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

by Diana Xarissa

“They’d probably think you were sleeping with him,” Bessie said bluntly.

  Doona flushed. “Whether I take the job or not, I’m not interested in a personal relationship with the man,” she said firmly.

  “I would suggest you make that very, very clear to Grant if you do talk to him about the job,” Bessie told her. “I get the feeling that he might be hoping to mix business and pleasure.”

  “Maybe I’d better forget all about it,” Doona said, sighing.

  “If you aren’t happy at the police station, I’m sure there are other jobs you could apply for,” Bessie said. “This thing with Grant isn’t your only option.”

  Doona shrugged. “I don’t know what I want to do,” she admitted. “Things are complicated at work right now and money is a bit tight. I just need to stop buying new clothes and getting my hair done every month, I guess.”

  “What’s wrong at work?” Bessie asked.

  Doona looked around, as if checking to make sure they couldn’t be overheard. “Grant sort of hit on it,” she whispered. “John is very attractive and he is going to be available soon. I know he’s in the middle of a divorce and I’m sure the last thing he needs right now is a new girlfriend, but, well, I won’t deny that I’m attracted to him.”

  “But you’re smart enough to give him some time,” Bessie said firmly. “He has to work things out with Sue before he’ll be ready to date again.”

  “I know,” Doona said sadly. “And then there will probably be a long queue of beautiful young women waiting for their turn once his divorce is final.”

  Bessie chuckled. “John’s very attractive, but I don’t know about a queue,” she replied.

  Bessie finished the last of the food on her plate, washing it down with the rest of her glass of wine. “The auction’s about to start,” she said to Doona. “Let’s go and get good seats.”

  Doona looked down at her half-eaten plate of food. “Maybe all this emotional upheaval will be good for my diet,” she said to Bessie with a wry grin. She downed what was left in her wine glass and they both stood up and made their way to the small stage that was set up next to the gallery space.

  “Ah, ladies, do come and join me.” Grant had detached himself from his crowd of admirers and now he stepped between the two friends. He took both of them by the arm and led them through the crowd to the very front row of the seats.

  “Here we are,” he said. He waved a hand and a waiter appeared with more glasses of champagne. Bessie and Doona each took a glass and then settled into seats on either side of Grant. He smiled at them each in turn and then turned to Doona.

  “Do let me know what you like,” he said. “I’ll buy you a little present.”

  Doona shook her head. “I’m not for sale,” she said stoutly.

  “My dear girl, everyone is for sale. It’s just a matter of getting the price right. Never mind, I’ll settle for buying something for Bessie instead.” He turned his back on Doona and gave Bessie an ingratiating smile.

  “You will let me buy you that little painting of Laxey beach, won’t you?” he asked. “I love buying presents for my friends, and Mary speaks so highly of you that I feel as if I know you.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Bessie answered frankly. “I don’t have the resources to repay your kindness.”

  “But I can afford to be generous. Besides, it’s all for charity, remember? Mary will be so disappointed if we don’t raise enough. I simply must buy something.”

  “Why don’t you buy something for yourself?” Bessie asked.

  “I have more than enough art in my home as it is,” he told her. “I only purchase art now as an investment and it goes right into storage. It would be a shame to put that lovely painting of your beach into storage, wouldn’t it?”

  Bessie nodded, feeling manipulated, but unsure how to politely rescue the situation.

  “Bessie, my dear, I thought I might buy that little picture of Laxey beach as a special present for you,” George’s voice boomed from behind her. “I suppose you already have the view, but I thought the painting was very well done.”

  “It’s lovely, George,” Bessie said. “But I was just telling Grant that no one needs to buy me any presents. I do appreciate the thought, though.”

  “Grant wants to buy it for you as well?” George asked with a laugh. “Well, that should push the price up and really help Mary’s pet cause, shouldn’t it?”

  “I don’t want anyone buying it for me.” Bessie felt as if she were shouting into the wind as both men seemed to be ignoring her.

  George settled heavily into the seat next to Bessie and winked at her. “I owe you something for all of your kindness to Mary. She’s much happier now that she has such a good friend.”

  “Where is Mary?” Bessie asked, mostly to change the subject.

  “Oh, she’s going to be doing the introductions,” George explained, waving a hand towards the small stage.

  Bessie was instantly worried for her friend. How would the painfully shy woman cope with speaking in front of the large crowd?

  A moment later a man with dark hair, wearing a very expensive suit, walked up to the small stage and took his place behind the podium. “Ladies and gentleman, welcome,” he said in a crisp voice. “I’d like to start the evening’s activities by giving our hostess, Mary Quayle, a few moments to talk about the charity we are all here to support.”

  Mary was greeted with polite applause and she spoke for no more than five minutes about how vital the funds that were going to be raised that evening were to the people who would benefit from them. Bessie was surprised and relieved that Mary turned out to be a very capable speaker. From her spot in the front row, Bessie could tell that Mary was nervous, but she spoke clearly and slowly, and by the end of the short speech Bessie found herself considering her bank balance. Perhaps there was enough extra this month for her to buy a painting after all. The cause was such a good one.

  Mary’s speech was followed by a short talk by a young woman who worked for the charity. Her name was Lynda and she was less eloquent than Mary had been, but was clearly passionate about her work. After she finished, she and Mary sat down on seats in one corner of the stage and the dark-haired man returned.

  “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  After the third item had been successfully sold, Bessie sat back in her seat and sighed. All three items had sold for more than double the amount the catalogue suggested that they would go for. There was no way that Bessie could afford to compete against the men and women in this crowd. Instead, she settled in to enjoy the show. After a while, she began to work out the dynamics of the auction. There were several groups scattered through the crowd. Bessie assumed that most of them were groups of work colleagues. They seemed to take great pleasure in bidding against one another, driving the prices higher and higher.

  Lynda, from the charity, was sitting back looking both amazed and delighted as painting after painting sold for ridiculously high amounts.

  “Ah, time to have some fun,” Grant murmured to Bessie when the painting of Laxey beach finally got its turn.

  Bessie looked over at Doona, but couldn’t catch her eye. She and Grant had been talking in low voices for several minutes, and Bessie hadn’t managed to catch a single word. Now Grant sat up and glanced over at George.

  “Let the games begin,” he said loudly.

  Ten minutes later, Grant was twenty-seven thousand pounds poorer and George was shaking his head.

  “I give up,” he told Grant just before the hammer fell. “I’ll have to find something else for Bessie.”

  “I don’t want anything,” Bessie said, a bit more loudly than she’d intended. She felt as though everyone in the room was looking at her and she blushed. Sinking down in her seat, she watched the rest of the rest of the auction with morbid fascination. George and Grant bid against each other on a couple of other paintings, with each man winning once. By the time the sale was over, a staggeringly large amount had been raised for charity and
Bessie felt completely drained.

  George and Grant both joined the short queue to pay for their purchases, leaving Bessie and Doona in their seats.

  “That was just stupid,” Bessie said. “Everyone got quite carried away with showing off how rich they are.”

  “But it raised a lot of money for a good cause,” Doona pointed out.

  “Oh, Bessie, wasn’t that wonderful?” Mary asked as she joined them, dropping into the seat that Grant had vacated between Doona and Bessie.

  “It was interesting,” Bessie replied. “And it certainly raised a lot of money.”

  “I know. Lynda can’t quite believe it,” Mary replied.

  “Well, congratulations on a very successful evening,” Bessie said. She glanced at her watch. “I’m feeling quite worn out,” she told her friends. “I think I might want to head for home.”

  “We can do that,” Doona said. “I just need a minute with Grant before we go.”

  “I can have someone take Bessie home if you’re not ready to leave,” Mary offered.

  “No, it’s fine,” Doona said.

  The trio stood up and Bessie headed towards the exit. She would wait for Doona outside in the fresh air, she decided. She was halfway across the room when she felt a hand on her arm.

  “Bessie, you almost forgot your painting,” Grant said, trying to hand her a large parcel. “I’ve had them wrap it up carefully for you.”

  “I can’t accept it,” Bessie said. “You’ll have to take it home yourself.”

  “I don’t want it,” Grant told her. “I bought it for you. Well, really I bought it so that George couldn’t, but that’s beside the point. You might as well have it, otherwise I’ll just throw it in a storage unit somewhere and it will be wasted.”

  Bessie opened her mouth to protest, but something else altogether came out. “Did you know Adam King?” she asked.

  Grant shook his head. “George told me you like to play detective,” he said in an amused tone. “Here’s what I told the police: I’m sure I must have met the young man when he worked at the bank, but I have no direct recollection of him. I have no idea what might have driven his parents to hide his body and his suitcases behind a wall in their own home. Is that good enough for you?”

  “What about Mark Carr?” Bessie asked, ignoring the sensible part of her brain that was telling her to stop pushing her luck.

  “The young man who was found dead in Mary’s storage unit? I don’t think I knew him at all,” Grant said with a shrug. “I may well have met him at some point back in the nineteen-sixties, but if I did, I don’t recall.”

  Bessie nodded. “Doona wanted a word with you before we leave,” she told the man. “I’m not sure where she’s gone, though.”

  Grant looked around the room and then smiled. “I can see her. She’s just talking with George. I’ll go and see what she wants. I do hope she’s going to say yes to at least one of my propositions.”

  He turned and walked away, the painting under his arm. Bessie blew out a sigh of relief. He’d apparently forgotten about his intention of giving it to her. She continued on her way out, nodding and smiling at a few people she knew, but not stopping. She felt almost desperate for some fresh air.

  Outside, she waited patiently for Doona, doing some casual people watching. One of the valets approached.

  “Do you need me to get your car?” he asked.

  “I’m waiting for my friend,” Bessie replied. “She drove.”

  “What car does she have? I can bring it around.”

  Bessie frowned. “It’s blue,” she said after a moment. “But I don’t actually know anything about cars.”

  The man smiled at her. “I think there are about fifteen blue cars in the car park, so I’d better not try guessing.”

  “I feel rather foolish,” Bessie confided in him. “I don’t drive myself, so I never notice what sorts of cars people drive.”

  “I’m sure you know about all sorts of things that I don’t know about,” the man told her. “I love cars and I started driving as soon as I was legally able, so I know way too much about cars and not nearly enough about other things.”

  “But you’re still young,” Bessie told him. “You have your whole life to learn things.”

  “I’m thinking about going back to school,” he said. “I quit after my GCSE’s. I figured I was going to work on cars, so I didn’t need school learning, but I think I need to go back and get some qualifications in computer science. Modern cars have more computer parts than motorised parts, it seems to me.”

  “Going back to school is never a mistake,” Bessie told him. “Education is never wasted, even if you don’t actually do anything with what you learn.”

  “Bessie, there you are,” Doona voice travelled through the darkness. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

  “I just needed the fresh air,” Bessie said. “It’s a lovely evening.”

  Doona was holding a large parcel that worried Bessie, but she didn’t mention it. Instead, she told the valet which car was hers and the man went off to find it. When he came back he held the door for Doona and then quickly opened Bessie’s for her as well.

  “It was nice talking with you,” he told Bessie. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “It was nice talking with you as well,” Bessie replied, giving the man a bright smile. “Good luck with whatever you decide.”

  Doona drove slowly back down the long drive, heading for Laxey. “How do you do that?” Doona asked as they turned out of the estate.

  “Do what?”

  “How do you always end up talking with someone everywhere you go?” Doona replied.

  “I guess I’m just friendly,” Bessie said. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “You are friendly,” Doona agreed. “You struck up a conversation with me at our first Manx language class and now look at us.”

  “The young man is thinking about going back to school and he needed someone to discuss it with,” Bessie told her. “I just listened.”

  “That’s what you do so well,” Doona said. “That’s what got me through when my marriage was falling apart.”

  “I was happy to do it,” Bessie said.

  “Now how about some advice on dealing with Grant Robertson?” Doona asked.

  “You know I’m going to suggest that you just stay away from him,” Bessie replied.

  “In some ways he reminds me of my second husband,” Doona said. “Charles had a way of making me feel like I was the only woman in the world, and Grant does the same. It’s both compelling and scary at the same time.”

  “I think you should stay away from him,” Bessie repeated herself.

  “He radiates power,” Doona said, clearly ignoring Bessie. “Everyone in that room tonight, which was full of very wealthy and important people, knew who he was and treated him with respect. That’s very appealing as well.”

  “He’s dishonest at best and possibly a criminal,” Bessie said.

  “You can’t deny that he’s very charismatic,” Doona went on. “And he’s very attractive as well, especially considering his age.”

  “He is attractive, but that doesn’t make him a nice person.”

  “He suggested that, if I don’t want to work for him, I should try dating him instead,” Doona said with a sigh.

  “That would be an even bigger mistake,” Bessie said, deciding not to hide her feelings.

  They were nearly to Laxey and Bessie was suddenly very worried for her friend. “Doona, don’t do anything hasty, okay? Promise me you won’t do anything for at least a few days.”

  “I won’t do anything hasty,” Doona said. “And I won’t be dating him. I think that would be playing with fire, but the job offer is very tempting. Grant told me to take my time and think things over. I’ve told him I’ll ring him on Monday.”

  “That isn’t a lot of time,” Bessie argued.

  “It gives me the whole weekend to think,” Doona countered.

  “Doona, what if
Grant is mixed up in the this whole Adam King thing?” Bessie asked. “I think you should stay away from him until John has figured out what’s going on.”

  Doona pulled up into the parking area beside Bessie’s cottage. “I’ll just come in and check that everything’s okay,” she told Bessie.

  Bessie opened her door and then stood back to let Doona go in first. Bessie had learned a while ago that it was easier to let Doona do that than to argue with her. The cottage was small enough that Doona was quickly done with her inspection.

  “Don’t argue with me,” Doona said when she returned to the kitchen where Bessie was waiting. “I have your painting in my car and I really want you to have it.”

  “I can’t possibly accept a twenty-seven thousand pound painting from Grant Robertson,” Bessie said emphatically.

  “Then take it from me,” Doona told her. “Please, at least for tonight, take it. We can figure it all out once I’ve decided what I want to do about Grant.”

  Bessie opened her mouth to argue, but she could see tears in Doona’s eyes. For whatever reason, Doona was clearly very upset. Bessie gave her friend a hug. “I’ll take the painting for now,” she said quietly. “But only for you. Once you’ve told Grant you want nothing to do with him, I’ll have to return it to him.”

  Doona opened and closed her mouth several times and then shrugged and walked away. Bessie followed her to her car and took the wrapped parcel from her.

  “I don’t like this,” she told Doona.

  “I’ll figure it out,” Doona whispered.

  Bessie stood and watched her friend drive away before she went back into her cottage. She put the wrapped painting in her spare room, shutting the door tightly to keep herself from opening the parcel. She really loved the painting and she’d love to hang it in her home, but she simply couldn’t keep it.

  Grabbing a book, she got ready for bed. She read for a short while, trying to will sleep to come for her, but she felt too wide-awake. A cup of tea helped a little, and after she’d tidied the kitchen behind her, she slipped under the covers and ordered her mind to rest. It was a long and restless night for Bessie. She woke up determined to do a thorough investigation into Grant Robertson’s past. She wasn’t going to let Doona get mixed up with a criminal.