Aunt Bessie Likes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 12)

by Diana Xarissa

  John swallowed the last of his tea and stood up. He grabbed another custard cream and then looked at Bessie. “How long until you’re ready to go?”

  “If you put the biscuits away and wash up the tea things, I’ll be ready before you’re finished,” she promised.

  While John started on those jobs, Bessie rushed up the stairs to comb her hair and freshen up. She was back in the kitchen as John rinsed the last teacup.

  “This could be a wild goose chase,” he remarked as he helped her into his car.

  “It could,” Bessie agreed. Once John was behind the wheel and the car was beginning its trip out of Laxey, she spoke again.

  “It seems as if Hugh’s digging has stirred something up, anyway.”

  “Yes, definitely,” John agreed. “Just what we were hoping would happen.”

  “Is he meeting us at the farm?” Bessie had to ask.

  “No, he’s chasing down a few other leads,” John replied. “We’ve had a few other interesting phone calls as well. If this turns out to be anything more than a waste of time, I’ll ring him to join us.”

  The road to the old farmhouse was partly overgrown, and “No Trespassing” signs were posted at close intervals. John drove slowly down the very centre of the dirt track, trying to avoid overhanging branches and the worst of the ruts in the road itself. Bessie gasped as they reached the farmhouse.

  “It used to be beautiful,” she told John sadly. Now the front door was hanging off of its hinges and most of the windows were broken. As Bessie approached the front of the property, she could see where animals had climbed through windows and made themselves at home. Discarded bottles and cans also suggested human trespassers.

  John was already on the phone to Doncan as Bessie peeked in windows and sighed over the state of the once gracious home.

  “Bethany Grantham must be turning over in her grave,” Bessie said after he’d finished the call. “As soon as I saw this, I remembered her name, the poor woman.”

  “According to Doncan, the current owners aren’t interested in taking care of the property,” John reported. “He sends them periodic updates on what’s happening here, but they aren’t willing to spend any money to remedy the situation. He thinks they’re just about ready to sell, although what they’ll be able to get for this mess is questionable.”

  “Property prices are going mad,” Bessie reminded him. “With the house in this state, new owners will have no trouble getting planning permission to tear the whole thing down and start over. The owners will probably get a great deal more than they deserve for the place.”

  John nodded. “I’d love to have a look around inside, but I’m not sure it’s safe. Maybe we’d better focus on why we’re here.”

  Bessie sighed. She would have loved a chance to explore the house, but John was right. From the windows she could see missing steps and floorboards on the upper level, and the ground floor didn’t look much better.

  “How do we get to the rose garden?” John asked, looking left and right.

  “There used to be a nice path,” Bessie told him. “It led right from the front door around to the back of the house.”

  The path was now completely grown over and Bessie struggled to find any trace of it as she carefully made her way through long grass and tangled weeds. As they reached the corner of the house and turned towards the back, John insisted on going first.

  “I’ll try to hack my way through,” he told Bessie. “If it gets much worse, we’ll turn back and get someone up here with the right equipment.”

  Bessie followed John through waist-high weeds until they reached the back corner of the old farmhouse. The area behind the house looked almost like a jungle as Bessie stood and stared.

  “We need men with equipment,” John said, sounding frustrated.

  “And lots of them,” Bessie muttered as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Bushes and shrubs battled with small trees and tall weeds as far as the eye could see.

  “Where was this rose garden?” John asked.

  Bessie took another step forward and then closed her eyes. “Let me think,” she muttered. She inhaled crisp February air and tried to imagine that it was a beautiful July day some thirty-five years earlier.

  “It was in this corner,” she said eventually. She looked back at the house and then nodded. “You can just see the remains of the path that led from the back of the house to the rose garden,” she said.

  John looked over and nodded. The path that started at the property’s back door was only just visible in small patches where the weeds had yet to take over. It clearly headed away from the house and in the direction Bessie had indicated.

  “At least it’s winter, so the trees don’t have leaves,” she said, trying to find something positive to say.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s a help,” John muttered. Bessie watched as he struggled a few steps further. “I can just see the path here,” he told Bessie. “It’s going in the right direction, but we’ll need someone to clear it before we can even think about digging anything up.”

  He pulled out his mobile phone and started ringing people while Bessie tried to spot the old rose garden. Everything was too overgrown. She simply couldn’t be sure of anything given the current conditions.

  “People are on their way,” John told her after a short while. “We should probably just wait in my car.”

  Bessie sighed and then nodded and led the way back around the house. They’d only just climbed inside when Bessie heard the sound of a car engine.

  “That was fast,” she remarked.

  Instead of the police car or van she was expecting, though, the car that arrived was an expensive-looking sports car. The handsome dark-haired man who climbed out of it frowned as he looked around the outside of his vehicle. John greeted him.

  “Doncan, we weren’t expecting you out here,” he said.

  The man nodded. “My father suggested that I come out and act as an official representative of the owners,” he replied. “He didn’t warn me that I’d end up scratching the paintwork on my new car, though.”

  Bessie climbed out of the car and gave the new arrival a hug. While young Doncan had been working for his father for some time now, she still thought of him as the child she remembered. His father had been her advocate for many years, but Bessie knew young Doncan was in line to take over for the man eventually.

  “The house is in a terrible state,” John said.

  “It is,” Doncan agreed, shaking his head. “And so are the grounds. They’ve sold off nearly all the land around the house over the years. What you can see is just about all that the family still owns. I can’t imagine why they’ve let it get into this condition, though.”

  “Are they all in South Africa?” Bessie asked.

  “Yes, and as far as I know, they’ve never visited the island,” Doncan replied. “My father sends them regular updates on the state of things, but they don’t seem interested.”

  “Bethany Grantham would be devastated to see it like this,” Bessie said.

  “It doesn’t look like this has had thirty years to grow up,” John remarked, looking around.

  “No, at first they did pay someone to look after the property,” Doncan said. “I think it was one of the neighbours who came over once in a while and made sure the house was secure and kept the grass cut. My father is going back through his records, but he thinks that neighbour passed away or moved and that was the end of that. Over the years, my father has offered to find someone else to take care of things, but apparently the owners aren’t willing to spend the money.”

  “It’s probably too late now,” John said. “The entire property will have to be demolished and rebuilt.”

  “Which is probably what a new owner would want to do anyway,” Doncan said. “Doing up old houses is expensive.”

  Bessie smiled. “How’s the work coming on your new home?” she asked. Doncan had recently purchased a large old mansion that had been sitting vacant for many years
.

  “Slowly,” he said ruefully. “I can’t afford to do it all at once, so I’m taking it slowly and steadily and trying to do a lot of the work myself. Ask me that question again in ten years or so and I might have a better answer.”

  Bessie laughed. “There’s no rush,” she told him. “I’m just glad you didn’t tear the house down and start over.”

  “It might have been less costly,” he replied. “I can’t imagine how much everything I need to do is going to cost in the end, but at least this way I’m only spending a little bit of money at a time.”

  The sound of another vehicle approaching interrupted the conversation. This time it was a crew of gardeners from the village. Two of the men unloaded equipment while the third spoke to John. After a few minutes, John rejoined Bessie and Doncan.

  “They’re going to start by cutting a path through to the back of the property. Then they’re going to work on clearing the path from the house to what was the rose garden. Jake, the supervisor, actually remembers visiting here as a child and he thinks he can remember where the rose garden was.”

  “I’ll just have a quick word with them, if you don’t mind,” Doncan said.

  “Not at all,” John replied.

  Doncan walked over to the supervisor, leaving Bessie with John.

  “I suppose I don’t really need you here, not if Jake’s memory is reliable,” he told her. “I can ring for a taxi for you if you’d rather go home.”

  “I’d rather stay,” Bessie admitted. “I’m curious as to what you’ll find.”

  John nodded. “You can stay, as long as you make sure you’re well out of the way,” he said. “But I don’t think we’ll find much of anything today. If we can clear a path to what used to be the rose garden, that’s probably all we’ll have time for before it starts getting dark.”

  At John’s suggestion, Bessie climbed back into his car. He ran the heater for a few minutes for her before he headed off to check on progress. Doncan joined her a moment later, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “I hope John won’t mind,” he said, grinning at Bessie. “I’ve always wanted to drive a police car.”

  Bessie laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, as long as you don’t actually take it for a drive.”

  The pair chatted about Doncan’s parents, the weather, and local politics while they waited. Nearly an hour later, John joined them.

  “Bessie, can you walk back with me and see what you think?” he asked. “Jake is pretty sure he’s in the right place, but I’d like your opinion.”

  Bessie nodded and climbed out of the car. Doncan was quick to follow, and the pair then walked behind John along the narrow path that had been created around the house. The men had cleared a large area behind the house, from the back door outwards, and now Bessie could see the old stone path that used to lead to Bethany’s garden. The path curved to the side and then disappeared into the overgrown tangle that the men still hadn’t touched.

  “Hey, Aunt Bessie,” Jake called as she looked around. “I was thinking that the rose garden was just here, right where the path ends.”

  Bessie walked over to where he was standing and then shut her eyes and tried to think. “The rose garden was to the left,” she said eventually. “There was something else to the right of the path here.”

  “I think they tried different things,” Jake said. “I remember pine trees there for a few years, I think.”

  “You’re right,” Bessie agreed. “Michael decided to try growing Christmas trees, so he planted a few rows of them right here, near the house. I seem to recall him saying they were too much work and tearing them out after a few years.”

  “So the rose garden went off this way?” John asked, pointing.

  “Yes,” Bessie agreed. “Although there doesn’t seem to be any trace of it now, does there?”

  The men went back to work, now carefully clearing the area that Bessie and Jake had identified. In spite of the chill in the air, Bessie stayed to watch. After several minutes, Doncan’s phone startled everyone.

  “Yes, yes, okay,” he said into it. “Sorry,” he told Bessie after the call ended. “A client of mine has just been arrested and I need to go and sort it out.”

  Bessie didn’t ask any of the questions that sprang to her lips. Instead, she watched the man leave, assuming that she’d hear the whole story before morning thanks to her extensive network of friends, many of whom did little else besides share island news with one another.

  After another half hour, the workers had cut back the grass and shrubs and begun working on digging down into the soil.

  “Um, Inspector Rockwell? You might want to look at this,” Jake called from one corner of the space.

  John crossed to him and the pair had a short conversation, staring at something on the ground in front of them. John’s face as grim as he turned and headed back towards where Bessie was standing.

  “What is it?” she asked as he reached her.

  “At this point, I’m not sure,” he said. “It could be an animal bone or something else entirely, but I’m not taking any chances. I’m getting a crime scene team out here with floodlights and the proper equipment and they’re going to dig up whatever it is.”

  Bessie nodded and then swallowed a lump in her throat. She knew she was jumping to conclusions on very little evidence, but she couldn’t help but feel as if they’d just discovered what had happened to the Kelly girls.

  “I’m going to have someone take you home,” John continued. “There’s nothing more you can do here and it looks as if it’s going to be a long night. I’m of two minds about asking Hugh to join me. He has enough on his plate, really, but he won’t want to miss this, either.”

  Going home suddenly sounded like a very good idea to Bessie. John was already making phone calls as she took a few steps backwards.

  “Hey, Aunt Bessie, do you think the inspector still needs us?” Jake asked from behind her.

  Bessie jumped slightly and then turned around. “He’s never on the phone for long,” she replied. “I’m sure you’ll be able to ask him in a moment or two.”

  John dropped his phone into a pocket less than a minute later. Bessie gave herself a mental pat on the back as Jake spoke to him.

  “Do you still need me and the guys?” he asked. “We’re happy to stay as long as you want, but it’s getting on to dinner time, so I’d like to send one of them to get sandwiches or something if we’re still needed.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t use you, even though I’d like to,” John replied. “You’ve been great and you’re on site and ready to go, but we need trained crime scene technicians now. You’re all free to go.”

  Jake nodded and turned away. He’d only taken a few steps before he turned back. “Aunt Bessie, do you need a ride home?” he asked.

  Bessie glanced at John and then smiled at Jake. “I don’t want you to go out of your way,” she said.

  “It isn’t really,” Jake assured her. “Anyway, I have very fond memories of your little cottage. I wouldn’t mind having a cuppa in your kitchen again for old times’ sake, if you can spare the time and effort.”

  “I’d like that,” Bessie told him. If pressed, she would have to admit that she barely remembered the man who had be somewhere in his forties now. So many young men and women had spent time with Bessie over the years, and some had been considerably more memorable than others. After a quick chat with John, she followed Jake to his truck, trying to recall everything she could about the man.

  He had a word with the other two men, who were quick to get into their own vehicle and drive away. Then he helped Bessie climb in and shut her door for her.

  “You might not even remember me,” he said as he slid behind the steering wheel. “My mother was sort of overprotective. She didn’t approve of me spending time at your cottage, but she used to go across to see her sister for a week every summer. Dad didn’t much care what I got up to while she was gone, as long as I stayed out of trouble. I used to drop
by your cottage for tea every day during a single week every August, during my teen years.”

  Bessie laughed as the memory flooded back. “Oh, my, yes,” she said. “I used to look forward to your visits, because you were such a well-mannered child.”

  Jake chuckled. “I was always on my best behaviour with you, because I was terrified that you’d ring my mother if I did anything wrong.”

  “I have never had to ring anyone’s parents to complain about behaviour,” Bessie told him. “And I’ve only ever had to ask one child to leave.”

  “We all knew you were strict, but kind,” Jake said. “And that you made the best biscuits on the island.”

  “I used to bake a lot more than I do now,” Bessie told him. “I’m afraid I’ve only shop-bought biscuits in at the moment.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Jake said. “My wife is after me to lose a few pounds, so we don’t have anything sweet in the house at the moment. Any biscuit will be a huge treat.”

  While they’d been talking, they’d made their way down the bumpy path back to the main road. As Jake turned to head towards Laxey, something under the car’s bonnet made a grinding noise.

  “Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound good,” Bessie said.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop at the garage before I take you home,” Jake said. “I’d rather not drive too far, just in case it’s something serious.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Bessie told him.

  Jake turned the truck around and they slowly made their way into Lonan. Bessie looked with interest at the garage when they stopped. She’d never been there before, but this had to be the garage where Matthew Kelly worked.

  “I’ll just see if Matt has time to look at the truck now or if I’ll have to leave it with him,” Jake said, opening his door. “He’s not usually very busy; that’s one of the reasons I use him. Anyway, you just wait here a minute, okay?”

  Bessie nodded and then settled back in her seat, looking around curiously. At first glance, the place looked almost deserted. There were two petrol pumps near the road, but one had an “out of order” sign hanging on it. The sign looked as if it had been there for a great many years, as the chain holding it to the pump was rusty. Jake was back a moment later, only opening his door long enough to pop open the truck’s bonnet. It took Bessie a moment to realise that the man with Jake was Matthew Kelly. He looked far older than Bessie knew him to be.