Aunt Bessie Needs (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 14)

by Diana Xarissa

  “I was thinking that, but then where does the mystery brunette from this morning fit in?” Bessie asked. “Although apparently Sidney denies having been in Laxey today.”

  “He does? That’s very brave of him. What if someone saw his car?”

  “What if it wasn’t really him?” Bessie asked. “Maybe it was just some man who looks a lot like him.”

  “Isn’t it bad enough that Julie looked like Laura? We can’t possibly have another set of lookalikes, can we?”

  “I don’t know. There was no doubt in my mind this morning that the man in the cottage was Sidney Harris, but as you say, it’s very brave of him to deny it like that if it actually was him.”

  “John would never forgive us if we went knocking on the cottage door,” Doona said as she parked outside Treoghe Bwaane.

  “No, but we could take a short stroll on the beach,” Bessie suggested.

  They walked as slowly as they could past the holiday cottages. A few of them were dark, but most seemed to be full of people watching television in their small lounges. A single light burned in a first floor window in the cottage closest to Bessie’s.

  “Someone is home,” Doona hissed, eyeing the lighted window.

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the light switched off. Doona and Bessie exchanged glances and then walked slowly back to Bessie’s.

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” Doona said as she followed Bessie into the cottage.

  “I’m having tea with Laura tomorrow,” Bessie said. “Maybe she’ll have something interesting to say.”

  “I don’t think she’s involved in any way in Julie’s death,” Doona said. “I really think Sidney or Stephanie killed her.

  “But why?”

  “Maybe he killed her because his other girlfriend was coming to visit and he didn’t want her getting in the way,” Doona suggested.

  Bessie shook her head. “All of this speculation is exhausting and frustrating,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

  Doona checked the cottage over quickly, a practice that annoyed Bessie but kept Doona happy. Once Doona had headed for home, Bessie took herself off to bed, too tired to even bother with a book for a change.

  The next morning Bessie found herself filled with renewed optimism. It was a new day, and today she was going to try to find out something that would help Pete and John. When she was dressed, she headed out for her walk, strolling as far as Thie yn Traie and then heading back, eager to see what she could see at the cottage next to hers. Bessie’s heart began to beat faster when she noticed that the cottage’s sliding doors were open. She walked past as slowly as she could, trying not to stare openly as she went.

  “Good morning, Bessie,” a voice called from inside the cottage as Bessie got closer.

  “Thomas? Good morning,” Bessie called back. She increased her pace and met the man on the patio at the rear of the cottage. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here this morning,” Bessie said.

  “Our guests that booked this cottage for the week had a family emergency and had to go home just hours after they arrived. We were going to try to rent it out again, but couldn’t find any takers with it being so last-minute. I decided, since it’s empty for the rest of the week, that I should come over today and give it a clean and tidy so that it will be ready for Friday night when the next lot of guests arrive,” he explained.

  “When did the guests leave?” Bessie asked.

  “They were here for about an hour on Monday and then left,” Thomas told her.

  “But there were people here yesterday,” Bessie said. “I saw a woman making breakfast in the kitchen yesterday.”

  “Not in this cottage,” Thomas told her. “This one has been empty since Monday afternoon. As I said, we were trying to find someone that wanted to do just a few nights, but we couldn’t find any takers.”

  “I’m sure I saw someone in there yesterday,” Bessie said firmly. “And there were lights on last night, as well.”

  “You probably saw someone in one of the other cottages and just thought it was this one,” Thomas suggested. “And maybe the lights from one of the other cottages were being reflected in the windows here and that made you think there were lights on.”

  Bessie shook her head. “There were lights on in one of the bedrooms upstairs last night, and someone made breakfast in the kitchen yesterday morning. I know what I saw.”

  Thomas nodded. “If you say so,” he said. “Then someone must have broken in and stayed without my knowledge.”

  “It could happen,” Bessie suggested. “Or maybe Maggie booked someone for just one night and forgot to tell you.”

  “Maggie doesn’t handle bookings anymore,” Thomas told her. “We actually use a letting agent in Douglas. It’s far more efficient and it means the guests don’t actually know we own the cottages. When I come to change light bulbs or fix leaky pipes, I can pretend that I’m just the handyman. People are much nicer to me when they don’t know that I own the property.”

  Bessie grinned. “That makes sense,” she said. “But maybe the agent in Douglas rented the cottage and didn’t tell you.”

  “I’d hate to think that they’re doing something like that,” Thomas said. “We’ve been really happy with their service. It would be awful to think that they’re renting out the cottages and pocketing the rental fees without telling us.”

  “Maybe they just haven’t told you yet,” Bessie suggested.

  “But we didn’t clean after the sudden departure on Monday,” Thomas told her. “If the letting company was sending in guests, they would have told us to clean the cottage and change the bedding. As it is, I’ve very little to do to get things ready for Friday. It looks as if our guests on Monday never even got up the stairs before they had to go back.”

  Bessie frowned. There was no point in arguing any further with Thomas, but there was something strange going on. She headed back to her cottage and rang John.

  “I just talked to Thomas Shimmin,” Bessie began when the man answered. She repeated everything that Thomas had told her. “But I know what I saw,” she concluded. “And Doona saw the light on in the first floor bedroom last night, too. There was someone staying there. I know there was.”

  “I’ll ring Thomas and ask him about it,” John promised. “There may well be a very simple explanation.”

  Bessie didn’t agree, but she couldn’t very well argue. Instead, she paced around her kitchen until she was too frustrated to stay inside any longer. Her usual taxi firm sent a driver right away, which meant Bessie was on her way into Douglas many hours earlier than she needed to be for her tea with Laura.

  She found a few books in the bookshop that tempted her and asked the sales assistant to hold them for her until later. “I have more shopping to do and then I’m meeting a friend for tea,” she explained. “I’ll collect them just before I head for the taxi rank. That way I don’t have to carry them all over Douglas.”

  The girl yawned and wrote Bessie’s name on a slip of paper. She tucked the paper into the book on the top of the pile and put an elastic band around the books. “If you don’t collect them by five, they go back out on the shelf,” she told Bessie in a bored tone.

  “I’ll be back,” Bessie promised.

  She wandered around the charity shops, picking up a few paperbacks that she was happily able to fit into her handbag. When her stomach began to rumble, she headed for a nearby sandwich shop to get herself some lunch. As she studied the menu on the wall behind the counter, someone said her name.

  “Bessie? Miss Cubbon, isn’t it?”

  Bessie turned around and smiled at Marcus Porter, who was standing behind her in the queue. “Mr. Porter, hello.”

  “I’m sure I told you to call me Marcus,” the man said. “But what brings you into Douglas today?”

  “I’m meeting a friend for tea later,” Bessie said. “But I’m too hungry to wait, so I thought I would get a sandwich now.”

  Marcus nodded. “This place has alread
y become one of my favourites. They do great sandwiches and everything is really fresh. Besides that, it’s within easy walking distance of work. I probably come here a bit too often, but it’s impossible to resist.”

  Bessie stepped up to the counter and ordered herself an egg salad sandwich and a cold drink. Marcus added his order to hers. “I’ll get yours,” he told her. “Then you’ll feel obliged to sit with me and I won’t look friendless like I usually do.”

  Bessie laughed. “You don’t have to buy me lunch,” she said. “I’ll happily sit with you anyway.”

  The man shrugged. “It’s only a few pounds,” he told her, waving away her attempts to offer him money. “Let’s grab that table in the corner.”

  Bessie crossed to the empty table and sat down facing the door. Marcus took the seat opposite her and smiled. “So how are you?” he asked. “I don’t remember discussing it, but I assume you knew Julie Randall. I hope you weren’t too upset by her untimely death?”

  “I knew her when she was a teenager,” Bessie explained. “But I hadn’t seen her in probably thirty years.”

  “She seemed really nice,” Marcus said. “I barely spoke to her, but there was something about her. She just gave off energy or something. Her husband was a lucky man.”

  “Yes, I believe they were deeply in love,” Bessie said.

  Marcus raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. After a moment, Bessie opened her mouth to question the look, but she was interrupted.

  “Marcus? Can I squeeze in with you?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Bessie looked up and gasped. The woman standing next to Marcus was the one she’d seen in the cottage with Sidney Harris.

  She looked at Bessie quizzically. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” she said lightly.

  Marcus grinned. “I know she does look a little bit like Julie, but not nearly as much as Laura does.”

  Bessie nodded, her mind racing. Now that Marcus had mentioned it, the woman did bear a passing resemblance to Julie and Laura. “I’m sorry,” she said when she realised that she was still staring at the woman. “You actually look a great deal like an old friend of mine. Or rather, you look the way she looked twenty-five years ago. I don’t suppose you’re related to Annie Snow?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Bessie didn’t think so either, as she’d just made up the name. “But please join us,” she told the woman. “I’m Bessie Cubbon.”

  “I’m Mary Landers,” the woman replied.

  “Mary and I met in here one day last week,” Marcus interjected. “We’re both fairly new to the island, although Mary has been here for months rather than weeks. She works nearby, too.”

  “Really? What do you do?” Bessie asked, trying to sound curious rather than nosy.

  “I work for an estate agency,” the woman replied. “I mostly handle the administration of our lettings department rather than dealing with sales, though.”

  Bessie felt as if a light bulb suddenly switched on over her head. If she handled the lettings for Thomas and Maggie, she would have known about the last-minute cancellation and the suddenly empty holiday cottage. What better place to arrange a clandestine meeting with a married man? With her thoughts running rampant, Bessie took a big bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly.

  “Are you busy this weekend?” Marcus asked the woman in the lull. “I was thinking about driving down to Castletown to see Castle Rushen. I’d love some company.”

  “Which day on the weekend?” Mary asked.

  “Either,” Marcus said quickly.

  Mary grinned and pulled out her mobile. “As it happens, I can do either, too,” she told him.

  “Let’s go on Saturday,” Marcus suggested. “Then if it’s wonderful, maybe we can go to Peel Castle on Sunday.”

  “I don’t know about that, but we can certainly do Saturday,” the woman replied.

  While they made their arrangements, Bessie wondered about Mary. She felt as if she ought to warn the woman about Marcus, based on what Laura had told her, but she also felt that she should warn Marcus that Mary was involved with a married man. As there was no easy way to do either of those things, Bessie ate her sandwich and listened to the pair’s conversation instead.

  A few minutes later, Marcus looked at his watch. “I need to go,” he said. “I have a meeting at one.”

  “Fun, fun, fun,” Mary said lightly.

  “Not even a little bit,” Marcus laughed. “At least I have something to look forward to. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  The woman smiled and nodded. Bessie watched him walk away.

  “He seems really nice, anyway,” Mary said to Bessie. “And goodness knows nice men are few and far between.”

  “I know his ex-wife. I’m not sure she would agree with your assessment,” Bessie said carefully.

  “Ex-wives are notoriously unreliable,” the woman replied. “I prefer to make my own judgments.”

  “Even if he might be dangerous?” Bessie asked.

  Mary raised an eyebrow. “He hit her?” she demanded.

  Bessie shrugged. “I don’t know the whole story,” she replied.

  “Well, Saturday should be interesting,” Mary said with a grin. “Maybe I’m overconfident, but I’m a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. The last guy who took a swing at me ended up flat on his back with more than his ego bruised.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Bessie told her.

  “Thank you for the information,” Mary replied. “Now I’d better dash or I’ll be late getting back. My supervisor covers my desk when I’m at lunch, so I’ve no chance of hiding it if I come back late.”

  Bessie watched the woman walk away. She seemed very nice. How did she come to get mixed up with a married man? And why was she using an empty holiday cottage to meet with him? With those questions running through her mind, she finished her sandwich and her drink and then headed back out into the street. Douglas was bustling for a Wednesday afternoon and Bessie found her walk to the museum seemed to be taking longer than normal as she struggled through crowds of mums with pushchairs and men in suits. She was grateful to get off of the high street and start the long climb to the museum.

  “Fastyr mie,” Marjorie said from behind the museum’s front desk as Bessie entered.

  “Fastyr mie,” Bessie echoed. “But what are you doing out here? I’ve never seen you at the front desk before.”

  “The new museum director wants every member of staff to have some familiarity with all of the direct customer contact positions,” Marjorie told her. “Then if a flu epidemic wipes out ninety per cent of our staff, I can cover the front desk and we can stay open to the public.”

  “The ten per cent of the public who haven’t also caught the flu, anyway,” Bessie suggested.

  Marjorie laughed. “Something like that,” she agreed. “I’m torn between agreeing that we should all know how to sell tickets and greet visitors and being annoyed that I’m wasting an entire afternoon out here,” she said.

  “Well, I’m enjoying your company,” Henry said as he walked out of the large auditorium that was behind the desk. “You can start the movie next time, if you want to,” he offered. “That’s more exciting than sitting here.”

  Marjorie shrugged. “If there’s more than one button to push, I think I’ll leave it with you,” she said.

  “Actually, they simplified it last year,” Henry grinned. “Now there is only one button to push.”

  “Hello, Henry,” Bessie said.

  “Fastyr mie,” Henry replied, winking at Bessie.

  “Kys t’ou?” Bessie asked.

  “I’ve been better,” Henry told her. “But I’m doing okay.” He glanced around and then leaned in closer to Bessie. “Laura and I have, well, we’re not seeing each other anymore,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” Bessie told him.

  Henry shrugged. “We’d been having trouble for a while. She’s, well, she’s…” he trailed off and sighed. “She’s sec
retive and I don’t always know that she’s totally honest with me. I just decided it would be easier to be on my own, you know?”

  Bessie leaned over the desk and gave Henry a hug. “Try to remember the good times you had,” she suggested.

  “Yeah, we had some fun,” Henry agreed. “Anyway, she’s talking about leaving the island, anyway, so it’s probably all for the best.”

  “She’s leaving?” Bessie asked.

  “Maybe,” Henry replied. “If she can find a job elsewhere. But what brings you to the museum today?”

  Bessie grinned. “I’m having tea with Laura,” she said.

  “Oh, dear,” Henry replied.

  Chapter 14

  Bessie was beginning to feel as if her head might explode with all of the questions and ideas that were running through it. She walked slowly towards the museum café, trying to reorder her thoughts and focus on Laura. She was sad for Henry and unhappy that the woman was thinking of leaving, if that decision was being motivated by her fear of Marcus Porter. She paused in the doorway of the small café and then smiled as she spotted Laura.

  “Bessie, there you are,” Laura said. “I thought I’d be a little early to make sure we got a table, but I don’t think I needed to worry.”

  As only three other tables were occupied, Laura was probably right. Bessie smiled. “Better safe than sorry,” she said. “But how are you?”

  Laura shrugged. “I’ve been better,” she began. The waiter interrupted before she could elaborate.

  Bessie ordered tea and a toasted teacake without even looking at the menu. After a moment’s hesitation, Laura ordered the same.

  “Henry tells me you’re thinking of leaving,” Bessie said after the waiter had walked away.

  Laura nodded. “I do like it here, but I miss the UK as well. A former coworker got in touch a few weeks ago and mentioned that there was an opening where she’s working now. The more I thought about it, the more tempted I was to apply.”

  “And have you?”

  “Yes, and I had a phone interview. I’m going across next week for a proper interview, and if they offer me the job, I’m going to take it,” Laura said.