Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9) (25 page)

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 feeling
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.

Nicholas 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.