“On the plus side, if you buy the house, you’ll be able to take down the wall and have a much larger room here,” Alan pointed out in a cheery voice.
John was running his hand along the mysterious back wall. “It’s damp almost from top to bottom in this corner,” he said. “I’m not sure what this wall is made of, but it isn’t exactly sturdy.”
Bessie watched as he pushed on a section near the worst of the water damage. The waterlogged surface began to tear under the pressure.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do that,” Alan suggested nervously.
“Maybe you’d like to run back to your car and get me a measuring tape and a torch?” John suggested. “I just want to see exactly how extensive the water damage is. It seems to be mostly behind this wall. I’d also like to see if there is a window back there.”
Alan nodded and then glanced at Bessie. “I guess I’ll just grab those things from my car. You two will wait here, then? I mean, I guess you’re a policeman, aren’t you? I suppose I can trust you.”
John sighed. “Just go,” he said firmly.
John and Bessie stood silently until they heard the front door open and close.
“What do you think is behind the wall?” Bessie asked.
“I suspect it’s hiding even more water damage,” John told her. “And there’s no way I’m prepared to even think about making an offer until I check.”
He pushed the wall again in the same spot and the crack spread down the wall. With a bit more pressure, a large section of the wall seemed to fall away and disappear behind it. John reached into a pocket and pulled out a small torch. He aimed it into the space.
“Just as I thought,” he told Bessie. “There’s a lot of water damage on the real wall behind this one.” He aimed the torch upwards and then shook his head.
“The ceiling back there has pretty much collapsed into the space below,” he said. “It looks like there’s a serious problem with that section of the roof. I can’t imagine how much time and money this will take to fix.”
They heard the front door again before Bessie could reply. Alan rushed back in, breathing heavily. “I went as fast as I could,” he told John. “I couldn’t find a measuring tape, but here’s a torch.”
He handed John a large torch and John switched it on.
“You made a hole in the wall,” Alan said, clearly trying not to sound too angry.
“And there’s a lot of water damage in there,” John replied calmly. “I’m guessing they had problems in the past and built the false wall to hide them.”
“But why build it so far out?” Bessie wondered. “They could have just put up a new wall right over the old one.”
“Let’s see what I can find out,” John suggested. He aimed Alan’s larger torch through the hole, now focusing the light downwards into the space.
“There are some suitcases back there,” he said.
“Why would you put suitcases behind a wall?” Bessie queried.
“Maybe they were going to build a door, but never got around to it,” Alan suggested.
“Is there anything else back there?” Bessie asked John.
John turned around and switched off the torch. “I’m afraid there is,” he said grimly. “Alan, I need you to give me the keys to the house and take Bessie home. This house is now a crime scene.”
Bessie gasped as Alan began to protest. John held up his hand and stopped Alan in mid-sentence.
“If you want to stay, you can. I suppose you’re the owner’s official representative here, under the circumstances,” he told Alan. “Bessie, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, however.”
“What’s back there?” she had to ask.
“I’m not sure,” John said. “But it looks very much like a body that has been there for some considerable time.”
Chapter Three
Bessie walked away from Nancy King’s house slowly, her brain trying to process what John had said. Alan Collins had nearly fainted when John said the word body, but he had remained adamant that he couldn’t leave the property. Bessie knew John was indulging him for the moment, but if what he’d found really was a body, she had no doubt that John would send the obnoxious man away quite quickly.
John had offered to ring for a taxi for Bessie, but she insisted she was happy to walk back to her cottage. It wasn’t until she was nearly at Doona’s door that Bessie realised that she wasn’t walking home at all. She shook her head and had a quick word with her subconscious. Imagine walking all that way without informing the rest of Bessie as to what it was up to. She rang Doona’s doorbell, hoping her friend would be at home.
“Bessie? What a wonderful surprise,” Doona said, pulling her door open wide to let her friend in. “What brings you here this morning?”
Bessie tried to force herself to smile, but found unexpected tears welling up in her eyes instead. “John’s found a body,” she blurted out. “In Nancy King’s house. It was just too awful.”
Doona quickly wrapped Bessie in a huge hug, holding on tightly while a few tears slipped from Bessie’s eyes.
“Tea?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, please,” Bessie replied.
In Doona’s comfortable kitchen, Doona handed Bessie a box of tissues before she put the kettle on. She found a box of biscuits and dumped them onto a plate. “Eat one. You need the sugar,” she told Bessie sternly.
Bessie took a biscuit and nibbled on it dispiritedly. Now that her tears had stopped, she was frustrated with herself for crying.
“Can you talk about it?” Doona asked as she fixed the tea. “Or should we talk about the loser I met at the grocery store this morning instead?”
Bessie managed a small grin now. “You do seem to rather attract strange men,” she commented. “Tell me about him while I sip my tea and then, when I’m feeling a bit more like myself, I’ll tell you everything.”
Doona nodded. “I went into Ramsey to ShopFast to get my weekly shop, and this man was wandering around the fruit and veg as if he’d never seen any of it before.”
“How old was he?” Bessie asked.
“Oh, forty or so,” Doona replied. “I suspect it was all an act, though, because when I picked up some carrots he started talking to me. He said he never cooks and he wasn’t sure what half the stuff was, but maybe I could help him learn.” Doona laughed. “I pointed him towards the cookbook aisle and got away.”
“How very odd,” Bessie said.
“I’ve heard that lots of single men are using the grocery store as a place to meet women,” Doona told her. “But this guy was going about it all wrong. His suit was ugly, he was almost totally bald but trying to hide it with a bad comb-over, and he had strange beady little eyes as well.”
“Was the suit brown?” Bessie asked.
“How did you know that?” Doona demanded.
“I think you may have just met my least favourite estate agent, Alan Collins,” Bessie replied. “Although you would have had to have been in Ramsey quite early to have done so, because we met him at nine for house hunting.”
“This was about half seven,” Doona told her. “I woke up at six. I guess my body doesn’t always understand about weekends. I figured since I was up I might as well get some shopping done.”
“I’m awfully glad you didn’t like him,” Bessie said. “He’s one of my least favourite people in the world right now.”
“What did he do this morning? And does he have anything to do with the body?”
Bessie shook her head. “I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice man,” she said, although she wasn’t certain she meant it. “He just always seems to annoy me. He insists on calling me Mrs. Cubbon, for one thing.”
Doona nodded. “I see.”
“You think I’m overreacting,” she said, smiling at her friend.
“If I hadn’t met the man, I might,” Doona admitted. “But there is definitely something unpleasant about him.”
“There really is, although I don’t think we can blame the dea
d body on him.”
“Do you want to tell me about it now?” Doona asked gently.
“I suppose I should,” Bessie said with a sigh. “We saw four different properties,” she began, knowing full well that she was prevaricating. “The old Looney place is in a terrible state, by the way.”
“I’d heard that it was finally on the market,” Doona replied. “I can’t imagine why the family didn’t sell it years ago.”
“Me, either. They’ve let it get into a terrible state, though. I’m not sure who’s going to buy it. It will have to be someone who’s ready to do a lot of work.”
“Or someone with plenty of money,” Doona suggested.
“I don’t know that it’s large enough or in the right place to attract someone with money,” Bessie told her. “But I hope someone buys it. I hate seeing it sit empty.”
“Like Thie yn Traie,” Doona said.
“Exactly.” The enormous mansion on a cliff overlooking Laxey beach was just past the holiday cottages near Bessie’s home. Most days, on her morning walk, she walked to the foot of the cliff below the mansion. And most days she felt sad when she looked up at the empty building. She was still hoping someone might buy it to live in full-time rather than using the place as a summer home the way the Pierce family had done.
“Any news on that?” Doona asked.
“Doncan says that yet another offer fell through at the last minute,” Bessie told her, referring to her advocate, who was handing the sale on the behalf of the family. “Apparently, this time, the financing didn’t work out.”
“So you saw the Looney place; where else did you go?” Doona dragged the subject back to the house hunting.
“One of those new buildings of flats. While John hated it, it might be a good idea for him, as they take care of the garden and there’s plenty of parking at all hours of the day and night.”
“That would be handy for him,” Doona agreed. “I know he sometimes has a hard time finding a spot on the street around here when he works late.”
“We also went around that house on the next block that was extended last year.” Bessie told her the address and Doona nodded.
“What’s it like inside? I’m dying to see it, actually, but I haven’t the nerve to bother an estate agent just to satisfy my curiosity.”
“It’s nice enough, although I think they’ve rather ruined the exterior.”
“Aye, they have at that,” Doona said. “And I don’t know why, because they didn’t actually need to touch the outside of the home. It was in great condition before they started.”
“They’ve done a nice enough job with the inside,” Bessie told her. “It’s very modern and completely lacking in character, which I gather is what many people are looking for these days.”
Doona laughed. “With all the new housing estates going up in Douglas and Onchan, I’d have to agree with you. Every house looks exactly like its neighbours. I think the house numbers are just there so people can be sure they’re at the right place.”
“Still, with all the people coming over for jobs in banking and insurance, we need a lot more housing. I suppose the new estates are quick and easy to build, if nothing else.”
“I guess. Where else did you go?”
Bessie looked down at the table. “Just Nancy King’s house,” she said softly.
Doona took her hand and then, after giving it a squeeze, she slid her chair closer to Bessie’s and put her arm around her friend. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay,” she said soothingly.
Bessie looked up at her. “Thank you, but I think I need to talk about it. But I’m grateful you didn’t rush me, anyway.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Sarah and her brothers haven’t done anything to the place since Nancy died,” Bessie said. “It’s in desperate need of a really good clean. They’ve also left a lot of the furniture and are selling it with the house.”
“The boys are all across, right?” Doona asked.
“Yes, and Sarah’s in Port Erin, but that doesn’t excuse putting the house on the market in its current state.”
“How was the kitchen?” Doona asked hesitantly.
“That was the only clean space in the house,” Bessie replied. “They had the kitchen professionally cleaned after the police finished with it.”
“I guess that’s something,” Doona remarked.
“They should have done the whole house,” Bessie told her.
“And there was a body in the house?” Doona asked.
“The smallest bedroom, which was used as an office, had a false wall about two feet in from the side of the house. There was a lot of water damage on the wall and the ceiling above it, and once John realised it wasn’t actually the outside wall, he made a small hole in it and looked inside with a torch.”
Doona shook her head. “When you said there was a body in the house, I was thinking it was just lying on a bedroom floor or something. This was behind a false wall?”
“I guess so. I didn’t actually see it. John looked behind the wall. He saw a lot more water damage and then he noticed a few suitcases, which was strange enough. After another look, he got all policeman-like and sent me away. He let Alan Collins stay as the official representative of the home owners, though.”
“Another reason not to like him,” Doona remarked as she hugged Bessie again. “So you’ve no idea how long the body has been there?”
Bessie shook her head. “I never spent a lot of time with Nancy and I think I’d only been in her home maybe a dozen times in all the years she lived there. I never had occasion to go into the office on any of those visits, except when I went around with Sarah just after Nancy died. I’m sure the false wall was there then, though, and no one has been moving any walls around in there lately.”
“So who could it be?” Doona asked.
Bessie felt tears beginning again. “That’s part of the reason why I’m so upset,” she told her friend. “It’s crazy, but the whole thing is crazy. Who hides a body behind a wall in their own home? I can’t believe the builders did it and no one ever noticed, so that means that Nancy and Frederick had to have had something to do with it. But that just can’t be.” Bessie shook her head.
“It sounds like you think you know who it is,” Doona said, rubbing Bessie’s back.
“I just keep thinking that it’s Adam,” Bessie said as her tears began to flow. “But that’s even crazier still.”
“I thought Adam was Nancy’s youngest son,” Doona said. “I’m trying to remember everything from the investigation into Nancy’s death in July. Didn’t he move to Australia when he was eighteen or something?”
Bessie nodded slowly. “That was what Nancy always said,” she said after a moment. “But Sarah said she’s never heard from him again. He and Sarah were pretty close when they were children. I would have thought he would have sent her a Christmas card or two over the years, at least.”
“But he couldn’t do that if he was dead and buried behind a wall in Nancy’s house.”
“But that’s insane,” Bessie argued. “Why would anyone hide their own child’s body behind a fake wall? None of this makes sense.”
Doona stood up abruptly. “We’re just speculating and that’s making you miserable,” she said. “Let’s go get lunch somewhere nice and put the whole thing out of our minds.”
“I was suppose to have lunch with John at La Terrazza,” Bessie said. “I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it, though.”
“So let’s go and use his booking,” Doona suggested.
Bessie shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m really not up to a restaurant meal right now. Seeing Nancy’s house stirred up enough bad memories; adding in a dead body has put me right off my food.”
“Well, you have to eat,” Doona said practically. “I’ll make you some soup. How about tomato? With some garlic bread?”
Bessie nodded reluctantly. She really wasn’t hungry, but Doona was right, she did need to ea
t.
“I bought some new frozen garlic bread to try,” Doona said. “It was on special at ShopFast and I thought it might be good enough for those days when I don’t want to fuss and make garlic butter. Not that making garlic butter is that difficult….”
Doona droned on and on about cooking and baking and all sorts of nonsense that just managed to keep Bessie distracted. Half an hour later she served up bowls of piping hot soup and the garlic bread.
Bessie ate mindlessly, trying to keep herself from thinking about John’s gruesome discovery. Doona was just scooping ice cream into bowls when Bessie heard a strange buzzing noise.
“I think that’s your mobile,” Doona said.
“Oh, yes, I think you’re right,” Bessie said, annoyed with herself for not recognising the sound herself. “I must find a ringtone that I like,” she muttered as she dug in her handbag for the device.
“Bessie?” John’s voice came to her when she’d answered. “I’d like to talk to you about some things, if I may. I’m actually at your cottage, but you’re not here.”
“I came to visit Doona after, well, after the house tours,” Bessie told him.
“I’ll come to you there, if that’s okay with you and Doona,” he replied.
Bessie checked that Doona had no objection.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, then,” John said. “Tell Doona I’d be grateful for any kind of sandwich she might be able to put together for me.”
Doona quickly put the cooker back on and slid more garlic bread inside. “I’ll just heat up some more soup as well,” she told Bessie. “The poor man never eats properly.”
Doona’s doorbell rang only a few minutes later.
“I’ll go,” Bessie said. “You can get the soup into a bowl.”
John gave Bessie a hug as a greeting. “Are you okay?” he asked after he’d released her. “I know that going around the King house was upsetting for you, even before I started poking around behind that wall.”
Bessie nodded. “I’m upset, but I’m okay as well,” she said. “It just doesn’t seem real, I suppose.”
John nodded. “I’ve been a policeman for over twenty years and I thought I’d seen just about everything, especially after all my time in inner-city Manchester, but this one surprised me.”
Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 4