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

by Diana Xarissa

  “I think Carolyn should do that,” Mark said. “She is on the board for the charity, after all.”

  “Good luck,” was all that Bessie could say to that.

  Mark laughed. “I think I’ll need it,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow,” he told her. “There’s nothing that needs doing any earlier than that.”

  Bessie was happy to agree. She just hoped she might get a little extra sleep out of the later start.

  “I’m parked on the next street,” John told Bessie, taking her arm.

  Bessie hated being coddled, but she was just tired enough to appreciate the extra support. John helped her into the car and shut the door for her before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “You look tired,” Bessie said sympathetically.

  “I am,” John admitted. “Inspector Lambert is on leave and I suppose I didn’t realise how much she was actually doing around the office. I can’t seem to get caught up with all the paperwork at the moment.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “I don’t know,” John told her. “There are some issues that need working through, and that’s all I have to say on the subject.”

  Bessie knew that the chief constable hadn’t been happy with the way Anna Lambert had handled questioning a vulnerable suspect during a recent investigation, but this was the first she’d heard about the woman being away.

  “How are you?” Bessie asked. “Besides tired,” she added.

  “I’m doing well,” John told her. “I’m meant to be flying across on Christmas morning to spend a few days with the kids. I’m really hoping we can have this case solved by then so I don’t have to cancel.”

  John and his wife had only recently separated. She’d moved back to the UK with their two children and Bessie knew John was finding it difficult being away from them. “You’ll have to go anyway,” she said firmly.

  “Unfortunately, my job is more important than my personal life,” John told her. “I knew that when I joined the police.”

  “Can’t Inspector Lambert come back and take over the investigation?” Bessie demanded.

  “I don’t think anyone would like that idea,” John replied. “For a number of reasons.”

  Bessie pressed her lips together to prevent herself from blurting out all of the questions that sprang to her mind.

  “Anyway, I want you to tell me what you think was going on with Carolyn and Richard yesterday,” John said.

  Bessie shrugged. “I wish I knew,” she said. “Or maybe I don’t,” she amended. “It seemed very much like they were both looking to start affairs and that they were flaunting it in front of one another. I hope I totally misread the situation, though.”

  “Do either of them have regular affairs?” John asked.

  “I didn’t think so,” Bessie replied. “Richard had an affair with Carolyn, of course. That’s how their relationship started. That much is common knowledge. I don’t see them often, but I don’t recall hearing any skeet about either of them over the years. As I said before, Carolyn sits on all the right boards and committees that make her look good, but beyond that I don’t really know anything about her.”

  “Do you like her?”

  Bessie frowned. “I don’t dislike her,” she said thoughtfully. “She’s exactly what a committee like ours needs, as she’s friends with all of the wealthiest families on the island. Her friends are going to be ninety per cent of the audience at the auction on Christmas Eve, and they should spend a lot of money bidding against one another on the various prizes. Just having her name on the invitations will have made MNH and the other charities quite a lot more money.”

  “So she’s useful; but do you like her?”

  “Not much,” Bessie admitted. “She’s polite and friendly enough while we’re working together, but I can’t help but feel that she wouldn’t bother to speak with me if we ran into each other elsewhere.”

  “Who are her friends? I mean her real friends.”

  “I don’t know that she has any,” Bessie said after giving it some thought. “She’s in the same position as a lot of wealthy men’s wives. They get thrown together at events and things, but I don’t think many of them like one another. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her out having lunch with a friend or anything like that. Mary might be better able to answer that question, though, as she’s in the same social circle. I’m not, obviously.”

  John laughed. “What about Richard? Do you know if he has friends?”

  “Years ago he used to go across almost every weekend to spend time with his children,” Bessie told John. “His first wife took the children and moved to London as soon as the divorce was mentioned. She used a London solicitor and he worked it somehow so that if Richard wanted to see the children, he had to travel to them. The children never visited the island.”

  “She must have had a good solicitor,” John remarked.

  “She did,” Bessie agreed. “And it helped that Richard was head over heels in love with Carolyn. According to my sources, Richard would have agreed to just about anything to get the divorce pushed through.”

  “But the children are all grown up now?”

  “Oh, yes, in fact, one or two of them have visited the island in the last couple of years. Richard and Carolyn had a huge party when his daughter came over to see him about five years ago.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Oh, goodness, I wasn’t invited,” Bessie laughed. “But it was the talk of the island. They flew in some boy band that was popular at the time for entertainment and probably spent more on that one weekend than an average house is worth.”

  “So what does Richard do with his weekends now that his children are adults?”

  Bessie shrugged. “Again, you should probably talk to Mary. She’ll have a better idea of what goes on in that circle than I do. If it were me, I’d spend my weekends in my enormous library, trying to read every book I could get my hands on.”

  John grinned. “Somehow I don’t think Richard is doing that,” he said.

  “No, I don’t suppose he is,” Bessie agreed.

  At Bessie’s cottage, John insisted on going inside to check that everything was okay.

  “Mark doesn’t do this,” she said grumpily as she stood in the kitchen waiting for John to finish his quick inspection.

  “Well, he should,” John said as he rejoined Bessie. “This cottage is far too isolated, especially in the winter months when the holiday rentals are empty.”

  “There was a whole row of cottages on the beach when I bought this one,” Bessie told him. “And we all lived here all year, too. When the island became a tourist destination, my neighbours soon discovered that they could rent out their homes during the summer for far more money than they’d ever imagined, and that was the end of this stretch of beach being properly residential.”

  “Now you’re the only one left,” John said.

  “I do hope George and Mary get settled into Thie yn Traie quickly,” Bessie said. “It will be nice to have neighbours again, even if they aren’t all that close by.”

  “I’ll feel better when they’re moved in,” John told her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop checking your cottage when I bring you home at night.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I hate being treated like a small child,” she grumbled.

  “But you’ll put up with it because you know I only do it because I care about you,” John said.

  Bessie nodded. “Now you’d better get home and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

  “It is,” John agreed.

  In the doorway, he paused and looked back at Bessie. “You don’t happen to have anything with Michael’s handwriting on it, do you?”

  Bessie thought for a moment. “I don’t, but Mark will have his application for a place at ‘Christmas at the Castle.’ It wasn’t long or complicated, but he will have written at least a few sentences on it.”

  “I’ll have to ask Mark about that tomorrow,” Joh
n said, making a quick note in his notebook.

  Bessie shut and locked the door behind him, her mind churning. Michael must have left a note, she thought. So it was suicide? She shook her head. Thank goodness it was John’s problem and not hers.

  It was late and she was tired, but once she got into bed, she found she couldn’t sleep. Nero and Archie were waiting on the nightstand and it took six chapters before she finally began to feel tired enough to rest. Sleep late, she told herself firmly as she drifted off to sleep.

  At six, she found herself suddenly wide awake. She sighed and rolled over, trying to coax herself into another hour of rest, but it was no good. She was tired, but her brain was already hard at work, replaying memories of Michael over and over again.

  She had her shower and got dressed. Feeling too tired to appreciate food, she poured herself some cereal and nibbled on it while she waited for the coffee maker to finish. The first cup of coffee helped to disperse the fog in her brain and a second left her feeling almost too awake. With several hours to fill before Mark was due, Bessie headed out for a long walk.

  It was cold, windy, and foggy on the beach, but Bessie was determined to walk anyway. She made it as far as Thie yn Traie before stopping for a rest. Leaning on the cliff face, she stood and watched the waves as they pounded the beach.

  While Bessie had planned to walk for longer, she was soaked through in spite of her heavy coat. She turned for home with a sigh. The walk back was straight into the wind, and when Bessie finally let herself into her cottage, she felt as if she’d had a real workout. After dripping in the kitchen for a moment, she squelched her way up to her bedroom and changed clothes. A few minutes with a mop cleared up the mess she’d left and the rest of the pot of coffee managed to warm her all the way through. She was just settling in with her book when someone knocked on her door.

  “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 Castlet
own. “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.”