Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7)

by Diana Xarissa

  Doona shook her head. “The only other time I was here was for the barbeque last month and that was all in the garden.”

  Bessie deliberately slowed her pace to allow Doona an extra second or two to gawk at each elaborately decorated room as they passed it. Mary charged on ahead, presumably focussed on finding that glass of wine. As the journey to the kitchen was pretty much a straight line, Bessie wasn’t too worried that she and Doona would end up lost. She didn’t think Doona would mind if they did, anyway, as Doona seemed fascinated by the house.

  “Sorry, I got rather ahead of you there,” Mary said when they reached her at the door to the kitchen. “I really need that wine.”

  “I was just admiring your incredible home,” Doona told her. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to live in such a fabulous place.”

  Mary shrugged. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s really more George’s place than mine. I would live much less grandly if it were up to me.”

  “But I like to spoil you,” a voice boomed from behind Mary. “And I think you deserve all the very best things in life,” George added as he joined them in the kitchen doorway.

  “Thank you, George,” Mary said, sounding as if she were on automatic.

  George smiled at her and then bowed to Bessie and Doona. “Bessie, my darling, it’s so wonderful to see you again,” he said, engulfing Bessie in a huge hug. “And Doona, now that we’ve met at least three times, I suppose a hug is appropriate for you as well.”

  Before Doona could speak, George swept her into a bear hug that seemed to go on rather longer than was appropriate. When he finally released her, Doona tucked a stray hair behind one ear and then straightened her dress.

  “I think that glass of wine you mentioned would be perfect right about now,” she said to Mary.

  Mary nodded, her face flushed. “George, you run along and get ready,” she told her husband. “The girls and I will be having a drink in the conservatory when you’re done.”

  George nodded and then wandered off down the hall. When he was out of earshot, Mary turned to Doona.

  “I’m so very sorry,” she said. “He’s always been something of a flirt, but he seems to be getting worse with age.”

  “It’s fine,” Doona told her. “It was just a hug; it just seemed to go on a bit longer than necessary, that’s all.”

  “I hope it won’t keep you from spending time with me,” Mary said quietly.

  Doona laughed. “He’d have to do a lot more than just give me a unwelcome hug now and then to drive me away from a friend,” Doona told her firmly. “I’m really enjoying getting to know you. Don’t worry about George; if he gets properly out of line I’ll make sure he knows about it.”

  Mary chuckled. “I hope I’m there to see it if it ever happens,” she told Doona.

  In the kitchen, Mary spoke to one of the seemingly dozens of men and women rushing about the cavernous space. A moment later the woman reappeared with a bottle of wine and three glasses on a silver tray. Mary waved the woman away and emptied the bottle evenly into the three large glasses.

  “Let’s go into the conservatory,” Mary suggested. “We can watch for people to start arriving and enjoy the autumn weather at the same time.”

  Bessie had never been in the conservatory and she and Doona both admired the huge glass-walled room that ran along one side of the house. There were amazing views over the cliff to the sea below and Bessie stood for several minutes watching the waves crashing against the rocks.

  “It’s stormy out there,” she remarked.

  “It often is,” Mary said.

  “What’s happening over there?” Doona asked, pointing to a small construction tent that appeared to be perched on the very top of the cliff.

  “George is finally putting in some stairs down to the beach for me,” Mary told her. “I’ve been nagging for them since we bought the house. Of course, putting them in just as the weather is getting colder isn’t exactly helpful, but I suppose I’ll appreciate it once spring gets here.”

  The trio took seats on a long sofa that could have seated five or more. They sipped their wine and chatted about nothing much. Bessie could see Mary relaxing, at least a little bit, as the conversation and wine flowed.

  “This was exactly what I needed,” Mary told them. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious about this auction. The company from across is handling the auction itself and we’ve caterers doing all the food and drink. I could go to bed now and it would make no difference to the end result.”

  “And aren’t you tempted to do just that?” Bessie said.

  “Oh, yes,” Mary said with a sigh. “But that simply wouldn’t do, of course.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to it,” Doona said. “I never get to go to fancy things like this.”

  Mary laughed. “You’d soon tire of them if you did them all the time,” she told Doona. “Especially if….” she trailed off, looking out at the edge of the driveway that was just visible.

  Bessie frowned as she watched the tension flood back into Mary’s body. “Mary, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Mary said tightly. “Grant’s here, that’s all. I suppose I should go and greet him.”

  “Let’s all go,” Bessie suggested.

  Mary gave her a grateful smile. “Yes, let’s,” she agreed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bessie and Doona followed Mary back through the house. Mary turned down a side corridor and Doona had a chance to stare at another selection of perfectly decorated spaces before they reached a large side entrance to the house. Grant Robertson was just handing his coat to a uniformed member of Mary’s staff.

  “Take good care of that,” he barked at the man. “It’s worth more than you’ll make this year.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said, bowing and then turning and leaving the entryway.

  “Grant, how nice to see you,” Mary said, her voice brimming with what sounded to Bessie like fake enthusiasm.

  “Mary, you look lovely, as always,” Grant said, giving Mary a perfunctory hug. Mary stepped back quickly and then gestured towards her friends.

  “You remember Bessie Cubbon and Doona Moore? You met them at the barbeque, if not before.”

  Grant nodded. “Miss Cubbon was going to buy that troublesome flat from me,” he said. “I’m still very sorry you changed your mind,” he told Bessie as he took her hand.

  “It just wasn’t the right fit for me,” Bessie said, annoyed with herself for feeling apologetic. It wasn’t as if the man had to sell the flat because he needed the money.

  “I understand your little cottage is quite beautiful,” he said smoothly. “If you do ever decide to sell that, I’d love to have a look at it.”

  “I think you’ll have to deal with my heirs,” Bessie told him.

  He nodded and then turned to Doona. “Ah, the lovely Ms. Moore,” he said silkily. He took Doona’s hand and then squeezed it between both of his own. “You fascinated me when I met you at the barbeque,” he told her. “I rang a few people to find out more about you.”

  “That’s a bit creepy,” Doona said sharply.

  Grant laughed, a sound that grated on Bessie’s nerves. “I’m a businessman. I’m used to gathering information when I see something that interests me. I know no more about you than you do about me. My every move is chronicled in the local papers, of course.”

  “You’re assuming I’d actually take the time to read such articles,” Doona said, pulling her hand away.

  Grant laughed. “Fascinating,” he said, glancing at Bessie and Mary. “Women usually use me to get a few fancy trinkets before they start treating me badly.”

  Doona shrugged. “I’m not interested in trinkets,” she said.

  “Are you interested in making money?” Grant asked her.

  “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting,” Doona snapped. “But I hope it isn’t what it sounds like.”

  Grant laughed again. “That was rather badly put, wasn’t it
?” he said. “What I was trying to do was offer you a job,” he explained.

  “I have a job,” Doona told him. “A job that I love.”

  “I need a personal secretary,” Grant said. “The hours would be flexible and I can’t imagine I’d need you more than a few hours a day. I would pay you twice what you’re currently making, with quarterly bonuses based on certain performance targets.”

  Doona glanced over at Bessie and Bessie could tell her friend was tempted. The offer was extremely generous, but Bessie was sure there must be strings attached.

  “I have a job I Iove,” Doona repeated slowly.

  “And you work for a very attractive man who is about to become available, as I understand it,” Grant said. “I did wonder if I might struggle to compete with that.”

  Doona flushed under his gaze.

  “Grant, that’s enough bothering my guests,” Mary interjected. “Leave poor Doona alone.”

  Grant looked over at Mary and nodded. “As you wish, my dear,” he said. He turned back to Doona and then reached into a pocket and pulled out a business card. He scribbled something on the back of it and then handed it to Doona.

  “My private mobile number,” he told her. “If you decide you’d like to discuss the offer further, give me a ring.”

  Doona took the card. For a moment Bessie thought she might tear it up or drop it on the floor, but she glanced at it and then dropped it into her handbag. Grant gave her a satisfied smile, a look that suggested that he felt as if he’d won in some way.

  “Oh, there you all are,” George’s voice echoed around the small foyer. “The guests are arriving and I couldn’t find anyone.”

  “Sorry, darling,” Mary said, giving her husband’s arm a squeeze. “I saw Grant pull up so we came down to welcome him.”

  “That was kind of you,” George said. “But now we have to get to the party.”

  He took Mary’s arm and led her back down the hall. Doona took Bessie’s arm and they fell into step behind the Quayles. Grant followed them down the corridor. The auction was set up in the large ballroom in the east wing of the mansion. Bessie had never been in there before and she gasped when she entered it.

  Crystal chandeliers sparkled high above the wooden dance floor. Bessie estimated that the room could easily accommodate at least a hundred dancing couples, although tonight the space had been divided into sections. The largest section looked like a very high-class art gallery and Bessie and Doona made their way there as George and Mary were swallowed up in the crowd.

  They walked slowly through rows of paintings, most of which were of Manx scenes.

  “Some of these are really beautifully done,” Bessie exclaimed.

  “And some of them aren’t,” Doona added as they reached a rather amateurish-looking effort.

  “The artists are all local and at various stages in their careers,” Grant said from behind them.

  Bessie jumped. She hadn’t noticed that the man was still following them.

  “I did think you’d quite like this one,” Grant said, taking Bessie’s arm. He led her down the next row, stopping in front of a painting of Laxey beach. Bessie drew a deep breath as she looked at the painting that beautifully captured the view she saw every day.

  “The artist is very talented, isn’t he?” Grant said. “It’s almost as if he were standing in your cottage, isn’t it?”

  Bessie shook her head. “It’s slightly off from the view from my cottage,” she said. “He might have painted it in the parking area next to my cottage, though.”

  She looked at the small card that gave the artist’s details and then shook her head. “I’ve never heard of the artist,” she said. “The card identifies him as ‘Godred,’ which is obviously not his real name.”

  “Nothing like a bit of mystery, is there?” Grant said.

  “It’s a wonderful painting,” Doona chimed in.

  “It truly is,” Bessie agreed. “It’s silly to want it, as I can see the real thing every day, but I do like it very much.”

  “Maybe we can pool our resources and get it,” Doona said.

  “The estimate is five thousand pounds,” Grant told her. “It is a charity auction,” he explained, no doubt in response to Bessie’s very shocked face.

  “Maybe not, then,” Doona laughed.

  “Perhaps you’d like it as your first bonus,” Grant suggested to Doona. “I can easily make that happen.”

  Before Doona could reply, the lights dimmed slightly and then a voice came through the speakers on either side of the “art gallery” section of the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our charity art auction. I hope everyone has taken the time to purchase a catalogue for the event. The catalogues are fifty pounds and, of course, all of the money goes to the charity.”

  Bessie and Doona exchanged glances. Even the catalogues seemed overpriced.

  “Here, ladies, take mine,” Grant said smoothly. He handed Bessie the book he was holding. “I’ll get another one later.”

  Before Bessie could protest, the speaker continued.

  “We’d like to invite everyone to take their time and enjoy seeing all of the lovely art that has been donated tonight. The bar is open and there is an extensive buffet at the far end of the room as well. Please pick out a few art pieces that you’d like to bid on and decide how much you’re willing to spend. The auction will begin in about an hour. While you wait to spend some big money, there is a small art sale taking place on the west wall. Please take the time to buy a few of the smaller pieces that have also been donated. All prices are clearly marked on these items.”

  “Let’s head over there,” Bessie whispered to Doona. “We can’t afford anything over here anyway.”

  Doona nodded and glanced at Grant. He had an amused look on his face.

  “Off you go,” he said. “The offer will still be open until the bidding starts. Do think about it.”

  Doona turned and grabbed Bessie’s arm. They were halfway across the room before either woman spoke.

  “Bessie, I’d love to get that painting for you,” Doona said.

  “You’re not selling your soul to the devil just to get me a painting of the same view I have from my kitchen,” Bessie told her firmly.

  “He’s offered me double my current salary,” Doona said.

  “But you’d have to work for him,” Bessie reminded her.

  “He’s very sexy in an incredibly creepy way,” Doona replied, her tone thoughtful.

  “I think you should stay far away from him,” Bessie told her firmly. “Money isn’t everything.”

  “I know, but with double my salary I could pay off my mortgage a lot faster,” Doona said. “And then….”

  Bessie held up her hand. “Just stop,” she said. “There’s no rush for you to decide. You have his card in your bag. Think about it for twenty-four hours or more.”

  “Yeah,” Doona said. “You’re right. It’s just so tempting.”

  “He doesn’t exactly have the best reputation,” Bessie whispered.

  “Meaning what exactly?” Doona asked.

  “As I understand it, he’s quite happy to skate very close to the line between what’s legal and what isn’t,” Bessie told her. “He left the bank under something of a cloud, but no charges were ever filed. It’s all just rumour and hearsay, but that’s how this island runs, isn’t it?”

  “If he’s so dishonest, why is he so popular?” Doona asked, glancing back at Grant.

  He was surrounded by people who appeared to be hanging on his every word, including a stunning young blonde woman who was barely dressed.

  “He’s very generous,” Bessie replied. “He supports local businesses, donates to Noble’s regularly and comes to these sorts of fund raisers and spends a fortune. Everyone reckons he made at least some of his money through questionable means, but as he spends so much of it right here on the island, they tend to look the other way.”

  “Even the police?”

  “It was a
ll a long time ago now,” Bessie said. “There’s probably a limit on how long they have to investigate such things. I don’t know really. I suspect Grant has enough money, and consequently power, to protect himself.”

  “You could be right about that,” Doona remarked. The island’s Chief Constable had joined Grant’s group. As Bessie and Doona watched, he greeted Grant with a hearty handshake.

  Bessie and Doona reached the small art sale and Bessie held up a small pot covered with the Three Legs of Man symbol. “Now these are lovely and affordable,” she told Doona. “We should each get one.”

  Bessie spent several minutes looking around at all the pieces that were for sale before selecting a few for her home. Doona was obviously distracted, and Bessie finally gave up on trying to make conversation with her friend. She purchased a few things for Doona as well, knowing that Doona would like them if she were paying attention. They would go into a box at home and Bessie would use them as small surprises for her friend now and again.

  Having finished shopping, the pair made their way to the buffet. Bessie had been right. There was far more food there than necessary. She and Doona fixed plates and found a table. Waiters were circulating with glasses of wine and champagne, and they each grabbed a glass from one of them as they took their seats.

  “This is really good,” Bessie said after several minutes.

  “It is,” Doona agreed.

  Bessie frowned. Doona was mostly pushing food around her plate, rather than eating. “Are you seriously that tempted to take the job with Grant?” she asked her.

  “I don’t know,” Doona shrugged. “I really do love my job, but the pay isn’t terrific and the hours can be long and unpredictable. I wish I knew more about Grant.”

  “Mary can tell you more,” Bessie said. “She doesn’t like him, but that seems mostly because he takes up a lot of George’s time. Why don’t you try to find her and see what she says?”

  “I don’t much like him, either,” Doona said. “He has a way of looking at me that makes me feel, well, vulnerable, I guess. But he’s gorgeous and important and people would be impressed if I worked for him, wouldn’t they?”