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

by Diana Xarissa

  “I’m sure Mark will understand. I can’t imagine anyone is enjoying working with the man.”

  “Except for Carolyn Teare. She seems quite taken with him.”

  Bessie nodded. “Yes, well, I can talk to Mark if you’d like. He’s driving me home.”

  “Could you? I’d rather Henry not know,” Laura said.

  “Not know what?” a voice came from behind them.

  Bessie and Laura both turned around. Bessie forced herself to smile at Henry as Laura gasped.

  “What’s going on?” Henry demanded. “Why have you been crying?” he asked Laura.

  “I was just feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Laura replied slowly. “Mr. Hart reminds me of someone from my past who, well, I’d rather not think about. I was telling Bessie that I’d like to ask Mark to reassign me elsewhere until after Mr. Hart leaves.”

  “But I like working with you,” Henry said.

  “I love working with you,” Laura replied. “But I’m not sure I can work with Mr. Hart again. It’s only for a few days.”

  Henry nodded, but he looked miserable.

  “Here’s Mark now,” Bessie said, pointing.

  “Are you all waiting for me?” Mark asked.

  Laura looked down at the ground. “I was just wondering if I might be assigned somewhere else for a few days,” she said softly.

  “Not you, too,” Mark groaned. “No one wants to work with Christopher Hart. I’m awfully sorry, but I simply don’t have anyone else to replace you with at this point. We’re on winter staffing, which means we only have a few people to cover the entire island as it is. The sites are mostly shut and the people who are still working are all trying to take days off to do their Christmas shopping.”

  Laura nodded. “It will be fine,” she said in a barely audible voice.

  “It better be,” Henry said loudly. “If that man upsets Laura again, he’ll have to answer to me.”

  Bessie had known Henry for many years and she’d never seen him lose his temper. If she didn’t know him so well, she might have been frightened by the furious look on his face now.

  “Let’s go,” Laura said, taking Henry’s hand. “We can’t let that man spoil our plans for the evening.”

  “I’m telling you, Mark, I won’t have Laura upset,” Henry called over his shoulder as Laura led him away. “If you can’t keep that man under control, I will.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I’ve never seen Henry so upset,” she said to Mark as they walked to his car.

  “I don’t like it,” Mark told her. “Henry is one of our best workers, and Laura has been excellent since she’s been here. We can’t have people like Christopher Hart upsetting them like this. I’m going to have to talk to Carolyn. Maybe we need to send him home a little early.”

  Mark was silent on the drive from Castletown to Laxey. Bessie let her mind wander to more pleasant topics, like what she was going to get her friends for Christmas. She was planning a shopping trip in Douglas when they reached her small cottage by the sea.

  “I’m sorry,” Mark said. “I didn’t say one word the entire drive, did I? I’ll make it up to you in the morning, I promise.”

  “It’s fine,” Bessie assured him. “I was busy making a mental shopping list. I haven’t done any Christmas shopping yet, and I certainly won’t have time to do it this week. Once ‘Christmas at the Castle’ is up and running, I shall have to get busy.”

  “Hmm, Christmas shopping, that’s a thought. I suppose I’ll get everything I need at the museum gift shop again this year,” Mark said.

  “You might find a few things at our auction,” Bessie suggested.

  After the busy opening weekend that was rapidly approaching, the castle was going to be closed until Christmas Eve. Then, on that final night of the event there was going to be an auction. While the main event would be the auctioning off the contents of each room, several local businesses had donated items as well. Bessie had her eye on a large box of books that the bookstore in Douglas had given them. It was sealed up tightly and labeled “25 Miscellaneous Fiction Books” and Bessie could barely resist the urge to open the box and see what was inside. The only way she could open it was if she bought the box, and she was quite tempted by the idea.

  “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 kitch
en, 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 h
istory 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.”