Aunt Bessie Believes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery)

by Diana Xarissa

  “What other hire car company?” Janet demanded. “MannCar has started using bright green stickers now. Haven’t you seen them? They are just as ugly and unmistakable as the yellow ones that CarManx has had for years.”

  Bessie had to admit she hadn’t spotted one yet. “Which car place did the mystery man use, then?” she asked.

  “Both,” Janet replied. “I saw cars with stickers from both companies at different times.”

  “How often did the man visit?”

  “It all started about two months ago,” Janet answered. “At first I saw a car maybe once a week, then it started to get more frequent. Two weeks before Moirrey died, I think I saw a car go past at least three times, maybe four. The last week before Moirrey’s death, though, I didn’t see him at all.”

  “Is it possible that more than one person was visiting Moirrey?”

  “Of course it’s possible,” Janet snapped. “I told you I never saw the driver. I’d be surprised if it was more than one person, though. Moirrey never had visitors except for her advocate before this person started dropping by. I can’t imagine where she’d suddenly find two new friends.”

  “And you only knew he was there because you saw the car?”

  “Sometimes there were other clues,” Janet told her. “A pair of wine glasses left on the deck or two dinner plates left in the sink, that sort of thing. I think Moirrey wanted me to find clues and ask her about him. I think she thought keeping him a secret was huge fun.”

  “Could her guest have been a woman?” Bessie asked.

  “Ms. Teare didn’t have those sorts of inclinations,” Janet said primly.

  “I didn’t mean it in that way,” Bessie replied. “I mean could it just have been a female friend coming to visit?”

  “Why all the secrecy, then?” Janet demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Bessie admitted.

  “Anyway, I doubt it,” Janet told her. “There was something about the way Moirrey refused to answer any questions. She was being coy and girly about it, like you would about a man. If she was just having a friend around, she would have told me.”

  “And you can’t remember anything that she said while she was being coy that might be a clue?”

  “No,” Janet said and then sighed. “She said something when she was telling me to go that you might be interested in, though.”

  “What was that?”

  “She said she was letting me go and that I needed to vacate the cottage where I was staying, and then she said something about needing to get everything sold and settled before she left.”

  “Left for where?” Bessie asked excitedly.

  “I asked her where she was going and she went all coy on me. She said it wasn’t any of my business, but that she was going to take her fortune and do some travelling. She said she’d decided that it was time for her start enjoying her life and living a little bit.”

  “When was this?”

  “About two weeks before she died,” Janet answered.

  “And yet, when I saw her the night before she died, she didn’t say anything about leaving. She’d just signed up for a six-week class in Manx as well. That isn’t the sort of thing she would do if she were leaving, is it?”

  “No,” Janet shrugged. “She was too cheap to sign up for something if she didn’t expect to finish it. Maybe her plans changed or maybe she was just telling me that as an excuse to get rid of me. As I said, no one had been visiting her lately, so maybe the boyfriend dumped her and she decided that she wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “But she was still pushing Anne Caine about her cottage,” Bessie mused.

  “That was about money. She could be quite obsessive about money.”

  “I thought you said Matthew Barnes handled everything for her on that front.”

  “That didn’t stop her from getting involved sometimes,” Janet replied. “Especially where Anne Caine was concerned. Moirrey had a definite dislike for her and I never really understood why.”

  “I always thought that Ewan Teare had quite a soft spot for Anne,” Bessie answered. “Maybe Moirrey resented that.”

  “That all happened before my time,” Janet shrugged. “Whatever, I really do have to go.”

  This time Bessie let her go without any further questions. She looked at her watch. It felt like it had been hours since she walked into the café, and she was surprised to find that it was only just three o’clock. After she settled the bill she made her way out of the museum, walking past Marjorie’s office along the way. Marjorie’s door was shut and the lights were off. Never mind, she’d see Marjorie on Monday.

  Bessie hadn’t arranged for a ride home, not knowing how long the chat with Janet would take, so now she found herself wondering what to do with herself. A quick stop at Noble’s Hospital to see Anne seemed tempting. The taxi rank in front of the museum was full of available cars, so Bessie climbed into a cab and was on her way.

  In the hospital lobby Bessie paused and bought a small bouquet of flowers and a couple of paperback books for Anne. Then she made her way to the lift and then down the corridor to ward eleven. The young uniformed constable sitting in front of the door to Anne’s room jumped to his feet as Bessie approached.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said politely. “Who are you here to see?”

  “I was hoping to visit Anne Caine,” Bessie replied. “But if I can’t see her, maybe you could take the flowers and books in to her and tell her that Bessie Cubbon was here?”

  The man smiled. “I am sorry,” he said. “But I can’t let you in. It’s, er, doctor’s orders, you see. No one is allowed in to visit Ms. Caine except her son.”

  “That’s fine,” Bessie assured him. “Just give her these and tell her I’m thinking of her, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man smiled. “And thank you for not arguing with me.”

  Bessie grinned. “It’s a tough job, is it?”

  The young man shrugged. “It sounded like a terrific and easy assignment when the boss told me about it, but it’s dead dull and when it isn’t dull that’s because someone is arguing with me that I need to make an exception for them. I’ll be happy to get back out on the street.”

  Bessie thanked him for his willingness to take on such a thankless job and turned to go. She could feel the constable’s eyes on her as she turned down the corridor towards the lift.

  Was there anything more boring than waiting for a lift, she wondered idly after pressing the call button. It was that feeling that she could be going somewhere, if only the lift would hurry up and arrive. She pushed the button again, knowing it was pointless, but unable to resist. There had to be stairs somewhere, but the hospital apparently didn’t want anyone to find them. She tapped the illuminated disc another time, telling herself to be patient.

  “Aunt Bessie?” The voice from behind her startled her. She pulled her hand back from the button guiltily and spun around.

  “Oh, I’m so glad I caught up with you,” Andy Caine beamed at her. “Let me walk out with you.”

  Behind her, the lift doors opened slowly. Bessie and Andy walked inside and Bessie selected the ground level. Bessie was surprised to find that they had the lift to themselves.

  “I just wanted to thank you, on mum’s behalf, for the flowers and the books,” Andy said. “She’s hugely grateful.”

  “I’m glad,” Bessie replied. “I was hoping to see her, but I wasn’t surprised to see the guard still in place.”

  Andy frowned. “I don’t understand it,” he told Bessie as they exited the lift and began to make their way towards the lobby. “The doctor offered to let mum go home today and she said no. The police said no as well. What’s going on?”

  Bessie patted Andy’s arm. “I think everyone just wants to do whatever they can to keep your mum safe,” she told the man.

  “Safe from what?” Andy demanded.

  “Safe from whoever cut her brake lines,” Bessie suggested.

  “Inspector Rockwell has been to see her a
bunch of times. He thinks she knows who did it.”

  Bessie shrugged. “It’s his job to question people,” she told him.

  “I think she knows, too,” Andy admitted quietly. “That’s why she won’t go home and that’s why I’m so worried about her.”

  “She’s safe here,” Bessie said consolingly. “Give the police some time. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

  At the hospital’s front door, Andy looked deeply into Bessie’s eyes. “I’m scared,” he told her, looking exactly like the six-year-old boy she’d first met so many years earlier.

  “Come and stay with me tonight,” she suggested. “You can sleep in the spare room. It’s always ready for guests.”

  Andy smiled. “I love your spare room,” he told Bessie. “It feels like the safest place in the world. But I can’t come tonight. I’m staying here, in an unoccupied room, to be close to mum. She’s insisting on it.”

  Bessie nodded. “I’m sure she feels better knowing you’re close by.”

  “I guess,” Andy shrugged. “Anyway, when this is all over I’m going to take you up on that offer,” he told Bessie. “I’m going to have my night in your spare room and I’m going to bake shortbread with you before bedtime.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Bessie told him. She gave him a big hug and then looked into his eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” she assured him.

  “I hope so,” Andy replied. He helped Bessie into a taxi. “Oh, and mum says to tell you that she will pay you back, with interest, next week, assuming she can get out of here.”

  Bessie shook her head. “Tell your mother that there is no rush. She needs to look after herself for now. That’s all that matters.”

  “I will,” Andy smiled. “Thank you, for everything.”

  Andy shut the taxi door and Bessie watched him as he stared after her taxi as it pulled away. A short while later she arrived back home with a couple of hours still to fill before Inspector Rockwell was due.

  She mixed up the custard for the bread and butter pudding and then assembled the pudding itself. She put the dish in the refrigerator when she’d finished. She’d pop it in the oven when the inspector arrived and it would be lovely and hot once they’d finished eating.

  Her new cookbook was calling to her, so Bessie grabbed it and settled at the kitchen table with a pad of paper and a pencil. She usually bought cookbooks for the joy of looking at the pictures more than for trying the recipes, but this one was an exception. Page after page of glorious pudding recipes were too tempting to resist. She’d already bought what she needed for the brownies. Now she made note of what to buy in order to create American-style chocolate chip cookies. They would be a perfect treat for her unexpected visitors next week.

  A knock on the door startled her. The inspector wasn’t due for another hour. She got to her feet and headed for the door, ignoring the little voice that wanted to remind her that there was a murderer loose on the island.

  Chapter Twelve

  There weren’t any windows near the door that would allow Bessie to see her visitors before opening the door to them. And the old wooden door and sturdily built walls were too thick for anyone to hear a shouted “Who is it?” through. This had never bothered Bessie in the past, but tonight she had a moment’s pause before she pulled open the door.

  “Jason? What are you doing here?”

  The teenager burst into Bessie’s kitchen full of barely repressed energy. “I just can’t take it anymore,” he told Bessie. “I’m nearly seventeen. I shouldn’t have to account for every second of every day. It isn’t even like I’m out causing trouble or the like. I just want to spend some time with my friends without having to give every detail to mum and dad. Is that too much to ask?”

  Bessie laughed. “Your parents are giving you a hard time again, I gather?”

  Jason shook his head, his long light-brown hair bouncing around and his blue eyes blazing. “I was late one night, just the once, and now they’ve grounded me for the rest of the month.”

  “If you’re grounded, maybe you shouldn’t be here?” Bessie suggested.

  “Oh, coming to see you doesn’t count,” Jason told her. “They’ll be happy I’m here and not sneaking out to see my friends.”

  Bessie grinned. “I suppose I should be glad that I’m more acceptable company than your friends.”

  Jason smiled back at her. “Sorry for all the shouting as I came in,” he said apologetically. “I just feel so frustrated, you know? All my friends are allowed to come and go as they please, and my parents just keep making up new rules all the time. It’s like they don’t want me to have a life of my own or they want to keep me as a baby or something.”

  Bessie nodded. “Parents always seem to struggle with their children getting older,” she told the boy. “I think it’s hard for them to think of someone who was once totally reliant on them for everything as a responsible adult. It will probably take you years to prove to them that you are all grown up now.”

  Jason frowned. “I haven’t got years,” he complained. “The concert I want to go to is tomorrow night and they’ve said I can’t go, even though all my friends get to go and I sorted out a ride and everything all by myself.”

  “What concert is that?” Bessie asked.

  “The Screamin’ Manxmen,” Jason replied. “They are really good. They’re like a covers band mostly, but they do a few originals as well. Everyone on the whole island will be there, well, everyone my age.”

  Bessie nodded. “And your parents said you can’t go? That is a shame.”

  “I was late just once, well, maybe twice,” Jason told her. “I’m thinking about getting my own place, then I won’t have to answer to them anymore.”

  “How about some tea and a few biscuits?” she asked the teen.

  “That would be great,” Jason answered.

  Bessie took her time making tea and pulling out biscuits. She wanted to give the youngster time to calm down before continuing the conversation. She grinned to herself as he poured nearly half a cup of milk into his mug before adding the tea to it; four heaping scoops of sugar went in as well. Hopefully, the sweet milky drink would improve his mood.

  “So, if you get your own place, will you stay here in Laxey or are you thinking about moving into Douglas or elsewhere?”

  Jason gave her a surprised look. “Well, um, I guess, that is, I hadn’t really thought about it,” he told her. “I guess I’d want to stay in Laxey. I’ve got school to finish and all my friends are here.”

  “I’m only asking because I have a friend who is looking for a flat right now and he’s having a hard time finding one. I didn’t know if you knew of any that you could suggest to him?”

  “Sorry, I don’t know anything about flats,” Jason shrugged. “I was thinking I’d just stay with some friends or something, I guess.”

  Bessie nodded. “It’s great that you have friends that you can stay with,” she told him. “That way you can share all the expenses and all the housekeeping.”

  “Yeah,” Jason muttered. “Anyway, I was just saying I might move out. I’d rather not, at least not yet. I’ve got school and whatever. I just really want to go to the concert tomorrow night, that’s all.”

  “I can’t imagine how disappointed you must be,” Bessie told him soothingly. “I mean, these sorts of concerts probably don’t happen very often, do they?”

  “Well, they’re supposed to be playing every other Saturday all through spring and summer, but you never know, the club might decide to cancel or something.”

  “Still, if all your friends are going this time, it does seem a harsh punishment,” Bessie told him. “Of course, I don’t know all of the particulars.”

  “Like I said, I was just late a few times, nothing major or anything. Mum and dad act like they were never kids.”

  Bessie laughed. “I remember both of your parents as children,” she told Jason. “And they both got up to their fair share of things they shouldn’t have. And I remember them b
oth being grounded on more than one occasion as well.”

  Jason shrugged. “You’d think they’d be more understanding then,” he complained.

  “Or maybe they understand too well,” Bessie commented. “Who did you say was going tomorrow night?”

  “Robbie and Beth and Suzy,” he answered. “I know it sounds like a date thing, but really it isn’t. I’ve sort of got a girlfriend already.”

  “And she doesn’t mind your going without her?”

  “She isn’t real happy about it, but her parents are even worse than mine. When they heard that Robbie was driving, they said she couldn’t go.”

  Bessie pressed her lips together for a moment. “Is that Robert Kneale?” she asked eventually. “I thought his license was suspended at the moment.”

  “He just got it back,” Jason told her. “No one got hurt anyway, he just hit a stone wall.”

  “He’d been drinking, and it wasn’t the first time,” Bessie reminded him.

  “Yeah, but….”

  Bessie held up a hand. “There is nothing you can say to defend him,” she told Jason. “Driving while drunk is incredibly stupid and unbelievably dangerous. You know I never take sides when children come here after fights with their parents, but this time I’m going to make an exception. If you were my child, there is no way you would be going anywhere with Robert Kneale driving, especially not all the way to Douglas and back.”

  Jason jumped to his feet, eyes blazing again. “You can’t talk about my friend like that,” he told Bessie. “I’m leaving.”

  “Off you go then,” Bessie replied. “You’ll not be welcome again if you take that attitude.”

  Jason stared at her. He had to know that Bessie’s threat was genuine. And being banned from Aunt Bessie’s was a serious punishment. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly several times before words managed to come out.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. He sank back down in his chair and snapped a digestive biscuit into pieces, shoving a large portion into his mouth in one bite.

  Bessie reached out and patted his arm. “Jason, I don’t want to argue with you,” she told him. “You know you’ve always been one of my favourites.”