah, good morning, Aunt Bessie,” he
yawned.
 
“You’re already up and
dressed, I see.”

“Yes,” Bessie answered.
 
“I get up at six every morning.
 
I’d go for my morning walk now if the
police didn’t have half the beach blocked off for their investigations.”

“Oh, rather, well, yes.”
 
Hugh rubbed his eyes.
 
Bessie doubted that he was used to human
interaction this early in the morning.
 
“That is, I’m sorry about that, but we have to keep the beach closed
until we know for sure that we’ve found all of the evidence.
 
We’d never hear the end of it if we
missed something important.”

Bessie nodded.
 
It made sense; it just wasn’t what she
wanted to hear.
 

“Anyway,” Hugh continued, “I’ve got to get
back to my apartment and grab a shower before work.
 
What are you going to get up to today?”

“You know you’re welcome to use the shower
upstairs,” Bessie told him.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” Hugh
shrugged.
 
“I’d rather stop home,
though.
 
Make sure everything’s okay
there, check my answering machine for messages, that sort of thing.”
 

Bessie nodded, wondering idly if Hugh was
hoping for a message from anyone in particular.
 
There had been rumours about him and
some girl from the neighbouring village of Lonan a while back, but they had
died down pretty quickly.
 
That was
something to chat with him about tonight if he came back again, she decided.

“So I’ll be back around nine tonight, if
that’s okay?” Hugh said as he slurped up the last of the tea that Bessie had
left out for him.
 
“What did you say
you were going to do today?”

Bessie smiled.
 
She hadn’t said, but she supposed there
was no harm in telling the man.
 
“I
thought I would go and pay my respects to the family.”

“Whose family?”

“Why, Daniel Pierce’s family, of
course.
 
I found his body, and I’ve
known the family for years.
 
They’ve
been summering here for over two decades.
 
Whatever the circumstances of the man’s passing, it’s only polite to pay
my respects to his family.”

Hugh narrowed his eyes at Bessie.
 
“You’re not thinking of doing any
amateur detective work, are you?” he demanded.
 
“I know you read all those mystery books
where little old ladies solve the crimes and leave the police looking
dumb.
 
You don’t have any ideas like
that, do you?”

“Of course not,” Bessie soothed.
 
“I’m just doing what is right and proper
under the circumstances.
 
Considering everything that’s happened, they probably won’t even let me
in the door at the Pierce cottage, but at least I can feel better that I
tried.
 
As I said, it’s only right.”

Hugh nodded and grinned.
 
“Mind you, if you see or hear anything
that you think is suspicious around there, you will let me know, right?”

“You or Inspector Rockwell,” Bessie
grinned back.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Hugh replied.
 
“Of course, it would be a shame to
bother Inspector Rockwell with most things.
 
I mean, he’s a busy inspector and he
doesn’t even know you.
 
He might not
understand how well you know the people on the island.”
 

Hugh shook his head.
 
“Never mind,” he sighed.
 
“I know I’m wasting my time thinking I
might solve this thing before the inspector does.
 
I’m doomed to spend my entire career in
uniform walking the streets of Laxey.”

“There are worse jobs,” Bessie said
mildly.

Hugh smiled, although it looked
forced.
 
“I know, and I do love what
I do,” he told her.
 
“But I would
love to move up as well.
 
I want to
make people proud.”

Bessie nodded, and then remembered the
rest of the rumour she had heard.
 
Apparently the young lady in Lonan had moved on from Hugh to another
policeman, one who worked in Ramsey at the larger and presumably more
prestigious station.