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

by Diana Xarissa

  “Oh, goodness, no,” Jasper waved a hand. “We only require twenty-four hours notice for cancellations, and for you even that doesn’t apply.”

  “Thank you,” Bessie said. “I hope you won’t have any trouble filling their room for the rest of that week.”

  “It’s February,” Jasper said. “We’re lucky to fill any rooms at all, really.”

  “Oh, dear, I am sorry,” Bessie said.

  “I’m exaggerating slightly,” the man admitted. “But it is a slow time for tourists. We do get a handful of business travellers during the week, but most of them stay in Douglas. Things are looking up, though. I just took a booking for a large party for next month. Some billionaire has just married his fifth wife and they’re going to celebrate here with all of his children from all of his other marriages.”

  “How awful,” Bessie exclaimed.

  Jasper laughed. “I’m sure it will be perfectly dreadful,” he agreed. “But they’ve booked a dozen rooms and his secretary is working with our events manager on planning a huge dinner party for everyone. It’s going to be profitable for us, anyway.”

  “Does he have ties to the island?” Bessie asked.

  “I think she does,” Jasper replied. “I didn’t really ask, although now that you mention it, I should have.”

  “It probably doesn’t do to look too nosy,” Bessie said. “But you’ll have to tell me all about it once it’s over.”

  “You should come for lunch one day,” Jasper suggested. “I’ll give you a tour and then treat you to some of the specialties of the house.”

  “I’d like that,” Bessie told him.

  “I’ll ring you once I’ve checked my diary,” he told her. “Stuart has it at the moment, as he’s trying to plan our schedules for spring and summer. Once tourist season started last year neither one of us got a day off until autumn. He’s hoping to plan things better this year, although I can’t see it working.”

  “It’s worth trying,” Bessie said.

  Jasper walked Bessie back out to the reception desk. “Tell young Hugh we’re happy to have them on his wedding night and that the discount offer is good for whenever he and Grace want a week away,” he told her at the door. “Even in the height of our summer season.”

  “Thank you,” Bessie said. She walked outside just as Doona pulled up.

  “Honestly, how difficult is it to buy a toaster?” Doona demanded as Bessie fastened her seatbelt.

  “I’m assuming it was more difficult than you’d anticipated,” Bessie laughed.

  “All I wanted was something to put bread in,” Doona told her. “I quite liked the little wire rack that popped up on my old one so that I could heat pastries as well, but that was about as sophisticated as I ever got. I wasn’t expecting to have so many choices this time around.”

  “What sort of choices?” Bessie asked curiously. She’d purchased her current toaster at least ten years earlier and hadn’t given the small appliance a single thought since. Every day it made her a slice of toast just the way she liked it. What else could she possibly need?

  “They come with all sorts of special settings now,” Doona told her. “You can adjust things for how thick your bread is or use a special setting for those toaster pastry things. There are even some that defrost your frozen bread before it toasts it.”

  “My goodness, how fancy,” Bessie said.

  “I just wanted the exact same toaster I already have,” Doona said. “I loved my toaster right up until I accidently spilled water inside of it while it was toasting.”

  “Should I ask how you did that?”

  Doona shook her head. “It’s such a stupid story, I’d rather not repeat it.”

  Bessie laughed. “Should I take it that they didn’t have the exact same toaster, then?”

  “Oh, no,” Doona retorted. “That would have been too easy. What they did have was a bunch of salesmen on commission who were determined that I shouldn’t leave without the most expensive toaster in the shop and a food processor, as well.”

  “Do you need a food processor?”

  “I made the mistake of telling one of the salesmen that I don’t have one,” Doona explained. “He wanted to spend the rest of the day telling me why I can’t possibly live without one any longer.”

  “I don’t have one either,” Bessie told her. “I’m not even sure what they do.”

  Doona laughed. “I can tell you at great length what they do,” she said. “And when I was done, you still wouldn’t want one.”

  They were back at Bessie’s cottage and Doona parked the car.

  “Do you have time to come in for a cuppa?” Bessie asked.

  “Yes, please,” Doona replied. “I’m feeling frazzled from my shopping expedition.”

  “Did you end up getting a toaster, though?”

  Doona nodded. She climbed out of the car and opened the boot. Bessie joined her.

  “See, isn’t it lovely?” Doona asked, holding up the cardboard box that held her new toaster.

  “It’s very blue,” Bessie said.

  “One of the hottest new designer colours for small appliances,” Doona replied with a shrug. “It was two pounds cheaper than black, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “Designer colours for toasters?” Bessie asked as she led Doona into her kitchen. “What will they think of next?”

  “I don’t know about them, but I can tell you what I’ve been thinking,” Doona said as Bessie filled the kettle.

  “What have you been thinking?”

  “I’ve been thinking about moving,” Doona told her.

  Bessie nearly dropped the kettle. “Moving? Not off the island?”

  “Oh, goodness, no,” Doona laughed. “Not even very far away.”

  “Oh, thank goodness for that,” Bessie said. She switched the kettle on and found some chocolate biscuits for the pair to share. “But what’s brought this on?” she asked as she handed Doona a plate and offered her the biscuits.

  “I don’t know,” Doona said. “You know I’d love to redo my kitchen and my bathroom. Sometimes I think I’d like a bit more space, really. I know I’m on my own, but I’d love an extra bedroom. I’d fill it with books, of course.”

  “ I can certainly understand that,” Bessie said emphatically.

  “Anyway, now that I have a little bit of money in the bank, I’ve been thinking about having the kitchen done up and maybe seeing what an extension might cost. It all seems like so much hard work, though.”

  “It is hard work,” Bessie told her. “I’ve had the cottage extended twice and it was pretty awful both times.”

  Doona nodded. “When I was talking with Peter Clucas the other night, he mentioned that his son builds houses, and that he’d just finished a row of properties right on the water, down the beach from here.”

  “I’ve seen them,” Bessie said. “They’re ever so modern and nice.”

  “That’s what Peter said,” Doona replied. “Anyway, he suggested that I might want to take a look at one. They aren’t officially on the market yet, but he offered to arrange it for me. I don’t know that buying one of them would cost all that much more than having all of the work done on my current home would, really. And this way I’d have something brand new and trouble-free.”

  “It does sound tempting,” Bessie said. “Are you going to have a look?”

  “Yes, after work tonight,” Doona replied. “Peter is collecting me at my house so he can have a quick look at it. He reckons he can give me a rough idea of what the sort of remodeling I’m interested in would cost so that I have something to compare the new house price with.”

  “Just remember that he’s interested in selling you the new house,” Bessie cautioned.

  “Oh, I know,” Doona assured her. “I also think he might be interested in getting to know me better, but I’m going to make sure he understands that isn’t on the cards.”

  “Did you say his wife died?” Bessie asked, trying to remember what she could about the man. />
  “Yes, some years ago now. I gather they were on holiday. He said something about saving up to go away without the kids for the first time, and then she had some sort of accident. I didn’t want to pry.”

  “No, I can see that,” Bessie said.

  “Anyway, I’ll ring you when I get home and tell you all about it.”

  “Have you mentioned it to John?” Bessie asked as she handed Doona a cup of tea.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Peter is a suspect in a murder investigation,” Bessie reminded her. “John won’t be happy that you’re going to be spending time alone with him.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about that. I mean, he seemed so nice and he does such good work, even working with the police. It’s hard for me to see him as a suspect.”

  “You should still tell John,” Bessie said firmly.

  “Maybe I’ll tell Hugh or one of the other constables,” Doona said thoughtfully. “They’ll put it in a report that John won’t see until tomorrow, by which time it will be too late for him to tell me I can’t go.”

  Bessie bit her tongue. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Doona spending time alone with Peter, even though she couldn’t imagine him being involved in the murders.

  “I’d better get back to work,” Doona said, washing down a second biscuit with her tea. “I only have to go back in for an hour because of the very strange schedule, but at least that means I’ll be out in time to see the house in daylight. If I see John, I’ll mention my plans for later,” she added. “Otherwise, I’ll tell Hugh.”

  Bessie locked the door behind her friend and reached for the phone. She needed to ring the station before Doona got back or else her friend would know she’d rung.

  “I’m sorry, but Inspector Rockwell isn’t in the office at the moment,” the woman who’d answered the phone told her. “I can have him ring you back.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Bessie replied. “I can ring him on his mobile.”

  She was searching through the small pile of papers next to the phone, looking for John’s mobile number, when someone knocked on the door. “Got it,” she exclaimed as she found the right slip of paper. With the number still in her hand, Bessie opened the door.

  “Ah, Aunt Bessie, may I have a minute of your time?” the woman at the door asked.

  Bessie studied her for a moment and then smiled. “Julie Landers? But what brings you here?”

  Julie smiled back, but the expression looked forced. “I wasn’t sure you’d even remember me.”

  “My memory is still good,” Bessie told her as she ushered the woman into the house. “Even if you have changed a great deal since the last time I saw you.”

  The woman sat at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. Bessie quickly switched the kettle back on before she joined Julie, trying to recall all that she could about her unexpected guest. The woman was probably in her mid-forties. Her parents had owned a farm that stretched along the border between Laxey and Lonan. Julie had been a pretty and popular child with friends from both villages, even though she’d attended Laxey’s primary school.

  Julie’s hair was cut in a short bob. It was dark brown with streaks of grey that ran through it. The hairstyle was the main thing that had helped Bessie recognise the woman. As far as Bessie could remember, Julie had always worn her hair in that exact same way. Otherwise, the woman at the kitchen table bore little resemblance to the teenager Bessie had once known.

  “It’s Julie Mortimer now,” the woman said when she lifted her head. “Jack and I have been married for more than twenty years.”

  “I rather lost track of your family when you all moved to Peel,” Bessie said. “I never thought your father would sell his farm. It was a huge surprise when you went.”

  “Dad had cancer,” Julie told her. “The doctors said they couldn’t do anything for him. Mum couldn’t look after the farm on her own, so they sold up and moved to Peel, expecting to live off the proceeds of the sale until dad passed. He had enough life insurance that mum would have been okay after that.”

  “I never heard any of that,” Bessie said. “And I didn’t realise that your father had passed, either.”

  “Oh, he hasn’t,” Julie laughed. “Maybe it was the air in Peel, no one knows, but the cancer suddenly started getting smaller, and then one day it was gone. The doctors still can’t explain it, but he and mum are doing great and loving life in Peel. They both had to find jobs, of course, once it became obvious that dad wasn’t going to die any time soon.”

  “Doctors don’t always know everything,” Bessie said.

  “No, they really don’t,” Julie agreed. “But I think mum and dad will tell you that selling the farm was the best thing that ever happened. Dad worked nearly all the time when he was farming, and it was hard and physical work. Maybe his body just needed a break from that. In Peel he works as a handyman and he really enjoys it, especially because he can set his own hours and only work when he feels like it. Mum works in one of the shops on the promenade, but she’s going to retire early next year.”

  “Give them both my very best,” Bessie said. “It’s a small island, but it seems as if once someone leaves Laxey I never hear from them again.”

  Julie nodded. “All the small communities are quite self-contained, aren’t they? But they’re all equally wonderful.”

  “Ah, well, I’d have to say Laxey is the best,” Bessie teased.

  “I won’t argue. But I do enjoy Peel, anyway.”

  The kettle boiled and Bessie made them each a cup of tea. She hadn’t put the plate of biscuits away, so now she offered Julie a small plate and then sat back down and helped herself to another sugary treat.

  “But what can I do for you?” Bessie asked. “I’d be more than happy to hear that you just stopped by for a chat, but that isn’t it, is it?”

  “How have you been?” Julie asked, clearly not ready to talk about whatever had brought her to Bessie’s door.

  She and Bessie chatted for more than half an hour about nearly everyone that Julie could remember from her childhood. While Bessie enjoyed the walk down memory lane, she was starting to get impatient with the woman after she’d handed her a third cup of tea.

  “Can we take a walk on the beach?” Julie asked a moment later.

  “Of course,” Bessie said. She was grateful for the opportunity to get up and move around. It felt as if she’d been sitting at her kitchen table all day. Clearly the woman had something serious on her mind, but it was equally obvious that she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

  The pair walked as far at Thie yn Traie, where Julie stopped. “Those steps look lethal,” she remarked, looking at the wooden steps that wound their way up the cliff from the beach to the mansion above.

  “They are,” Bessie told her.

  “Oh, that’s right, you fell down them, didn’t you?” Julie asked. “It was in the local paper,” she explained when Bessie gave her a surprised look. “And then someone else fell down them recently, didn’t they?”

  “Not exactly,” Bessie replied. “I’m hoping the new owners might replace them with something a bit safer.”

  “Yes, George and Mary Quayle have bought Thie yn Traie, haven’t they? That was in the local paper, too,” Julie laughed as Bessie stared at her. “I always read all of the news from Laxey,” she added. “In a strange way it will always be home to me.”

  “It’s not strange,” Bessie told her. “You spent your childhood here, after all.”

  “You spent your childhood in America, didn’t you?” Julie asked. “Do you miss it? Does it feel like home to you?”

  Bessie frowned as she thought about the questions. “I’m not sure,” she said eventually. “I was born on the island, but we moved when I was two, so well before I remember. I suppose Cleveland was home to me in a way, but for much of my childhood my parents talked about moving back here. I don’t think they ever felt settled in the US and that meant that I don’t think I did, either. Anyway, I cho
se to make Laxey my home and I can’t imagine anywhere else in the world ever feeling as perfect for me as my little cottage.”

  Julie nodded. “I’m sorry if I’m prying,” she said as they turned and began to walk back towards Bessie’s cottage. “And I’m sorry that I’m prevaricating so much. I need to tell someone about something that happened to me a long time ago, but, well, it’s something I’ve tried not think about for many many years.”

  Bessie stopped at the large rock behind her house. “Sit down,” she suggested. “We can talk here with only the gulls to listen in. If you’re sure you’re ready to talk about whatever it is, I’m ready to listen.”

  “I’m not ready,” Julie said shakily. “But I think I have to do it anyway. I have to tell you, and then once I’ve gone through it once, I have to tell the police.”

  “The police?”

  “Yes, because I think I know who killed the Kelly girls.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bessie took a deep breath and then sat down next to the woman on the rock. “In that case, you’d better tell me everything,” she said.

  Julie nodded. “I’d rather my parents not know,” she began. “Oh, listen to me. I’m forty-six years old, married with three children, and I’m still worried about what my parents will think when they find out I broke their rules thirty years ago.” She shook her head.

  “You were always a very well-behaved child,” Bessie said.

  “Yeah, I was,” Julie agreed. “My parents weren’t all that strict, but they did have rules, and I always stuck to them. And they warned me all the time about boys, especially the Clucas cousins and Matthew Kelly.”

  Bessie patted the woman’s back. “I think they were right about them,” she said.

  “Oh, they were,” Julie agreed. “But that only added to the appeal.” She gave Bessie a sheepish look. “I was rather jealous of Karen Kelly in those days. She was my age, but so much more sophisticated. She’d had a bunch of boyfriends and she and Helen used to talk about boys in front of me, talking about all sorts of things that I didn’t know anything about.”

  “They both had something of a reputation,” Bessie said.