Aunt Bessie Knows
An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery
Diana Xarissa
Text Copyright © 2016 Diana Xarissa
Cover Photo Copyright © 2016 Kevin Moughtin
All Rights Reserved
To my cousin Lauren, who is one of the most caring and giving people I know.
Author’s Note
I keep thinking I needn’t bother with these notes anymore, as this is book eleven in the series, but then I remember that some people might read the series out of order and start here! If you’ve done that, welcome to the Aunt Bessie series and the Isle of Man.
Bessie first appeared in my Isle of Man Romance, Island Inheritance, but she was the source of the inheritance for my heroine there. Yes, Bessie had just passed away in that book. So I’ve set the Bessie series about fifteen years before the romance, beginning the series in March 1998. The books have followed on from there, and the characters do grow and develop, so I recommend reading the titles in order (alphabetically by the last word in the title). Every book should stand on its own, however, if you do choose to read them individually.
This is a work of fiction and all of the characters are fictional creations. Any resemblance they share with any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Isle of Man is a real and incredibly wonderful place, and all of the historical sites mentioned within the books in the series are real. The events in my books that take place within those sites are entirely made up. The businesses mentioned in the story are also fictional and any resemblance that any of them bear to real businesses is also coincidental.
I’ve used British (and Manx) spellings and terminology throughout the book, and there is a short glossary of terms in the back to help readers from outside the UK with anything that might be unfamiliar. The longer I live in the US, the more likely it is that more Americanisms will sneak into the texts. I’m sorry about that, and if you let me know, I will try to correct them.
As always, I love hearing from readers. Please use the contact details at the back of book to get in touch at any time. I hope you enjoy Bessie’s latest adventure.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Glossary of Terms
Other Notes
Aunt Bessie Likes
Arrivals and Arrests – sneak peek
By the Same Author
About the Author
Chapter One
“Bessie? It’s Mary,” the voice on the other end of the telephone said.
Elizabeth Cubbon, known as Bessie to nearly everyone, bit back a sigh. She was sorry she’d answered the call now. “How are you?” she asked the other woman.
“I’m fine, but you know how I get before parties. I was hoping you might be persuaded to come over early as we’re just down the beach from you.”
Now Bessie did sigh. She’d agreed to attend Mary’s New Year’s Eve party somewhat reluctantly. While she liked Mary a great deal, she wasn’t overly fond of the sort of drunken revelry that seemed to be commonplace at such celebrations. Bessie lived alone and she usually saw in each new year with a small glass of wine and a good book. But Bessie knew that her shy friend Mary would enjoy the night more with Bessie in attendance. As soon as the sigh left Bessie’s lips, Mary was speaking.
“I know, you’re busy and you’re going to be here all night. It doesn’t really matter,” she said quickly. “Forget I even asked.”
“I’m just being lazy,” Bessie said. “I’m sitting here with a book and a cup of hot chocolate and I don’t feel like moving. I do have to get up eventually and come over, though. I suppose I could come earlier than I’d planned.”
“I’d be ever so grateful,” Mary replied. “Elizabeth has invited a whole houseful of young people and I’ve nothing much to say to them. We have half a dozen men and women here trying to get everything ready for tonight and George is out somewhere, no doubt inviting another twenty people to the party. I’m feeling completely fed up and I’m just about ready to come over to your cottage and hide until 1999 is safely underway.”
Bessie laughed. “You mustn’t let yourself get so stressed,” she said. “I’ll come over and we can have a drink and relax together until it’s time for the guests to start arriving. Shall I come at six?”
“Oh, six is fine,” Mary replied. “But five would work just as well. Or even four.”
Bessie could hear the hopefulness in the other woman’s voice. She looked at the clock on the wall and swallowed another sigh. It was half three already. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she told her friend.
“Oh, thank you,” Mary said, clearly relieved.
Bessie hung up the phone and shook her head. She should have known that Mary would want her to arrive early. It had been years since she’d been to a New Year’s Eve party. Maybe this one would be more enjoyable than usual. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and changed into her black party dress. As it was a special occasion, she took the time to apply some makeup before she combed her grey hair. As she rarely wore makeup, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but she did her best to make her grey eyes stand out.
“It’s a smudgy mess,” she told her reflection. But it sounds like most of the party will be young people, and they won’t pay any attention to a woman in her late middle age, the voice in her head replied.
Bessie shrugged at the mirror and then headed back downstairs. She’d had her free bus pass for many years now, but she was still some years away from receiving a telegram from the queen to mark her birthday. While some people might have suggested that she was getting old, Bessie didn’t see it that way. She walked every day on the beach behind the small cottage that had been her home for all of her adult life. If pressed, she would have credited the daily exercise and regular intake of sea air for her continued good health.
Before she headed across the beach to Mary’s mansion, she needed to make a quick phone call.
“Doona? It’s Bessie. Mary’s just rung and asked me to come over early, so I’ll see you at the party, if that’s okay with you,” she said when the call was answered.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Doona asked. “It’s going to be a long night as it is.”
“I know, but poor Mary gets so nervous before these sorts of things. If I don’t go and hold her hand, she’ll be a wreck by the time the guests start to arrive.”
“Surely George should be holding her hand,” Doona suggested, naming Mary’s husband.
“Apparently he’s out and about somewhere. Anyway, he loves big social events. I’m sure he doesn’t understand why Mary gets so anxious about them.”
“I would have thought, after being married to George for all these years, that Mary would be accustomed to them by now.”
“I think she used the children as an excuse to avoid them for many years,” Bessie said. “But now they are all grown up and she can’t.”
“I’m not sure I would count Elizabeth as a grown-up,” Doona said dryly.
Bessie sighed. Mary’s youngest child and only daughter was in her mid-twenties, but she often seemed to still behave like a spoiled child. She had been living
with George and Mary in their Douglas home, but now that her parents had purchased Thie yn Traie, the mansion just down the beach from Bessie’s cottage, Elizabeth had moved into a suite of rooms there. This gave her some space away from her parents, but it also meant that she was unsupervised, and she’d already managed to get herself into trouble on more than one occasion.
Doona worked for the local constabulary as civilian front desk staff, so she’d heard about the car that Elizabeth had accidently driven into the gates at Thie yn Traie, about the fireworks display that Elizabeth and her friends had put on without permission, and about the bar fight that had broken out when Elizabeth and her friends had begun spending time at the nearest pub.
“I understand that Elizabeth has a number of friends here for the party,” Bessie said.
“We’d better put a few extra men on call tonight,” Doona shot back. “Although John and Hugh will be at the party. I suppose they should be able to handle most things.”
“Let’s hope they don’t have to do anything more than have a few drinks and toast the new year,” Bessie said fervently.
“Yes, let’s,” Doona agreed. “I’ll see you at Thie yn Traie around seven, then.”
“I’m sure I’ll be watching for you,” Bessie replied.
Bessie had never learned to drive, and it seemed pointless to ring for a taxi for a short journey down the beach. After slipping her black leather shoes into a bag, Bessie pulled on Wellington boots that were far more suitable for walking on the beach in late December. She fastened her warmest coat around her and then headed out towards Thie yn Traie. It was cold and windy, but it was dry, which wasn’t usual in the winter months. In spite of the cold, Bessie found herself walking slowly. She took the time to look in the windows of the holiday cottages that were between her home and Mary’s.
Thomas Shimmin, the man who owned the cottages, had been busy throughout December giving them all a fresh coat of paint. Bessie smiled to herself as she reached the last cottage in the row. Several paint cans were spread across the floor and Bessie could see that Thomas had only managed to finish about half of the main room in that cottage. Clearly, he’d have to get back to work in the new year. At the bottom of the steps to Thie yn Traie, Bessie paused and took a deep breath.
“It’s going to be fun,” she muttered to herself as she began the climb up to the mansion. “It’s going to be lots of fun.” The words repeated themselves over and over again as Bessie made her way slowly up the steps. The stairs climbed for a short while and then there was a short path to where the next set of stairs began. Bessie felt as if she were zigzagging her way up the cliff face as she held on tightly to the handrail. She’d taken a bad tumble down these stairs once, and she wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.
When she reached the top, she stopped to take a good look at the mansion in front of her. She knew that Mary had a great many plans for the place, but Bessie couldn’t imagine that anything the woman did would make the mansion more attractive. From the beach, only the large great room with its wall of windows was visible, but now Bessie frowned at the building’s wings that seemed to head off in every possible direction aside from straight down the cliff face.
Bessie shook her head. The Pierce family had built Thie yn Traie and given it its name. The words were Manx for Beach House and they’d used the mansion as a summer home, never staying there for more than a few months each year. What they’d needed all this space for, Bessie couldn’t imagine. Then again, she wasn’t sure why George and Mary wanted the huge mansion, either. They already had an even bigger home in Douglas, although Mary was hoping that George would agree to sell that property once they’d remodeled Thie yn Traie.
Surprised that Mary hadn’t met her at the top of the stairs, Bessie followed the path that meandered its way to one of the mansion’s many doors. She pressed the bell and waited patiently for someone to answer. After a minute, she tried the bell again. At least another minute passed before the door finally swung open.
“The party starts at seven,” the young man who’d opened the door said to Bessie. “Come back then and come to the front door.” He began to push the door shut in Bessie’s face.
“My goodness,” she said. “What terrible manners. I don’t know who you are, but you’ve a great deal to learn about answering the door.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, either, but I do know the party doesn’t start until seven.”
“Bruce? Who is it?” a female voice called from behind the man.
“Some old lady who won’t go away. I told her the party doesn’t start for like three hours, but she told me I have bad manners.”
The woman behind Bruce laughed. “Well, she’s probably right,” she said.
Now the door swung open further, and Bessie smiled as she recognised Elizabeth Quayle. “Elizabeth, how nice to see you again,” she said to the young woman. “Your mother rang and invited me to come over early, as she was feeling nervous, but this young man doesn’t seem to want me to come inside.”
Elizabeth shook her head, causing dozens of springy blonde locks to swing back and forth. “Don’t mind Bruce,” she said, waving the man away. “He doesn’t know that Aunt Bessie is a Laxey institution.”
Bessie wasn’t sure she would agree with that description of herself, but she didn’t argue as Elizabeth ushered her into the house and took her coat.
“That was smart, wearing your Wellies on the walk,” Elizabeth said as Bessie changed into her shoes. “I can’t imagine walking on the beach in my shoes, either.”
Bessie looked at the sliver and black stilettos that the girl was wearing. They must have added five or six inches to the woman’s height. “I can’t imagine walking anywhere in those,” Bessie retorted. “I’d break an ankle for sure.”
“You just have to get used to them,” Elizabeth said airily. “They match my dress, you see.”
Bessie looked at the tiny black cocktail dress the girl was wearing. She blushed as she realised that the dress was more revealing than anything Bessie had ever worn, even to sleep in. Elizabeth had the perfect figure for the low-cut top and short skirt, but Bessie had to think for a moment before she spoke.
“You look stunning,” she said.
“Thanks. Mum thinks the dress is too short, but she’s terribly old-fashioned about such things.”
Bessie simply smiled. She wasn’t going to get drawn into the argument.
“It’s a party,” the man who’d refused to let Bessie in said now. “Short skirts and high heels are a must at a party.”
“Where are yours then?” Elizabeth challenged him with a laugh.
The man glanced down at his jeans and shrugged. “If you get me drunk enough…” he suggested.
“Miss Elizabeth Cubbon, this is Bruce Durrant, a very dear friend of mine from one of my attempts at uni,” Elizabeth said. “Bruce, Aunt Bessie owns the darling little cottage down the beach from here. You must treat her as if she were your own aunty.”
“Of course,” the man said, bowing towards Bessie. “I do hope you’re the sort of aunty who drinks too much and ends up dancing with the waiters by the end of the evening.”
Bessie glanced at Elizabeth and then shook her head.
Bruce laughed. “Maybe that’s just in my family,” he said. “Anyway, you’ve come to see Mrs. Quayle, not me. Let me help you find her.”
He offered Bessie his arm and Bessie thought it would be rude not to take it. They made their way down the corridor with Elizabeth behind them. As they walked, Bessie noted that her escort was only a few inches taller than her own five feet three inches. That made him much shorter than Elizabeth, at least while Elizabeth was wearing those particular shoes. He was slender and clean-shaven. Bessie assumed he was in his mid-twenties, like Elizabeth, but she wasn’t certain as his receding hairline made him look older. What hair he did have was brown and matched his eyes.
They arrived in the room that the Pierce family had called the
“great room,” and Bessie was pleased to see that the party decorations made the huge room feel warmer and more inviting. A band was setting up along one wall and Mary was in the corner, talking on her mobile.
“I have to go,” she said now in a firm voice. “I’ll see you later.” She pressed a button on the phone and dropped into her pocket.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt an important conversation,” Bessie said after she’d returned Mary’s affectionate hug.
“Not at all,” Mary said, shaking her head. “It was just George, being silly.”
“Silly? Never mind, it’s none of my business,” Bessie said.
“He’s in Douglas, at the house there, and he wants me to come down there to help him choose a tie or some such thing,” Mary said with a sigh. “I’ve told him I’m far too busy here to be dashing back and forth. He can pick out a tie without my help, I’m quite certain.”
“Shall I go and help daddy?” Elizabeth asked. “I’ll cheer him up as well, as he’s been quite grumpy lately.”
“You’re more than welcome to try,” Mary told her daughter. “Just make sure you’re back here well before the guests are due to arrive.”
“Everyone I’ve invited is already here,” Elizabeth said with a giggle. “I hope they don’t miss me while I’m in Douglas.”
“Take some of them with you,” Mary suggested. “They’ve nothing to do here anyway.”
“I’m happy to accompany you,” Bruce offered.
“Oh, goodness no, you stay here and entertain Bessie,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll just see if Howard wants to come along, though.”
She glided out of the room on her impossibly high heels, leaving Bessie and Mary with a frowning Bruce.
“What am I to do now, then?” he muttered.
“You can take one of the cars and go into Douglas if you’d like,” Mary said. “Or take some of the others and go for a short drive around the island. It’s really beautiful.”
Aunt Bessie Knows (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 11) Page 1