Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9) (29 page)

“I can’t,” Eoin replied.
 
“I can’t tell her that I drove Jacob up
here in my truck but stopped at the lower barn.
 
I told him I needed to check on
something and asked him to come and give me a hand.
 
He didn’t want to do it.
 
He was really lazy and hated getting his
hands dirty, you know.”

Bessie didn’t trust herself to speak.
 
She sat back down and looked at Eoin.
 
He was pale and haggard and Bessie felt
certain that he knew he didn’t have long left.

“I don’t know for sure what I was planning,”
he said now.
 
“I wanted to beat him
senseless, I know, but I don’t know if I planned to kill him or not.
 
I only hit him a couple of times, before
he stopped getting back up.”

A soft gasp came from the kitchen doorway on
the opposite wall.
 
Bessie looked up
to see Fenella standing there.
 
Eoin
didn’t seem to have heard her, and she was out of his line of sight.
 
As Bessie stared at her, she slowly
shook her head.

“I didn’t realise he was dead for a while,”
Eoin continued.
 
“I sat down and
waited for him to wake up for hours, but he never did.
 
Then I realised that I needed to get rid
of the body.
 
No one ever spent much
time in the lower barn, anyway, so I dug a hole under the boxes that Niall had
put there when Marion died and dropped him in it, and then put the boxes back
on top.
 
Once it was all over, I was
certain I’d get found out.
 
I’ve
spent my whole life since waiting for the police to come for me.”

“And yet you married Fenella,” Bessie
blurted out.

“I loved her.
 
I did it for her,” Eoin replied.
 
“Jacob wouldn’t have made her
happy.
 
He probably wouldn’t even
have married her.
 
He never wrote to
his sister about her; that’s very telling, isn’t it?
 
I’ve done everything I can for my entire
life to make Fenella happy.
 
Getting
rid of that man was for the best, really it was.”

Bessie could hear the desperation is the
man’s voice as he tried to persuade himself that he’d done the right
thing.
 

“Anyway, please don’t tell Fen.
 
I’ll write it all down in a letter and
you can give it to the police after I’m gone.
 
It won’t be long now, anyway.
 
Maybe the police can just keep quiet
about it.
 
That would be for the
best, really.
 
Fenella would never
have to know.”

“She thinks her father killed him,” Bessie
said quietly.
 

“He might have,” Eoin said.
 
“He was very angry about her
leaving.
 
Maybe, if I’d brought him
to the house, Niall would have killed him.”

“You don’t believe that,” Bessie said.
 
“Niall always wanted Fenella to be
happy.
 
Even if he didn’t want her
to leave, if it’s what she wanted, he would have let her go.”

“He was furious,” Eoin replied.
 
“He might have taken a swing at Jacob
and killed him accidently, just like I did.”

“Maybe,” Bessie said, not wanting to argue
with the man.

“I’ll write out my confession and give it to
you,” he told Bessie.
 
“Promise me
you won’t give it to the police until after I’m gone.”

Before Bessie could reply, Fenella walked
into the room.
 
“Don’t promise him
anything,” she said angrily.

“Fen?
 
Please tell me you weren’t listening,” Eoin said plaintively.

“I was listening,” she told him.
 
“I loved Jacob so much, and you killed
him.”

“He wasn’t good for you.
 
He was seeing a dozen other women.
 
He probably would have thrown you aside
within a month.”

“You didn’t even know him,” Fenella said,
her voice low.
 
“He loved me and we
would have had a wonderful life together.
 
We might even have been able to have children.”

Eoin looked at her and his face
crumpled.
 
“I’m sorry,” he said
quietly.
 
“I wanted to protect you.”

“I wasn’t yours to protect,” Fenella said,
tears flowing down her face.

“You were already my everything,” he told
her.

“But you weren’t mine,” Fenella
replied.
 
She turned and walked out
of the room, leaving Eoin sobbing behind her.
 
Bessie hesitated for a moment and then
followed Fenella out.

“Can I do anything to help?” she asked the
woman, who’d stopped a few paces away and was now leaning against the wall
crying.

“Ring John Rockwell and ask him to come and
get Eoin,” Fenella said.
 
“I don’t
want to see him ever again.”

“Maybe I should ring your doctor,” Bessie
said.
 
“Do you have any friends who
can come and sit with you?”

Fenella shook her head.
 
“I have Nicholas and Sarah,” she
replied.
 
“Maybe you could tell them
what’s happened?
 
I don’t feel like
talking right now.”

Bessie nodded.
 
“Where’s your room?
 
Maybe you should go and lie down, and
I’ll find Sarah and send her to you.”

“I think I’d rather go and lie down in my father’s
room,” Fenella said.
 
“He hasn’t
stayed there since just after the house was built, but we’ve kept it exactly
the same.
 
There’s nothing of Eoin’s
in there.”

Bessie took the woman’s arm and helped her
up the stairs and down the corridor.
 
Fenella opened a door and led Bessie into a large bedroom.
 
It was clearly a man’s room, with large
and dark furniture.
 
Bessie helped
Fenella into the bed, which was made up with dark blue sheets and a matching
duvet.

“My father loved this room, when the house
was first finished,” she said softly.
 

“I’m so sorry,” Bessie said.

“I can’t quite take it all in,” Fenella told
her.
 
“I’ve had so many years to get
used to losing Jacob that I’m almost not angry about that anymore.
 
It feels worse to me that Eoin was prepared
to let my father take the blame, even if only for a short time.”
 
She rested her head on the pillows and
sighed.
 
“I think maybe I do need a
doctor,” she told Bessie.
 
“I think
I’d quite like to be heavily sedated for a few days.”

“Do you want me to stay for a while or
should I go and find Sarah?” Bessie asked after she’d rung Fenella’s doctor.

“I think I’d like to have Sarah,” the woman
replied.
 
“She’s very nice and very
motherly in a way.
 
That’s probably
what I need.”

Bessie headed towards the door.
 
She hadn’t rung John yet, but that
didn’t seem as urgent as getting help for Fenella.
 
Sarah was standing just outside the
room, watching the door when Bessie opened it.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper.

“Eoin’s confessed to killing Jacob Conover,”
Bessie told her.
 
“Fenella overheard
and is, obviously, very upset.
 
I’ve
rung her doctor and he’s on his way.”

“Nicholas had his suspicions,” Sarah
said.
 
“He didn’t believe that Niall
had anything to do with it, but he couldn’t say anything against Eoin, of
course.”

“Someone needs to ring the police,” Bessie
said uncertainly.

“Perhaps that’s what Eoin was doing when I
came upstairs,” Sarah said.
 
“He was
on the phone with someone.”

Bessie walked back down to the kitchen and
found Eoin and Nicholas sitting silently together.

“I’ve rung the police and asked for John
Rockwell,” Eoin told Bessie.
 
“He’s
on his way.”

“Fenella’s doctor is on his way as well,”
Bessie told him.

“I never meant to hurt her.
 
I never would,” Eoin replied.
 

To Bessie he looked even smaller and sicker
than he had an hour ago.
 
She couldn’t
help but think that he would never make it to a murder trial.

Chapter Fifteen

When Bessie woke up on Saturday morning, she
wasn’t feeling much like having a Thanksgiving feast.
 
Events at the Clague farm continued to
upset her, and even a long walk along the beach did little to help.
 
When she got home from her walk, Doona
was parked in front of her cottage.
 
She greeted Bessie with a hug.

“I thought you might like some company,” she
told Bessie.

“I’m going to have plenty of that today,”
Bessie replied.

“I thought you might like some quiet company
before the chaos,” Doona amended her remark.

“I don’t think I’m very good company at the
moment,” Bessie replied.
 
“I
understand Eoin is in hospital and the prognosis isn’t good.”

“John said they are giving him weeks at
most,” Doona said.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Bessie
sighed.
 
“I’ve also heard that
Fenella hasn’t been to see him.”

Doona shrugged.
 
“Maybe we should find something else to
talk about,” she suggested.

Bessie forced herself to smile.
 
“You’re right,” she said.
 
“My Thanksgiving feast is one of my
favourite days of the year.
 
I need
to put the whole sad story out of my mind for today.”

“I brought a bottle of wine, if you think
that might help,” Doona told her.

“It’s not even eight in the morning yet,”
Bessie said, shaking her head.

“It’s a special occasion,” Doona laughed.

Bessie hesitated for a moment and then
smiled.
 
“Go on then.
 
Let’s have a glass of wine.
 
Just the one, though.”

Bessie was taking down the glasses when she
heard another car pull up by her cottage.
 
Doona opened the door to Hugh and Grace.

“Pull out a couple more glasses,” she called
to Bessie.

“Wine?
 
Isn’t it a bit early?” Hugh asked after he’d given Bessie a hug.

“It’s a holiday,” Bessie explained.

“Hugh’s driving, but I’m not,” Grace
said.
 
“I’ll join you for sure.”

Doona poured wine into four glasses, giving
Hugh just a small amount.
 
“You can
drive us all to the feast, can’t you?” she asked him as she took a large sip
from her own glass.

“Of course I can,” Hugh replied.
 
“I’d be happy to.”

“But what brings you here this morning?”
Bessie asked the pair.

Grace glanced at Hugh, who shrugged.
 
“We just wanted to see how you were
doing,” she said after a moment.
 
“I
know that you’ve had a lot going on lately and I was afraid it all might
interfere with your enjoyment of today.”

“Hence the wine,” Bessie said.
 

“Wine was a good idea,” Grace told
Doona.
 
“We just brought pastries.”

Bessie smiled.
 
“What would I do without my friends?”
she asked as Grace piled croissants, muffins, and doughnuts onto a
platter.
 

An hour later the wine was gone.
 
Hugh hadn’t drunk much, but he’d made up
for it by eating most of the pastries.

“I really need to head to the restaurant
now,” Bessie said, feeling the warm glow that the wine, good food, and great
friends had brought.

“Let’s go, then,” Hugh said.
 
“Maybe they’ll need someone to
taste-test things for them in the kitchen.”

Everyone laughed and then they all climbed
into Hugh’s car and headed for Ramsey.

“Bessie, we have everything under control,” Lisa
assured her when they arrived at The Swing Bridge.
 
“The turkeys are roasting, the pies are
cooling, and the bread rolls are rising.”

Bessie grinned.
 
“I know I didn’t have to be here this early,
but I decided I might as well pace and fret here as at home.”

“You have nothing to fret about,” Lisa
said.
 
“Everything will be perfect.”

Upstairs in the banquet room, Bessie
surveyed the scene.
 
White
tablecloths were set with plain white plates.
 
Centerpieces filled with autumn flowers
matched napkins in a variety of deep autumnal colours.
 

“Look at the gorgeous colours,” Doona
said.
 

“I didn’t know you could get all these
different flowers this late in the year,” Grace said.

“The whole effect is just about perfect,”
Doona told Bessie.

“It does look rather nice,” Bessie
agreed.
 
“But it seems like an awful
lot of places.
 
I didn’t think I
invited this many people.”

Doona laughed.
 
“I suspect you invited many more people
than this,” she said.
 
“Luckily,
some of them couldn’t come.”

Bessie blushed and then laughed.
 
“You could be right,” she said
sheepishly.
 
“Once I got started, I
couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

“What can we do to help?” Grace asked.

“I have place cards for everyone,” Bessie
said.
 
“I thought that might be
easier than having people trying to find their own seats.
 
But now I’m not so sure.
 
Maybe, if everyone can sit wherever they
choose, people will be able to make new friends.”

“I think either way will be good,” Doona
told her.
 
“I’m quite happy sitting
with the people I already know, but I know that anyone who is friends with you
will be nice and interesting.”

“What do you think?” Bessie asked Hugh.

“I think I want to sit with Grace,” Hugh
said.
 
“But beyond that, I’m happy
anywhere.”

“As long as there’s plenty of food,” Grace
added for him.

Hugh laughed.
 
“She knows me too well,” he told the
others.

“I don’t really mind, either way,” Grace
told Bessie.
 
“I’ll sit anywhere.”

“In that case, I think we’ll do away with
the place cards and let everyone find their own groups,” Bessie said.

“Just don’t you worry about everyone,” Doona
said.
 
“You relax and have fun.
 
It’s going to be a great afternoon.”

Bessie nodded, but she felt a pang of
uncertainty.
 
She’d never hosted
this many guests before, and there was quite a mix of people from all around
the island.
 
“I just hope it all
works out,” she muttered as Lisa brought them glasses of wine.

“It’s going to be wonderful,” Lisa assured
her.

A couple of hours later, Bessie had to
agree.
 
The room was packed with
people and everywhere that Bessie looked she saw a friendly face.
 
Some of her friends from Manx National
Heritage were chatting with Ruth and Muriel from the flats on Seaview
Terrace.
 
Doncan Quayle and his wife
were laughing with Spencer Cannon and Beverly, whom Bessie had liked
instantly.
 
John Rockwell’s children
seemed to be having a wonderful time playing games with Liz Martin’s two
toddlers, and Doona was keeping Mary Quayle
company
while George wandered around, talking to everyone.

She looked over at Henry and grinned.
 
He was shyly introducing his friend,
Laura Meyers, to everyone.
 
Laura
was in her late forties or early fifties and had just moved to the island after
being offered a job with Manx National Heritage.
 
Bessie thought she seemed perfect for
Henry, and from what Bessie had seen so
far,
it
appeared that Henry felt the same way.

It was nearly time for the food to be served
when Mark Blake found her.

“Bessie, I was wondering if you’d be willing
to join a committee that I’m putting together,” he said after an initial
greeting.

“What sort of committee?” Bessie asked
warily.
 
She always felt at a slight
disadvantage with the people from Manx National Heritage.
 
They were all smart and well educated,
and Bessie never forgot that she was simply an enthusiastic amateur when it
came to studying history.

“We’ve come up with what we hope is a
brilliant idea for a fundraiser,” Mark told her.
 
“It’s going to be called
Christmas at the Castle,
and we’ll be holding
it at Castle Rushen.”

“That sounds interesting,”
Bessie
said, curious to hear more.

“We thought it would be a chance for not
only Manx National Heritage to raise some money, but also other charities on
the island.
 
Any group that would
like to take part is going to be allowed to decorate a room at the castle for
the holidays, to some sort of theme of their choice,” Mark told her.
 
“We haven’t planned out exactly how it’s
going to work, that’s where the committee comes in, but what we want to do is
find ways to help out all of the charities that get involved.”

“I’m intrigued,” Bessie told him.

Mark laughed.
 
“That’s good,” he said.
 
“I just hope the rest of the island is
as well.
 
We’re trying to get a
strong planning committee together that can bring a wide variety of ideas and
experience to the event.
 
I thought
of you right away.”

“I don’t know,” Bessie said.
 
“I’ve never been involved in anything
like this before.”

“But I’m sure you’ll have some wonderful
ideas,” Mark countered.
 
“Marjorie
has already agreed to help and so has Mary Quayle.
 
I’d like your thoughts on who else to
add to the committee as well.”

“Let me think about it all,” Bessie
replied.
 
“Things are a little bit
hectic today.”

Mark nodded.
 
“I’ll ring you towards the end of next
week,” he said.
 
“That gives you
some time to think it through.
 
I’d
be really grateful if you’d do it, but I’ll understand if you can’t.”
 
He gave here a quick hug and then disappeared
into the crowd.

Before Bessie could give the matter any
thought, the restaurant staff began to fill the long buffet tables with
food.
 
Wonderful smells began to
fill the air and Bessie’s mouth began to water.

With two identical buffet lines, it wasn’t
long before everyone was finding places to sit with their full plates.
 
Bessie ended up at a table with Doona,
Hugh, Grace, and John Rockwell and his children.
 
She smiled to herself.
 
No one else need know that that was
exactly where she’d wanted to be.

After everyone had found seats, John stood
up.
 
“Before we all enjoy this
wonderful meal, I believe it is traditional in America to give thanks.
 
I just wanted to take a moment to say
how thankful I am for the friendship that Bessie has shown me since we first
met.
 
She’s a wonderful woman and a
true friend and I’m very thankful that I met her.”

Shouts of “hear, hear” and “hurrah for
Bessie” filled the air.
 
Bessie’s
eyes filled with tears as she looked around the room.
 
It had been a difficult and trying year
with many tragedies, but today, surrounded by the friends who were her family,
she felt that it had been worth it.
 
She loved her island, and even more, the people who lived there.