Aunt Bessie Observes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 15)

by Diana Xarissa

  “John told me that you identified the body,” Bessie said somberly.

  “More or less,” Janet replied. “I’m not completely certain it’s him, because the man we knew in Doveby Dale had a huge moustache and this man didn’t, but that’s an easy change for a man to make.”

  “It is, indeed,” Bessie said. “If it is the man you knew, who would have wanted him dead?”

  “It has to be tied to the fundraiser for Mannanan’s Kids,” Janet said. “Otherwise it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Unless the killer is someone from across who followed the men or found them here and killed them,” Bessie suggested.

  “I suppose that’s possible,” Janet said thoughtfully. “But the police have been looking everywhere for those two. Surely, if they were that easy for someone to find, the police would have managed it.”

  “Unless they had a third accomplice,” Bessie suggested. “He or she would have known exactly where the other two were.”

  “There wasn’t any sign of a third accomplice in Doveby Dale,” Janet said. “Aside from the local man who helped them, of course. But I’m pretty sure that if he knew where they were, he’d ring the police straight away. He was pretty upset with how those two treated him.”

  “If there was a third accomplice, what are the chances he or she lives on the island?” Joan asked.

  Bessie shrugged. “In some ways the idea makes sense, especially since it seems that the third person, if he or she exists, worked entirely behind the scenes. But it does seem as if they were setting up Mannanan’s Kids as their next victim. If they had an accomplice here, would they want to pull their scam here as well?”

  “Maybe that’s what they fought about,” Janet suggested. “Maybe they started working with Mannanan’s Kids and the third accomplice didn’t know about it until it was too late. Maybe that’s why he or she murdered both men.”

  “I must say, I like the idea of a third accomplice more than the idea that someone from Mannanan’s Kids is involved,” Bessie told them.

  Joan refilled everyone’s teacups as Janet patted Bessie’s arm. “Unless the third accomplice is someone from Mannanan’s Kids,” she said gently.

  Bessie nodded and then sighed. “I think I need to ring a few friends and see what I can learn about the fundraising committee members. No doubt there will be a lot of skeet about all of them.”

  “Does that mean no wildlife park tomorrow?” Janet asked.

  “No, I’ll ring my friends before we go. The wildlife park doesn’t open until ten, so we don’t need to leave before half nine. That should give me plenty of time to ring people,” Bessie said. “We can also ask Agnes about everyone when we see her tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps the police will have the entire thing worked out by tomorrow,” Joan said. “Inspector Rockwell seems very good at his job.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t have the case solved, he’s coming to dinner at my cottage tomorrow night,” Bessie told her. “You’re both welcome as well. He and Doona and Hugh will be coming and I’ll be making spaghetti.”

  “This is one of your discussion sessions about murder,” Janet said, sounding excited. “You’ve told me about them in your letters.”

  “It is, yes,” Bessie agreed. “We never seem to solve any murders, but we sometimes find different avenues for John to explore.”

  “And this time Joan and I can provide some extra insights,” Janet said eagerly.

  “Perhaps we should leave murder to the experts,” Joan said.

  “Bessie isn’t an expert,” Janet argued. “And Doona isn’t really with the police, either.”

  “Bessie has dealt with such things a great many times,” Joan reminded her sister. “We may well just be in the way.”

  “We can go and sit quietly and just listen,” Janet suggested. “And then if we have any bright ideas, we can share them with Bessie after the others have left.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Bessie said firmly. “The gatherings are informal and friendly. You’ll both be welcome to contribute your thoughts and ideas, the same as the rest of us.”

  “I’m still not sure we wouldn’t just be in the way,” Joan said.

  “I’m going,” Janet announced. “You may stay home if you like.”

  “I was rather hoping you might bring pudding,” Bessie told Joan. “But if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to, obviously.”

  Joan frowned. “I could make something for pudding, whether I’m going to be there or not,” she said. “Maybe a Bakewell tart or a Victoria sponge.”

  “Only if you’re coming,” Bessie insisted. “You’re more than welcome.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Joan said. “I shall have to bake in the morning, I suppose, as it seems as if we’re going to be out all day tomorrow.”

  “If you haven’t the time, I’ll tell Doona to collect something from the bakery before she comes over,” Bessie told her.

  “No, I’ll have time,” Joan said. “Assuming I have all of the ingredients I need.”

  Bessie yawned. “I think I’d better get home and get some sleep,” she said. “Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

  “It is, indeed,” Janet replied. “It sounds as if it’s going to be an interesting one as well.”

  Janet walked Bessie to the door. “I’ll be here around half nine,” Bessie told her.

  “We’ll see you then,” Janet replied. She leaned close to Bessie. “Don’t worry, Joan will come to the gathering at your cottage tomorrow night. She’s too nosy to miss out,” she whispered.

  Bessie swallowed a laugh as she stepped out into the crisp and cool night air. Once she was home, it didn’t take her long to get herself ready for bed. It was much later than her normal bedtime, but as she climbed into bed, she felt as if she was too awake to sleep. She tossed and turned for three or four minutes before she drifted off, sleeping soundly until just a few minutes past six.

  “Coffee,” she muttered to herself as she opened her eyes the next morning. “Lots of coffee.”

  The shower helped, but Bessie was still repeating the word “coffee” to herself as she made her way into the kitchen. While she usually set the coffee maker brewing and then took her walk, today she stood at the counter, watching the rich dark liquid drip and deeply inhaling its invigorating aroma. After her first cup, she felt almost like herself.

  The beach was empty as she walked briskly along the sand past Thie yn Traie. While she was curious as to what was going on at the crime scene further down the beach, she didn’t have the time or the energy to walk that far this morning. Instead, she stopped a short distance beyond the huge mansion on the cliff above her and then turned back towards home.

  She frowned at herself as she found her eyes being drawn towards the last holiday cottage in the row. It was dark and all of the curtains were drawn.

  “Bessie? Good morning,” a voice called across the sand.

  “Good morning, Maggie,” Bessie replied, smiling at the woman who was walking down from the car park behind the cottages.

  “You must ring Inspector Rockwell and ask him when I can get back into that cottage,” Maggie said stridently, gesturing towards the last cottage. “We have a specialist cleaning crew coming from across and I need to get them booked.”

  “A specialist cleaning crew?” Bessie repeated.

  “Yes, they clean up crime scenes,” Maggie told her. “Supposedly they can get rid of stains like blood and, um, well, the other things a body might leave behind. They’re also very good at cleaning up fingerprint powder, apparently. As I understand it, it leaves a huge mess everywhere.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Bessie said.

  “Anyway, I want to get them over here and get that cottage cleaned properly so that we can start using it again. We’re fully booked for the entire summer. We can’t afford to have a cottage sitting empty.”

  “I’m sure the inspector will be in touch as soon as he finishes his investigation,” Bessie told her. “I’m not
sure if what happened yesterday will complicate things.”

  “Oh, yes, I heard that you’d found the body of the dead man’s business partner,” Maggie said. “It isn’t really something I’d want to discuss, if I were you.”

  Bessie stared at the other woman. Maggie loved gossip and was always the first to want to talk about the cases that Bessie was involved with. Clearly, Maggie was less interested in gossiping when she was actually involved herself. “As I said, I’m sure John will be in touch when he’s finished,” Bessie repeated.

  “I don’t understand what’s taking so long,” Maggie told her. “They’ve taken away all of the furniture from that room and searched the rest of the cottage.”

  “I’m sure John has his reasons,” Bessie said mildly. “I hope the murder hasn’t driven away too many of your guests,” Bessie added. She looked down the beach. It was difficult to tell how many cottages were occupied, but at a glance is seemed as if most of them had guests staying in them.

  “We’ve lost a few guests, but as most of them are from across, they don’t know about the murder when they arrive. I’m certainly not telling them about it.”

  “Will you redecorate the room where the body was found?” Bessie asked, shivering as she remembered the body on the bed, illuminated by that horrible flashing neon sign.

  “Thomas wants to redo the entire cottage,” Maggie said. “He wants to get rid of the theme and make it look just like all the others again. He reckons maybe people won’t be able to work out which one had the murder in it that way.”

  Bessie nodded. “I suppose some people might be hesitant to stay in a holiday cottage if they knew someone had been murdered there.”

  Maggie sighed. “Thomas thinks we may have to tear the cottage down and rebuild it.”

  “That sounds like an expensive proposition.”

  “It is, but it may be worth it. We’ve been talking about adding a few more cottages. If we’re having a lot of construction done anyway, it probably makes sense.”

  “More of the same cottages?” Bessie asked.

  “We’ve been talking about doing a few slightly larger ones, actually. The current cottages only have two bedrooms. We’ve been discussing doing a few with three or even four bedrooms. We can’t do anything until the summer is over, though. The last thing our guests want is to come here and stay in a construction zone.”

  “Yes, I can understand that,” Bessie said, hoping that the construction that Maggie was talking about would be confined to the end of the beach as far as possible from her own cottage.

  “Anyway, I must dash. Please talk to the inspector for me and let me know when I can get back into the cottage.” Maggie was halfway back up the beach before Bessie could work out a reply.

  “I’m afraid you’re on your own with that,” she muttered to no one before continuing on her way home.

  Another cup of coffee was exactly what she needed. Then she sat down and tried to think. She needed to know more about the members of Agnes’s committee. While she had plenty of sources for gossip in Laxey, none of the committee members actually lived there. She needed to tap other resources. A flip through her address book gave her a few places to start.

  “Genevieve? It’s Bessie Cubbon. How are you?”

  “Bessie? My goodness, I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?”

  “I’m well. We should have lunch one day soon.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s. What about one day next week?”

  Bessie smiled. Every conversation with Genevieve ended up with lunch plans. Perhaps that was why she only rang her occasionally. It only took a moment for them to arrange to meet the following week.

  “But that isn’t why you’ve rung, is it?” Genevieve asked. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m helping Agnes with the Mannanan’s Kids fundraiser,” Bessie replied. “And I was wondering about the various people on the committee. I know you know everything there is to know about everyone in the south of the island.”

  Genevieve laughed. “I’ve nothing else to do all day but gather skeet. Oh, someone takes me out for some fresh air once or twice a day, but otherwise, I sit in my room or in the common room and listen to everyone. You’d be amazed at what I overhear.”

  Genevieve had been living in a care home for many years. She was confined to a wheelchair, but that didn’t stop her from having a very active social life, no matter what she said about sitting around all day.

  “I’m hoping you’ve overheard a great deal,” Bessie told her.

  “This is to do with those two murders, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I heard the two men were trying to scam Mannanan’s Kids out of the money from the auction on Thursday.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  “And now they’ve both been murdered. You don’t think someone on the committee found out what they were really doing and killed them to stop them, do you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bessie said. “It would have been easier to simply ring the police. They were both wanted men.”

  “But you think someone from the committee is involved in the killings?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not, but I don’t know that anyone else knew the men were on the island.”

  “I see,” Genevieve said thoughtfully. “I hope I can help. What do you want to know?”

  “What can you tell me about Trevor Kelly?” Bessie asked.

  “He’s very carefully polite,” Genevieve said. “His wife’s mother lives here, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that. Are you friendly with her?”

  “Not at all. I’m far too working-class to be friends with her,” Genevieve said cheerfully. “Mrs. Stanford has delusions of grandeur, although I have to say that I think she gets most of it from her daughter.”

  “Yes, I’ve met Kathryn.”

  “Mrs. Stanford seems to think that her daughter is practically royalty. She’s forever talking about all of the expensive things that Trevor buys Kathryn, things like houses and shares in companies. I think Trevor is hiding his money by putting things in Kathryn’s name.”

  “Oh?”

  “I don’t know how wealthy people manage their money. Maybe there are perfectly good reasons why he would put a property in Kathryn’s name and then sell it back to himself. Whatever he’s doing, Mrs. Stanford thinks he’s very clever about it.”

  “I’m sure he is clever,” Bessie replied. “The question is, is he doing anything illegal?”

  “I don’t know him very well, but he seems the type who would happily stretch the limits of what’s strictly legal. Whatever he’s doing might be legal, but might not be ethical.”

  “I may suggest to John that he look into Trevor’s business practices,” Bessie mused.

  “John? Do you mean John Rockwell?”

  “Yes, he’s in charge of the murder investigations.”

  “I’ve seen his photos in the local paper. Is he as handsome in person as he is in pictures?”

  “More so,” Bessie told her. “Photos don’t do justice to his stunning green eyes.”

  “If I were a few years younger, maybe I’d try to get myself arrested,” Genevieve laughed.

  “What about Scott Linehan?”

  “Him I know mostly by reputation, although I have met him a few times at various charity events. He’s, well, he’s charming, but he doesn’t seem very bright. I suspect he’s smarter than he pretends to be, but he may just have had a run of very good luck with his investments over the years.”

  “He’s well respected in banking circles.” Bessie knew that much.

  “Yes, although I’m led to believe that his luck may have run out recently.”

  “Really?”

  “This is very much third-hand information, but I did overhear someone talking about moving their investments away from Mr. Linehan and to another investment banker. They said something about how, in last six months, they’ve been losing money like mad with Mr. Linehan.”
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  “That’s interesting,” Bessie commented.

  “It may be nothing more than one unhappy client, but it made me glad that I’ve always handled my own investments.”

  “Do you know anything about his romantic entanglements?” Bessie asked.

  “What a lovely way to put that,” Genevieve chuckled. “He’s pretty much always entangled with someone, as far as I know, but it isn’t often the same someone for more than a few weeks. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him with the same woman twice, although the women are always blonde and gorgeous. I amuse myself when I see him at events by referring to whatever woman he’s with as ‘Heather.’ That was the name of the woman he was with the first time I met him. I always pretend to think that whomever he’s currently seeing looks so much like Heather that I’ve mistaken her for Heather, even though the actual Heather would be much older now than the women he keeps company with these days.”

  Bessie laughed. “Does it annoy him?” she had to ask.

  “I’m sure it annoys the young women,” Genevieve replied. “I just hope it annoys them enough that they end it with him before he ends it with them.”

  “What do you know about Anthony Roth?” was Bessie’s next question.

  “I know I should have married him when I had the chance,” was the unexpected reply.

  “When was that?”

  “Oh, more years ago than I’d like to remember. We were neighbours when we were children and once, when I was about six or seven, he asked me to marry him. I said no, because I was holding out for a prince or at least a duke. I suppose, in a pinch, I might have settled for an earl. Anyway, how was I to know that he was going to become as wealthy as a prince one day?”

  “He did do very well for himself,” Bessie agreed.

  “Yes, but he hasn’t changed. He’s still a lovely man. His wife was actually a very kind person as well, and their children are a credit to them. I can’t imagine him being involved in anything criminal. He’s given a great deal of his fortune to various charities over the years, and I’m sure the idea of someone stealing from Mannanan’s Kids has upset his terribly.”

  Upset him enough to drive him to murder, Bessie wondered. She didn’t voice the question, though. Clearly Genevieve was very fond of the man, and Bessie didn’t want to upset her friend.