Aunt Bessie Solves

by Diana Xarissa

  Bessie laughed. “Looking back now, I suppose I didn’t really want to leave the island, but I kept telling myself that I was going to go. I bought my cottage so that I could get away from my parents, as I blamed them for Matthew’s death. But even then, as much as the island felt strange to me, it also felt oddly like home.” She shook her head. “I know I’m not making any sense.”

  “I think I understand what you’re saying, though. But let’s head to Peel, maybe with a stop at Tynwald Hill along the way,” Andrew said.

  Bessie went upstairs to comb her hair and add a touch of lipstick to her lips. Andrew had only been half an hour earlier than expected, but she still felt slightly discombobulated by his arrival. He was just lucky she hadn’t gone out for a second walk that morning, she thought as she found her handbag.

  “Ready when you are,” she told the man, who was studying the bookshelves in her sitting room.

  “I may need to borrow a book or two,” he told her. “I always bring books with me when I travel, but I spent a few days in hospital last month and read my way through my stockpile. I should have taken the time to get to a bookshop before I came over here, but I was too busy with other things. I did buy books in Ramsey the other day, but I’d prefer to save them for when I’m back at home, really.”

  “You’re more than welcome to borrow anything on the shelves down here. Take a few now and throw them in your boot, if you’d like. Then you’ll have them for later.”

  “Are you sure? I’ll take good care of them and get them back to you before I leave.”

  “I’m quite sure, and while I’d like them back, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you kept one or two. I have far more books on my shelves than I’ll ever be able to read again in this lifetime.”

  “I’ll just borrow these two,” Andrew said. “Then if I’m up early again tomorrow, I won’t have to bother you.”

  Bessie found the man a carrier bag to put the books in, and then the pair made their way to Andrew’s hire car. He put the books carefully into a small compartment in the boot. “That should keep them safe and sound.”

  “Just don’t forget they’re in there.”

  “No, I won’t.” The sun was shining on a lovely day as Andrew pointed the car southwards.

  “The road to Peel cuts right across the centre of the island,” Bessie told him as they went. “This road is part of the TT Course as well.”

  Andrew glanced at the houses which lined both sides of the road. “It seems a dangerous place to have a race.”

  “It’s a fairly straight line, at least.”

  “What do the people who live in the houses do when they want to get in or out during the racing?”

  “The course is a big loop. People who live inside the course can move around inside of it, but if they want to go outside of it, they have to do so at one of the crossing points. Similarly, if someone is outside, they can only get inside at a crossing point. People who live right on the course usually park their cars on side roads or in nearby car parks so that they can get to them if they need them during the racing.”

  “How long does the racing take? Are the roads shut for long?”

  “They’re generally shut all day, from early in the morning until five or six in the evening on racing days,” Bessie explained. “Races usually take place on the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of race week. There are practices as well, which shut the roads for shorter periods the week before racing and on non-race days during race week. Of course, that’s all assuming the weather is good and the practices and races happen as scheduled. And that never seems to happen. When it rains, everything turns to chaos, although it is a very well-organised chaos, really.”

  “It sounds awfully inconvenient.”

  “It doesn’t really bother me at all, and most island residents are used to it. Comeovers complain a lot at first, but they soon learn to adapt as well. The TT is good for the island’s tourist industry. It’s worth having to plan around it for the good it does the island.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “It isn’t the only racing event held here, either, although it is the most famous. There is a fortnight of racing in August called the Manx Grand Prix. It’s also for motorbikes and follows the TT Course, but I believe just about anyone can enter. There are other, smaller race events held around the island as well. And Tynwald Hill is just up here on the right.”

  Andrew slowed his car down and then pulled over to the side of the road. “It’s smaller than I was expecting,” he said after a moment.

  “There’s a car park a little further along if you want to take a closer look.”

  “Yes, I believe that I do.”

  It only took the pair a few minutes to walk from the car park to the monument.

  “How do they cut the grass?” Andrew asked as he studied the stepped hill.

  “I’ve no idea,” Bessie laughed. “I’ve never been here when they’re doing it.”

  Andrew walked up the steps and stood on the top of the hill. “The view from up here is lovely,” he said. “I think I can see an ice cream stand.”

  “We haven’t even had lunch yet. It’s far too early to be thinking about ice cream.”

  “It’s never too early to be thinking about ice cream. I may concede that it’s a bit early to actually eat ice cream, but there’s no harm in thinking about it,” Andrew told her.

  “Maybe we should get to Peel,” Bessie suggested. It would probably be best if they were back in the car before the ice cream stand opened for business. Bessie wouldn’t have been surprised if Andrew bought himself ice cream if they opened in the next few minutes.

  “Okay, but I hope they’ll be somewhere to get ice cream there.”

  “There’s a small stand near the castle,” Bessie assured him.

  When they reached Peel, Bessie had Andrew park near the short road full of shops and restaurants. “The estate agency is just up the road,” Bessie told him. “We can wander past and see if anyone is there.”

  They climbed out of the car and began a slow stroll up the street. Andrew stopped to look in nearly every window, which left Bessie feeling anxious. She really wanted to talk to Ron and then get out to Peel Castle. It felt to her as if Sandra was going to be a much better source of information than Ron.

  There were lights on in the estate agency, but Bessie couldn’t see anyone inside the building as she and Andrew walked past. When they reached the end of the street, they turned around and headed back towards the car. This time, when they reached the agency, Andrew stopped to look at some of the property details displayed in the window.

  “What a lovely little cottage,” he said to Bessie, pointing.

  “It is lovely,” Bessie replied, “and it’s right on the water. It would be perfect for you.”

  “It does say that it needs some modernising. I wonder if they have any pictures of the interior.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Bessie pulled on the building’s door and was slightly surprised when it opened. There hadn’t been any sign of anyone inside the shop while they’d been looking in the window, and Bessie had expected the door to be locked. As she and Andrew walked inside a loud buzzer sounded. A moment later a bald man in a dark brown suit rushed out from the back room.

  “Ah, good morning,” he said brightly. “I’m Ron Adams. How can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if you had more photos of the little cottage in the window?” Andrew asked.

  Ron frowned. “I’m not sure that I do, but I can check my files. It’s a lovely little cottage, but it needs some modernising, for sure. I don’t believe that the current owners have done much to it in the last few years.”

  He crossed to the desk in the corner and began to flip through some files on the desk. Bessie and Andrew followed him and sat down in chairs near the wall.

  “Ah, here we are,” Ron said eventually, “and there are a few more photos. Don’t be put off by the amount of work it needs, though. I
t’s going to be wonderful once it’s been updated. You can’t beat the location.”

  He handed Andrew a few photographs. Andrew looked through them and then handed them to Bessie.

  “It’s awful,” Bessie said after she’d gone through them. “It’s completely uninhabitable as it is. You’d need to put in a new kitchen, and it doesn’t even look as if it has a loo. It simply won’t do at all.”

  Andrew nodded. “I’m afraid my friend is correct. It isn’t going to work for me.”

  “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re looking for and I’ll see if I can help,” Ron suggested. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and looked expectantly at Andrew.

  “Ron Adams? Where have I heard that name before?” Andrew said, looking at Bessie.

  “I believe someone might have mentioned it yesterday,” Bessie said, hoping that was the lead that Andrew wanted.

  “Yes, I think you’re right,” Andrew nodded. “It may have been Mabel Lloyd who mentioned it.”

  “Mabel Lloyd?” Ron repeated. “Do I want to know why you were talking to Mabel Lloyd about me?”

  “We had tea in the café where she works yesterday,” Andrew explained. “She was upset about an article that had been in the local paper. It seems a friend of hers was murdered a few years ago and the police are reinvestigating the case.”

  “That would be Jeanne,” Ron sighed. “I saw the article. I sure hope the police aren’t going to question me again.”

  “Surely you’d like to see the killer behind bars,” Andrew said.

  “Oh, yeah, sure, of course I would, but talking to me isn’t going to help the police with that. I didn’t know anything five years ago and I don’t know anything now,” Ron said forcefully.

  “Mabel told us that you and Jeanne were a couple for a while,” Bessie said softly.

  “We went out for a short while, but we had a lot of problems.”

  “What sort of problems?” Bessie asked.

  Ron stared at her for a minute and then shrugged. “She was good fun, but I couldn’t trust her. Whenever I went over to her flat, there’d be a guy there. Usually it was her ex-husband, which was bad enough, but sometimes it would be some other guy she’d just met or something.”

  “So she cheated on you?” Andrew asked.

  Ron flushed. “I don’t think she was, um, well, sleeping with other men, at least not when we were together. She was just really friendly, especially with men. I always worried that one of them might get the wrong idea, you know?”

  “Is that what you think happened to her, then? Do you think she was killed by some man she’d only just met?” was Andrew’s next question.

  “I’ve no idea what happened to her. The local paper had lots of theories about her ex-husband and about the guy she worked for, but they had to be careful with what they said. I suppose I was lucky that my name never appeared in any of their articles. Jeanne and I hadn’t been together for years by the time she died, though,” Ron replied.

  “What did you think of her ex-husband?” Bessie asked.

  “Kenny? He was okay. He was still sort of under Jeanne’s spell in a way, but he was trying to do what was right by Sandra, too. I always hated finding him at Jeanne’s because then she’d try to play us off each other. She was incredibly manipulative, when I look back now,” he sighed.

  “In what way?” Andrew asked.

  “I’d go over after work and Kenny would be there. Jeanne would say that he’d come over to help with a leaking tap in the kitchen or something like that. Then I’d tell her that I could have repaired whatever she needed doing, which gave her an excuse to pull out her long list of little jobs that always seemed to need doing at her place. By the time Kenny and I left a few hours later, we’d have changed all of the washers in every tap, bled her radiators, rehung a door that was sticking, and paid for Chinese food for everyone for dinner.” Ron shook his head. “When I’d get home, exhausted after all of that, I’d swear I wasn’t going to fall for it again, but then a few days later I’d head over to see Jeanne, and Kenny or someone else would be there, and we’d start fighting all over again over who could do more for Jeanne the fastest.”

  “She sounds very clever,” Andrew said.

  “Oh, aye, she was very clever at getting what she wanted. The worst part was, we weren’t even sleeping together. Somehow she always found an excuse to keep putting me off. I don’t know if she was just not interested, or if she was using the promise of sex to keep me coming back, but after six months I got tired of waiting and moved on.”

  “And in that six months, how many other men did you meet at her flat?” Andrew asked.

  “Maybe two or three,” Ron said after a moment. “It was mostly Kenny who was there when I went over, but I’m sure I met at least two other guys there and there may have been three or even four. At least one of them left as soon as I arrived, but others stuck around for a while and we’d do some DIY together while Jeanne told us both how wonderful we were.”

  Bessie glanced at Andrew. Ron’s story was interesting, but how much of it was true?

  “We have wandered off topic, haven’t we?” Andrew said with a chuckle. He gave Ron his name and address in the UK and then asked him about cottages for sale in the area.

  “I’ll pull everything we have available across the island,” Ron promised. “I’ll get some flyers the post to you in the next few days.”

  “They’ll probably be waiting for me when I get home, then,” Andrew said. “I’ll look them over when I start to miss the island.”

  “If I lived in London, the Isle of Man is the last place I’d be going,” Ron muttered.

  “Really? Is that because you don’t like the island or because you find London appealing?” Bessie asked.

  “Probably a bit of both,” Ron told her. “The island is just boring, that’s all. I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m ready for a change. I thought moving to Peel from Ramsey would be interesting, but it isn’t that different. London, though, London would be completely different.”

  “For a short while, and then you’d find yourself going to work every day and going grocery shopping and running the same boring errands, and you’d find that London is just like everywhere else, really, just larger and more crowded,” Andrew said.

  Ron shrugged. “That’s something I’d like to find out for myself.”

  “Have you looked at moving?” Bessie asked.

  “Yeah, of course I have, but I’m an estate agent. To be good at that job, you need to know a lot about the area you’re selling. I know Peel like the back of my hand. I know who might be thinking of moving in the next six months, which couples are getting closer to splitting and selling their family home, and who’s just gone into a care home, leaving their family to start fighting over putting the house on the market. I don’t know anything about London.”

  Bessie stared at the man. Did estate agents really work at finding out all of those very personal things? She’d never really thought about it, but hearing it spelled out that way made it seem very intrusive.

  “So you’ve no theory on who killed Jeanne Stowe?” Andrew asked, suddenly changing the subject back to murder.

  “Jeanne? Oh, um, no. As I said, I’ve always thought she brought someone home to take a look at her central heating or something and the guy was expecting more. When he didn’t get what he wanted, well, he must have been angry.”

  “Very angry,” Bessie suggested.

  “Yeah,” Ron agreed.

  “Well, thank you for your time,” Andrew said, getting to his feet. He held out a hand to Bessie and helped her up. “Send me those property details and I’ll take a good look. I’m not one hundred per cent sold on the island, but I’m still here for a few more days. I’m sure Bessie will do her best to convince me to get a holiday home here.”

  Bessie flushed. Such a purchase wasn’t any of her business. If Andrew wanted a holiday home, that was up to him. Unable to think of a polite way to tell Andrew that, especial
ly in front of Ron, Bessie pressed her lips together and followed Andrew to the door.

  “Thank you again,” he said, offering Ron his hand.

  “You’re very welcome,” Ron replied, shaking first Andrew’s and then Bessie’s hand.

  “That was interesting,” Andrew said as he and Bessie made their way back down the street.

  “Do you believe what he said about Jeanne? It was rather different to what Howard said.”

  “It was. I wonder who is telling the truth.”

  “Maybe Jeanne changed after she and Ron stopped seeing one another,” Bessie mused.

  “That’s also a possibility. It would be interesting, therefore, to talk to James Poole. I’d also like to speak with Kenny.”

  “Maybe Sandra can tell us where to find him,” Bessie said. “If she’s working today.”

  The drive over to Peel Castle didn’t take long. As Bessie had promised, there was an ice cream vendor right outside the stone steps to the castle.

  “Perfect. Ice cream is exactly what I need right now,” Andrew said.

  “We haven’t had lunch yet,” Bessie reminded him.

  “Maybe I’d better get three scoops,” Andrew replied thoughtfully. “That would make the ice cream a useful substitute for lunch, wouldn’t it?”

  “You don’t want to get lunch?” Bessie asked.

  Andrew looked at her. “Right now I really want ice cream. As it is just about time for lunch, having some ice cream will probably spoil my appetite. Therefore, it makes more sense to simply have the ice cream for lunch and have lots of it, surely?”

  “Or we could go and get something healthy to eat and then have ice cream when we come back.”

  “We could, and we will if that’s what you want to do. But I’m fine with just having ice cream for lunch. I am on holiday, after all.”

  “You are, but I’m not,” Bessie began. She would have argued further, but all of the talk about ice cream had made her hungry. And what she was hungry for was a huge scoop of strawberry ice cream. “I’ve never had ice cream in place of a meal,” she said tentatively.

  “Really? You live alone, and you have done since you were eighteen. Why wouldn’t you eat ice cream in place of a meal at least once a week?” Andrew demanded.