Aunt Bessie Finds (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Diana Xarissa

  “Just snacks and things,” Mary said. She bent down and picked up one of the boxes. Bessie grabbed another and they carried them into Bessie’s kitchen. Pulling open the one she’d carried, Bessie was confronted by huge tubs of various summer salads. Mary opened a box and Bessie looked at trays of sliced meat and cheeses and sighed.

  “There are only going to be a handful of people here,” she told Mary. “Even if I didn’t already have food, there’s far too much here.”

  “Maybe they’ll all be happy to take some of it home with them?” Mary suggested. “I’m really sorry, Bessie. The caterers left all of this in the kitchen and our chef was screaming about it all morning. She hates mess in her kitchen, so I told her to box it all up and I’d take it with me. I suppose we can just throw it all away.”

  Bessie shook her head. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “That would be a terrible waste. We’ll put some of it out for the party and then donate whatever’s left at the end of the afternoon to one of the organisations that feed the poor. I know the woman who runs one in Laxey. I’m sure she’ll be able to tell me who to ring here in Douglas.”

  “What a great idea,” Mary exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “I suspect you’ve rather too much on your mind at the moment,” Bessie told her.

  “We can’t donate away the drinks, though,” Mary said. “I’ve brought wine and beer and gin and scotch and vodka, and probably a bunch of other things as well that I can’t even remember.”

  Bessie helped her carry in the smaller but heavier boxes that contained the various drinks.

  “I’m sorry that I brought all of this,” Mary said with a sad smile. “But I didn’t really want it in the house.”

  Bessie looked at her sharply. “Why not?” she asked gently.

  “George has been drinking a bit more than normal,” she replied. “I thought it was best to eliminate some of the temptation.”

  Bessie nodded and stifled a sigh. It looked as if she now had a fully stocked bar. Well, her new neighbours would probably be impressed. Or think she was a drunkard.

  Mary helped Bessie unpack all of the food. She just about managed to find space for everything in her small kitchen and dining room area. The boxes of cakes and pies which Mary had forgotten to mention, she carried into her bedroom and piled on the floor near the door.

  “Do remind me these are here,” she told Mary. “I’ll start putting them out as people eat their way though the food.”

  “I’ll try to remember,” Mary said. “But if you forget to put out the chocolate cake, well, I’ll happily volunteer to help you eat that tomorrow.”

  Bessie laughed. She couldn’t stay angry at Mary, who was genuinely trying to be helpful. Besides, the food all looked delicious and it wouldn’t hurt to be very generous with her new neighbours and her old friends.

  With Mary’s help, Bessie rearranged the bar area, until Bessie thought it looked like something that ought to be in a restaurant. There were bottles of things she was sure she’d never heard of before.

  “I don’t even know what half of these are,” she told Mary.

  Mary shrugged. “The theme was Texas barbeque, so the caterers brought in an expert on American cocktails. I haven’t any recipes, though, just bottles and bottles of drink.”

  Bessie laughed. “I guess people will just have to mix up their own concoctions,” she said.

  “That’s a thought,” Mary said, studying the array of bottles.

  “Oh, do help yourself,” Bessie said. “Or just open a bottle of wine. Whatever sounds good.”

  Mary gave Bessie a wicked smile. “It’s rather early to be drinking,” she said. “But a glass of wine would be about perfect right now.”

  “We’ve worked awfully hard, setting everything up,” Bessie said. “And it is a party, after all, or it will be soon.”

  “One of my staff brought me over and carried all of the boxes up for me,” Mary told Bessie. “I didn’t have the nerve to knock on your door until it was all up here, though. I was afraid, if my driver was still here, you’d send it all back with him.”

  Bessie gave her friend a hug. “Please don’t ever feel uneasy about anything with me,” she said. “We figured it all out. That’s what friends do.”

  Mary selected a bottle from the table and found Bessie’s corkscrew. Bessie pulled down wine glasses from her cupboard. “I suppose I should put glasses out,” she said.

  “Oh, I brought glasses,” Mary exclaimed. She dug through the one box that Bessie hadn’t opened. It was full of napkins, paper plates and plastic cups and glasses in every imaginable size. Mary pulled out a stack of wine glasses from the box.

  “The very finest in plastic wine goblets,” she said in a solemn tone before giggling.

  “Those will be perfect for the guests,” Bessie told her. “But until they get here, let’s pretend we’re grown-ups and use the real things.”

  Mary laughed and took the glass Bessie offered her. “Don’t tell me you sometimes feel like you’re just playing at being an adult,” she said.

  “Pretty much all the time,” Bessie admitted. “Whenever I chop anything with a sharp knife, I keep expecting someone to take it off of me.”

  Mary shook her head. “I thought I was the only person past fifty who felt that way,” she told Bessie. “I’m still somewhat surprised that my children trust me to babysit my grandchildren. I never felt like I was grown-up enough to look after them.”

  Bessie laughed. “And I always thought I felt like a kid at heart because I never had children of my own.”

  A knock on the door startled both women. “I thought the party didn’t start until two?” Mary said as Bessie headed towards the door.

  “It doesn’t,” Bessie replied. “We should have another half hour or so to ourselves.”

  Doona grinned at Bessie when she pulled the door open. “I hope I’m not too early,” she said. “I was bored.”

  Bessie laughed and pulled her inside. “Of course you aren’t too early,” she told her best friend. “Mary and I were just getting a little head start on the fun.”

  Doona greeted Mary warmly. The two women didn’t know each other well, but as the wine flowed, they quickly became better acquainted. By the time two o’clock rolled around, the three were having a wonderful time and the first bottle of wine was empty.

  Chapter Twelve

  Just minutes before two, Doona and Mary got busy in the kitchen, getting things that needed heating ready to go into the oven, while Bessie paced back and forth, waiting for someone to knock on her door.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked her friends at five minutes past two.

  “Be patient,” Doona told her. “We’re here, at least.”

  “And I’m ever so grateful for that. But we have enough food for an army,” Bessie complained.

  “And Hugh’s away,” Doona said with a sigh.

  “More’s the pity,” Bessie replied. A moment later, a knock came and Bessie scurried to answer it.

  “Ah, Bessie, I do hope I’m not first,” Bertie said as he gave her a hug.

  “Oh, no, a few friends came early to help,” Bessie told him. She was sure he looked momentarily disappointed, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. As she offered him a drink, someone else knocked.

  Doona quickly offered to oversee the bar so that Bessie could handle the door.

  Bessie pulled open the door and smiled at the woman on the other side of it. Muriel Kerry was just a bit too large to be what Bessie would consider “pleasantly plump.” Her white hair was again piled into a messy knot that Bessie could only assume had started the day near the top of her head, but it had now slid both down and sideways so that it seemed to stick out from somewhere behind her left ear. Her glasses were huge, with black frames, and they seemed to dominate her face. She was dressed all in black, in a sleeveless shirt and long trousers.

  “Hello, again,” she said now, her Scottish accent unmistakable.

  �
�Mrs. Kerry, I’m so glad you’ve come,” Bessie replied.

  “Ah, you must call me Muriel,” the woman said.

  “Of course, and I’m Bessie. Do come in,” Bessie invited. “Bertie is already here.”

  “Aye, he would be,” Muriel replied.

  Bessie wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but before she could ask, she heard a door open in the corridor. A moment later Bahey and Howard were on their way towards Bessie.

  Muriel wandered into Bessie’s flat, while Bessie waited for her friends.

  “You look lovely,” she told Bahey, who’d obviously gone to some effort for the party. Bahey rarely wore makeup or fussed with her appearance, but today she’d not only put on lipstick, but she was wearing a pretty summer dress and a pair of low-heeled shoes.

  “As do you,” Howard told Bessie, after he’d kissed her cheek. He was looking rather dapper in a pair of dressy trousers with a shirt and tie. Bessie ushered them into the flat and left them in Doona’s capable hands. Doona would make sure everyone was introduced to everyone else, Bessie was sure of that. Most of the neighbours ought to know one another, anyway.

  Mary was bustling around arranging and rearranging the food, which kept her from having to talk to people. Bessie felt sorry for her shy friend, but before she could speak to her, someone else knocked.

  Marjorie Stevens, Bessie’s good friend from the Manx Museum Library, smiled back at Bessie when she opened the door.

  “I can’t believe you’ve actually moved into Douglas,” she told Bessie, giving her a huge hug.

  “Neither can I,” Bessie murmured.

  Liz Martin, whom Bessie had met in one of Marjorie’s Manx language classes, had come with her.

  “Welcome to the neighbourhood,” she told Bessie. “I’m only a few blocks away, so if you ever need anything, give me a ring. I’m home with the kids and I always welcome a few minutes of adult conversation.”

  Bessie laughed. “Thank you,” she told the young woman. She escorted her friends into the flat. She’d just begun introductions when someone else knocked.

  “Ah, yes, well, good afternoon,” the woman at the door said stiffly when Bessie opened it.

  Bessie hid a smile as she recognised the woman she’d seen through the crack that the safety chain allowed at flat nine. Bessie reckoned that Ruth Ansel was so thin that she’d seen just about all of the woman through the tiny crack. She was dressed in a summer suit that was spotless and immaculately ironed. As Bessie escorted her into the flat, she wondered if the suit would have the nerve to wrinkle if Ruth were to decide to sit down.

  A few moments later, Simon O’Malley arrived, escorting Tammara Flynn. Bessie smiled at them both as she let them in.

  “You’re looking smashing,” Simon told Bessie. “That colour is perfect for you.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Bessie replied.

  “So many women seem to be afraid of colour,” Simon said softly. “But life’s too short to wear black all the time.”

  Bessie’s eyes inadvertently slid to Muriel, who was standing next to Bertie and seemingly hanging on his every word.

  Simon sighed deeply. “I could help her,” he whispered to Bessie. “But she doesn’t want my assistance.”

  “Never you mind,” Tammara said, slipping her arm around Simon. “You stick to helping me.”

  Simon laughed. “But you’re already perfect,” he told the woman.

  “Ah, flattery will get you everywhere,” she said, giving him a wink.

  Bessie headed back to the door, expecting another knock, but all was quiet at the moment. By the time she’d walked the very short distance back, Doona had already supplied everyone with drinks and Mary was pulling the last of the food from the refrigerator.

  “Who needs fancy caterers?” Bessie whispered to Doona as her friend handed her another glass of wine.

  “I don’t know,” Doona said. “But I think I’d quite like someone to turn up in a few hours to clear everything away.”

  Bessie couldn’t help but agree with that as she glanced around her little flat. It was already beginning to look a mess and the party had just started.

  “Please make sure to eat a lot,” Bessie told everyone. “There’s far more food than we can get through.”

  Bessie let everyone mingle for a moment, while she sipped her wine. Then she wandered over to where Simon and Tammara were fixing themselves plates of food.

  “Do you still have that mirror outside your flat?” Bessie asked after a few innocent pleasantries.

  “Mirror?” Simon looked confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “When I stopped by the other day, there was a mirror hanging outside your flat,” Bessie replied. “I’m only asking because it looked the same as the one that’s now hanging outside my flat, but I don’t know where that one came from or why it’s there.”

  Tammara laughed. “That mirror!” she exclaimed. “The management keeps moving it around the building. I think they must have some sort of strange plan for where it goes, but I can’t quite figure it out.”

  Simon shrugged. “I can’t say as I really noticed it,” he told Bessie. “But maybe it wasn’t at my flat for long. I know Tammara mentioned something about it in the past, though.”

  “It was across the hall from my door for ages,” Tammara told Bessie. “And just when I started getting used to it, it disappeared.”

  “Strange,” Bessie murmured.

  “It’s the building manager who’s strange,” Tammara told her in a confiding tone.

  “Why?” Bessie asked.

  “He flirts with all of the women in the building, for one thing,” Simon interjected. “They’re all rather older than he is, but that doesn’t seem to stop him. He was even dating Linda, the woman who used to own this flat. I can’t imagine what she saw in him.”

  “Me, either,” Tammara said. “He’s creepy and odd.”

  “He does seem rather odd,” Bessie agreed.

  “He’s actually a very nice man,” Muriel said firmly as she began to fill her plate. “We’ve had dinner together once or twice, not that we’re dating or anything, just as friends.” She glanced over at Bertie to see if he’d heard her, but he was chatting animatedly with Doona.

  “He didn’t happen to explain why there’s always noises in the middle of the night from flat five, did he?” Tammara asked.

  Muriel shook her head. “We didn’t talk about the building. We talked about ourselves. He’s had a rough time of it, with his mother.”

  “She’s not well,” Simon told Bessie. “Sometimes she sits in the foyer with Nigel, watching the people go in and out, but mostly she’s confined to his flat. She can’t get around without a wheelchair and she’s usually quite mentally unfocussed as well.”

  “It’s very hard for him,” Muriel said.

  “Are you talking about poor Nigel?” Ruth asked. “I did suggest that he try modifying his mother’s diet, but he doesn’t like to risk upsetting her.”

  “He told me she has a terrible temper,” Muriel said. “I’ve never seen any evidence of it, but that’s what he said.”

  “He’s so dedicated to her,” Ruth said with a sigh. “The poor man never gets to have any fun.”

  “He so enjoyed dinner with me, the last time we went out,” Muriel said. “And then, at the end of the evening, he’d forgotten his wallet. He was so embarrassed, but I didn’t mind treating.”

  Ruth frowned. “He forgot his wallet when we had lunch together one day, as well,” she said thoughtfully.

  “You must be talking about Nigel,” Bertie said, joining the conversation. “Linda said he forgot his wallet at least once a week when they were dating.”

  “How very careless of him,” Bessie said quietly.

  “As I said, I don’t mind treating for a meal now and then,” Muriel said, her tone defensive. “He has a difficult life, does Nigel, and I’m sure money is quite tight for him.”

  “He tried that trick on me as well,” Tammara said with a
laugh. “We’d only gone for a cuppa, but I wasn’t falling for it. I waited in the restaurant while he went and got some money. Funnily enough, he hasn’t asked me to have a drink with him again.”

  “He’s never asked me,” Simon said with a wicked grin. “I guess I should be grateful.”

  Bessie chuckled. “I don’t think he’ll be asking me, but if he does, I think I’ll politely decline.”

  Another knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Bessie hurried to open it.

  “Hello, you must be Bessie,” the woman at the door said. She was sturdily built with a kind and friendly face. Her grey hair was cut in a short bob. The frames of her glasses were turquoise and matched her jumper almost exactly.

  “I am, indeed,” Bessie answered.

  “I’m Mabel Carson, and I’m just on my way to watch my grandson at taekwondo, so I can’t stay. I wanted to pop around and meet you, though, and welcome you to the building.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Bessie replied.

  “I wish I could stay and chat, although it sounds as if you have quite the party going on,” Mabel said, waving a hand towards Bessie’s flat. “Tell everyone I said ‘hello,’ will you? I’ll try to catch you another time, but I’m rather very busy, really.”

  She turned and disappeared back down the corridor before Bessie could reply. Well, I guess I’m not going to learn anything from her, Bessie thought to herself as she shut the door behind Mabel.

  “Who was that?” Marjorie asked when Bessie returned to the party.

  “That was Mabel Carson. She lives in number two and is, apparently, incredibly busy.”

  “Oh, she is,” Simon confirmed. “She’s in and out all day, every day. She has a couple of children here and some across as well and about a hundred grandchildren that she minds on a moment’s notice. Her kids take advantage of her, of course, but she seems to thrive on it.”

  “That’s why I moved across the Irish Sea,” Ruth said with a brittle laugh. “My children seemed to think I loved nothing more than minding their children while they went out and acted like they didn’t have any responsibilities themselves. I love my grandchildren, but I wasn’t about to rearrange my entire life so that I could watch them at the drop of a hat.”