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

by Diana Xarissa

  “Okay, see ya.” He pulled away as soon as Bessie’s feet touched the pavement. She frowned after him, wishing she’d reminded him to contact the police.

  Her head was spinning now with this new piece of news, which was really more a confirmation of what Elinor had said. It seemed likely that at least one of the jam ladies had an affair with someone else’s husband. While Bessie enjoyed hearing a bit of skeet now and again, this dredging up of what should have been long buried personal history made her miserable.

  She did her usual Friday rounds a day early, visiting the bookstore and the charity shops, looking for more books to add to her already huge collection. This time, she’d finally remembered to bring a few books she no longer wanted to one of the charity shops so that they could be sold on to someone else.

  “You’ve given me six books,” the clerk in the shop told her. “I suppose you’ll buy at least that many to replace them with?”

  Bessie laughed. “I probably will,” she agreed. In the end, she bought four in that shop, adding another three during the rest of her travels.

  Her last stop was the large ShopFast, where she did her weekly shop. As she wasn’t sure how much longer Doona would be staying with her, she bought quite a bit of extra food, planning to freeze whatever she and Doona didn’t eat over the next few days.

  While she very much enjoyed her friend’s company, Bessie was hoping that Doona would be leaving soon. It would be nice to have her own space back, and Bessie was really hoping that the Raspberry Jam murders would be solved quickly so that life could get back to normal.

  Bessie ran into friends or acquaintances in just about every aisle, so the grocery store visit took quite a bit longer than usual. Everyone wanted to talk about Nancy, Agnes and Joan as well as speculate on how Margaret and Elinor were coping. Bessie explained to everyone that she knew nothing beyond what was general knowledge and that she hadn’t seen Margaret or Elinor since Joan’s death, but she got the feeling that no one believed her. Since she was friends with a police inspector, everyone seemed to assume she knew a great deal more than she was willing to tell.

  Maggie Shimmin was standing in front of the baking goods display when Bessie arrived there.

  “Oh, fancy running into you here again,” she said, giving Bessie a big hug. “I hope you aren’t too miserable, what with losing another friend and all.”

  “I’m fine,” Bessie replied. “Although it’s all quite sad.”

  “Oh, it is, aye,” Maggie said. “And Agnes and Nancy, that’s three friends, isn’t it, all this month. I can’t imagine.”

  Bessie shook her head. “I’m trying not to think about,” she told the other woman.

  “It’s all I can think about,” Maggie sighed. “I keep wondering who will be next? Like maybe the killer will change things up and kill someone else instead of a jam lady or something.”

  “Joan’s death might have just been a tragic accident,” Bessie pointed out as she picked up a bag of plain flour.

  “Yeah, I know, and the same with Agnes’s, but it does seem weird, doesn’t it, the three of them dying so close together?”

  “Tragically, such coincidences do happen,” Bessie replied, trying to keep the conversation neutral.

  “Yeah, I guess they do,” Maggie said with a shrug. “Oh, but I saw that Spencer Cannon the other day and he said he got to see you. He was ever so pleased that you remembered him.”

  “He came over for tea and we had a lovely time catching up,” Bessie said with a smile.

  “Yeah, he’s done all right for himself, that one,” Maggie replied. “But you’ll never guess who I saw in Douglas the other day.”

  “If I won’t guess, then you’ll have to tell me,” Bessie suggested, not in the mood for games.

  Maggie frowned. “Yes, well, do you remember Ted Porter? He was Elizabeth’s son.”

  Bessie thought for a moment. “I remember him a little bit,” she said eventually. “Elizabeth died such a long time ago and the kids were both across when it happened. I only vaguely remember them. Don’t tell me Ted’s back on the island for some reason?”

  “No, he’s not, but I tell you I thought I was seeing a ghost. I was walking down the high street in Douglas and I swore it was Ted Porter standing in a shop doorway.”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  “Oh, no, well, I knew it wasn’t because the lad in question was only about twenty-five, but he looked so much like Ted that I had to go over and speak to him. He looked well shocked, he did.”

  “I can imagine,” Bessie commented wryly.

  “Yes, well, anyway, after I explained that I’d grown up with Ted and whatnot, he introduced himself. Would you believe he’s Ted’s son? All grown up and everything.”

  “I didn’t know Ted had children, but I never kept in touch with the family after Elizabeth’s death. I’m sure Elinor and the other jam ladies know all about him.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Maggie said. “But he certainly knew all about them. He asked me straight away if I was one of them jam ladies, but I soon set him straight. I’m at least twenty years too young for that, I told him.”

  “What’s his name?” Bessie asked.

  “Jason, Jason Porter. He’d come across, he said, for Tynwald Day, but then he changed his mind about going and stayed in Douglas instead. He’s just been hanging around and seeing a bit of the island. He said he’d never been here before but his father often talked about it.”

  “What did he know about the jam ladies?”

  Maggie shrugged. “I guess his father must have talked about them.”

  “Did he want to see the jam ladies or was he just asking about them?” Bessie asked.

  “Don’t know. Once I told him I wasn’t a jam lady, he seemed to lose interest in talking to me, really. He was polite enough, but kinda uninterested. I think maybe he wanted to talk to people who knew his grandmother. Maybe he’s interested in what sort of person she was and the like.”

  “I wonder if he called any of the ladies. I’ll have to ask Elinor if she’s heard from him.”

  Maggie shrugged. “I better get going. Thomas had this stupid idea that we should offer some homemade puddings to our guests as well as the grocery shopping, so now I have to go home and bake pies for the rest of the day. He’d better be charging a ton for them. I hate baking pies.”

  Before Bessie could reply, the woman was gone, shoving her cart through the small crowd on a direct course for the closest till.

  Bessie grabbed everything else she needed and headed for the tills herself. While she waited for her turn, she rang for a taxi. It was just pulling up as she emerged from ShopFast, feeling as if feeding Doona was getting to be rather expensive in spite of the fact that Doona kept bringing dinner home with her.

  The driver was one that she barely knew, and Bessie was happy with the virtually silent ride back home. She fixed herself a quick lunch and then settled in with her phone to make some calls.

  “Margaret? It’s Bessie Cubbon. How are you, my dear?”

  “Oh, Bessie, I’m okay,” the quiet voice came back down the phone. “I’m feeling terrible that I suggested that kettle to Joan, but Elinor keeps reminding me that I was just trying to help.”

  “You were,” Bessie said in her most soothing voice. “You mustn’t feel badly at all.”

  “I know you’re right, but it was such a shock,” Margaret told her.

  “It was indeed.”

  “And coming right after Nancy’s death and then Agnes’s death, well, it’s been a very sad July for us all.” Bessie could hear tears in Margaret’s voice.

  “It has been very sad,” she agreed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Margaret sighed. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I mean, it does rather feel as if the police are somehow suspicious of me. I don’t suppose you could talk to your friends in the police and tell them to leave me alone?”

  “I wish I could,” Bessie replied. “But they wouldn’t listen
to me, even if I asked. They’re investigating everything and everyone. You mustn’t take it personally.”

  “It’s hard, though. They had me at the station for hours yesterday. I had to talk to two different inspectors and I don’t think either of them believed anything I said.”

  “Perhaps you need a short holiday away,” Bessie suggested. “Maybe you should go and visit one of your children.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t bother them. They haven’t time for me at the moment.”

  “Are you okay on your own?” Bessie asked.

  “I guess so,” Margaret sounded so uncertain that Bessie felt a momentary pang of annoyance with the woman.

  “Maybe Elinor could stay with you for a few days,” Bessie suggested.

  “Oh, I couldn’t ask her to do that,” Margaret replied. “We’re calling each other at least twice a day, just to check in, you know? I couldn’t possibly ask her to do more than that. Elinor and I were never very close.”

  “I didn’t realise that. I thought you were all very close friends.”

  “Oh, no, Elinor’s never really liked me. Her husband was very kind to me, though.”

  Really? Bessie thought. That was interesting. “If there is anything I can do, please ask,” she told the other woman. “I’m only a short distance away.”

  “Well, if you could, I mean, do you, would it be a huge bother….” Margaret sighed and Bessie heard her take a deep breath. “Would you come over for tea tomorrow? Only it’s my birthday, you see, and I don’t want to spend the whole day all alone.”

  “Of course I will,” Bessie replied, almost without thought. It was appalling to think of the poor woman spending her birthday alone. “I might just bring my friend, Doona, if that’s okay. She’s the friend that came with me the other day to the meeting.”

  “That’s fine,” Margaret replied. “The more the merrier. I just thought I’d do a traditional tea, with scones and sandwiches and the like.”

  “I’ll stop at a bakery and get you a cake,” Bessie told her. “What’s your favourite?”

  “Oh, I don’t, that is, I haven’t had a birthday cake in years,” Margaret said. “We never fussed when I was a child and obviously, once you have children of your own, well….”

  “Well, nothing,” Bessie said firmly. “I shall be bringing you a cake and if you don’t care what sort, it will be chocolate sponge with chocolate icing. When I was a child in the US, that was what everyone had for their birthdays and it’s the only thing that feels right to me, even if it isn’t traditional here.”

  “Oh, Bessie, that sounds wonderful, thank you.” Bessie could once more hear tears in the woman’s voice.

  “I’m happy to do it,” Bessie told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Oh, and Bessie, one more thing,” Margaret said. “If you talk to Elinor, could you not mention that you’re coming for tea tomorrow? She doesn’t know it’s my birthday and I’d rather she not feel like she should make a fuss or anything.”

  “Of course,” Bessie assured her, frowning at the phone. Clearly when Margaret said she and Elinor didn’t really get along, she meant it. After fifty-plus years of friendship, Elinor didn’t know it was Margaret’s birthday? And Margaret didn’t want her to know? Curious.

  Bessie called Doona next to check to see if her friend could fit the birthday tea into her schedule for the next day.

  “I’ll check with John and tell you tonight,” was the best that Doona could do.

  Bessie hung up and tidied up her already spotless kitchen. She spent a few minutes refolding and fussing with the towels in the bathroom and then sighed. She really didn’t feel like calling Elinor, but she knew she had to. Maybe she won’t be home, she told herself encouragingly.

  “Yes?”

  “Oh, Elinor? It’s Bessie Cubbon. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Oh, good, I just wanted to check on you and tell you how sorry I am about Joan’s sudden passing.”

  “Yes, well, it was sudden, but those left behind must soldier on, mustn’t they?”

  “Well, yes, of course,” Bessie replied.

  “Was there anything else?”

  “Well, no, I mean, I guess not.”

  “Jolly good, well, as I said, I’m quite fine. Rather sad, of course. Always sad to lose a friend, but we’ve had rather a lot of that lately, haven’t we? Anyway, I must dash as I’m in the middle of cleaning my kitchen and you know what a chore that is.”

  Elinor hung up before Bessie had a chance to reply. She sat with the phone in her hand for a moment, rather stunned by the brief and impersonal conversation.

  With her phone calls out of the way, no matter how unsatisfactorily, Bessie got on to making the blueberry crumble. She was just rinsing the container of blueberries she’d bought when someone knocked on her door. Quickly drying her hands, she opened the door.

  “Grace? What a wonderful surprise,” she said as her visitor smiled a bit sheepishly at her.

  “I was in the neighbourhood,” Grace told her. “And I thought maybe you’d like a visitor.”

  “I’m delighted to see you,” Bessie assured her. “Do come in.”

  Grace crossed into the small kitchen. “Oh, but I’m interrupting something,” she said.

  “Not at all,” Bessie replied. “I’m just putting together a crumble for later. Doona and Hugh are coming over, possibly with John and maybe even with Inspector Corkill. I promised them pudding.”

  Grace smiled. “Hugh told me there was a gathering tonight so that you could help them figure out what’s going on. I’m more concerned with how you’re feeling, though.”

  Bessie smiled at her. “I’m fine, dear, really,” she told the young woman.

  “It must be very sad to have several friends all die so suddenly,” Grace said. “Oh, that sounded rather rude somehow. I didn’t mean it to be.” Grace’s fair skin flushed a deep red and she looked down at her hands.

  “It wasn’t rude,” Bessie said, patting Grace’s arm. “And it is rather sad, even if the ladies in question weren’t exactly my friends, but as you get older you get somewhat more used to people passing away, especially people in their seventies.”

  Grace looked at Bessie and then stepped forward and gave her a hug. “I wish I knew what to say or do to make things better,” she whispered to Bessie.

  “Just being here, letting me know you care, helps a lot,” Bessie told her. “Now sit down and I’ll fix you a cup of tea and we can chat about anything other than the Raspberry Jam Ladies.”

  “Deal,” Grace said with a laugh.

  Bessie switched the kettle on and then went back to her blueberries. “I hope you don’t mind if I get this crumble in the oven,” she told Grace. “Your Hugh will be very disappointed if there isn’t any pudding later.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Oh, no, crumble is quick and easy. Just forgive me for leaving you sitting there on your own for a bit.”

  Bessie quickly mixed up the butter, sugar and other topping ingredients together. She drained the blueberries and then patted them dry with a towel. By the time kettle boiled, she’d put them into a baking dish and covered them generously with topping.

  With the crumble safely in the oven, Bessie sat down with Grace for tea and biscuits.

  “It was kind of you to stop by,” Bessie told the girl as they sipped their tea. “What brought you to Laxey?”

  “Oh, I came up to look at a house,” Grace said, blushing. “That is, I met Hugh on his lunch break so we could look at a house.”

  “What sort of house and where?” Bessie asked. “If that’s not too nosy,” she added, knowing perfectly well that it was terribly nosy.

  “Oh, no, it’s fine,” Grace replied. “Just a little two-bedroomed semi-detached place on Baldhoon Road. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s in good condition and it’s close to the primary school. I’m hoping to get a position there in the autumn so that I can move up to Laxey to be with Hugh.”

>   “Oh, my,” Bessie said. “That sounds serious. I do hope I hear wedding bells as well. I’m a bit old-fashioned that way.”

  Grace laughed. “You and my mum have a lot in common,” she told Bessie. “Poor Hugh is getting uptight about the whole thing, though,” she added, in a more serious tone.

  “Oh, I’m sure Hugh will do the right thing, eventually,” Bessie said. “Maybe he just needs a little push in the right direction. I’ll have a word with him.”

  “Oh, no, I mean, thank you, but, I don’t know, that is….”

  Bessie held up a hand. “Please don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be very careful. Quite frankly, though, I think he’s very lucky to have found you.”

  “I think I’m quite lucky as well,” Grace said, blushing again. “He’s very handsome and quite clever.”

  “He’s a good person as well, and that matters a lot,” Bessie told her. “And we were just talking about hats and now I shall have to buy one. At least I assume I’ll be invited to the wedding.”

  “Oh, of course,” Grace replied. “Although I don’t know that you’ll need a hat. It’s sure to be a very small event. Hugh and I can’t afford a big lavish affair.”

  “No, well, big weddings don’t improve the marriages that follow,” Bessie said. “What’s important is that you have your friends and family around you on your special day.”

  “Exactly,” Grace said. “If Hugh ever asks, that is.”

  Bessie laughed. “He’ll ask, one day, and probably sooner than you think. But we were talking about hats. Come on upstairs with me and let’s see what we can find.”

  “Oh, I’d forgotten all about our conversation about hats,” Grace told her. “I hope you don’t think that I just stopped in to get a look at your collection.”

  Bessie laughed. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t have offered to show them to you, although calling a few old hats a collection is a bit of a stretch. Come on, then.”

  Bessie led the way upstairs and into one of the spare bedrooms. “I think I shoved them all into the back of this wardrobe some years ago,” she told Grace as she pulled open the doors on the front of the large furniture piece. She pushed aside several skirts and dresses that she never wore, searching behind them for the large hatboxes she was sure were around the cottage somewhere.