Aunt Bessie Understands

by Diana Xarissa

  “Pretended?”

  “I may be being unfair, but I don’t think so. We went out again a few nights later. Now it was his turn to tell me about his life. I got to hear all about his wonderful mother, Liliana, and about how much she’d suffered when she fell ill. He brought me to tears as he explained how he’d founded his charity to try to make certain that no one would suffer as badly as she had during her illness. It was all very moving, really.”

  “So why do I hear cynicism in your voice?”

  “Because the evening ended when he hit me up for a donation,” Elizabeth sighed. “I thought we were really connecting and getting to know one another. He thought I was a soft touch.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “The joke was on him, really, because at that point I didn’t even have a bank account in my own name. I could have asked Mum to write him a cheque, of course, but I was rather too embarrassed about the whole situation to even consider that. I said something along the lines of not being in a position to help, and then fled the restaurant in a taxi.”

  “Fled?”

  “I felt used and humiliated. Here I was, thinking that he was interested in me as a person, and it turned out he was only seeing pound signs. I was used to going out with men in my same social circle. They all have money of their own and it would never have occurred to any of them to ask me for money for anything. Oliver was something of a rude awakening.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Elizabeth shrugged. “I haven’t actually seen Oliver since, although he does send his assistant around to pester Mum for donations from time to time.”

  “Dylan?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Mum isn’t fond of him, but she’s too nice to tell him to leave her alone.”

  “I didn’t realise that Dylan visited donors.”

  “We may be the only ones that Oliver doesn’t deal with personally. I think he’s still angry with me for fleeing from our dinner.”

  “He should be embarrassed for treating you that way.”

  “Whichever, he seems to be avoiding both me and Mum. Dylan rings about twice a year and invites her to lunch. She usually goes, although I think she turned him down the last time.”

  “Why?”

  “She said something about him turning up the pressure on her to make a larger donation. Mum gives generously, but she gives to many different good causes, which means they have to share her generosity. Once in a while a particular cause or a particular fundraiser will push her to give more to them than she feels she should. Usually, at that point, she stops giving to that particular cause.”

  “Perhaps I’m better off having never had money,” Bessie speculated.

  Elizabeth laughed. “You’d be far more selective in whom or what you supported. Mum can’t say no, but I suspect you wouldn’t have that difficulty.”

  Bessie grinned. “You may be right about that. I do give to a few good causes on the island, but usually anonymously, and I never give very much money at a time, either.”

  “Anyway, I don’t know if anything I’ve said will be helpful, but I know you’ll want to pass it all along to Inspector Rockwell.”

  “Yes, I will,” Bessie agreed, wondering if John would still be overseeing the case or if he was busy with his own personal matters now. “Can you tell me anything else about Phillip, Oliver, or Dylan?”

  “As I said, Mum isn’t fond of Dylan. I’ve only met him a few times, but I didn’t care for him, either. He acts as if he’s rather thick, but I think it’s truly that, an act. I think he’s a good deal brighter than he lets on, although I can’t imagine any reason behind his behaviour.”

  “He never asked you out?”

  “Not in so many words. The first time we met, he gave me a look that suggested that he might be interested, but I ignored it. He made a point of including me in the invitation to lunch that he extended to my mother, as well, but I declined. I suspect Oliver may have told him about our disastrous dinner at some point, because Dylan has never specifically included me in an invitation since.”

  “Specifically?”

  “I mean, he always suggests to Mum that she might want to bring a friend or two with her to lunch. I’m sure he’s hoping for additional prospects, really, but Mum usually asks me if I want to go along.”

  “And you haven’t seen Oliver at all since that abandoned dinner?”

  “Actually, I did see him once fairly recently. He was walking on Laxey Beach with a woman. I’m not sure who she was, but she was very pretty. I’d walked down from Thie yn Traie to get some fresh air and exercise.”

  “When was this?” Bessie asked, feeling excited.

  “Maybe September?” Elizabeth made the answer a question. “It was after the summer rush at the holiday cottages, but there were still guests staying at some of them, so I believe it was September.”

  “Did you speak to him?”

  “No,” Elizabeth blushed. “When I realised who it was, I turned around and walked the other way. They were strolling along the sand and talking. I spotted them when they were at about the midpoint of the holiday cottages. As I said, when I recognised him, I turned and began to walk towards the new houses. I walked well past them, as well, before I turned around. By the time I got back to Thie yn Traie, they were gone.”

  “Interesting,” Bessie said. There was no way she could ask Oliver what he’d been doing on Laxey Beach back in September, but she was curious.

  “I do know Nicole Carr, if it matters,” Elizabeth said casually.

  “It is such a small island,” Bessie replied. “How do you know Nicole?”

  “She works at Noble’s. I met her when Daddy was having some health issues. She was one of the nurses who took care of him after his minor surgery.”

  “What did you think of her?”

  “She was efficient, but not especially pleasant. I hate to say anything bad about her, really, because everyone at Noble’s took such good care of Daddy, but she was one of my least favourite nurses. I can’t fault her for the care she gave Daddy, but she never seemed especially happy or even content with her job. I don’t know if I’m making sense or not.”

  “I think I know what you mean.”

  “Some of the nurses seemed to truly love nursing and took a real interest in Daddy. Some of them just seemed to be going through the motions. Nicole definitely fell into the latter category.”

  “Did you know anything about her at the time?”

  “No, not at all, but I have to say I wasn’t surprised to learn that she’d cheated on a former boyfriend. She seemed, well, cold, I suppose is the best word.”

  “What about Liam Kirk? Do you know him at all?”

  Elizabeth made a face. “I made the mistake of taking a tour of his gym when we first moved to the island. Daddy hadn’t found a house yet, so we were staying at a hotel, and their fitness facility was horrible. I went looking for a gym that I could join for a few months, until Daddy found a house and had a gym installed there.”

  “Why was it a mistake?”

  “It wasn’t the sort of gym I wanted and Liam was creepy.”

  “In what way?”

  “He leered at me and kept encouraging me to try different machines, and then using that an excuse to touch me under the guise of helping me with the machine or the weights. It was unpleasant, but never quite obvious enough that I could legitimately object, if you know what I mean.”

  “Do you remember when this happened? Before or after he got married?”

  “I’m not sure. I could probably work it out, but I don’t see why it matters. He’d have behaved the exact same way, married or not. If I went there again today, I’d get the same treatment from him.”

  Bessie shook her head. She didn’t understand men, but she believed Elizabeth’s assessment of Liam. “We’ve talked about a lot of people. Can you see any of them killing Phillip?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone killing anyone under any circumstan
ces,” she sighed. “Maybe my imagination isn’t very good, but the idea of actually trying to physically injure another human being is simply foreign to me.”

  Bessie patted her arm. “I hope that never changes.”

  “I do, too.”

  “Do you know Harry Holt?” Bessie asked as the man’s name popped into her head.

  “Harry Holt? I don’t think so. Should I?”

  “He was Phillip’s closest friend when he lived on the island. They went to university together. I didn’t know if you’d ever met him.”

  “I don’t believe I have. Maybe it isn’t that small of an island after all,” Elizabeth laughed.

  “Perhaps not.”

  “And now I must dash. I’m going to be late for my meeting, but it was worth it to chat with you.” Elizabeth gave Bessie a quick hug and then dashed away, racing up the steep steps.

  “Do be careful,” Bessie said under her breath, afraid if she called out to her that Elizabeth might be distracted and slip. She watched as the girl reached the top of the last flight of stairs and then disappeared from view.

  The rain was still falling, although so lightly that it was almost more of a mist. Bessie hadn’t walked more than a few steps when her name was called again.

  “Bessie,” a loud voice boomed across the beach. “Hello.”

  Forcing herself to smile, Bessie turned and began to walk towards the last holiday cottage. Maggie Shimmin was standing under a large umbrella on the cottage’s patio.

  “Good morning,” Bessie said when she reached the woman.

  “It isn’t a very good one, though, is it?” Maggie replied. “This rain is playing havoc with my back, for a start. It isn’t just my back, either. My knees are aching, my head hurts, and I’m quite certain I’m brewing something, as well.”

  “You should get in out of the rain, then.”

  “Aye, I would if I could. The police still won’t let us in our cottage, though. Even though it’s ours and they ought to have the case solved by now. I told Thomas I’ve half a mind to ring the chief constable myself and demand that they release the cottage.”

  “I’m sure they’ll release it as soon as they possibly can.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” Maggie scowled. “They know we aren’t using the cottage at the moment, so they’ve no motivation to get done with it in any hurry. I suppose, all things considered, it doesn’t much matter now anyway.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’ve had our planning application turned down. I thought you’d already know that.”

  “I’d not heard anything. I am sorry.”

  “Someone must have objected, I reckon. I’d love to know who it was and why they objected.”

  “I thought such things were a matter of public record.”

  “Maybe, but maybe not,” Maggie said, winking.

  Bessie didn’t know what Maggie meant by that, but decided she didn’t want to know. “What will you do now, then?” she asked.

  “Oh, we’re going to appeal, but I don’t know that it will do us any good. Once the police give us access, we’re going to tear down this cottage regardless. We can’t rent it out, not now, not after everything that has happened in it.”

  “Maybe you could use it for storage, or you and Thomas could stay here during the summer months. It would save you a lot of time and effort running back and forth.”

  Maggie stared at her for a minute. “I’m not staying in there,” she said, nodding towards the cottage. “People have been murdered in there.”

  And yet you complain because holidaymakers don’t want to use it, Bessie thought, biting her tongue.

  “It wouldn’t be at all suitable for storage, either,” Maggie told her. “Although maybe we could build a storage shed here if we can’t get permission to build a larger cottage.”

  “I’m not sure that would be very attractive.”

  “We could design it to look the same as the other cottages, but without all the interior walls. It would be a lovely huge space to store all of the things that we need down here.”

  “Or you could just use the cottage that’s already here,” Bessie suggested again.

  Maggie shook her head. “It’s not at all suitable.”

  It seemed that Maggie was more spooked by the second murder than she had been by the first, Bessie thought. “Well, good luck to you and Thomas,” she said. “I hope you can get permission to do something.”

  “We’ve been given permission to tear the cottage down and rebuild a new one exactly the same,” Maggie sighed. “There seems no point in doing that, though, does there?”

  “It would give you another cottage to hire out.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know if it would be enough to break the curse.”

  “Curse? You can’t be serious.”

  Maggie flushed and looked at the ground. “I don’t know what to think. That last cottage has been nothing but trouble since we first built the cottages. First there was that horrible accident with that couple from across, then a murder, and now a second murder. How many awful things have to happen somewhere before you decide the place is cursed?”

  “A good deal more than three,” Bessie said firmly. “I don’t believe in curses, although I will admit that you’ve had a run of bad luck with that cottage. Still, if you start thinking about the number of murder investigations I’ve been involved in lately, you may start to think that I’m cursed as well.”

  Maggie pressed her lips tightly together.

  She truly does think I’m cursed, Bessie thought, feeling amused by the idea. “Anyway, I should be getting home,” she said.

  “Going to ring John Rockwell and tell him everything that Elizabeth Quayle told you?” Maggie asked.

  “I don’t see why that’s any of your business,” Bessie said.

  Maggie laughed. “We all know you tell Inspector Rockwell everything that you hear. He couldn’t do his job half as well if he didn’t have you telling him everything that’s truly happening in Laxey.”

  “John is excellent at his job and he doesn’t need my help,” Bessie said tartly. “I do share some of the things that people tell me with him, certainly, especially when he’s investigating a murder. I hope you’ll agree with me that we all want murderers found and put behind bars as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, of course. Anyway, I’m sure Elizabeth had a lot to say about Oliver Preston. She chased after him quite shamelessly for several weeks when she first arrived on the island.”

  “Really?”

  “They met at one of his fundraisers. Thomas and I were there and I couldn’t help but notice the way she pushed her telephone number on him with suggestions that he really ought to ring her soon. I’m sure poor Oliver thought he was going to get a big donation from the family, but I don’t think it worked out that way.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “No? Elizabeth didn’t say? She’s probably embarrassed about her behaviour back then, especially now that she and young Andy Caine are a couple. I keep waiting to hear that they’ve split, but with him off-island, it’s impossible to find out anything.”

  “Do you have your tickets for Christmas at the Castle?” Bessie changed the subject.

  Maggie blinked at her and then chuckled. “I know, I know. You and Mary Quayle are unlikely friends now, so you won’t talk about Elizabeth. Fair enough, I suppose. For the record, yes, I do have tickets for Christmas at the Castle, but I’m not certain we’ll actually attend. A lot depends on how Thomas is feeling, you understand.”

  “Of course. Please give him my best.”

  Maggie nodded. “And now I must go and get some work done. I can’t waste all day chatting with you, you know.” She spun on her heel and quickly disappeared around the cottage.

  Bessie sighed and then turned towards home, half expecting someone else to interrupt her. She didn’t mind long chats on the beach most days, but after two of them, in spite of the umbrellas she’d shared, she felt soaked through. She stopped ju
st inside her door and watched as water dripped off her clothes. It took her half an hour to change, hang up her wet things, and dry her hair. When she was done, she sank into a chair and sighed.

  Ringing John held little appeal. While she wanted to share what she’d learned from Elizabeth with him, she was afraid of what he might have to tell her about Sue. As she dithered over whether to ring or not, she suddenly remembered the new shop assistant in the shop at the top of the hill. She’d promised to bring her some books to read and she’d completely forgotten.

  The girl had said she usually read romance, a genre that Bessie didn’t much enjoy. Still, she found a few paperbacks scattered across her shelves when she went to look. As she hadn’t known she had them, she didn’t much care if she ever got them back again. They were exactly what she needed to lend to the poor shop assistant. She added a few copies of some of her favourite mystery novels. She often bought duplicate copies of real favourites specifically to lend. After putting the books into a bag, Bessie looked outside.

  “Still raining,” she sighed. A walk in the cold rain sounded more appealing than ringing John though, so she put on her waterproofs and her Wellington boots and headed up the hill.

  “Oh, goodness,” the shop assistant exclaimed when Bessie handed her the bag. “I can’t possibly…”

  “Of course you can,” Bessie interrupted. “You may not even want to read any of them, but you’re welcome to read them all. If you particularly enjoy any of them, feel free to keep them, otherwise, you can donate them to a charity shop or give them back to me and I’ll lend them to someone else. I’m Bessie Cubbon, by the way.”

  “I’m Sandra Cook, but are you quite sure about the books?”

  “I’m positive,” Bessie said firmly.

  Bessie did a quick bit of shopping while Sandra looked through the books. Bessie grabbed a few packets of biscuits, a couple of tins of soup, and a fresh loaf of bread. When she got back to the counter, Sandra was already reading.

  “That didn’t take long,” Bessie laughed as the girl quickly shoved a scrap of paper into the book to hold her place.