Aunt Bessie Decides
An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery
By:
Diana Xarissa
Text Copyright © 2014 Diana Xarissa
Cover Photo Copyright © 2014 Kevin Moughtin
All Rights Reserved
For Adam, Penny and William (Bill),
who kindly lent me their names for this book.
In the real world they are all very talented
individuals and nothing like their
namesakes here.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Glossary of Terms
Other Notes
Acknowledgments
Aunt Bessie Enjoys
About the Author
Author’s Note
This is the fourth book in the Aunt Bessie Cozy Mystery series that grew out of my Isle of Man Romance, Island Inheritance. As Bessie was the source of the inheritance in that novel, I’ve had to bring her back to life for this series by setting the cozy mystery books about fifteen years before the romance. This series, therefore, began in early 1998 and moves forward about one month per book.
There are characters who appear in both series. Obviously, they are somewhat younger in the Aunt Bessie series than they are in the romance series. The romances are all stand-alone titles, however, and you don’t need to read them to enjoy Aunt Bessie, either.
I’ve used British and Manx terminologies and spellings throughout the book (although one or two American words or spellings might have slipped past me). A couple of pages of translations and explanations, mostly for readers outside of the United Kingdom, appear at the end of the book. I’ve also identified the quotations used in the text in the back of the book.
The setting for the series is the Isle of Man, which is a small island located between England and Ireland in the Irish Sea. It is a Crown Dependency, and is a country in its own right, with its own currency, stamps, language and government.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Similarly, the names of the restaurants and shops and other businesses on the island are fictional.
Peel Castle is real (and appears on the cover) however, all of the events that take place there in this story are fictional. Manx National Heritage (MNH) is real and their employees are tireless in their efforts to both protect and share the island’s unique history and culture. All of the Manx National Heritage staff in this story, however, are fictional creations.
The Isle of Man Constabulary is also real. The members of the constabulary in this story, however, are fictional and I’m sure their behaviour is completely unlike that of their real counterparts.
Chapter One
“I hope we have enough to eat,” Hugh said anxiously from the driver’s seat of his car.
Bessie laughed from the passenger seat. “I’m sure we have plenty,” she assured the young policeman. “Doona, Grace, and I all brought hampers full of food. We have enough for a small army.”
“Or one Hugh Watterson,” Grace laughed from the backseat.
“Hey, I’m a growing boy,” the man protested.
“Hugh, you’re twenty-six. You’re done growing,” Grace told him affectionately.
Hugh shrugged. “Well, I’m still hungry,” he grumbled.
Bessie laughed. She’d known Hugh since he was a baby, and in spite of his now being six feet tall with broad shoulders, he still looked almost exactly like the teenager whose appetite he possessed.
“I know John is bringing food as well,” Doona added from her seat next to Grace. “I’m sure he’ll bring extra. We’ve all brought extra.”
“Yeah, but he’s bringing his kids,” Hugh argued. “They probably eat loads themselves.”
“Henry told me there will be food vendors at the show as well,” Bessie said soothingly. “I wouldn’t let you starve, would I?”
Hugh gave her an affectionate look. “Nah, you always take good care of me,” he acknowledged.
Bessie sat back in her seat and smiled to herself. She was always trying to take care of her friends, and that was what today was all about.
Elizabeth Cubbon had lived in the small village of Laxey for more years than anyone else in the car had been alive. It was just barely possible that you could add all of their ages together and still not get to hers, but that was not the sort of thing Bessie was likely to even consider. In her mind, she was just a bit past middle-aged and she was quite happy to stay there for the next sixty or seventy years.
Known as Aunt Bessie to nearly everyone, she made friends easily, but counted very few people as close friends. A recent series of shocking events had strengthened her relationships with a few very special people. Those same recent events had generated a great deal of stress for Bessie and her friends. Accordingly, she had decided they all needed a pleasant diversion. After some consideration, she’d invited them to an evening picnic and open-air theatre performance of a Shakespearean play.
Bessie had suggested that Hugh, her favourite neighbourhood constable, invite his girlfriend, Grace, along for the fun, and he’d been happy to include her. Doona, Bessie’s forty-something best friend was currently single, and she’d been happy to agree to an evening out. Hugh offered to drive. Bessie had never learned and Doona was pleased to agree, as that allowed her to add a bottle of wine to her hamper.
The last member of their little group, CID Inspector John Rockwell, was going to meet them all at their destination. Officially, Hugh and Doona worked for Inspector Rockwell, but that didn’t get in the way of their friendship. Bessie had insisted that the inspector include his wife and children in the night out, and she was looking forward to meeting them.
The car made its way across the island, heading from Laxey towards Peel. Bessie grinned as they passed Tynwald Hill.
“Not long now until Tynwald Day,” she remarked.
“My cousin’s school choir is performing,” Grace told her. “I’ve promised to come and watch and cheer, but not too loudly.”
Bessie laughed. “How old is he?”
“He’s nine. He’s torn between loving the attention and being embarrassed that he has a family,” Grace replied.
“We should make a day of it,” Doona suggested. “There’s loads to do and it’s always fun to stay for the fireworks at the end of the night.”
“I’d love to do that,” Bessie told her friend.
“I’m going to have to wait and see if I’m working,” Hugh told the others. “Not everyone will be at St. John’s. A few shady types might stay behind in Laxey and cause some trouble.”
“Sometimes I hate your job,” Grace said.
“I’m sorry,” Hugh told her, “but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“I know,” Grace laughed. “That’s why it’s a good thing you’re so cute.”
Bessie laughed as Hugh turned fuchsia. Even the tips of his ears brightened noticeably from the unexpected compliment.
“Anyway,” Grace continued, “the Screamin’ Manxmen are supposed to perform and I’ve been dying to see them again. They’re fabulous.”
Doona laughed. “Maybe Bessie and I will skip that particular performance,” she told the others. “I think there’s a ceilid
h as well. That might be more our style.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bessie laughed. “I’ve never been any good at dancing and I’ve heard good things about the Screamin’ Manxmen.”
“Really?” Doona asked.
“Well, some of my young guests are quite enthusiastic about them,” Bessie told her. “And I am really hopeless at dancing. I can never remember the patterns for more than a minute or two. Anyway, we can figure it all out next month.”
A few moments later, they arrived in the town of Peel.
“I haven’t been to Peel Castle in years,” Hugh said as they made their way through the streets of the town. “Where can I park?”
“There’s a car park near the castle,” Bessie told him. “It’s only a short walk away from the entrance.”
“I haven’t been here since a school trip about ten years ago,” Grace admitted. “And in those days I was more interested in trying to chat up the boys in my class than I was in history.”
“Hey,” Hugh protested with a laugh.
“It’s a wonderful old pile of ruins,” Bessie told the young woman. “I could spend hours walking you through the different sections and telling you all about the place, but tonight isn’t a good night for that. Everything is set up for the show tonight.”
“Which play did you say we’re seeing?” Doona asked.
Bessie sighed deeply. The car slid into a parking space and Bessie turned around in her seat to look at her friend. “Much Ado About the Shrew,” she said with yet another sigh.
Everyone climbed out of the car and, after gathering the hampers from the car’s boot, they began the short walk to the castle.
“I’m sorry,” Doona said to Bessie. “But what did you say the play was called?”
Bessie shook her head. “When they arranged things with Manx National Heritage, the theatre troupe said they would be doing classic Shakespeare. When I bought the tickets, Henry said he thought they were doing Hamlet, which would have been fine. Apparently the troupe just let MNH know last week that they’ve, quote, ‘had a change in direction,’ end of quote.”
“What does that mean?” Hugh asked.
“From what I’ve been told, it means that they are doing some sort of modern reinterpretation of classic Shakespearean comedy and tragedy. Apparently, they’ve combined Much Ado About Nothing with The Taming of the Shrew, although I understand that they’ve also added in odd sections from other plays, including something from Romeo and Juliet and a nod to Macbeth.” Bessie sighed again. “If we hadn’t already made plans to come, I certainly wouldn’t have bought tickets for this.”
“I don’t know,” Hugh grinned. “It sounds like it could be fun. I’m not a huge fan of Shakespeare, anyway. They spent way too much time forcing us to study him in school. Maybe a total jumble of his plays will make them interesting.”
“And if it isn’t any good,” Doona added with a wicked grin, “I’ve got three bottles of wine in my hamper.”
Bessie laughed. “The only reason I didn’t cancel is because I know we’ll have fun no matter what.”
“We certainly will,” Doona told her.
They made their way up the stone steps at the front of the castle and down a short corridor. It was dark and cool inside the old stone building after the bright warmth of a sunny day in the middle of June.
“Hello, Bessie.” The sixty-something grey-haired man in the ticket booth gave them all a smile. “Henry told me you’d be coming through. He’s got a section set up for you and your friends.”
“Ah, thanks, Bob,” Bessie smiled at the man. As an amateur historian, Bessie was well known to most of the staff of Manx National Heritage.
“Do you have your tickets?” he asked now, giving Bessie a grin. “If you don’t, it’s no bother, really, but I’m supposed to ask.”
“I do have my tickets,” Bessie assured him, handing them over. “And I have four for another friend who’s coming separately with his family. Can I leave them with you?”
“Is that Inspector Rockwell?” Bob asked. “He’s already here. He said he was meeting you and I let him and his kids in. I figured you had tickets for them.”
Bessie chuckled. “I hope you’re being stricter with the rest of the public,” she remarked, “or it could get awfully crowded in there.”
Bob shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said in a whisper. “We were doing okay until they announced the play they were doing,” he confided to Bessie. “We had a ton of cancellations after the change and I don’t think we could give the rest of the tickets away now.”
“Oh dear,” Bessie said. “This is their first performance, right? They’re meant to be doing shows for a fortnight, I thought.”
“They are,” Bob shook his head. “They’re booked for tonight and tomorrow night, and then a matinee on Sunday for families, and the same next weekend. They’re also meant to be doing school shows on Tuesday and Wednesday, but most of the schools have cancelled as well. Taking the kids to see Shakespeare is one thing, but this, well, no one knows what to expect.”
“Good thing I brought wine,” Doona muttered, making everyone laugh.
“Ooooh, there’s a programme,” Bob announced, handing a small stack of papers to Bessie. “There should be plenty there for everyone in your party,” he told her. “Feel free to keep any extra; I can’t imagine we’ll need them.”
Bessie just barely stopped herself from sighing again. “I suppose we should get in there,” she said to her friends.
“The show doesn’t start for over an hour. They’re meant to go on at seven,” Bob told her. “But the food vendors are ready to go now. I would guess there’s about a dozen folks inside, eating and getting ready to enjoy the show.”
“Only a dozen?” Bessie did sigh now. “I hope it picks up before show time.”
Bob shrugged. “I’m not sure Much Ado About the Shrew is going to pack them in,” he told her.
Bessie and her friends made their way past Bob’s ticket booth and into the castle grounds.
“It’s gorgeous,” Grace breathed as she looked around at the crumbling stone structures that surrounded them.
“Magnus Barefoot, an eleventh-century Viking king built a fort here, although the site was originally used as a place of worship,” Bessie told the girl. She gestured towards a large ruined building. “The Cathedral of St. German was built in the thirteenth century and if we weren’t here for a theatre show, we could explore its crypt.”
“Ooooo, spooky,” Grace shivered, clutching Hugh’s arm.
He laughed. “I’d put my arm around you,” he told her, “but I’m carrying too much food.”
Doona chuckled. “I told you we brought too much,” she said.
“Let’s find Inspector Rockwell and figure out where we’re meant to be sitting,” Bessie suggested.
Bob was right; there were only a small number of people wandering around the site, and no one had any trouble spotting the inspector.
He was tall, at least as far as Bessie was concerned. She was only a few inches over five feet tall herself and Rockwell was over six feet. He was in his early forties and athletically built with neatly trimmed brown hair and stunning green eyes.
Bessie waved to him and he quickly crossed the grass towards them. He dragged two children along with him and Bessie grinned when she noticed that they both had their father’s gorgeous eyes.
“Bessie,” Rockwell said when he reached her small group, “it’s good to see you.” He gave Bessie a quick hug and then stepped back to greet Doona, Grace and Hugh as well.
“But where’s Sue?” Bessie asked, looking around for the inspector’s wife, whom she had yet to meet.
“Ah,” Rockwell laughed. “Would you believe she’s on a hen night? One of her old friends back in Manchester finally decided to marry the guy she’s been living with for the last ten years and Sue and a few other friends decided that, after all this time, she deserved a hen night. I’m not on call this weekend, so I told her I’d keep the
kids and she could go and have fun.”
“I’m sorry I’m not going to get to meet her,” Bessie told her friend. “I was really looking forward to it.”
“Next time,” Rockwell assured her. “And in the meantime, I suppose I must introduce these two monsters to you,” he added. “This is Thomas,” he said, nodding towards the taller of the two children. The boy grinned awkwardly.
“Nice to meet ya,” he said, looking down at the ground.
“And this is Amy,” Rockwell continued. The young girl smiled politely.
“Dad’s told us so much about all of you,” she said in a soft voice. “I feel like I know you already.”
“Well, your father hasn’t told me near enough about you,” Bessie said with a smile. “Tell me everything interesting about you.”
Amy flushed and looked at her father, who laughed. “Why don’t we get settled with some food while Amy thinks about what she wants to tell you?” he suggested.
“That sounds like a plan,” Bessie grinned.
“Didn’t Bob say that Henry had a spot for us?” Doona asked.
“He did,” Bessie agreed. “I’m just not sure where it is.”
“It’s over there,” Thomas said with a grin as he waved a hand vaguely towards the stage. “Mr. Costain showed it to us while we were waiting for you guys.”
“Wonderful,” Doona said. “Lead the way, Thomas.”
The little group fell in behind Thomas as he led them across the bumpy terrain. Bessie studied the inspector’s children as they walked. She knew Thomas was fourteen, and he looked exactly how Bessie imagined the inspector would have looked at that age. They had the same brown hair and the same build, although Thomas was still several inches shorter than his father. The child moved with the awkward gait of a young man whose body was growing faster than he could adapt to it.
Amy, at twelve, also seemed to be in the awkward stage somewhere between childhood and adulthood. She wore her brown hair long, and it was pulled back in a fairly haphazard ponytail. Her fringe was too long and she kept pushing it out if her eyes as she clomped across the grass. While she bore a strong resemblance to her brother, she looked less like the inspector than Thomas did. Bessie wondered how much young Amy looked like the missing Sue.
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