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

by Diana Xarissa

  “I’ll give you a ring if I hear about any job openings that I think might suit you,” Bessie told her. “Do you have any idea what you might like to do?”

  “Something interesting and glamorous that pays incredibly well and only requires me to work about twenty hours each week,” Elizabeth said. “But I know that isn’t totally realistic. So at this point, I’ll do just about anything, really. I want to prove to my mother that I can find a job and support myself, that she isn’t going to have to look after me forever.”

  “Well, good luck,” Bessie said.

  “Thank you,” the girl replied. “And now I must get a shower and put on my finest business suit. I’m going to start hunting for the perfect job today. Maybe I’ll find something before bedtime tonight.”

  Bessie wasn’t quite as optimistic about the girl’s job prospects as Elizabeth was, but she bit her tongue as the girl skipped her way back up the stairs to Thie yn Traie. Turning for home, Bessie began trying to think of anyone she knew who might be hiring and could use someone with no practical experience. She was still thinking about that when she got back to Treoghe Bwaane. The car parked next to her cottage surprised her.

  “John, I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she exclaimed as John Rockwell got out of the driver’s seat.

  “I only seem to visit you when we’re investigating murders,” John said with a grin. “I thought I should make an effort to come by once in a while when we don’t have any open cases.”

  Bessie smiled and then gave the man a hug. The tall and handsome inspector hugged her back and then followed her into her cottage. As Bessie switched the kettle on, John sat down at the kitchen table.

  “You don’t look as tired as you usually do,” she commented as she put biscuits onto a plate.

  “You’re used to seeing me in the middle of investigations,” he reminded her. “Things are lovely and quiet at the moment. I’m actually getting to bed at a reasonable hour nearly every night and I haven’t been dragged out of bed on a case in weeks.”

  Bessie nodded. John’s green eyes were bright and he looked relaxed and happy. “I’m sure you’re excited that your children will be here soon, as well,” she suggested.

  “I am. I just wish they could stay, but Sue and I agreed that they could choose where they wanted to live and they both chose Manchester when we separated.”

  “Maybe they’ll change their minds after a few months here,” Bessie said.

  “I would really like that, but realistically, they’ll be able to have a much more normal life in Manchester. Once she and Harvey are back from their honeymoon, Sue’s planning on cutting back her hours at work to part-time. Harvey makes enough money that she won’t have to work at all if she doesn’t want to. Sue and Harvey can give the children stability. I’m on call all hours of the day and night and when I’m in the middle of an investigation I can work twenty hours a day or more. The kids would end up on their own a lot, which wouldn’t be good for them.”

  Bessie swallowed a dozen replies. She knew how much John loved his children, and she was confident that he could make it work if they came to live with him. Ultimately, though, it was up to him, Sue, and the children to make that decision, and it really wasn’t any of her business.

  She poured them each a cup of tea and then sat down across from him at the table. “I need to ring Hugh,” she said. “I had a short chat with Maggie Shimmin about a few of the men he and I discussed yesterday.”

  “The possible names for Hugh’s unidentified body? I didn’t think anyone would be talking about that until after the paper came out on Friday.”

  “Maggie brought it up. She’d heard that I’d been asking about people who left the island twenty years ago and wanted to know why. I told her about Marjorie’s research and that seemed to satisfy her.”

  “That was a good cover story,” John said.

  “So good that Marjorie is now actually going to do some research in the area,” Bessie replied.

  John chuckled. “Was Maggie able to eliminate any of the possibilities, then?”

  “Not at all. She didn’t mention the unidentified body, but she thinks something terrible happened to Craig Fox.”

  John frowned and then pulled out his notebook and flipped through it. “Ah, yes, the one who fell victim to Miranda Blakeslee. Hugh and I went through all of the names last night,” he explained to Bessie. “Maggie thinks something bad happened to him? Did she offer any suggestions as to what she thinks happened?”

  “She doesn’t think he ever left the island, although she did suggest that Miranda and Jackson might have taken his body back across with them to get rid of it over there.”

  “I’ll mention it to Hugh. We’re having a meeting this afternoon with the chief constable about the case.”

  “With the chief constable? Is that typical?”

  John frowned. “Not exactly. While the chief constable is very keen to see cold cases reopened, he has some questions about why Hugh chose this particular case. There isn’t any clear evidence that any crime was committed, and he’d rather see Hugh spending his time on criminal matters, really.”

  “But the man might have been murdered.”

  “He might, but we’ll likely never be able to prove that now. And I think it’s highly unlikely that anyone is going to come forward and confess after all these years, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the guilt has been eating away at them and they’ll be happy to confess,” Bessie replied.

  “We can but hope that’s the case. Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if the chief constable told Hugh to find a different case to reopen. Knowing Hugh, though, he’ll keep working on this one in his spare time.”

  “I suspect he might. He told me that he has a feeling about the case.”

  John nodded. “He told me the same thing and I know him well enough to trust his instincts. Whatever the chief constable says, I’m going to support Hugh’s efforts.”

  “I understand it’s Inspector Lambert’s last week in Laxey,” Bessie said.

  “Yes, it is. And it will be even easier for me to support Hugh once she’s gone. Castletown is getting a good inspector, but I must admit I’m not all that sorry to see her go. Our management styles didn’t work well together.”

  Bessie nodded. John was always polite, even when talking about the disagreeable Anna Lambert.

  “And on that note, I suppose I should get to the office,” he said, getting to his feet. “While things are quiet at the moment, there is always work to do.”

  Bessie followed him to the door and let him out. Back at the table, she sat down and finished her cup of tea before she tidied up. She was a little bit worried about Hugh’s meeting with the chief constable. Hugh seemed determined to find out about the dead man and she hated the thought that he might be stopped before he’d even begun.

  Feeling as if she ought to be doing something to help Hugh, Bessie paced around her kitchen for a short while before remembering her plan to head into Douglas. Once she’d remembered, however, chocolate truffles were all that she could think about. She rang her usual taxi service and requested a car. She’d been using the same company for more years than she wanted to remember. The original owner had been a good friend who had provided her with a considerable discount. When he sold the firm to a Douglas-based company, she’d continued using it because she was fond of many of the drivers. Today, Dave, her favourite driver, arrived only a short while after she’d made the call.

  “Good morning, Bessie,” he said cheerily as she opened the cottage door to him.

  “Good morning. Just let me get my handbag,” Bessie replied. Her bag was on the table, so Bessie picked it up and then followed Dave out of the house and down to his car.

  “The boss said you wanted Douglas today,” he said after he’d helped her into the passenger seat and then climbed behind the steering wheel himself.

  “I do. I’ll be doing my regular weekly grocery shop tomorrow, but today I wanted to do so
me other shopping.”

  “Very good,” Dave said. He drove out slowly and steadily, for once staying quiet as they went. After a while the silence began to bother Bessie.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, studying the man’s profile as he drove.

  “Everything is fine,” Dave answered quickly. He glanced over at Bessie and then sighed. “Everything really is fine,” he told her. “But I heard a rumour that Hugh is looking for Clarence Witherspoon.”

  Bessie thought about telling the man about Marjorie’s research project, but she knew Dave well enough to know that she could trust him. “You mustn’t repeat this, not until after the local paper comes out tomorrow, but Hugh is trying to identify a body that washed up on the beach about twenty years ago,” she told the man.

  Dave blew out a long breath. “That’s okay, then,” he said.

  “Is it?”

  “Well, I know the body isn’t Clarence Witherspoon, and he’s all I was worried about.”

  “Why were you worried about him? And how do you know it isn’t him? Or am I being too rude, asking you those things?”

  Dave chuckled. “You’ve every right to ask, under the circumstances. The thing is, Clarence is my wife’s third cousin or something like that. She barely knew him when they were younger and he left the island twenty-odd years ago, but he’s still family.”

  “I believe his mother is still on the island.”

  “Oh, aye, and that’s the problem, really. She rang my wife last night, crying and upset because she’d heard that the police were looking for Clarence. She seemed to think it was something to do with his disappearance twenty years ago.”

  “I was asking people to help me make a list of men and women who left the island in the late seventies,” Bessie explained. “I did share my list with Hugh, just in case it might help him, but I did the list for Marjorie at the Manx Museum. She’s hoping to do some research into why people leave the island and why they choose to stay away or come back.”

  “And whenever Aunt Bessie is asking questions, everyone assumes the police are behind it,” Dave said.

  “Yes, well, in this case, they are and they aren’t. I’m sure Marjorie would like to talk to Clarence, but as long as he’s alive and well, he’s not of any interest to Hugh, I shouldn’t think.”

  “I doubt very much that Clarence will want to talk to either Marjorie or Hugh,” Dave told her. “And I don’t think his mother will be much help, either.”

  “All Hugh is interested in doing is making sure Clarence is alive,” Bessie assured the man. “And Clarence doesn’t have to talk to Marjorie if he doesn’t want to. She’s only interested in talking to willing participants.”

  “Can you ask Hugh to talk to me about Clarence, rather than his mother? She’s can get a bit, well, worked up about the man.”

  “I can ask him, but I can’t promise that he’ll listen to me. He’s probably going to want proof that Clarence is still alive, as well. I’m not sure how he can get that without talking to Clarence himself.”

  Dave laughed. “Hugh shouldn’t have any problems finding out everything he needs about Clarence. I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone but Hugh this, but Clarence is currently a guest of Her Majesty and has been for many years.”

  “He’s in prison?” Bessie exclaimed.

  “Yes, which is why his mother doesn’t talk about him, ever, at all, to anyone,” Dave replied.

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie said. “And I always thought he was such a nice man.”

  “He is a nice man, really. He left the island because he was offered a good job with a financial firm in London. What he didn’t realise at the time was that the company was operating on the very edge of legality. Sometime after he arrived in London, they slipped over the edge into fraud and embezzlement. Clarence swears that he didn’t know anything about that side of the business, but a number of questionable transactions were carried out from his computer. Anyway, just about every employee ended up in prison, some with life sentences and some with shorter terms. Clarence’s problem now is that he can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he keeps getting caught trying to smuggle goods into the prison or arranging high stakes poker tournaments among the prisoners. If he wasn’t a criminal when he went to prison, he’s turned into one since he’s been there.”

  “My goodness. His poor mother.”

  “Yes, she won’t discuss him with anyone, not even with people who know the whole story. I think she likes to simply pretend that he moved away and is doing well, and having to talk about what really happened is too difficult.”

  “I’ll share all of this with Hugh. Do you know where he’s being held?”

  Dave named a prison near London that Bessie had heard of. “He’s been good for the last year or so and there is talk of his getting let out, but it probably won’t happen until early next year, if then. The last I heard, he was talking about moving back to the island if he did get out, but his mother was trying to change his mind.”

  “I’m not sure I’d want him living on the island,” Bessie muttered under her breath.

  “Here we are,” Dave said as he slid the taxi into a space on the promenade. “I’ll add today to your account, shall I?”

  “That’s fine,” Bessie agreed. She climbed out of the taxi and then stood back and watched Dave drive away. On the one hand, she was happy to have eliminated one possibility from Hugh’s list, but on the other, she felt sorry for Clarence’s mother. Feeling grateful yet again that she’d never had children, Bessie turned and began the long walk from the promenade to the Manx Museum. The sun was shining and everything seemed to be in bloom as she went. Marjorie was in her office when Bessie arrived.

  “Ah, moghrey mie,” she greeted Bessie.

  “Moghrey mie,” Bessie replied. “Kys t’ou?”

  “Ta mee braew. Gura mie ayd.”

  Bessie grinned. “And now I must switch to English,” she said.

  “I hope you feel as if you’re doing better with your Manx,” Marjorie replied. “I think you did a lot better in the last class than you’d done before.”

  “Maybe. It was the fourth time I’d taken the class, though. Maybe after a fifth I’ll finally be ready to move up to the advanced class.”

  “You’re more than welcome to try the advanced class and see how you get on,” Marjorie told her. “And you know I’m always happy to work with you privately if you’d prefer.”

  “Yes, I know, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever get much past moghrey mie,” Bessie sighed. “I’ve always found languages difficult. Maybe I should try a different class next time. I have to think that just about anything would be easier than Manx.”

  “I’m going to be teaching a six-week course on reading old records,” Marjorie told her. “We’ll be starting in September. I’m going to teach it in both Douglas and Ramsey, and I could collect you on my way to Ramsey if you wanted to take the class there.”

  “I might just take you up on that,” Bessie said. “That sounds like a class I’d really enjoy.”

  “But what can I do for you today?”

  “I’ve brought you lists of names of people who moved off the island in the late seventies,” Bessie explained. She pulled her notes out of her handbag. “The first list is of people who left and then came back. The second is for people who left and have not returned, but for whom I have a current address. I’ve included everyone’s contact information on both of the lists.”

  Marjorie flipped through the sheets of paper. “This is excellent. You’ve done a very thorough job of it. What’s this third list?”

  “People who left and essentially disappeared. I’m sure most of them simply didn’t bother to stay in touch with anyone in the island, rather than anything more exciting than that, but I couldn’t get any contact information for any of them.”

  Marjorie looked at the short list. “Of course, now I’m more interested in these people than any of
the others,” she said with a laugh. “It might be fun to try to find some of them, I suppose.”

  “You might end up in Hugh’s way if you do that,” Bessie cautioned her. “He’s looking for some of them in connection with a case.”

  “You did tell me that this was about a case for Hugh. Okay, I’ll stay away from the third list, at least for now.”

  Bessie thought about telling Marjorie to cross Clarence Witherspoon off the list, but decided against it. If Marjorie ever did decide to try to track down any of the people on the list, Bessie would work out what to tell her then.

  The pair chatted easily about a number of different topics for a while.

  “You still haven’t given me the printed copy of your paper from March,” Marjorie reminded Bessie after a while.

  “I have it written out, but I need to get it typed,” Bessie explained. “Last year one of the neighbourhood teenagers did it for me on a school computer for extra typing practice, but now she’s gone off to university and I haven’t been able to find anyone else to do it.”

  “I didn’t realise you wrote your papers out by hand.”

  “I don’t always, but then, I don’t usually write proper papers. I mostly just write notecards and then talk. Last year was the first time anyone asked me for a printed copy of what I’d said.”

  “If you give me the handwritten copy, I can have someone here type it up,” Marjorie told her. “We’d have to retype it anyway, to get it into the format that the printers want to use.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind paying someone for their time to type it.”

  “There’s no need for that. Drop the paper off to me when you get a chance and let me worry about getting it typed.”

  Bessie felt as if a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew she’d been procrastinating about getting the paper sorted, and now she didn’t have to worry about it. “Thank you so much,” she told Marjorie.

  The other woman glanced at the clock. “I’m really sorry, but I have a meeting in ten minutes,” she told Bessie.

  “I shouldn’t have stayed so long,” Bessie replied after her own look at the clock. “The day is getting away from me and I haven’t accomplished anything yet.”