Aunt Bessie Believes
An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery
By
Diana Xarissa
Text Copyright © 2014 Diana Xarissa
Cover Photo © 2014 Kevin Moughtin
All Rights Reserved
Author’s Note
Welcome to book two in the Aunt Bessie – Isle of Man Cozy Mystery series. While I recommend reading the books in order, each book will stand alone if you prefer not to do so. I have just a few notes, mainly for those of you who have started with this book instead of the first.
Aunt Bessie’s life story was originally told in my Isle of Man Romance, Island Inheritance. Bessie was the source of the inheritance that prompted the heroine to visit the Isle of Man. That meant, of course, that in that book she had recently passed away. Readers get to learn her life story thanks to letters, diary excerpts and through stories told by other characters in the book.
When I started thinking about writing a cozy mystery, I knew I needed to create the perfect protagonist. And then I decided that I already had one. Aunt Bessie was the perfect cozy heroine, I just had to bring her back to life.
I’ve chosen, therefore, to start this cozy mystery series about fifteen years before the romance, circa 1998. In that way, Bessie is still happily alive to get unhappily mixed up with murder. I’ve worked hard to try to make sure I haven’t accidently given anyone technology that didn’t exist in the late 1990s, but I can’t promise I haven’t made any mistakes.
As with the first book in the series (Aunt Bessie Assumes), readers might spot a character or two who have wandered in from my romance series. Obviously, they are younger versions of themselves here, and they are blissfully unaware of the future that you may have already read about.
I’ve used British spellings and British and/or Manx words and terminology throughout the book. A page or two of translations and explanations for many of them, especially for readers outside of the United Kingdom, follows this note. It is entirely possible that the odd American spelling or primarily American word usage has snuck into the text. If that is the case, I am sorry and if you let me know about it, I will correct it.
A note on the setting; this story takes place on the uniquely beautiful Isle of Man. The island is located between England and Ireland in the Irish Sea. While it is a Crown Dependency, it is a country in its own right, with its own currency, stamps, language and government.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Similarly, the names of the restaurants and shops and other businesses on the island are fictional. I have taken considerable liberties with my locations, adding various shops and other businesses that simply don’t exist on the island, or at least not where I’ve put them.
The historical sites and other landmarks on the island are all real; however, all of the events that take place within them in this story are fictional. Manx National Heritage does exist and their efforts to preserve and promote the historical sites and the history of the island are extraordinary. All of the Manx National Heritage staff in this story, however, are fictional depictions.
I never get tired of writing or talking about the Isle of Man. It was my home for over ten years and I write about in order to have an opportunity to, at least mentally, revisit a place I loved. It is a truly unique and fascinating location, steeped in history and endowed with its own distinct culture and traditions. I look forward to one day having an opportunity to spend much more time there.
Glossary of Terms
Manx Language to English
by vie lhiam ushtey
I would like some water.
fastyr mie
good afternoon
gura mie ayd
thanks
kys t’ou
How are you?
moghry mie
good morning
oie vie
good night
quoi uss
Who are you?
slane lhiat
goodbye
ta mee braew
I’m fine.
House Names – Manx to English
Thie yn Traie
Beach House
Treoghe Bwaaue
Widow’s Cottage (Bessie’s home)
English/Manx to American Terms
advocate
Manx title for a lawyer
aye
yes
biscuits
cookies
bacon butty
bacon sandwich
bank holiday
public holiday
booked
made a reservation
boot
trunk (of a car)
car park
parking lot
chemist
pharmacist
chippy
a fish and chips take-out restaurant
chips
french fries
comeover
a person who moved to the island from elsewhere
container lorry
large truck for hauling goods
crisps
potato chips
cuddly toy
stuffed animal
cuppa
cup of tea (informal)
estate car
station wagon
fairy cakes
cupcakes
fizzy drink
soda (pop)
flat
apartment
gaol
jail
hire car
rental car
holiday
vacation
indicators
turn signals
jab
injection (immunization)
journal
diary
lift
elevator
longtail
rat
loo
restroom
Oz
A British slang term for Australia
pavement
sidewalk
pensioners
retired people
prang
crash
pudding
dessert
queue
line
saloon car
sedan
skeet
gossip
solicitor
lawyer
stroppy
easily annoyed, difficult to deal with
tannoy
public address system
telly
television
trainers
sneakers
whinging
whining
windscreen wipers
windshield wipers
Other notes:
The British (and Manx) number their building floors starting with ground level, which is essentially level “zero,” therefore the floor above ground level is the “first floor” and they continue up from there. (In the US, the ground floor is generally referred to as the first floor, the floor above would be the “second floor,” etc.)
Reception is the first year of formal schooling in state-run schools in the United Kingdom, roughly equivalent to a US kindergarten. Children begin in reception at the age of four, turning five during the year. (Unlike most American kindergartens where children don’t begin until after their fifth birthday.)
A character refers to meeting her husband at “uni,” which is short for “university.” In the UK you would go to university after you’ve completed your GCSE (formerly O-level) and A-level exams. Universities award bachelor’s degrees as well as providing graduate level education, like US colleges and universities do.
A “gap year” is time taken
out after finishing A-level exams and before beginning university study. Traditionally the time is spent travelling to allow a student to learn more about the world before returning to academic learning. Today students who choose to take a gap year do everything from travelling to volunteer work to taking on a full-time job to help finance their future university studies.
CID is the Criminal Investigation Department of the Isle of Man Constabulary (Police Force).
“Noble’s” is Noble’s Hospital, the main hospital on the Isle of Man. It is located in Douglas, the island’s capital city.
When talking about time, the English say, for example, “half-seven” to mean “seven-thirty.”
A charity shop is a store run by a charitable (non-profit) organisation that sells donated second-hand merchandise in order to raise funds for their particular cause. They are great places to find books, games and puzzles as well as clothing, knick-knacks and furniture.
Someone says to Bessie, “I thought you’d have popped your clogs ages ago,” which means died.
A “pensioner” is someone old enough to be collecting his or her pension. In the US the term “retiree” or “senior citizen” might be used instead.
When island residents talk about someone being from “across,” or moving “across,” they mean somewhere in the United Kingdom (across the water).
The emergency number in the UK is 999, rather than 911, as used in the US.
Hospitals in the UK have “Accident and Emergency” departments (A&E) rather than Emergency Rooms.
Cars in the UK that are over three years old are required to undergo an annual MOT (Ministry of Transport) test to ensure that they are roadworthy and safe. This does not apply on the Isle of Man, although motorists are expected to maintain the roadworthiness of their vehicles.
A “page three model” appears topless on the third page of certain British daily newspapers.
Chapter One
“Why do these things always have to be on the first floor?” Doona grumbled as she slowly climbed the stairs, holding tight to her friend’s arm.
“Marjorie said they were having trouble finding space to hold the class this time. We’re lucky they found a room for us, even if it is up a few steps,” Elizabeth Cubbon, “Bessie” to nearly everyone, answered, unbothered by the climb.
“If it was only a few steps, I wouldn’t complain.”
Bessie laughed. “Why don’t you let go of my arm? Then we don’t both have to try to squeeze together on the same step at the same time, and the trip will be easier for both of us.”
Doona shook her head. “It’s fine,” she replied, not meeting Bessie’s eyes.
“For goodness sake,” Bessie said crossly. “I’m perfectly capable of climbing up any number of stairs all by myself. I do it at home at least a dozen times a day, you know. All this mollycoddling is starting to get on my nerves.”
Doona flushed and didn’t reply. The pair reached the top of the stairs and headed down the short hallway towards the only open door. Bessie could almost feel the dust in the air. The hall smelled musty and disused, which wasn’t surprising since the club that owned the building didn’t use the first floor very often.
A few steps away from the door, Doona paused and gave Bessie a tentative smile.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to mollycoddle you,” she said softly. “I still feel so badly about what happened last month, you getting nearly killed and everything, that I feel like I need to watch over you constantly. Besides, whatever you say, I know that nasty fall you took left you battered and bruised.”
“I suppose I should appreciate the fact that you didn’t say anything about me being so old that I will take longer to recover,” Bessie replied, smiling to take any sting out of the words. “I know that my fall and subsequent events were very stressful for all of us, but I just saw my doctor this morning and he says I’m ‘fit as a fiddle.’ You need to stop worrying about me so much.”
“I’ll try, but it won’t be easy,” Doona said.
Bessie thought of a dozen replies, but she didn’t get a chance to say any of them as they were interrupted by loud voices floating up the stairway behind them.
“I can’t believe that I had to pay for this course and now I’m expected to climb up all these stairs as well,” a loud and churlish voice said.
Bessie struggled to hear the reply, but could only just make out a quiet murmur.
“I don’t care how much trouble you had finding a space,” the angry voice came again. “I’m not supposed to climb too many stairs, not with my bad heart. Maybe I should just get my money back and not take the course.”
The voices were getting closer and now Bessie recognised their owners.
Marjorie Stevens worked as a librarian at the Manx Museum and was in charge of organising and teaching the class that Bessie and Doona were there to take. Somewhere in her thirties, she was a natural blonde with light blue eyes that were always hidden behind fashionable glasses.
Many years ago, when Marjorie first arrived on the island, Bessie had heard rumours about a love affair that had gone disastrously wrong. Bessie had hopes that Marjorie might meet someone special at some point in the future, but by all indications, the woman was determined to remain single. That was a position that Bessie could well understand. It would have been Marjorie’s voice speaking quietly and calmly in between the heated outbursts from the other woman who now appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, goody,” Doona whispered softly to Bessie as Moirrey Teare’s miserable countenance came into view.
Moirrey was a thirty-something hypochondriac who made sure that she was well known throughout the town of Laxey. Although she was not unattractive, Bessie wasn’t sure she had ever seen the woman smile. In all the years she’d known her, Bessie had never seen her wear any makeup or seem to put any effort into her appearance.
Today, Moirrey’s dark brown hair hung limply over her shoulders, looking as if it hadn’t seen a brush in at least a week. Her matching brown eyes were flashing angrily and her face was flushed from the effort of climbing the short staircase. She was rail-thin and wearing what Bessie knew had to be very expensive clothing, although the style didn’t suit her. She was carrying a fancy handbag that undoubtedly had a designer label inside.
Bessie forced herself to smile as she greeted the new arrivals. “Marjorie, I’m so excited to be taking your class again,” she told the woman who was carrying a large box full of books and papers in her arms. “I just hope I do better this time than I did the last two times I tried.”
Marjorie grinned. “I’m sure you’ll do well,” she said politely. “Pardon me.” Marjorie disappeared through the open door, no doubt eager to put down the heavy box.
Bessie turned to greet the other woman. “Moirrey, how lovely to see you again,” she fibbed graciously. “I didn’t realise you were taking this class.”
The other woman looked at her for a long moment before speaking, seemingly reluctantly. “I hadn’t planned on it,” she told Bessie. “But I thought I ought to get out more.”
Doona turned a laugh into a cough at the unexpected comment. Moirrey turned and gave her a cold glare before she turned back to Bessie.
“I must say I’m surprised to see you here,” she said coolly. “At your age I would have thought you were ready for a little flat in Douglas with doctors on call.”
Bessie bristled and counted slowly to ten before she trusted herself to reply. “I’m doing just fine, thanks. I love learning and I think that the class will help with my research.”
Moirrey shrugged. “Are you still playing at being a historian, then? My family history is so intimately tied up with the island’s own history that I can’t quite imagine trying to study one and not the other. My health being what it is, however, quite precludes me from doing any serious research, of course.”
Bessie breathed deeply. “Have you met my friend, Doona Moore?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t belie
ve I have.” Moirrey extended her hand limply, allowing Doona to squeeze a few fingers.
“Actually,” Doona told her, “we have met. I work at the Laxey Constabulary at the front desk. You were just in last week to file a complaint about your neighbours.”
Moirrey frowned deeply. “You can’t expect me to remember you from that?” she demanded. “I meet so many people and I can only remember a handful of them.”
Doona drew a deep breath. Bessie jumped in before she could speak.
“I’m sure it will be a fun class,” she said. “I’ve already taken it twice and couldn’t wait to take it again.”
“It doesn’t say much about the skill of the teacher if you’ve had to take the same class multiple times, does it?” Moirrey answered. She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I should just quit now and get my money back.”
“It surely isn’t Marjorie’s fault that I’m just not that quick at languages,” Bessie said, torn between defending her friend and hoping that the unpleasant Moirrey would drop out of the class.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Moirrey snorted. “You got the senior discount for the class. My full-price tuition is supplementing your place here.”
Aunt Bessie Believes Page 1
