Read Aunt Bessie Joins (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 10) Online
Authors: Diana Xarissa
“Maggie
Shimmin
,
what brings you here?” Bessie asked as she let her guest in.
“I was just coming to check in on you, after
all the trouble down south,” Maggie said.
Bessie smiled.
Maggie and her husband, Thomas, owned
the holiday cottages that ran along the beach beyond Bessie’s home.
Maggie spent her summers keeping their
guests supplied with groceries and baked goods and her winters keeping the rest
of
Laxey
up-to-date on the latest gossip.
If anyone was going to drop by
unannounced, it was Maggie.
“I’m fine,” Bessie said now.
“I didn’t pay much attention when that
designer was killed.
I assumed
someone from across came over and did him in, that’s all.
But then I heard someone was
vandalising
all of the decorations at ‘Christmas at the
Castle.’
That’s when I started
worrying about you, you see.”
“It wasn’t the all of the decorations,”
Bessie replied.
“Someone smashed a
few baubles in one room, that’s all.
‘Christmas at the Castle’ is going ahead as planned anyway.’”
“Really?
Even with Michael Beach’s sudden death?”
Maggie asked.
“As far as I know,” Bessie told her.
“Well, that is good news,” Maggie said,
looking uncertain.
“There’s something else on your mind,”
Bessie said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” Maggie said, staring at the
floor.
“Would you like some tea or coffee?” Bessie
asked.
“Oh, no, I can’t stay.
I have to get back and help Thomas.
We’re going Christmas shopping
today.
We send little things to
some of our best customers, you know, the sort of people who come every
summer.
Thomas is making a list and
then we’re going to try to find appropriate gifts for each of them.”
“That sounds like a big job.”
“It is, but it’s a fun one.
I love to shop, even if Thomas does moan
the whole time.”
Bessie nodded.
Knowing Thomas, that’s exactly what he’d
do.
“I’d better go, then,” Maggie said.
She turned towards the door and then
looked back at Bessie.
“Could you
put in a good word for me with your inspector friend?
I mean, for my cousin Bethany?” she
asked.
“With John?”
“That’s the one,” Maggie said.
“Bethany’s in a spot of bother, you see,
and I know John will listen to you.
She isn’t a bad girl, really, she just made a little mistake.”
“I haven’t seen Bethany in years,” Bessie
said, thinking back.
“The last I
knew, she was working for an advocate in Douglas.”
“Yeah, that didn’t work out, really.
She’s been working for an estate agent
for the last six months or so.”
“And now she’s in trouble with the police?”
Bessie asked.
“The thing is, she thought Michael was
serious about her.
He swept her off
her feet, you see, and she thought he was going to marry her.”
“Bethany was involved with Michael Beach?”
Bessie asked, feeling confused.
“Yeah, and that’s why she gave him the
keys.”
Bessie felt as if the penny dropped.
“Bethany gave Michael the keys to the
house that was for sale.
The one
where they found his body.”
“Yeah,” Maggie said grimly.
“But what did Michael tell Bethany he wanted
the keys for?” Bessie asked.
Maggie flushed.
“I gather they were going to meet up
there and, um, well, have some private time together.
Bethany still lives
with her parents and Michael’s flat was
tiny.
From what Bethany said, they used to
meet at different houses that she knew were empty, instead of going out.”
“I see,” Bessie said.
Maggie shook her head.
“Bethany isn’t the brightest child,” she
said.
“She’s going to get fired if
word gets out, we know that, but we’re hoping that she won’t be in any trouble
with the police on top of everything else.”
“Was she supposed to meet him there on
Friday night?” Bessie asked.
“No, in fact, they broke up about a week
ago.
He told her he had bigger fish
to fry and left her heartbroken.
She was so upset that she forgot that he still had a spare set of keys
to that house in
Lonan
.
When she remembered, she tried ringing
him, but he never answered her calls.”
Bessie shook her head.
“She needs to talk to John,” she said.
“She’s going to do that today,” Maggie told
her.
“As soon as her boss finds out
that she gave Michael the keys, she’s sure to get fired.
I was hoping you could persuade John
Rockwell to keep that a secret.”
Bessie stared at Maggie for a moment.
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” she
said slowly.
“But you’ll try?” Maggie asked hopefully.
“I’ll talk to John,” Bessie said,
deliberately not mentioning what she was going to say to the man.
“That’s wonderful,” Maggie exclaimed.
“Thank you.”
“I can’t promise anything,” Bessie cautioned
her.
“But at least you’ll try,” Maggie said.
“It’s better than nothing.”
“I think Bethany would be smart to go and
tell her supervisor the whole story herself before she goes to the police,”
Bessie said.
“It’s the right thing
to do.”
Maggie made a face.
“I’m not sure about that,” she
said.
“But I’ll pass it along to
Bethany.”
Bessie locked the door behind the woman and
sighed deeply.
She rang John at
home and was pleased to find him in.
“It’s good to have that particular mystery
solved,” he said when she’d finished telling him the whole story.
“I’ll talk to Bethany myself and urge
her to tell all to her supervisor.
She
deserves to lose her job, if you ask me.”
“Will you be down at the castle today?”
Bessie asked.
“I don’t know,” John replied.
“I find it’s very little use trying to
plan my days when I’m in the middle of an investigation.
What hours is ‘Christmas at the Castle’
open today?”
“From one until five,” Bessie told him.
“I may just see you later, then,” John
replied.
Chapter Ten
Bessie filled the rest of her restless
morning with more Nero Wolfe.
“I’m quite jealous of his genius,” she told
Mark on their drive to
Castletown
.
“He can just sit in one place and work
everything out.
John seems to be
running all over the island, talking to everyone and looking for clues all the
time.”
“But Mr. Wolfe has Archie to do all of those
little jobs,” Mark pointed out.
“And Inspector Cramer and his men to take fingerprints and chase down
leads.”
“Yes, I suppose it isn’t much different,
really,” Bessie said.
“He just
makes it look easier than what John has to do.”
“It helps that he’s fictional,” Mark pointed
out.
“Rex Stout knows who the
killer is from page one, so all he has to do is get Mr. Wolfe and Archie to
spot him or her.”
Bessie laughed.
“I wish John knew who the killer was in
the very beginning of every case,” she said.
“It would make his job much easier.”
“I got the impression that the police don’t
think Michael was murdered,” Mark said.
“John asked me if I had any samples of his
handwriting,” Bessie replied.
“That
suggests that they found a note of some kind.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Mark replied.
When they arrived at the castle, Bessie went
from room to room, helping the charity volunteers tidy up and prepare for the
afternoon.
It was midday when she
reached the banquet room and found the rest of the committee was already there,
along with most of the volunteers.
“I’ve ordered pizza,” Mary told her.
“If that doesn’t sound good, you don’t
have to stay, but I’ve ordered more than enough for everyone.”
“Pizza is fine,” Bessie replied.
“It saves me having to go out and then rush
back.”
“I think we all feel that way,” Mark told
Bessie.
“I’d rather go and have something nice, but
I don’t think I have time,” Carolyn said, frowning.
“I was hoping you might be persuaded to
stand in for Michael today,” Mark told the woman.
“You’re on the board for the Alzheimer’s
Research Fund, after all.
I’m sure
you’d be best at answering questions about their work.”
“Oh, goodness, I’ve no idea what they do,”
Carolyn laughed.
“Richard writes
them rather large
cheques
every year, that’s why I’m
on the board.
I’ve only been to two
or three meetings in the last ten years.”
Bessie bit her lip.
If the charity wanted to give out board
positions to wealthy donors’ wives, that was up to them, but it was a shame
they hadn’t been able to find someone who would genuinely care about what they
did.
“Does anyone else want to volunteer to cover
that room?” Mark asked, glancing around the room.
The pizza delivery interrupted any replies
that might have been made.
While
Bessie filled her plate with pizza and garlic bread, she told herself that she
didn’t really mind covering for Michael again.
She’d volunteered to be on the committee
and she didn’t regret it, even if some jobs she had to do were less fun than
others.
The subject didn’t come up
again until everyone was clearing up plates and cups and getting the room ready
for the guests who were due to start arriving in only a few minutes.
“Bessie, I suppose I’ll have to ask you to
cover for Michael,” Mark said.
“Or Bessie can cover for me and I’ll cover
for Michael,” Margaret suggested.
“I’m still recovering from all the children yesterday who wanted to
write to Father Christmas.
I’ll
happily let Bessie deal with today’s crowds and cover Michael’s room
instead.
I did a lot of volunteer
work with the Alzheimer’s Research Fund a few years back.
My father suffered from Alzheimer’s, you
see.”
Bessie wasn’t sure that dealing with lots of
overexcited children was a better option, but she could tell Margaret really
wanted to switch rooms.
“That’s
fine with me, if it’s okay with Mark,” she told Margaret.
“As long as the rooms are covered, I’m
happy,” Mark replied.
“I’m not far away if it all gets to be too
much for you,” Liz whispered to Bessie as the group began to disperse to their
assigned locations.
“I can change
places with you for a while if you need a break.”
“Thanks,” Bessie said.
“I hope I don’t have to take you up on
that.”
In the end, Bessie made it through the
afternoon.
Most of the children were
very well behaved, and when one or two began to cause trouble, a gentle
reminder from a parent that Father Christmas was watching seemed to take care
of everything.
Bessie was relived
when five o’clock finally rolled around and the castle doors were shut.
The room wasn’t too untidy, and as they
weren’t open again until the final evening on Christmas Eve, there was no rush
to straighten and clear up anyway.
“Oh, thank you, Bessie,” Margaret said when
the group reassembled in the banquet room just after five.
“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“It was fine,” Bessie assured her.
“Some of the children were really
lovely.”
“I almost missed them,” Margaret said with a
laugh.
“I’ll be glad to have my own
room back on Thursday night.”
“I’ve spoken to the chair of the board at
the Alzheimer’s Research Fund, and they’re going to send someone to staff their
room for Christmas Eve,” Mark told them all.
Bessie smiled.
She hadn’t really minded working the
rooms, but she would much rather be out and about, wandering around the castle
and chatting to her friends on Christmas Eve.
“It’s been a crazy weekend,” Mark said.
“But we’re through it now.
Only the big Christmas Eve auction to
get through and the first ‘Christmas at the Castle’
is
finished.
Initial figures suggest
that it has been somewhat more successful than we’d originally hoped, so at
this point it seems likely that we’ll do it again next year.”
A few people clapped politely.
Mark grinned.
“I hope you’ll all plan on being
involved again next year.
But
that’s for another day.
For today,
I’ll just thank you all for your very hard work and send you home.
No one has to be back until Thursday
afternoon around two.
That should
give us plenty of time to tidy rooms and double-check that everything is ready.
I’m having dinner catered in again, and
then the doors will open at seven for three hours of fun, food and
fundraising.”
Having been told that they could leave, most
people didn’t stay long after Mark finished speaking.
Only a short time later, he and Bessie
were locking up doors and making their way out of the building themselves.
Henry followed them, double-checking
every door along the way.
Bessie
frowned as she noticed how tired he looked.
“Henry, are you okay?” she asked as they
reached the street.
“I’m fine,” he answered automatically.
“No, really, how are you?” Bessie asked.
“I just have to pop over the road and check
on the catering for Thursday,” Mark said before disappearing into the
restaurant across from the castle.
“Henry, you look really tired,” Bessie tried
again, resting a hand on his arm as she spoke.
“I am a little tired,” Henry admitted.
He glanced around as if making sure they
were alone, and then leaned in towards Bessie.
“Laura’s been acting strangely,” he
whispered.
“Like something is wrong,
but she won’t tell me what.”
“I didn’t see her here today,” Bessie said.
“No, she asked to be moved to
Rushen
Abbey for a while.”
“Oh, dear,” Bessie frowned.
She liked Laura and she thought that
Laura and Henry made a lovely couple.
“Did she say why she wanted to move?”
Henry shook his head.
“She just said she wanted a change of
scenery,” he told Bessie.
“She said
that all the bad things happening here were giving her nightmares.”
“The poor girl,” Bessie exclaimed.
“Perhaps I should ring her and see how
she is.”
“I think she’d like that.
She’s said nice things about you since
your Thanksgiving party.”
“I’m sure I have her number somewhere,”
Bessie said.
“But give it to me
again, just in case.”
Henry recited the number from memory.
Bessie jotted it down on a scrap of paper
and tucked the paper in her bag.
“I’ll ring her in the next few days and see
how she is,” Bessie promised.
“Maybe she’s just feeling a bit homesick with the holidays coming up.”
“I doubt that.
I asked her if there was anything she
missed from across and she said something about being happy that she’d managed
to get away.
I’m not sure what she
meant, actually.”
“I’ll try to talk to her and I’ll tell you
how it went on Thursday,” Bessie said.
“Here’s Mark,” she nodded towards the man who was now crossing the road
back towards them.
“We’re all set,” he said.
“Let me get you home,” he said to
Bessie.
Bessie gave Henry a quick hug and then
followed Mark to his car.
The drive
back to
Laxey
was a quiet one as Bessie wondered and
worried about Laura and Henry.
She
was surprised when Mark stopped at her cottage; she’d been so lost in thought
she hadn’t noticed where they were.
“See you on Thursday around half one,” Mark
told Bessie as she climbed out of the car.
“Lovely,” Bessie muttered distractedly.
Inside her cottage, she fixed herself a
light evening meal.
She tried to
divert herself with her book, but her mind wouldn’t focus.
As soon as she was finished eating, she
found the scrap of paper and rang Laura.
“Hello, dear, it’s Bessie
Cubbon
.
How are
you?”
“Oh, Miss
Cubbon
,
I wasn’t expecting, that is, I didn’t, oh, I mean, I’m fine, really,” the other
woman stammered.
“I know you were quite upset by Mr. Hart’s
sudden death and the vandalism at the castle.
When I didn’t see you there today, I
thought I would ring and make sure you were okay,” Bessie explained.
“That’s very kind of you.
I’m fine, really.
I just asked if I could be moved to a
different site.
You’re
right,
the goings-on at Castle
Rushen
have upset me.
I thought maybe a
different site would make a nice change.”
“Where are you now, then?” Bessie asked,
pretending she didn’t already know the answer.
“I’m at
Rushen
Abbey,” Laura replied.
“It’s shut
for the winter, so we’re doing a lot of cleaning and polishing and rearranging
a few exhibits before the spring.”
“That does sound like more fun than dealing
with the hordes of overexcited children at ‘Christmas at the Castle,’” Bessie
said with a laugh.
Laura chuckled.
“I enjoyed that too, but the castle was,
well, unsettling, I suppose.”
“Do you have a day off this week?” Bessie
asked impulsively.
“I’d love to buy
you lunch and get to know you better.”
“Oh, why, that’s very kind, but I don’t,
that is, I suppose I could, but you don’t have to pay.”
“I’ll pay this time, and if we enjoy each
other’s company as much as I think we might, you can pay next time.
Would that work?”
“I’d like that,” Laura said.
“I don’t know many people on the island
yet, aside from the people at work.
I could do with making some more friends.”
“Excellent, what day works for you?”
“I’m off on Wednesday,” Laura told her.
“Is there anywhere you’d especially like to
try?”
“Oh, I don’t know.
I don’t really know my way around the
island yet or anything.
I don’t
even know where you live or what’s convenient for you.
I assume you live somewhere near Ramsey,
as that’s where you had your Thanksgiving feast, but that day was the only time
I’ve been to Ramsey aside from when I’ve visited the Grove Museum.”