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

by Diana Xarissa

  “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.”

  “That’s fine,” Bessie replied. She walked over and put in the first cassette tape she picked up. A few minutes later a traditional Christmas carol filled the air. Bessie adjusted the volume down so that it was unobtrusive, but it helped to fill up the tense silence, at least. She sat back down for a few moments, but felt too restless to stay seated.

  “Is it okay if I get back to work on my tree?” Bessie asked the uniformed man now.

  He looked at his colleague and then shrugged. “We were told you weren’t to speak to one another,” he said. “If you can decorate without speaking, I suppose it should be okay.”

  “I’ll be good,” Bessie promised. She quickly returned to stringing up lights, and after a few minutes, most of the others went back to work as well. Bessie found herself smiling as the music played and the room began to take shape. If she ignored the two men in the doorway, she could almost forget about Christopher Hart’s untimely death.

  When Inspector Corkill returned a short time later, he stopped in the doorway and stared. “Music? And decorating? Shall I guess that Miss Cubbon is behind it all?” he asked.

  Bessie turned and smiled at him. “We aren’t speaking to one another,” she told him. “We’re just getting on with our work.”

  “I suppose I can’t complain, then, can I?” He shook his head and then asked Mary Quayle to join him.

  The morning dragged on as everyone was interviewed in turn. Bessie’s tummy was growling by the time the police had finished interviewing the last volunteer. She was also nearly desperate to speak, even though she had nothing in particular to say.

  “Thank you all for your cooperation,” Pete said from the doorway after he escorted Liz back into the room. “As our investigation progresses, I expect I’ll need to speak to all of you again, but I won’t take up any more of your time today. I’ve given you all my card. Please get in touch immediately if you think of anything that could be relevant, no matter how insignificant it might seem.”

  He spoke to the two uniformed men and then looked over at Bessie. “I’d appreciate another quick word, Miss Cubbon.”

  Bessie crossed to him and followed him and the uniformed men out into the corridor.

  “I’d be grateful if you could ring me later and tell me about your afternoon,” he told her. “Let me know if anyone is behaving at all oddly or says anything interesting or out of character.”

  “I’ll ring you,” Bessie promised. “But as everyone is quite upset, I suspect we’ll all be acting out of character.”

  “Thank you,” was the man’s only reply.

  Bessie watched as the trio made their way towards the exit. She didn’t like feeling as if she were spying on her friends, but the idea that one of them might be a murderer was even more upsetting. Sighing deeply, she turned and walked back into the room that was still unfinished. If they were going to open on time, that had to be their priority, she thought. Maybe after lunch, her tummy added.

  Mark suggested ordering pizza so that they could keep working through lunch, and no one objected. As Bessie returned to work on yet another tree, Liz approached her.

  “Bessie, I don’t quite know how to put this, but what are we meant to do now? I mean with Mr. Hart gone, do you still want us the make the changes he suggested or should we leave our rooms alone?”

  “That’s a great question,” Bessie told her. “Let’s see what Mark thinks.”

  “Let’s wait to make any decisions until after lunch,” Mark suggested when the pair approached him. “I rang Carolyn and Michael and they’re both going to be here within the hour. We can all sit down and work out exactly what we want to do at that time.”

  “Can I help in here until the
pizza arrives?” Liz asked.

  Bessie gladly handed the girl a box of decorations and pointed her towards the nearest bare tree. The other volunteers quickly joined in and by the time the food was delivered, the room was starting to look like Bessie’s plan.

  “This is going to be my favourite room,” Mark told Bessie as they helped themselves to lunch.

  “It is looking rather nice,” Bessie said. “And I think it’s interesting to learn about Christmas customs in other parts of the world.”

  “Absolutely,” Mark agreed. “I love that our event is fun and educational, all while supporting great not-for-profit groups. ‘Christmas at the Castle’ was one of my better ideas, I do think.”

  By the time everyone was stuffed full of pizza, garlic bread and fizzy drinks, Michael and Carolyn had arrived. Mark spoke to each of them in turn and then called the group to order. Before he began, Mary spoke up.

  “I’ve been talking with Natasha,” she told the group. “She has some ideas for little things that can be done to improve each room. I’m happy to pay for her time here, if you’re all willing to listen to her ideas.”

  Bessie thought all of the volunteers looked uneasy with the idea.

  “As long as everyone is free to leave their rooms the way they are if they choose,” Mark articulated what Bessie was sure the rest were thinking.

  “Of course they can,” Mary assured him. “And I promise they’re only small changes, as well.”

  “I think we ought to fix everything exactly as dear Christo wanted it,” Carolyn said loudly. “The whole event should be a tribute to the dear man and all that he tried to do here.”

  “Perhaps we should donate some portion of the proceeds to his favourite charity in his name,” Bessie suggested. “Surely that would be a more fitting tribute than trying to rearrange things based on our memories of what he said.”

  “I can remember exactly what he said about every room,” Carolyn said.

  “I think Bessie’s idea is a good one,” Mark interjected. “And I think letting Natasha have a turn at improving the rooms is also wise. Mr. Hart’s ideas were, well, divisive might be the best word. I think it’s important that we all work as a team to make this event the best it can be.”

  “Perhaps it’s time for me to resign from the committee,” Carolyn said crossly.

  “What did you and Mr. Hart fight about last night?” Bessie blurted out.

  Carolyn flushed. “That’s certainly not any of your concern,” she snapped. “And it certainly has no bearing on my determination to honour the memory of my dear friend.”

  “Maybe you could decorate a room in his honour,” Marjorie said. “We haven’t used every room in the castle, by any means. Perhaps MNH could find a small space that you could decorate in Mr. Hart’s style.”

  Carolyn looked as if she wanted to argue, but after a moment she simply sighed dramatically. “If that’s the best I can get, I suppose that will have to do,” she said with an injured sniff. “I have all of the decorations that Christo purchased last evening. I’ll have my staff get to work right away.”

  Mark and Marjorie had a quick conversation before Mark led them all down one of the corridors. “We didn’t want to try to do too much, as this is our first year,” he explained. “So we have an entire wing of rooms that we aren’t using. This is the largest of the unused spaces. You’re welcome to decorate it in honour of Mr. Hart.”

  Carolyn looked around the large and empty room. “It’s cold and dark,” she said. “But I suppose, if it’s all I can have...” she trailed off and looked at Mark expectantly.

  “There are smaller rooms on either side if you’d like one of those instead,” Mark told her.

  “This will do,” she said sourly. She pulled out her mobile and within minutes she was shouting orders into it. Bessie felt sorry for the woman’s employees, now tasked with bringing several boxes of decorations to the castle, where they would be expected to decorate the large drafty space Carolyn had been given.

  “What should we expect?” Mark asked when Carolyn finally disconnected her call. “What theme was he planning to use?”

  “I’m not sure exactly what he was planning,” she replied. “I suppose you could call it ‘Deadly Christmas,’ but that seems, well, inappropriate, especially under the circumstances.”

  Mark nodded. “We’ll decide what to call it after you’re done decorating,” he said. “Now, the rest of the committee probably needs to get back to our room. Mary, how about if you and Natasha start working with the volunteers to see what you can do?”

  It was nearly five o’clock when Bessie stood back from a tree and smiled. “I think we’re about done,” she said happily. She looked around the room at all of the bright and cheery trees and smiled more deeply. The finished room was every bit as beautiful as she’d hoped it would be.

  “I’m so going home to soak in a bath,” Marjorie said, climbing down from a ladder. “I’ve been reaching over my head all afternoon. My arms and my back are really stiff.”

  “But the garland looks wonderful,” Bessie said. A long garland of pine branches, with fairly lights woven through it, now stretched all around the room. Marjorie had spent all day measuring and hanging it so it was perfect.

  “It wasn’t easy on these old stone walls,” Marjorie admitted. “But I think it was worth the effort.”

  “I had it easy,” Mark said. “I was just doing trees.”

  “Wow,” a voice from the doorway said. “You’ve been working really hard in here.”

  Bessie turned and nodded at Mary and Natasha, who were standing the doorway. “We have, but we think we’re done.”

  “And I wouldn’t change a thing,” Natasha told her.

  “But come and see what she’s done elsewhere,” Mary urged them. “I think she’s amazing.”

  They all followed Mary back down to the courtyard where Natasha had had a few ornaments rearranged. For some reason, those few changes made the space feel brighter and Bessie was immediately impressed with the woman.

  An hour later, she was wishing she had the money in her own budget to have Natasha redesign her entire cottage. None of the changes the designer had made were huge, but they’d all made a significant difference to the feel of each room.

  “I can’t believe how different it all feels, even though nothing much has changed,” Bessie said as they ended the tour in the banquet room.

  “I love what she’s done in our room,” Liz told Bessie. “I never thought that moving the giant teddy to the opposite wall would make any difference at all, but it seems to make the space feel warmer and more enclosed, like a real toy box should.”

  It seemed that everyone, even Michael Beach, was happy with Natasha’s input.

  “Let me buy you dinner,” he suggested to the young blonde as the group made their way out of the castle a short time later. “We can go anywhere you’d like.”

  “I wish I could,” she replied. “But I’ve been here playing with Christmas decorations all day. I have to get back to my plans for Thie yn Traie. I’m on a tight deadline there.”

  Bessie expected Mary to insist that the woman take the evening off, but Mary didn’t say a word. In the car park, everyone went their separate ways, with Bessie dropping onto the bench to wait for Mark to finish locking doors in the castle. She was surprised when Michael sat down beside her.

  “So, I understand you’re friends with half the police force on the island,” he said. Bessie could tell that he was trying to sound offhand, but she could hear tension in his tone.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she replied. “I do know a few members of the police, but nowhere near half the force.”

  “You know Inspector Corkill, though, right?”

  “I do,” Bessie agreed.

  “Does he think I killed Christopher Hart?”

  Bessie stared at him for a moment. “Why would he think that?” she asked eventually.

  “Because I punched him yesterday,” Michael said. “Our lit
tle altercation seems likely to have made me the number-one suspect.”

  “I don’t know what the inspector thinks,” Bessie told him. “But I don’t think your disagreement about Christmas decorations is much of a motive for murder.”

  Michael nodded. “There was a lot of name calling and ugly remarks,” he said. “I suppose people have been killed for less.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” Bessie said. “But there’s a big difference between punching someone in the heat of anger and seeking them out many hours later to kill them.”

  “I didn’t have to seek him out,” Michael said. “He rang me from his hotel room.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, he wanted to tell me that he was seriously considering taking the whole story to the press. He said he was certain I’d want to avoid negative publicity, especially on behalf of the Alzheimer’s Research Fund, and he suggested that I might like to buy him a few drinks and discuss how we might smooth things over before he went back to London and started doing press interviews for his new series.”

  “That sounds a lot like blackmail to me,” Bessie said.

  “It sounded like blackmail to me, too,” Michael agreed. “But he was right, I can’t afford for the story to hit the papers. I’d probably lose my job over it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I agreed to meet him. I didn’t feel like I had much choice.”

  “And what happened over drinks?”

  “I didn’t go,” Michael told her. “I drove down to Douglas and parked by the pub, but I didn’t go in. I sat outside, watching the sea and thinking. I finally decided that I’d have to take my chances that Mr. Hart would rather not have everyone know that I knocked him out with one punch and I drove away.”

  “You’re probably right,” Bessie said after a moment’s thought. “I can’t see him telling people that he slapped you, either, and you have enough witnesses on your side that he would have had to tell the whole story if he started spreading it around.”