Aunt Bessie Believes

by Diana Xarissa

  “Good for you,” Bessie said. “You go and have fun. Inspector Rockwell and I can have our meeting without you.”

  “I thought I told you to call me John?” The inspector shook his head. “Anyway, as Bessie says, you go on your date. I’m sure there will be plenty of times in the future when you’ll have to cancel because of work. My wife could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe. If you can get away from work tomorrow on time, go have fun.”

  “Thanks,” Hugh grinned.

  “So just enough food for two normal people,” Rockwell continued. “I won’t have to get enough for a small army.”

  “I’ll make a bread and butter pudding,” Bessie told him. “I haven’t had one in ages and it sounds good. I’ll make homemade custard as well. It’s ever so much better than the store-bought kind.”

  Hugh frowned. “Maybe I can reschedule my date,” he said.

  Bessie laughed. “Don’t you dare. The poor girl won’t know what to think. I’ll make you a bread and butter pudding another time, I promise.”

  Hugh chuckled. “I suppose I’d rather spend time with Grace, anyway. You just made it sound so good.”

  Once the pair left, Bessie finished tidying the kitchen and then settled into her favourite chair in the sitting room for a while. She read a few chapters in her latest book, but it wasn’t grabbing her attention like it should have been. Irritated, she shut the book, not sure if the problem was with the book or with her.

  She wasn’t tired enough to go to bed yet, so she made herself a cup of hot chocolate and used it to wash down a few custard creams. She really didn’t need the sugary treats after apple pie, but she was just grumpy enough to not care. The biscuits did nothing to improve her mood, however.

  It was late now and quite dark outside. A few months earlier Bessie would have happily gone for a late-night stroll on the beach, but now she was more cautious. She looked out the window at the water. The beach looked deserted. With a sigh, she grabbed a light jacket and headed for her back door. Within minutes she was strolling down the beach that was illuminated by an almost full moon.

  A large rock was situated not far from her cottage. At high tide several inches of water surrounded it, but now the tide was out and the rock was on dry land. Bessie seated herself on it with a sigh. It was a perfect night to sit outside and enjoy the sounds of the waves washing up on the shore. A light breeze meant she kept her jacket on, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

  Bessie sat and watched the waves for a while. The night became darker as clouds began to roll in and obscure the moon. She frowned at the black clouds that seemed to be gathering right over her head. As if in response, they sent a light shower of rain down over her.

  A little rain doesn’t bother me, Bessie thought to herself as she turned her attention back to the sea. Moments later the wind picked up and the light rain turned into a heavy shower. Bessie couldn’t help but laugh as she made her way back to her cottage as quickly as she could.

  She pulled off her sodden jacket and grabbed a towel from the downstairs loo. After drying herself as well as she could, she made her way upstairs and got ready for bed. In her office, she scanned her bookshelves, looking for something different to read. She finally settled on a book about the Tudor dynasty, a period in history that fascinated her.

  She took the book into bed with her. She’d only read as far as Arthur’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon when she realised how tired she suddenly felt. As usual, she slept soundly, any dreams forgotten when her internal alarm woke her around six the next morning.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rain seemed to have worn itself out overnight. Friday dawned overcast but dry. Bessie took a short stroll and then got ready for Dave to pick her up for her run to the grocery store. Again, he dropped her at the bookstore in Ramsey, one of her favourite places in the world.

  “Hello, Claire,” Bessie greeted one of the most helpful clerks in the store. “I need something new and maybe a little bit different, please. I’m halfway through one of the books I got here last week and for some reason my mind keeps wandering when I’m reading it.”

  “Have you ever read this one?” the girl asked, holding up a book with a brightly coloured cover. Bessie shook her head.

  “The heroine is a lingerie buyer who becomes a bounty hunter. They’re set in New Jersey in the States. They aren’t your usual cozy mysteries, but I think they’re fun.”

  Claire handed Bessie the first book in the series and Bessie read the blurb on the back. “It definitely isn’t my usual thing,” she told the clerk. “But as it’s available in paperback for a reasonable price, I’ll try it.”

  She added another of Claire’s recommendations to the pile, as well as a new cookbook full of American-style cake and pudding recipes, before moving on. The charity shops were disappointing, though. Bessie didn’t find anything that tempted her in any of them. She was at the grocery store in good time, therefore, to shop in a leisurely fashion.

  She was standing in front of the baking supplies, gathering everything she needed for both the bread and butter pudding for that evening and some American-style chocolate brownies for another day, from a recipe that caught her eye in her new book, when someone said hello.

  “Bessie? How nice to see you,” Andrew Teare’s voice was full of enthusiasm. “And serendipitous as well. I promised Doona I would cook dinner for us tonight, and I haven’t the first clue what to make.”

  “I’d suggest you make something that you’ve made many times before,” Bessie told him. “Something easy and uncomplicated so you can socialise while you’re preparing it. You don’t want to be so worried about the food coming out right that you don’t get to enjoy yourself.”

  Andrew laughed. “That’s great advice,” he told Bessie. “But not at all what I was expecting.”

  Bessie laughed as well. “Sorry, how about: Doona isn’t a huge fan of seafood or beef, except in spaghetti bolognese. She’ll eat chicken just about any way you can think to prepare it. She loves pasta dishes, as well. And make sure you have something nice for pudding. Something chocolate would probably be best.”

  Andrew laughed again. “Perfect, thank you so much. One of these nights we will have to have you join us for dinner,” he told Bessie.

  “I’d like that,” Bessie replied.

  She finished her shopping and made it out to the taxi rank with minutes to spare. Andrew was still wandering the aisles when she was at the checkout, and as Bessie climbed into her taxi she wondered what he’d decided to prepare. She’d have to ask Doona the next time she talked to her.

  The journey home was a quick one. Putting the groceries away took only a few minutes and then Bessie fixed a light lunch and ate hurriedly. She’d asked Dave to pick her back up at one o’clock to give them plenty of time to get to Douglas.

  As it happened, the journey into Douglas was uneventful and took less time than she had allowed. Bessie found herself with over half an hour to while away before she was due to meet Moirrey’s housekeeper. She wandered around a few shops and then, when it began to rain lightly, she walked up to the museum and spent a few happy minutes revisiting exhibits she’d seen dozens of times before.

  At exactly two o’clock she walked through the doors to the small café. Janet Munroe was already seated at a small table by the window. Bessie quickly joined her, smiling and nodding at the waiter who knew her well enough to call “Pot of tea, Bessie?” as she walked in.

  “I had to wait ages for service,” Janet sniffed as Bessie said hello.

  “I do a lot of research in the museum and, inevitably, drink a lot of tea here as well,” Bessie told her.

  The waiter hurried over with tea for both Bessie and Janet. “Did you want anything else?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Janet answered. “I’d like a cup of today’s soup and a chicken sandwich. I’ll have jam roly-poly for pudding.”

  And I’m going to get stuck with the bill, Bessie thought sourly. “I’ll have a toasted teacake,” she told th
e waiter.

  Bessie watched silently as her companion poured tea into her cup and then added what seemed like exactly half of a packet of sugar to it. There was something about the way the woman poured the sugar, slowly and carefully, just a few grains at a time, that made Bessie wonder if the other woman was actually counting each grain as it tumbled gently into her cup. Janet added milk in exactly the same way, slowly and exactingly as if a single drop too much would spoil the drink.

  Once Janet was satisfied with her beverage, Bessie casually added a healthy dollop of milk and a packet of sugar to her own cup. She took a sip and then smiled across the table. “I appreciate your taking time to meet with me,” she told Janet.

  “I haven’t much else to do at the moment,” the other woman responded. “Besides, I had a job interview in Douglas this morning and fancied lunch out. This way we both get something we want.”

  “So tell me about Moirrey’s boyfriend,” Bessie replied. If the woman was getting lunch out of this, Bessie wasn’t going to waste time with social niceties.

  “Hurump,” Janet said with a frown. “A woman Moirrey’s age ought to have known better than to get involved with a married man.”

  “What makes you think he was married?” Bessie asked.

  “There had to be a reason why she was sneaking around,” Janet said. “And believe me, she’d have been way too happy to have hooked a man to be sneaking around if she didn’t have to be. There was something weird about the relationship, I guarantee it.”

  “And you think he was married?”

  “Or too old or too young,” Janet shrugged.

  “Or not of her social class?” Bessie suggested.

  “I can’t see Moirrey dating anyone who didn’t fit into her social class,” Janet replied stiffly. “She was very old-fashioned in her ideas about class. I can’t imagine her lowering her standards in that way.”

  “She was getting older,” Bessie pointed out. “Maybe she was lonely and just happy to have someone.”

  “I suppose it’s remotely possible,” Janet conceded. “But I think it would be much more likely that the gentleman in question was married.”

  “What about too young or too old? You suggested those as possibilities. What ages would Moirrey have considered as falling into those categories?”

  Janet frowned. “I would guess that Morriey would have considered anyone younger than herself as too young. As I said, she had some old-fashioned ideas. She felt that men should always be older than their partners. I’m not sure that she would consider anyone too old, really, perhaps a man in his seventies?”

  “You think she would have dated a man in his sixties? More than twice her age?” Bessie asked.

  “I think she would consider it, depending on who he was,” Janet answered. “If he were someone important, she wouldn’t have hesitated, and she would have bragged about it.”

  “What about Matthew Barnes?” Bessie suggested.

  The arrival of Janet’s lunch and Bessie’s snack interrupted the reply. Bessie buttered her teacake and watched in silence as Janet rearranged the contents of her sandwich until it was layered exactly as she preferred. Using her soup spoon as a measuring device, Janet poured out small portions of salt and pepper, watching carefully until she had exactly the amount she wanted. She stirred the condiments into her soup and then tasted it gingerly. Bessie held her breath as Janet looked thoughtfully at the soup. After another small taste, Janet gravely shook out a tiny number of additional pepper flakes and added them to the bowl. She stirred it again and then took another bite. Bessie felt relieved when Janet nodded, apparently finally satisfied with the meal.

  The pair ate silently for a few minutes. Bessie’s teacake disappeared quickly, but Janet’s soup and sandwich took a little bit longer. When the waiter cleared the dishes and promised to have Janet’s pudding right out, Bessie added her own request for a slice of Victoria sponge. She felt like she needed something sweet to balance out her less than pleasant company.

  “So, what about Matthew Barnes?” Bessie asked again while they waited for their puddings.

  “I hadn’t forgotten the question,” Janet snapped. “I was just considering it while we ate. A few months ago I might have given it even more thought, but Moirrey and Mr. Barnes were not getting along well just before Moirrey died. She was pushing for a full accounting of her estate and Mr. Barnes was prevaricating. I think that Moirrey’s boyfriend was behind the push and also behind Moirrey’s attempts to have her brother declared dead.”

  “And the boyfriend’s motive for those things?”

  “Money,” Janet laughed. “What else is there? I think he was after Moirrey’s money and he wanted every penny he could get. If Andrew was declared dead, the estate would, presumably, all belong to Moirrey. That is if there is anything left with Matthew Barnes in charge of it.”

  “You think Mr. Barnes has been stealing from the Teare estate?”

  “Oh, I’m sure everything he’s done has been legal,” Janet waved a hand. “I’m sure he’s allowed to charge fees for his services and the like. But I know money got tighter and tighter every single year that I was with Moirrey. Last year her new fancy car was leased rather than purchased outright and she was doing a lot more of her own driving. When she wanted to impress people, she hired a driver from an agency. The driver she used to keep on staff was let go about eighteen months ago. I’m pretty sure she only got rid of me because she couldn’t afford to keep me on any longer.”

  The puddings arrived. Bessie was relieved to see that apparently Janet’s pudding had been delivered exactly the way she liked it. Janet dug in while Bessie considered what she had said about her former employer. Ewan Teare was supposed to have been a very wealthy man. Everyone had suspicions about Moirrey having money troubles when she moved into the small cottage several years ago, but Janet was suggesting that things were even worse than Bessie had thought.

  “And yet she was buying new clothes and makeup and perfume?” Bessie questioned.

  “The boyfriend probably told her that he’d help her get her money from Mr. Barnes,” Janet sighed. “Look, Moirrey had a very sheltered upbringing. Her father did everything for her, and when he died Mr. Barnes took over the financial side of things. Moirrey never questioned anything that he told her do, from moving into the little cottage to selling off parcels of land. If Mr. Barnes thought it was a good idea, Moirrey went along. It never would have occurred to her, on her own, to start questioning Mr. Barnes. Someone put the idea in her head and I think that someone was her new boyfriend.”

  “But you don’t have any idea who he was?”

  Janet shrugged. “I can’t imagine that it was anyone local,” she said. “She knew everyone in Laxey far too well. I’m guessing it was someone she met in Douglas, maybe someone who has just moved here from across. I’m guessing he’s married. That makes the most sense to me.”

  “Someone from Douglas?” Bessie echoed, her mind racing. “I can see that. There are so many bankers and the like coming over at the moment to work. I don’t suppose the police can investigate them all.”

  “I can’t see why they’d want to,” Janet told her. “Surely, Moirrey’s mysterious boyfriend would have been the last person to want her dead.”

  “So who do you think switched her tablets?” Bessie asked.

  “Matthew Barnes has to be on the top of my list,” Janet answered. “I’ve never liked the man.”

  Bessie bit her tongue. Many years ago, when Janet had first started working for Moirrey, there had been quite a lot of skeet about Matthew Barnes and Janet Munroe. The general consensus among Laxey residents at the time had been that Janet had developed a crush on the advocate and that she had made quite a fool of herself in chasing after him. As far as Bessie knew, nothing had ever come of it, but now it made her question Janet’s honesty.

  “Do you have any ideas beyond Mr. Barnes?” Bessie asked.

  “Not really,” Janet shrugged. “No one liked Moirrey, but I can’t see
why anyone wanted her dead, either.”

  “What about possible suitors? I know you said he was probably from Douglas, and I’m inclined to agree, but if he was local, is there anyone you can think it might have been?”

  “No one,” Janet answered definitely. “There wasn’t a man in Laxey that she’d have considered dating.”

  “What about Jack Caine?”

  Janet laughed. “That old drunk? Even if Moirrey was starting to feel like an old maid, and I’ve no reason to believe that she was, she wouldn’t have given that man the time of day. He’s an old drunkard and she wouldn’t have condescended to speak to him.”

  “What about Andy Caine?” Bessie hated herself for suggesting him, but she was curious what the other woman would say.

  Janet gave her an odd look. “It’s an interesting idea,” she conceded. “Moirrey might have been flattered by his youth. But I don’t think she would have been able to see past who his parents were. In fact, I’m sure she wouldn’t have.”

  The waiter cleared away the pudding plates. Janet seemed to see that as her cue to leave. “Well, thank you for lunch,” she told Bessie. “I suppose I must be off.”

  “You never saw the boyfriend?” Bessie asked, desperate for more information.

  “Never,” Janet shrugged. “I saw his car from time to time, going in and out of the lane, but I was never close enough to get a look at the driver.”

  “Did you notice what sort of car it was?”

  “Pretty much different every time,” Janet answered. “They all had hire car stickers on them; you can see them from miles away.”

  Bessie grinned. The island only had two hire car companies and one of them insisted on plastering bright yellow stickers on the back bumpers of every car in their fleet. “It would have been more discreet for him to use the other hire car company,” Bessie remarked.

  “What other hire car company?” Janet demanded. “MannCar has started using bright green stickers now. Haven’t you seen them? They are just as ugly and unmistakable as the yellow ones that CarManx has had for years.”