Aunt Bessie Enjoys (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Diana Xarissa

  “Is that why you bought your cottage on the beach?”

  “It was certainly part of the reason why,” Bessie told her. “Troeghe Bwaaue was as close as I could get to Matthew’s and my shared dream.”

  They made their way back to Bessie’s cottage where Bessie made sandwiches for both of them. They ate quickly and then enjoyed their long-awaited treat.

  “This was so worth it,” Doona said with a groan as she scraped her plate. “Next time we go there, I’m getting two of these to take home.”

  Bessie laughed. “It is really good,” she agreed, finishing off her last bite only a moment behind Doona.

  They quickly took care of the dishes and tidied the kitchen together.

  “I need to pop home and grab some work clothes for tomorrow,” Doona told Bessie after they’d finished.

  “You don’t have to stay here again tonight,” Bessie replied. “I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re fine, but I’m staying anyway,” Doona said firmly.

  Bessie sighed, but she didn’t waste her time arguing. “You go and get what you need, then,” she said.

  “I thought maybe you could come with me,” Doona replied.

  “I think I can safely be left on my own for twenty minutes,” Bessie said tartly.

  Doona shook her head. “I’m sure you’d be fine, but I’d be worried. It will simplify both our lives if you come with me.”

  Bessie sighed, but she grabbed her handbag, tucking the book she had started earlier inside. “I’m just doing this to humour you,” she told Doona.

  “Thank you,” Doona replied. “I really do appreciate it.”

  Bessie resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her friend. Just because Doona was treating her like a child, didn’t mean she should behave childishly.

  Doona’s small bungalow felt almost chilly, in spite of the sunshine that they’d enjoyed that day.

  “I should have left some curtains open,” Doona said as they stepped into the dark interior.

  “It feels gloomy in here,” Bessie said as she headed towards the small sitting room to the left of the door.

  “It does, rather,” Doona agreed. She swept open the sitting room curtains, which only helped a small amount, as the sun was beginning to set.

  Bessie switched on a few lamps, which did rather more to dispel the gloom. “I’ll just settle here with my book,” she told Doona.

  Doona nodded and then disappeared. Bessie could hear her footsteps as she walked through the house to the large master bedroom at the very back. The house was quiet and Bessie told herself it was cosy as she tried to find her place on the page. The doorbell interrupted her.

  “Doona, someone’s at the door,” she called as she headed towards it.

  Before she reached it, Doona came rushing up from the back of the house.

  “Who is it?” she demanded of Bessie.

  “How should I know?” Bessie said, shaking her head.

  Doona glanced through the small window in the door and then sighed. She pulled the door open. “John, this is a nice surprise,” Bessie heard her say. She quickly joined Doona in the doorway.

  “Ah, Bessie, there you are,” John said, with a smile. “I was just heading back to my little flat and I saw Doona’s car. I wanted to check that everything was okay, because she’d mentioned she was staying with you for a while.”

  “Everything’s fine,” Doona assured him. “I needed some clean clothes, that’s all. We’ll be heading back to Bessie’s soon.”

  “Great, well, I won’t keep you,” John said. “I don’t suppose you have anything to tell me?” he asked Bessie.

  “Why don’t you come in and I’ll fill you in on my visit with Spencer Cannon while Doona packs?” Bessie suggested.

  John and Doona exchanged glances that Bessie couldn’t read and then he shrugged. “Sure, but just for a minute.”

  “That’s all it will take,” Bessie told him.

  Twenty minutes later, the inspector had heard every bit of skeet about the Raspberry Jam Ladies and their families that Bessie had managed to extract from her friends and Spencer.

  “Lots of hints and innuendo, but nothing concrete,” John said with a sigh.

  “I have a few more people to call tomorrow,” Bessie said, trying to sound enthusiastic about a job she hadn’t enjoyed thus far. “It’s hard, poking around in these women’s lives,” she told the man. “They’re my friends and I feel like I’m prying.”

  “If we can stop the rest of them from getting murdered, surely it will be worth it?”

  “But what if Nancy’s death hasn’t anything to do with the jam ladies and Agnes’s death was just an accident?” Bessie asked.

  “If you don’t want to keep trying to find out more, then don’t,” John said. “I’m not forcing you to do it.”

  Bessie frowned at the words that sounded quite harsh. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” was her noncommittal reply.

  John sighed deeply and then glanced towards the back of the house. “Bessie, I’m sorry,” he said. “The random nature of Nancy’s murder has everyone incredibly uptight. Have you seen the papers?”

  Bessie nodded. The Isle of Man Times had run an entire ten-page section on serial killers and random mass murders and the like, speculating darkly that no one on the island was safe from the “Raspberry Jam Assassin.”

  “Doona’s been fielding so many phone calls from terrified residents that we’ve had to add extra staff just to answer the phones and assure people that their food is safe. I’ve had at least fifty requests for lab tests on various foodstuffs that people have brought in, convinced they’ve been set up to be the next victim. The Chief Constable is seriously considering inviting Scotland Yard over to help with the investigation and….” He stopped and drew a deep breath. “Well, I’m having some personal issues as well,” he said after a moment.

  “I hope the kids are okay,” Bessie said.

  “The kids are great,” Rockwell said, with a small smile. “But really, at this point, I’m hoping that the two incidents are connected. Someone with a grudge against the jam ladies should be easier to find than someone with a grudge against the entire island.”

  Bessie nodded. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about how hard this must be for you,” she said, patting his arm. “Please, if you need someone to talk to, come and see me. Whether you want to talk about the case or about more personal matters, I’m always there for my friends and anything we discuss will never be repeated.”

  John smiled and then gave Bessie a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear as he squeezed her tightly. “I’ll probably take you up on that offer soon.”

  Bessie went back to her book while the inspector shouted a quick goodbye to Doona and let himself out. She’d only turned one page when the doorbell rang yet again.

  “Are you always this popular?” she demanded of Doona when the woman rushed up from the back of the house again.

  “Ha, I wish,” Doona laughed, looking through the window. “I think this visitor is for you, anyway,” she told Bessie.

  Doona pulled the door open and Bessie walked over to see who was there. Elinor Lewis’s smile looked tentative until she spotted Bessie.

  “Ah, yes, there you are, Bessie,” she said briskly. “I was hoping I might find you here, although I was sure Ms. Moore could get you a message if I didn’t.”

  “Hello, Elinor,” Bessie said. “I’m so very sorry about Agnes.”

  Elinor waved a hand. “Yes, thank you. That’s why I was in the neighbourhood, actually. I’ve just been to her house to pick out a dress for her to be buried in.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that,” Bessie said in surprise.

  “Well, she has no family here. Someone had to do it.”

  “Does that mean her sister’s children aren’t coming for the funeral?” Bessie asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Elinor replied with a shrug. “I just thought it might be helpful, that’s all. They can always
choose something else if they do come.”

  Bessie stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “Why did you want to see me?” she asked as the pause became awkward.

  “Oh, yes, well, we, that is the Raspberry Jam Ladies, we’re going to have a little remembrance for Agnes on Tuesday at our regular meeting. I thought you might like to come along as well.”

  “Oh, yes,” Bessie said. “I’d very much like to come.”

  “Me, too,” Doona interjected. “I can drive.”

  Bessie frowned at her friend’s pushiness, but Elinor didn’t seem to mind. “That’s lovely, dear,” she said almost absently. “We’ll see you on Tuesday, then.” She turned and headed back down the short path to the road without waiting for a reply.

  Doona and Bessie watched her climb into her car and drive away before Doona pushed the door shut.

  “I’m sorry I invited myself along,” Doona told Bessie quickly. “But I think it’s in everyone’s best interests.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I’m getting very tired of you treating me like a small child,” she told her friend. “I might be getting older, but I can look after myself.”

  “We’re in the middle of a criminal investigation,” Doona reminded her. “If there’s any chance I might hear or see something that might help John figure out who killed Nancy, it’s worth inviting myself where I’m not especially wanted.”

  Bessie opened her mouth to argue, but after what John had told her about the investigation, it was just possible Doona was right. She sighed instead.

  “I’m just going to go and finish packing,” Doona told Bessie.

  Bessie sat down with her book yet again. Within minutes, Doona was back and the pair set out for Bessie’s cottage, the atmosphere between them still somewhat strained.

  At the cottage, they both read for a while before Bessie fixed hot chocolate for them both. Using it to wash down some chocolate-covered biscuits improved both of their moods.

  “I’m sorry if I’m mollycoddling you,” Doona said as she washed up the dishes from their snack. “But you’ve become very important to me and I’m not sure what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.”

  “I know you mean well,” Bessie said. “And I understand that you want to get this case solved as well. I’ll try to stop taking everything so personally.”

  The pair hugged each other tightly before heading to bed. Bessie took her book upstairs with her and managed to finish the story before she got too tired. She closed it with a sigh. The fictional detective had solved everything in spite of his chaotic personal life.

  As she snuggled down under the duvet, she wondered why so many fictional policemen drank too much and had difficult relationships with women. She rarely saw John Rockwell drink, although she did wonder about his relationship with his wife. She sighed. There was nothing she could do to fix the inspector’s personal life, but she would do what she could to help sort out the case that was giving him so much trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  Monday morning was dark and rainy and Bessie actually considered skipping her walk and just curling up with another book. As she ate her toast, she stared out at the relentlessly falling drops, frowning at their persistence.

  “You aren’t going for a walk in this, are you?” Doona asked from the kitchen doorway.

  Bessie smiled at her friend, who was still wrapped in a bathrobe, wearing fuzzy slippers. “I was thinking about it,” she said.

  “But it’s horrible out there,” Doona said, checking that the kettle was still hot. She fixed herself a cup of tea while Bessie watched the weather a bit more.

  “It might not get any better later,” Bessie said eventually. “I think I’ll just take a short stroll.”

  “As I’m trying very hard not to treat you like a child, I won’t even argue with you,” Doona told her. “But I will tell you I think you’re crazy.”

  Bessie laughed. “I suspect a lot of people would agree with you.”

  She put on her raincoat and her Wellingtons and grabbed an umbrella. “It isn’t windy, at least,” she told Doona as she pulled open the back door to the cottage.

  “I’m going to go and get a shower,” Doona replied “I bet I come out of it drier than you’ll be when you get back.”

  After a few steps, Bessie started to think Doona might be right. It wasn’t terribly windy, but what breeze there was seemed to be blowing the rain in every direction at once. She made sure her coat was zipped to the very top and pulled the umbrella down as close to her head as possible. This was definitely going to be a short walk.

  Bessie walked as far as the last of the rental cottages and then turned around. The beach was completely deserted and only a few of the cottages even had lights on in them as yet. Bessie was halfway back to her home when she noticed a man standing on the small patio behind his cottage.

  “Hulloo, Miss Cubbon,” he called.

  Bessie waved at him. He was standing under the small awning that partially covered the patio, holding a small umbrella and frowning up at the sky.

  “Hello, Spencer, how are you this morning?” Bessie called in reply.

  “I had an early tee time for the course in Castletown,” he told Bessie. “I’ve just called and apparently it’s just as bad down there as it is here. What can you recommend for me to do on a rainy Monday?”

  “Have you been around the Manx Museum yet?” Bessie asked. “Or Castle Rushen? The House of Manannan in Peel is wonderful as well, and all three are indoors.”

  Spencer smiled brightly. “Those are all great ideas,” he said. “I really should know more about the island’s history. Maybe I’ll try the Manx Museum. That’s in Douglas, right?”

  Bessie gave him directions. “Have a wonderful time,” she told him as she headed towards home.

  Back at her cottage, Doona was just climbing into her own Wellington boots. “I was just coming to look for you,” she told Bessie. “I have to get to work and I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  Bessie sighed. “Really? As much as I love your company, the thought of spending the day at the police station really doesn’t appeal to me.”

  Doona looked as if she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. “Promise me you won’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of,” she demanded of Bessie.

  “Like what?” Bessie asked.

  “Like let any suspects into the cottage or go for long walks on the beach by yourself or anything else that might put you in danger.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I’ll be as careful as I can be,” she told her friend. “But I’m not going to stop living my life. You go do your job and I’ll fix something nice for dinner for when you get home.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll stop at the bakery on my way back and grab some pudding.”

  “Perfect.”

  With Doona out of the way, Bessie did some straightening and tidying of her cottage and then read for a while. After a simple lunch she was feeling restless. The rain had tapered off to a light but steady tempo, so she put her raincoat and boots back on and headed up the road behind the cottage.

  At the top of the hill was a tiny shop that sold a little bit of everything. Bessie grabbed a few ingredients to help with dinner. The girl behind the counter was as surly as ever and Bessie quickly remembered why she hated shopping there. It took the clerk three tries to get Bessie’s change right as well, and Bessie spent the walk back home thinking seriously about calling the shop’s owner to complain. That the clerk was his daughter was the only thing that stopped her.

  At home, with a steak and kidney pie now bubbling away in the oven, Bessie made a few more phone calls to try to help the inspector. After only half an hour, she gave up. She hadn’t learned anything new and she’d run out of people to call. Perhaps she’d have better luck with the actual ladies the next day.

  Now Bessie curled up with yet another book. An actor with a slight drinking problem stumbled across murder as Bessie turned the pages, engrossed. Having just been involved in her own
theatrical murder mystery, she enjoyed it more than she might have otherwise.

  Doona was back at the cottage before Bessie reached the last page, and Bessie was tempted to make her wait for her dinner until she’d finished. The delicious smell coming from the oven changed her mind.

  The steak and kidney pie came out perfectly and the profiteroles that Doona had brought rounded out the meal nicely.

  “That was delicious,” Doona said, collecting plates for washing.

  The friends curled up with books and had a quiet evening in. Tuesday morning, Doona headed for work as soon as Bessie got back from her walk.

  “I’ll pick you up at half one and we’ll head over to the meeting,” she told Bessie when she left.

  Bessie did a load of laundry and then searched her wardrobe for something to wear. She found another black skirt and a different grey blouse. The outfit was similar to what she’d worn the last time she’d seen the ladies, but she was too old-fashioned to consider wearing anything other than black or grey for such an occasion.

  Doona was right on time, which meant they were early when they pulled into the car park outside the community centre.

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone else is here yet,” Doona said. The car park was completely empty.

  “Maybe we should drive around the block,” Bessie suggested.

  Doona shrugged and pulled back out onto the narrow road. They drove through the streets of Laxey for a few minutes and then headed back to the centre. There were three cars in the car park now and Doona pulled into a space.

  “That should be everyone, shouldn’t it?” she asked Bessie.

  “I recognise Elinor’s car,” Bessie replied. “But I’m not sure what Joan and Margaret currently drive. It’s always possible Elinor invited a few other people as well.”

  Inside the building, the three remaining Raspberry Jam Ladies were sitting together on one long couch. Elinor jumped up as they entered.

  “Ah, Bessie, we’re so glad you’re here,” she said. “And your friend, of course.”

  “I’m glad we could come,” Bessie replied. “Agnes was a lovely woman and I’m ever so sorry about her accident.”