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

by Diana Xarissa

  “Then why would the police be reopening the case?” Bessie asked.

  “I’ll bet no one told that young police constable not to reopen the case,” the woman said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he got told to forget about it now, though. That’s usually how these things work.”

  Bessie glanced at Constable Clague, who shrugged. “I can assure you that Constable Watterson is still investigating the case,” he told the woman.

  Having heard quite enough, Bessie nodded at the constable and turned for home. The woman’s words kept racing around in her head, though. Hugh had been told not to put too much time or effort into identifying the body, but that didn’t mean that the woman’s theory was correct. Wondering to herself what the intelligence services did do with bodies that they’d prefer weren’t identified, Bessie made her way through the crowds to Treoghe Bwaane. Of course, her phone was ringing when she walked through the door.

  “It’s Doona. Hugh asked me to ring. He’d like a group chat about the case, if you’re available tonight.”

  “Of course,” Bessie said quickly. “Who is coming and what time should I expect you?”

  “I will be there around six. Hugh is going to stop and collect dinner from the new Indian place that opened across the road from the station. I’m not sure about John, but I know Hugh is planning to invite him.”

  “I’ll make a bread and butter pudding. I found a recipe the other day for a chocolate version. How does that sound?”

  “Interesting, but I’m not sure good,” Doona laughed.

  “Maybe I’d better stick to the tried and trusted.”

  “No, the more I think about it, the more intrigued I get. If you want to try it, try the chocolate one. Chocolate makes everything better, doesn’t it?”

  “I must say I never thought of putting chocolate into bread and butter pudding before I saw the recipe, but it sounds interesting. I’ll try it,” Bessie decided.

  “And I’ll see you at six,” Doona replied.

  Bessie sighed as the phone rang again while she was gathering up the ingredients for the pudding.

  “Bessie, it’s Helen. I was just ringing you back.”

  Having let the call go to her answering machine, Bessie now dashed across the kitchen to grab the phone. “I’m here,” she said, putting the bag of sugar she was holding down on the table. “The phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day. I was trying to ignore it for a short while, but I do want to talk to you.”

  “I’m flattered,” Helen laughed. “What can I do for you?”

  “I talked to Elizabeth earlier today. Did you know she’s hoping to start her own wedding and event planning business?”

  “Is she? I wish she’d decided to do that about six months ago. Then she would be up and running and I could hire her. I don’t suppose she’ll be ready in time for me now, though.”

  “But that’s why I rang you. She needs to do a few events for practice, and she’s really hoping that you’ll let her do your wedding as her first one.”

  Helen sighed. “I feel funny about having her do the planning. It’s a lot of hard work and she should get paid for her time if she does it.”

  “But she’s never done a wedding before,” Bessie pointed out. “It could all go horribly wrong.”

  “It won’t, though. She had brilliant ideas, and thanks to her father, she has all the right contacts around the island. I’m sure she’d do a wonderful job.”

  “So let her,” Bessie urged her friend. “Let her plan your wedding or at least work with her and let her do some of it. She needs the experience and you need the help.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it. Pete definitely doesn’t want to have the reception at Thie yn Traie, though. He doesn’t want anyone to think that he’s that friendly with George Quayle.”

  “I can understand that, but surely you’ll be able to find other venues?”

  “I booked the church in Laxey, as they were able to accommodate us for our date. None of the Douglas area churches could on such short notice. I suppose I need to look at restaurants in Laxey or Ramsey for the reception, but I don’t know if any of them could manage. I’m afraid I’ve left things far too late, but I have to be at work in half an hour and I’m working nights all week. I don’t know when I’ll find the time to look for a venue.”

  “So ring Elizabeth and get her to start looking,” Bessie suggested. “Even if all she does is find you a place or two with availability, it will help you and it will help her to start making contacts at the different locations.”

  “I suppose I could let her do that much,” Helen conceded. “As most places will probably already be booked, she’ll be able to save me a lot of pointless ringing around.”

  Bessie put down the phone and then switched the ringer off. The answering machine could talk to anyone else who rang. She needed to get on with making the unusual sweet treat for her friends. While she didn’t typically follow recipes, having been cooking for a great many years, this time she followed the printed instructions exactly. When she slid the pan into the cooker, she set a timer and then shrugged. She’d done her best. All she could do now was wait to see what came out in the end.

  It didn’t take long for her to get lost in a book, so she was surprised when someone knocked on her door just before six.

  “John, Doona wasn’t even sure you were coming,” Bessie told the handsome man as she let him into the cottage.

  “Hugh had trouble tracking me down, as I was in Ramsey for most of the day,” he explained. “But I would have hated missing out on tonight. Our gatherings are always interesting.”

  “I don’t know that we’ll find much to talk about tonight,” Bessie said. “I’ve already told Hugh everything I know about the possible candidates for the identity of his body.”

  “But Doona and I haven’t really heard anything about any of them. Maybe we’ll be able to bring a completely different perspective,” John suggested.

  “Speaking of completely different, wait until you see pudding,” Bessie told him with a wink.

  He didn’t have to wait long as the cooker timer buzzed only a moment later. Bessie pulled the pan out of the cooker and gave it a dubious look. “It looks, well, unusual,” she said. “I suppose it looks like the picture in the magazine, at least.”

  “What is it?” John asked from his seat at the kitchen table.

  Bessie carried the pan over and let him take a look. “It’s chocolate bread and butter pudding,” she told him.

  “It smells wonderful, anyway,” John replied.

  Bessie set the pan on the counter to cool. While she was doing that, John answered the knock on her door.

  “I think Hugh brought enough food for an army,” Doona said, carrying in a large box filled with smaller boxes of food. “He’s just bringing the rest.”

  Once all of the boxes were spread out across the counter, it didn’t take long for everyone to fill their plates. Bessie passed around cold drinks and then they all began to eat.

  “Where did this come from?” John asked after a short while.

  “That new place across the road from work,” Hugh replied. “It’s a little bit cheaper than the place I usually go, but I think I’ll go back there next time.”

  Bessie nodded. “This isn’t bad, but it isn’t great.”

  “I like some of the things I tried, but a few of them are, well, not good at all,” Doona said.

  “My phone has been ringing all day,” Bessie told them a short while later. “Everyone has an opinion about Hugh’s dead body.”

  “It isn’t mine,” Hugh said quickly. “It’s barely even my case anymore.”

  “I heard a theory about that, as well,” Bessie said with a laugh.

  “You did?” Hugh asked.

  “When I was walking earlier, I got as far as the new houses. There was a small crowd gathered just past there, ostensibly at the site where the body was found all those years ago,” Bessie explained.

  “I had to send Constabl
e Clague down to deal with them,” John said. “One of the residents in the new houses complained that dozens of people were turning up and asking all manner of questions about the body and exactly where it had been found.”

  “Well, they seemed to think they were standing right on the spot when I was there,” Bessie replied. “And they seemed to have a great many odd theories about the dead man.”

  “I may have suggested to Constable Clague that he pick a spot some distance from the houses as the spot in question,” John said.

  Bessie grinned. “So they weren’t standing in just the right place?” she asked.

  “They might have been. No one recorded the exact location where the body was found. It was just noted as washing ashore between the Teare property and Thie yn Traie. The man who found the body dragged it out of the water and up the beach some distance before he rang for an ambulance. The police didn’t get involved until some time later, by which time the ambulance crew had moved the body even more.”

  “I can’t see that it matters,” Doona said. “I mean, what difference does it make exactly where the body came ashore? It was twenty years ago. No one is going to find any helpful clues on the ground there now.”

  “I think you’re probably right about that,” John told Doona. “What sort of theories did you hear on the beach?” he asked Bessie.

  “That the man was killed by MI5 or maybe MI6 and dumped here so that it couldn’t be identified,” Bessie replied. “The woman who put forward that theory then suggested that Hugh was going to quickly get told to stop investigating the case.”

  “Well, that has happened,” Hugh said. “But not because MI5 is involved. The chief constable just wants to make the best possible use of his resources, and finding out the identity of a man who’s been dead for twenty years isn’t a priority.”

  “It should be,” Doona said stoutly. “That man had family or friends and they deserve to know what happened to him.”

  “I agree,” John said. “Which is why I’m unofficially working with Hugh on the case. For the record, the chief constable didn’t tell Hugh to stop investigating, he just requested that Hugh limit the amount of hours he spends on this case when he could be doing other things. There’s no reason why Hugh and I can’t continue to look at the case in our spare time, though.”

  “Except you should be spending your spare time relaxing and enjoying life,” Doona suggested.

  John grinned. “I love investigating cold cases. I’d much rather do that than watch television, anyway.”

  “Yeah, Grace doesn’t mind me spending a little bit of time on it either. She feels sorry for the man’s family, wherever they are. Imagine not knowing what happened to your brother or husband or son for so many years,” Hugh said.

  “So let’s talk about the possibilities I’ve found thus far,” Bessie suggested. “Although I do feel as if I’ve talked about them all a million times already.”

  “I have spoken to Clarence Witherspoon,” Hugh told her. “He was interesting to talk with, actually. Once he understood why I had been looking for him, he offered me his thoughts on the body’s identity.”

  “Who does he think it is?” Bessie asked.

  “He started out by listing a dozen reasons why the body probably wasn’t that of anyone from the island. I can summarise his points down to the idea that the island is too small for anyone local to turn up dead and not get identified. He seems to think that there are a great many residents who do nothing but gossip about one another all day long and that they would have been quick to identify the man if he’d been local,” Hugh said.

  “He’s probably right about that,” Bessie mused. “Although we do have a list of men who left the island at about the right time and no one seems to know where any of them have gone. Even finding Clarence wasn’t all that easy.”

  “True, but there’s a difference between leaving and not coming back and leaving and then having your body wash up on the beach. Clarence reckons that if the man lived on the island before he died, he would have been identified.”

  “He may be right, but I don’t think we should give up that easily,” John said. “At the very least, finding the men on Bessie’s list will be a good exercise in investigative technique.”

  “Clarence did suggest that I should try looking for Anthony Kelly,” Hugh added. “Apparently he and Clarence were friends when they were younger, before Anthony left the island. He reckons the description of the body sounded a lot like Anthony,” Hugh said.

  “I remember Anthony,” Bessie said thoughtfully. “He did disappear rather abruptly, but as I recall there was an unhappy woman involved. Anyway, he left the island some five years before the body was found. I’m not sure how it could have been him.”

  “Clarence didn’t agree that the man must have left the island within a short time of the body being found,” Hugh explained. “He thought we should be looking at other men who left earlier, if they’d have been about the right age to match the body.”

  “But there must be dozens of men who would fit that description,” Bessie objected. “It would take ages to track them all down.”

  “I don’t think there is any point in extending our search any further at this point,” John said. “That doesn’t mean we won’t take what Mr. Witherspoon said seriously, but unless we receive a specific tip about someone, we won’t be considering men who left more than a month or so before the body was found.”

  “Why did Clarence suggest that the body was Anthony’s?” Bessie asked.

  “He reckoned that Anthony came back and got killed before anyone realised he was here,” Hugh replied.

  “Why would anyone want to kill the poor man?” Doona demanded.

  “According to Clarence, Anthony was involved in a number of money-making schemes that may or may not have been strictly legal. Clarence dropped Grant Robertson’s name into the conversation at that point. He suspects that Anthony left because he was afraid of Grant and that Grant had him murdered when he came back to the island,” Hugh said.

  “While I could believe just about anything bad about Grant Robertson, that seems a bit of a stretch. If Anthony was afraid of Grant, why would he even come back to the island?” Bessie asked.

  Hugh shrugged. “I’m only telling you what Clarence said. I’m going to add Anthony to my list of people to try to find, if only to prove Clarence wrong, but he’s at the bottom of my list, at least for now.”

  “Should I ask who is at the top?” Bessie wondered.

  “Craig Fox,” Hugh said.

  “That makes sense, as nearly everyone on the island seems to think the body is his,” Bessie replied. “I can’t seem to work out why the body wasn’t identified at the time, if it really was his, though.”

  “A few of the people who I’ve spoken with have suggested that everyone kept quiet out of fear of Jackson Blakeslee,” Hugh told her.

  “Okay, I don’t know who any of these people are,” Doona complained.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot that you haven’t been involved in any of this yet,” Bessie exclaimed. “John, do you know the story?”

  “I’ve read Hugh’s reports, but I’d like to hear the story from you as well. What you’ve told Hugh so far has raised some questions in my mind,” the man replied.

  Bessie quickly retold the story of Craig, Miranda, and Jackson. She told everyone the basic facts and then added what she’d heard from Anne Caine. By the time she’d finished, everyone had cleared their plates except for her.

  “Talk amongst yourselves while I finish,” she told them. “I won’t be long.”

  “It really does sound as if the body could be Craig’s,” Doona began. “But surely if people suspected as much they would have said something after Miranda and Jackson left the island.”

  “Did you think it was Craig, back when the body was found?” John asked Bessie.

  Bessie frowned as she took another bite of her dinner. After she’d washed it down with her drink, she replied. “It was a long ti
me ago, but I really don’t think I did. I can’t imagine why not, though, not now when I look back.”

  “The inspector who handled the initial investigation crossed him off as a possibility, although I’m not sure why,” Hugh said.

  Doona cleared the dinner plates while Bessie scooped the pudding into bowls. Everyone watched as Bessie took the first bite.

  “It’s good,” she said, chuckling as she realised how surprised she sounded. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s really quite nice.”

  While everyone else tried the pudding, John spoke again. “Tell me what you can remember about Jackson Blakeslee,” he asked Bessie.

  “I remember him as large and scary-looking,” Bessie replied. “He looked as if he’d just been released from prison, which, of course, he had been. He was nearly bald, or maybe he just wore his hair incredibly short. I don’t really remember a lot more about him. For the most part, I tried to stay away from the man.”

  “Was he fat or just muscular?” John asked.

  “Mostly muscular, I suppose,” Bessie said after a moment. “I’m sure he looked larger than he was because he was always scowling and he looked quite intimidating. He probably wasn’t much taller than Craig, when I think about it.”

  “Has anyone considered that the body might be his?” John asked.

  Bessie nearly dropped her fork. “I thought he and Miranda were still on the island when the body washed ashore,” she said after a minute.

  “We don’t have exact dates for when anyone left,” Hugh told her. “The body was found around the same time as all of this was happening, but no one seems to know exactly what happened when.”

  “Maybe Craig killed him, and then he and Miranda pretended that it was Craig who’d left the island,” Doona suggested. “Then they dumped Jackson’s body in the sea on their way across.”

  “I suppose that’s a possibility, but I can’t really see Craig as a murderer,” Bessie said after a moment. “He let Miranda and her family walk all over him.”

  “So maybe she killed him and then just got Craig to help get rid of the body,” Doona said. “From what you’ve said, he’d have gone along.”