Aunt Bessie Provides (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 16)

by Diana Xarissa

  “What a shame. I think she’s exactly the sort of person that Marjorie is looking for,” Bessie said. But not any good at all for Hugh, she added to herself.

  “Trevor Browne left in seventy-nine, didn’t he?”

  Bessie thought for a minute. “Yes, I believe he did. His mother was devastated when he went, if I remember correctly.”

  “Oh, yes, Margaret and Trevor were very close. He only left because he met a girl. She’d been sent over here for work for six months or so and Trevor really fell for her.”

  “I don’t know if I ever heard what happened to him,” Bessie said thoughtfully.

  “I only know because Margaret and I are very close,” Jean said. “She’s in a care home in Peel now, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Bessie exclaimed. “She’s not much more than sixty, is she?”

  “She’s seventy-one. She had Trevor later in life and always told everyone she was younger than she really is. Anyway, her health hasn’t been good for years. She was hoping she could move in with Trevor and his wife, but apparently his wife wasn’t having any of it.”

  “Where are they living now, then?” Bessie asked.

  “Oh, they’re in Peel as well. Trevor was only across for about a year. When he came back, he settled in Peel, as no one really knew him there. He was embarrassed about coming back. I gather he told all of his friends that he’d never come back and that before he left he said some rather rude things about people who stay on the island their whole lives.”

  “Oh, dear. I hope he won’t mind if Marjorie gets in touch.”

  “It’s been a long time. I don’t think he’ll care,” was Jean’s opinion.

  The conversation continued for several minutes along the same lines. Jean named a dozen or more people who’d left the island at about the right time, but many of them had returned. When Bessie put her phone down, she frowned at the list in front of her. The only male who was around the right age and unaccounted for was Harry Jensen.

  Bessie remembered Harry. He’d been a well-mannered little boy who’d grown into an intelligent and thoughtful teenager. His mother, Barbara, had been widowed when Harry was small, and she’d done her best to bring him up on her own. Harry had gone out to work as soon as he’d finished school. It was only after his mother had moved across that he’d begun to talk about leaving the island. Was it possible that Hugh’s body was Harry? Bessie was sure she would have recognised the man from the sketch in the papers if it had been Harry.

  Nibbling her way through a biscuit and sipping her tea, Bessie tried to think. She’d been so focussed on what she was going to tell her friends when she rang them that she hadn’t really given the matter much thought herself. Now that she’d spoken to Jean, though, her mind was racing. After a few minutes, she added another three names to her list. It would interesting to see if anyone else remembered the same people she did as she tried to gather more names.

  Two hours later she put the phone down and sighed. She’d talked to more than dozen people all over the island and now had a list of forty-three names for Marjorie. Her list for Hugh was considerably shorter, with only four men on it. Standing up and stretching made her feel a bit better. She glanced at the clock. There was just time for a short walk before Doona arrived. There were still a few more people she could ring, but she’d leave them for the afternoon.

  The walk on the beach was less enjoyable than it could have been because the beach was crowded. Bessie hadn’t thought about the visitors from the holiday cottages when she’d headed out for her stroll. Now she could think of nothing else, as small children raced around her and a volleyball whizzed past her head. When a little boy tripped and dumped his bucket of cold seawater at her feet, Bessie decided that she’d had enough. At home she changed her wet trousers and socks and dug out another pair of shoes. Doona arrived as she was rinsing sand out of her socks.

  “Hello,” she greeted Bessie with a hug when Bessie opened the cottage’s door.

  “Hello. Come in. I just need a minute to comb my hair and I’ll be ready,” Bessie told her.

  Doona smoothed a hand over her own recently dyed red hair. “It’s very windy. Don’t worry too much about combing your hair.”

  The café was closer to the Laxey Wheel than Bessie had realised. Doona parked in the car park across from Ham and Egg Terrace and the pair walked from there.

  “I can’t imagine the kitchen is very large,” Bessie whispered as they approached the small building nearby. A huge sign that read “Water Wheel Café” was stretched across the length of the frontage.

  “There can’t be room for more than two or three tables, surely,” Doona replied.

  Bessie pushed open the door and walked inside. Doona was right, there were only three tables, each with four chairs around it. They were all empty. A small counter stood in front of the door that presumably opened into the kitchen. The whole place felt claustrophobic to Bessie as she looked around.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Doona hissed. The words were barely out of her mouth when the door behind the counter swung open.

  “Oh, customers,” the teenaged girl who’d emerged said, sounding surprised. “Mum, customers,” she shouted back through the door. She then let the door slam shut, walked past Bessie and Doona, and out the front door of the café.

  Bessie exchanged glances with Doona. She was just about to suggest following the girl when the door to the kitchen opened again. “My goodness, I didn’t realise you were here,” a short woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties said. She flushed and then shook her head. “I mean, not until Tamazin shouted. There’s meant to be a buzzer on the door that rings in the back to let me know when people come in, but that’s just one of the many things that isn’t working right now.”

  “Perhaps we’ve come at a bad time,” Bessie said hesitantly.

  “I’m not sure there will be a better time,” the woman replied. She glanced back and forth as if checking to make sure she couldn’t be overheard, and then leaned across the counter. “Nothing is working out the way it was meant to, and I’m getting close to chucking it all in and moving back to Devon,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Bessie said. “I’ve lived on the island for all of my adult life and I can’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else.”

  The woman shrugged. “I’ve no complaints about the island. It seems like a lovely place, really. But I came over expecting certain things and thus far…” she stopped and took a deep breath. “But you didn’t come in today to hear about my problems,” she said. “I do hope you’re here for lunch and haven’t just stopped to get directions or something.”

  “We’re here for lunch,” Bessie replied. She wanted to add that she’d quite like to hear all about the other woman’s problems, but she didn’t want to appear nosy. It was a small island; it was very likely that whatever was going on would soon be public knowledge anyway.

  “I’m sorry to say that I’m not able to do very much at the moment. The kitchen isn’t completely finished, you understand. I’m doing my best with the equipment I have, but the menu is more limited than I’d planned,” the woman told them.

  Bessie wondered why the woman had opened the café before it was ready, but it felt like a rude question somehow. She and Doona took photocopied sheets of paper from her and looked at the limited menu offerings.

  “A ham and cheese toastie sounds good,” Bessie said after a moment. “I’ll have crisps and a fizzy drink to go with the sandwich.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Doona added.

  The woman nodded. “It won’t be long. Sit anywhere.”

  Bessie and Doona sat at the table in the corner that was furthest from both the front door to the building and the door to the kitchen. In such a small space it hardly mattered, of course.

  “I’m Jasmina, by the way,” the woman told them as she dropped off their drinks. “My parents thought it sounded exotic.”

  “It’s a lovely name,” B
essie told her. She introduced herself and Doona. “Welcome to the island,” she added.

  “Oh, thank you,” the woman replied. “I must say that everyone has made me feel very welcome, well, aside from the man that I moved over here for, but he’s my problem.” She turned and walked away, leaving Bessie wanting to know more.

  “Would it be rude to ask her to tell us the whole story?” Doona asked as the kitchen door swung shut.

  “Probably, but I really want to anyway,” Bessie replied. “It sounds as if it’s a good story.”

  “It does. But we probably shouldn’t pry.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Bessie sighed. “So tell me how you are.”

  “I’m fine,” Doona replied. “Actually, I’m pretty good. It’s Anna’s last week at the station and she seems almost sorry to be leaving. She’s being much nicer to everyone than she usually is, anyway.”

  Bessie nodded. Inspector Anna Lambert had been assigned to the Laxey branch of the constabulary to help John Rockwell run the station. Originally, she’d been expected to deal with paperwork and administration, leaving John to handle investigations, but the job hadn’t suited her and she seemed to have trouble getting along with the rest of the staff in Laxey as well. When an opening for an inspector came up in Castletown, Doona in particular had been delighted when Anna had been given the job.

  “Maybe you’ll miss her,” Bessie suggested, even though she remembered the happy dance that Doona had done when she’d heard that Anna was leaving.

  “I don’t think I’ll miss her, but there are things I will miss about her being around. She did take some of the pressure off John, for one thing. He’s going to be even more overworked once she’s gone. Apparently, the chief constable is considering finding him a civilian administrative assistant to deal with staff scheduling and some of the paperwork, but until that’s sorted John will be back to doing a lot more work in the office and a lot less work in the field.”

  “Which will make him miserable.”

  “Yes, although he does have his kids coming to stay soon. That should cheer him up. Maybe he’ll even be happier with being stuck at the office once they’re here. It should mean steadier hours for him, anyway.”

  “That’s a good point. When do the children arrive?”

  “Some time in the middle of July,” Doona told her. “As soon as their school breaks up for summer holidays.”

  “Maybe Inspector Lambert’s replacement will be working by then. It would be nice for John to take some time off to be with his children over the summer.”

  “He’s planning to take some time off whether anyone has been hired or not. He reckons the kids won’t want to spend all that much time with him anyway, being that they’re teenagers.”

  Bessie shrugged. “They seemed like nice children when I met them. I’m sure they’ve been missing their father while they’ve been in Manchester. I hope they get to spend a lot of time together.”

  John and his wife had separated only a year after they’d relocated to the island. She’d returned to Manchester with their two children, leaving John on his own. Now she was getting married again and going on an extended honeymoon. The children would be staying with John for their summer holidays and possibly beyond.

  “Here we are,” Jasmina said as she walked back into the room carrying two plates. “I hope everything is okay.” She put the plates down in front of them and then stood back, looking anxiously from Bessie to Doona and back again.

  Bessie smiled at her and then looked down at her sandwich. It looked delicious, anyway. She picked up half of it and took a tentative bite. “It’s very good,” she told Jasmina after a minute. “The bread is crunchy and the ham is very good.”

  “I like the cheese,” Doona said. “And the bread.”

  Jasmina beamed. “Thank you. Enjoy.” She disappeared back into the kitchen, still smiling broadly.

  “It is really good,” Bessie said after another bite.

  “Much nicer than I was expecting,” Doona told her.

  Bessie nodded. “I didn’t have high hopes when we came in,” she admitted. “But this is good, and the crisps are homemade, aren’t they?”

  Doona ate one and then sighed. “They’re wonderful,” she said. “I wasn’t going to eat any, because they aren’t exactly good for me, but I can’t pass these up.”

  Doona had put on some weight when her second marriage had fallen apart. After her second husband was murdered and she’d ended up as a suspect, she’d found that she’d lost interest in food for a while. Now back to where she wanted to be with her weight, she had to work hard to stay there since food was again appealing.

  “They are really good,” Bessie agreed. “I don’t usually eat crisps, but these are special.”

  “Did you have any luck with Hugh’s case this morning?” Doona asked as Bessie took another bite of sandwich.

  “I have a few names for him to investigate,” she replied when she’d swallowed. “I could dig deeper myself, but I don’t want to get in Hugh’s way. I’ve been adding to the list with my own memories, too. Once I’m home, I have a few more people I can ring as well.”

  “You’ve actually found people who left the island and haven’t been heard from since?” Doona asked.

  “I’ve found people whose current whereabouts aren’t common knowledge,” Bessie told her. “That doesn’t mean that no one knows where they are, it just means that my friends don’t know where they are.”

  “I thought everyone on the island knew everything about everyone,” Doona said with a laugh.

  “Very little that happens on the island remains a secret,” Bessie told her. “But once someone leaves, they are harder to keep track of. Sometimes family members don’t like to talk about the people who leave.”

  “Unless they can brag about how successful they are elsewhere,” Doona suggested.

  Bessie nodded. “That’s very true. You often hear about how wonderfully everything is going for the men and women who go across and do well, but not so much when things don’t work out so well.”

  “Hugh should be able to track most of them down fairly quickly, I would expect,” Doona said thoughtfully.

  “Unless they really don’t want to be found.”

  “It’s getting harder and harder to just disappear.”

  “Everything still good?” Jasmina asked from the kitchen doorway.

  “Delicious,” Bessie told her. “I didn’t expect homemade crisps.”

  The woman flushed. “I like them better than shop-bought, and the deep-fat fryer is one of the things that actually works back there. I don’t like to do too much fried food, though. It isn’t the healthiest of cooking methods.”

  “No, but it’s the tastiest,” Doona laughed.

  Jasmina crossed to their table and collected their empty plates. “Would you be interested in pudding?” she asked. “I only have two to offer. I have apple crumble or jam roly poly.”

  “Apple crumble,” Bessie said.

  “Make it two,” Doona told her. “And I’d love a cup of tea with it.”

  “Oh, me, too,” Bessie added.

  Jasmina nodded. “Cream or ice cream?”

  Bessie opted for cream while Doona ordered ice cream.

  “I’m going to have to walk on the beach for hours tonight to make up for this,” Doona said. “I hope you won’t mind if I park outside your cottage and disappear for a while.”

  “I should come with you,” Bessie told her. “Although the beach is really crowded at the moment, especially in front of the holiday cottages.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Doona sighed. “Of course it is.”

  “You can still walk, just not all that quickly.”

  Doona nodded. “I could walk around my neighbourhood instead, but I love being near the water.”

  “Yes, me, too.”

  The apple crumble was every bit as good as the meal had been. They were just finishing when the door to the café swung open.

  “Jazz
? I’m here,” the man in the doorway shouted loudly. He glanced over at Bessie and Doona and then shrugged.

  Bessie recognised him immediately. Richard Stern had lived in Laxey since childhood. Now in his fifties, he was overweight, bald, and chronically unemployed. He had a reputation for working hard whenever he found a new job, but then gradually slacking off until he was let go. Bessie was pretty sure that he’d worked at just about every business in Laxey. She could only hope he wasn’t trying to get poor Jasmina to give him a job. From the looks of it, she wasn’t making enough money to pay for staff.

  The kitchen door opened and Jasmina looked out. “You were supposed to be here at six,” she said.

  “Six? I never agreed to that,” the man protested. “I’m not even awake at six.”

  Jasmina sighed. “Can you get the cooker working today, at least? I had to bake the puddings at home and bring them with me. It would be really nice to have a working cooker in a café.”

  Richard shrugged. “I can take a look, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t know much about cookers, do I?”

  After a long deep breath, Jasmina spoke again. “You promised me my own little café in a tourist hot spot,” she said in a carefully controlled voice.

  “And that’s what you have,” Richard replied.

  “I was expecting to be able to fit in more than twelve people at a time,” Jasmina told him. “And to have a kitchen that I could actually turn around in. Not to mention I expected everything to work. At the very least, I thought the cooker would get hot.”

  “I’m doing my best,” Richard protested.

  “You aren’t, though,” Jasmina replied. “I’ve been here since six, ready to make breakfast for anyone who wanted it. You stroll in after one o’clock, acting as if you haven’t a care in the world. This isn’t working.”

  “Let’s not argue, pet,” Richard said. “Once you’ve dealt with the lunch crowd,” he glanced over at Bessie and Doona, “let’s go and have a drink or two and relax.”

  “I don’t want to relax or have a drink. I want to get my business up and running. I don’t think you appreciate what I’ve given up for you, all because you managed to sound so wonderful over email and the telephone.”