Aunt Bessie Joins (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 10) (5 page)

“I’ll be back around eight tomorrow,” Mark
told Bessie as she climbed out of the car.
 
“Have a good night.”

Bessie nodded and then let herself into her
cottage.
 
She took a deep breath and
then sighed deeply.
 
There truly was
no place like home.
 
The cottage was
older than she was, and in some ways that showed, but she loved every single
inch of the building she’d called home for all of her adult life.
 

She’d purchased the cottage with a small
inheritance from the man she’d thought she was going to marry.
 
After his untimely death, she’d spent
many hours sobbing and feeling sorry for
herself
in
every room.
 
It was never her
intention to stay there forever, but she’d never found a reason to leave.
 
Her childhood had been spent in America,
but the island quickly came to feel like home to her in a way that the US never
had.
 
When a second chance at
marriage presented itself, Bessie declined, as it would have meant leaving the
island.
 

Now she walked from room to room, calming
her spirits after the long and emotionally fraught day.
 
She would have rather taken a walk on
the beach, but it was quite cold and dark and the rain that had started at
midday was still falling.
 
When she
felt more like herself, she fixed a light evening meal and then found her place
in the book she was reading.
 
On a
recent holiday she’d been reintroduced to Jane Austen, rereading
Emma
for the first time in a great many years.
 
Now she was working her way through everything that Austen had written,
and she was thoroughly enjoying them all.
 
A ringing telephone interrupted Mr. Darcy as he made unkind comments
about Elizabeth Bennett.
 

Bessie put a bookmark in the book and
answered the call.

“Bessie?
 
We have a problem,” Mark’s voice came
down the line.
 
“I just sent an
email to all of the committee members and the volunteers who decorated rooms.
 
It seems that Mr. Hart and Carolyn have
had something of a falling out.
 
I
don’t know any of the details, just that Mr. Hart has moved into a hotel in
Douglas and Carolyn is suggesting that Manx National Heritage ought to foot the
bill.”

“But that’s not right,” Bessie said.
 
“She brought him here; she should be
responsible for him.”

“Yes, well, there’s little point in debating
that at the moment.
 
For now I’m
more worried about tomorrow.
 
I’ve
agreed to stop in Douglas in the morning and give Mr. Hart a ride to the
castle.
 
I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t see that we have much choice,”
Bessie muttered.
 
“I shall give
Carolyn a piece of my mind when I see her, though.”

“Yes, well, she won’t be at the castle
tomorrow.
 
She’s staying away until
Mr. Hart is finished, apparently.”

Bessie sighed deeply.
 
“What a mess,” she said emphatically.
 
“I’m sorry you have to deal with it
all.”

“I’m going to have to collect you a little
earlier than planned,” Mark said.
 
“Probably around half seven, if that’s okay with you.”

“It’s fine,” Bessie said.
 
“I’ll be up anyway.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” Mark
said.
 
“And thank you.”

Bessie found herself pacing again after
she’d hung up.
 
When that didn’t
accomplish anything, she decided to have an early night.
 
Curled up in bed, she read a bit more of
her book, but found it difficult to concentrate.
 
After a while, she gave up and tried to
sleep instead.
 
Sleep was elusive,
but once she’d fallen asleep, Bessie didn’t wake until her usual time of six
o’clock.

The sun was trying to shine as she made her
way along the beach after her shower and breakfast.
 
She’d really enjoyed being a part of the
committee that had put together “Christmas at the Castle,” but there was a real
danger that Christopher Hart was going to ruin her enthusiasm for the
event.
 
Determined not to let that
happen, Bessie marched back to her cottage and then read until it was time for
Mark to arrive.
 
She was standing in
the middle of the kitchen, waiting, when he pulled up, and she was out of her
cottage and locking up before he’d parked the car.

“At least one of us is eager to get going
this morning,” Mark said with a sigh.

“Tomorrow is Wednesday,” Bessie said with
forced cheer.
 
“Mr. Hart is going
home tomorrow.
 
We just have to
survive today, and with Carolyn out of the picture, Mr. Hart should be much
more easily outvoted.”

Mark smiled.
 
“I hope you’re right.”

“Do you have any idea what he and Carolyn
argued about?” Bessie asked as they drove towards Douglas.

“None at all,” Mark said.
 
“She wouldn’t tell me anything on the
phone except that he’d moved into a hotel and that she wouldn’t be back at the
castle until he was gone.”

Mark was lucky to find a parking space on
the Douglas promenade right in front of Christopher’s hotel.
 
“I love the tourists, but it is quite
nice when they aren’t here and the parking is easier,” he told Bessie.

He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and
punched in some numbers.
 
“Ah, yes,
Christopher Hart’s room, please.”

Bessie could hear the sound of the phone
ringing from her seat.
 
After ten
rings, Mark disconnected.
 
“I rang
him last night and told him we would be here by eight,” he said angrily.
 
“I don’t intend to wait all morning for
him to show up.”

“So what are our options?” Bessie asked.

“I think we’ll head down to the castle,”
Mark said.
 
“I’ll leave a message at
the desk that he should get himself a taxi down when he finally gets up.”

Mark was only inside the hotel for a few
minutes.
 
He looked happier when he
came back.
 
“Apparently Mr. Hart
went out last night and brought back a large bacon pizza and a six-pack of
beer.
 
He’s probably just sleeping
off his excesses.”

“I thought he didn’t eat meat, dairy or
wheat,” Bessie said.

“Presumably that’s only when he has an
audience,” Mark said dryly.
 

They were both more cheerful on their way to
Castletown
.
 
Bessie found herself hoping that the man might wake up feeling too
miserable to work at all that day.
 
At the castle, Mark told all of the volunteers to leave their rooms as
they were, at least until Christopher arrived.
 
Then he and the committee, minus
Carolyn, got to work on setting up the room that Christopher had been expected
to decorate.
 

“I’m going to ring Natasha,” Mary announced
after a while.
 
“She can come and
help out.
 
I’m sure she’s much
better at this sort of thing than I am.”

“Not another designer,” Marjorie groaned.

“Natasha’s far more sensible than
Christopher Hart,” Mary assured her.
 
“You’ll see.
 
Anyway, if she
starts being difficult, I’ll send her back to
Thie
yn
Traie
.”

Natasha turned out to be far more helpful
than Bessie had expected.
 
They were
all working steadily an hour later when Henry walked in.
 
Bessie took one look at his face and
stopped what she was doing.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” she demanded.

“Thank you,” the man who was behind Henry
said.
 
“I’ll take it from here.”

Bessie felt herself going pale as she
recognised
the man Henry had escorted into the room.
 
He was forty-something, with brown hair
streaked with grey, and brown eyes.
 

“Inspector
Corkill
?
 
What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to tell you all that a body was
found at the Seaside Hotel this morning.
 
It’s been preliminarily identified as that of Mr. Christopher Hart,” he
said.

Chapter Three

There were shocked exclamations from around
the room.
 
Mary Quayle turned white
and Natasha quickly found her a chair.
 
Bessie opened and closed her mouth several times as she tried to work
out what she wanted to say first.
 
Before anyone spoke, the inspector held up his hand.

“I’m going to need to speak with each of you
individually,” he said.
 
“There are
two uniformed officers who will sit in here while I interview you each in
turn.
 
I’d appreciate it if you
didn’t speak to one another until after I’ve talked to everyone.”

“But we’re trying to decorate,” Natasha
said.

“And I’m investigating a murder,” the man
snapped back.
 
“Your decorations can
wait a few hours, I’m sure.”

This time no one argued.
 
A moment later, the uniformed men walked
into the room, ushering the volunteers and the site staff in with them.

“That’s everyone we could find,” one the men
told the senior policeman.
 
“But
this place is like a maze.
 
There
could be someone hiding somewhere that we’ve missed.”

“Who’s in charge?” Inspector
Corkill
asked everyone.

“I suppose that would be me,” Mark said
after a moment.

“Is this everyone who’s here today?” the
inspector asked.

Mark looked around the room.
 
“Yes, I believe it is,” he said.
 
“The volunteers sometimes bring other
people with them, but they’d know if anyone from their rooms was missing.”

“Is anyone missing?”
Corkill
demanded.
 

Everyone looked around, but no one
spoke.
 
After a moment, Agnes
Clucas
cleared her throat.

“Um, Michael isn’t here,” she said softly.

Mark nodded.
 
“Michael Beach is one of the people who
decorated a room,” he told the inspector.
 
“He had a bit of a disagreement with Mr. Hart yesterday and said he
wouldn’t be back.
 
I haven’t seen
him this morning.”

“And
Carolyn isn’t here,” Bessie added.

“Carolyn
Teare
is on the committee for the event, but she
didn’t come down today to help,” Mark said.

Inspector
Corkill
said something to one of the uniformed men, who then left the room.
 
Now the inspector addressed them as a
group.

“As I said, a body has been found in
Douglas.
 
I’m head of CID there, so
I will be the primary investigator on the case.
 
Because we believe the body to be that
of Mr. Christopher Hart, and Mr. Hart was on the island to work on the event
here, I shall be questioning each of you and anyone else who has any connection
with the event happening at the castle.
 
I appreciate your patience as I speak to you each in turn.
 
Does anyone have any questions before I
start?”

“Will we still be able to open on Friday?”
Mark asked.

The inspector shrugged.
 
“At the moment, I can’t see any reason
why not, but I’m making no promises at this point.”

Mark nodded.
 
Bessie could see that he was upset and
worried.

“Miss
Cubbon
, I’d
like to start with you,” the inspector said.

Bessie swallowed hard and then put down the
lights that she’d been stringing on the tree in front of her.
 
She was conscious that all eyes were on
her as she followed the policeman from the room.
 
They walked down the corridor and
through a door marked “staff only” before the man stopped.
 
He pushed the door shut behind them and
then turned to Bessie.
 
His
formidable frown was replaced by something like a smile as he gave her a quick
hug.

“Looks like you’re tangled up in another
murder,” he told her.
 
“I’m really
sorry.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” Bessie said
with a sigh.
 
“I don’t suppose
there’s any chance it was an accident?”

“No, no chance,” the inspector replied.

“That’s awful.
 
I mean, he wasn’t a very nice man, but
no one deserves to be murdered.”

“He wasn’t nice?
 
Can you expand on that?”

“Maybe we should sit down,” Bessie
suggested.
 
“This might take a
while.”

“Oh, sorry,” the man flushed.
 
“Do sit down.”

Inspector
Corkill
sat down behind the small desk and Bessie took the chair across from him.
 
She glanced around the room.

“I’ve been in this castle hundreds of times
and I didn’t
realise
this little office was here,”
she remarked.

“Apparently, they aren’t using it at the
moment, so they offered it to me as a space for interviews.
 
Henry told me that it used to be a guard
station when the castle was a prison.
 
I’ve no idea what it was used for before that.”

“It’s quite small.
 
It was probably used for storage,”
Bessie guessed.

“As much as I’d love to talk about the
history of Castle
Rushen
all day, we really need to
focus on my investigation,” the man said.
 
“I’d appreciate it, well, I mean, when there are other people around, I
think it might be best if you didn’t call me Pete.
 
I don’t want anyone thinking you’re
getting special treatment because we’re friends.”

Bessie smiled at his bright red face.
 
“I’m happy to call you Inspector
Corkill
all the time,” she said.
 
“I was brought up to believe in showing
respect for authority figures, even if you are friends with them.”

“Oh, no, I do want you to call me Pete,
maybe just not in front of Carolyn
Teare
.”

Now Bessie laughed.
 
“Yes, she’d be the first to complain
about special treatment, unless she was the one getting it,” she said.
 
“I’ll do my best to remember.”

“Right, let’s start with what you can tell
me about our victim, then.
 
I
understand he arrived on the island on Sunday.
 
Can you tell me why he was here?”

“There are five of us on the planning
committee for ‘Christmas at the Castle,’” Bessie began.
 
“Myself, Marjorie Stevens and Mark Blake
from Manx National Heritage, Mary Quayle and Carolyn
Teare
.
 
We’ve been working for a month or so
with volunteers from various charitable groups around the island to get the
castle decorated for Christmas.
 
We’re meant to open on Friday for the weekend, and then on the final
night, Christmas Eve, we will be auctioning off all the contents of the rooms
as well as a number of other prizes that have been donated.
 
All of the proceeds from the event will
be shared between the groups that took part and Manx National Heritage.”

“I have tickets for Christmas Eve.
 
I’m bringing Helen.”

Bessie was pleased to hear that the couple
was still together.
 
She knew Helen
Baxter, a nurse at Noble’s, because the woman was interested in the medical
history of the island.
 
The pair
occasionally met at lectures and conferences at the museum and elsewhere on the
island.

“I think she’ll love it,” Bessie said.
 
“At least, I hope you both do.
 
We’ve worked really hard getting
everything ready and it’s just about done.”

“So where does our dead man fit into it?”

“Last week, when we met here to look at the
various rooms as they were being decorated, Carolyn said that she thought the
rooms needed to work together better.
 
She proposed having a designer work with
the groups to, well, unify things in some way.”

“And the committee agreed?” Pete asked.

“Not really.
 
There isn’t any money in the budget for
a designer, so Mark told her that we’d just have to work with what we had.
 
The next day, Carolyn told us that she’d
hired Christopher Hart to come across and, well, fix
everything,
I think was how she put it.
 
As she
was paying for it and it was expected to bring us some extra publicity, we
couldn’t really say no.”

“So he arrived on Sunday?”

“You’d have to check with Carolyn on that,”
Bessie replied.
 
“I met him
yesterday morning around nine when he first arrived at the castle.”

“I’m going to have you walk me through your
entire day, but let me ask you this first.
 
What was your first impression of the man?”

“I hate to speak ill of the dead,” Bessie
said with a sigh, “but, as I said, he wasn’t very nice.
 
He shouted at Laura because he didn’t
like the
colour
of the decorations we’d used in the
courtyard, even though he’d specified he wanted mauve there and that’s exactly
what we’d used.
 
He seemed to feel
that he was a very important person and expected all of us to treat him as
such.”

“Okay, walk me through yesterday,”
Pete
said.
 
“I
want every little detail you can remember.”

Bessie took a deep breath and then
began.
 
She told him about changing
the placement of the ornaments in the courtyard, the tensions at lunch and the
disagreements that had followed.
 
When she mentioned Michael Beach’s well-aimed fist, Pete shook his head.

“I’ll have to get a copy of the report from
the ambulance personnel on the incident here yesterday,” he told Bessie as he
made a note.

Some time later, Bessie finished up by
telling Pete about the phone call from Mark and their trip into Douglas that
morning to collect the man.

“So everyone on the committee knew that Mr.
Hart had moved into a hotel?” Pete checked.

Bessie thought for a moment.
 
“I think Mark said that he’d emailed the
committee and all of the volunteers, but you’ll have to check with him.
 
I don’t know if he mentioned which hotel
in his email, although there aren’t that many options this time of year.”

“No, I think there are only a handful of
places open to guests at the moment,” Pete agreed.
 
“Everyone else is remodeling,
renovating, or wintering somewhere warm and dry.”

“I don’t know what else I can tell you,”
Bessie said.

“Who do you think killed him?” Pete asked.

“Oh, goodness,” Bessie exclaimed.
 
“I’ve no idea.
 
No one liked him, but it’s a huge step
from there to murder.
 
He upset a lot
of people here yesterday, but he was only going to be here for another day and
a half.
 
I can’t see any reason for
anyone to kill him.”

“What did he and Carolyn fight about?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Bessie
replied.
 
“I know she said she’d
used him before to decorate several rooms in her home.
 
They seemed to be getting along just
fine when they were here yesterday.”

“What about Richard
Teare
?”

“Her husband?
 
I think I’ve only met him once or
twice.”

“He wasn’t involved in the planning for the
event here?”

“Oh, no, he’s far too busy making money in
the city.
 
Carolyn makes sure that
she’s on all the right committees and appears at the important social events,
while he makes piles of money for her to spend.
 
I don’t even know if he’s on the island
at the moment.
 
He rarely is, as I
understand it.”

“He’s here,” Pete told her.
 
“He drove Mr. Hart to the hotel last
night.”

“How interesting,” Bessie murmured.

Pete walked Bessie back to the partially
decorated room, where everyone else was sitting around looking miserable.
 
The inspector took Mark away for
questioning.
 
The silence in the
room was stifling, and after a moment, Bessie felt as if she couldn’t stand it
any longer.

“I’m sorry, but can I put the radio on?” she
asked one of the uniformed officers.

“Sorry, but we can’t risk anyone hearing the
news just now,” the man replied.

“What if we play a tape?” Bessie asked.
 
“We have several tapes of Christmas
music.”

The two men exchanged glances, and then one
nodded.
 
“I suppose that can’t
hurt,” he said.
 
“Inspector
Corkill
might not agree when he comes back, though, so you
may have to switch it off.”