Aunt Bessie Questions (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 17)

by Diana Xarissa

  Hugh held Grace’s hand as they walked to the door. Bessie watched them walk to Grace’s car. Hugh carefully tucked Grace inside and shut her door. He watched her drive away before he climbed into his own car and followed.

  “Those two are sweet together,” Doona said.

  “They are. That baby is very lucky.”

  “You’re right about that. And now that everyone else is gone, why don’t you take a walk through the cottage and make sure that everything is the way you want it? Then we can think about dinner.”

  Bessie nodded and then took Doona’s advice.

  “So how did everyone do?” Doona asked when Bessie walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later.

  “It looks almost exactly the same as it was,” Bessie told her. “I suppose a few books might be in different places, I didn’t look all that closely, but everything else is just right.”

  “There were a lot of people here helping out. Everything in the kitchen that was moveable was taken outside and cleaned. The floors were scrubbed and then polished. Jasper from the Seaview brought an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner and he and Andy tackled the worst of the flour, sugar, and spices that had been spread everywhere.”

  “I shall have to ring him and thank him,” Bessie said.

  “As I said, I have a list for you of everyone who helped. I really did have to turn people away, you know. You have a great many friends on this island.”

  “It’s been my home for more years than most people have been alive. But even so, I never expected, that is…” Bessie trailed off and swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “We were all happy to help,” Doona told her. “What about dinner, then?”

  “I had a large lunch. Maybe just sandwiches?” Bessie suggested.

  Doona nodded. “That’s fine with me. I know Mary and Elizabeth brought bread and sandwich meats and cheeses.”

  They pair ate sandwiches with crisps and fizzy drinks, and then followed the meal with some chocolate-covered biscuits. “I know these must have been really expensive,” Bessie said as she put them onto a plate. “I’ve never even seen them before.”

  “They taste expensive,” Doona told her a moment later, “and oh, so good.”

  Bessie couldn’t argue. The biscuits were delicious. She just wished that Mary would have let her pay for the food that she and her daughter had purchased.

  “You haven’t had a proper walk today, have you?” Doona asked as she finished the washing-up. “Why don’t you go and walk on the beach while I curl up with a book.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” Bessie told her.

  “I don’t want to leave your cottage empty, and I don’t mind curling up in your sitting room with a book, anyway. Your cottage is much cleaner than my house.”

  Bessie laughed. “My cottage is much cleaner than it’s ever been,” she countered, “especially the kitchen.”

  Now that Doona had mentioned it, Bessie was suddenly eager to get out and take a walk on the sand. She put on some shoes and headed out the back door, leaving Doona happily looking through Bessie’s shelves for something to read. The fresh sea air tasted just right as Bessie breathed in deeply.

  It was dusk, and there were still several families spread across the sand behind the holiday cottages. As the tide was out, however, there was plenty of room for Bessie to stroll along the water’s edge. She kept her eyes on the sea, ignoring the people around her. At Thie yn Traie, she stopped and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking back down the beach.

  Dawn and her father were sitting together on the patio behind their cottage. From what Bessie could see, the cottage next to theirs, where Brandon and his friends were staying, was empty. Bessie strolled slowly back down the beach. Dawn called to her as Bessie walked behind their cottage.

  “Miss Cubbon, Bessie? How are you?”

  “Good evening,” Bessie replied. “I’m well, thank you. How are you?”

  Dawn got up from her chair and joined Bessie on the sand. “I’ve been better, but at least I’m not Constance. She’s still talking to the police, or she was, the last I knew.”

  “I’m surprised she’d trying lying to the police about something so easily disproven,” Bessie said. “There must be dozens of people who know when she met your husband.”

  “Yeah, but none of the rest of them are on the Isle of Man. She didn’t know I was here when she first talked to the police. I suspect she might have managed to get away with it if I hadn’t been.”

  “But once she learned that you were here, she must have realised her mistake.”

  “And she probably decided to just brazen it out,” Dawn said. “Knowing her, she never considered going to the police and telling them she’d lied. She’d have rather been caught in the lie than actually admit to it.”

  “And now she has been.”

  “Indeed. And I have to admit I’m feeling smugly satisfied about that. Now maybe the police can find out what happened to Walter.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “He must have been caught up in something that was over his head,” Dawn shrugged. “He was a good con artist, but he was terrible at choosing associates. Knowing him, he found out he was involved in something much bigger than he’d realised and he decided to run away. Hiding here probably sounded like a good idea, but he probably should have tried Canada or New Zealand or somewhere. The island is just too close to the UK. Whoever he was hiding from must have found him and eliminated him.”

  “But you don’t know who that might have been?”

  “I’ve told the police everything that I know,” Dawn replied “I gave them a list of all of his former associates, the ones I knew about, anyway. I’m pretty sure none of them were involved, though. I think I would have heard about it if he were working with anyone I knew.”

  “It’s scary to think that someone like that is on the island.”

  “They probably aren’t still here. He or she would have come across, taken care of Walter, and then gone home and carried on as normal.”

  “I just hope the police catch him or her.”

  “If I were Constance, I’d be worried,” Dawn added. “She has to know what Walter was mixed up in. It seems as if she could well be the next victim.”

  “Maybe the police should lock her up to protect her.”

  Dawn laughed. “I love the idea of her being locked up, whatever the reason,” she said. “Maybe I’ll ring that nice Inspector Rockwell and suggest that very thing.”

  “Dawn, I thought you weren’t going to talk to the nosy neighbours anymore,” Brandon’s voice carried across the beach.

  She looked up at the man who was walking towards them. “Just saying hello,” she replied lightly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I thought you’d be cleaning up your cottage all day today,” Brandon said to Bessie, “but first we saw you in Douglas and now you’re out having a stroll as if you haven’t a care in the world.”

  “Some dear friends of mine did most of the cleaning for me after the police were finished going through the cottage,” Bessie told him. “I dare say it’s in better shape now than it was before the break-in.”

  “Really? Interesting,” the man replied. He looked at his sister. “We brought back beer and snacks.”

  “Same as every night,” Dawn sighed. “I think maybe I’m going to head to bed.”

  “Oh, come on. You need to come and have a drink or two with us,” Brandon replied. “Horace bought more of that wine you like.”

  “The wine, I like. Horace, not so much,” Dawn said. “Okay, one drink,” she added quickly as Brandon gave her an angry look. “Good night,” she said to Bessie. “I’m glad your cottage is okay.”

  “Thank you,” Bessie replied. “Have a nice evening,” she told the siblings.

  Brandon gave her an icy stare and then turned and stalked up the beach with his sister right behind him. With a sigh, Bessie continued on her way back to Treoghe Bwaane.

  Do
ona jumped up as Bessie walked back into the cottage. “I was starting to worry about you,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d walk for that long.”

  “I was talking to Dawn and Brandon.”

  “Oh, dear. What did they have to say?”

  Bessie repeated the conversation as fully as she could. When she was finished, Doona frowned. “You need to ring John and tell him all of that.”

  “I should have done that in the first place,” Bessie sighed. “You could have listened in on the conversation and I wouldn’t have had to repeat myself.”

  “Thank you,” John said when Bessie was finished recounting the conversation again.

  “You’re welcome. I don’t imagine you’d like to return the favour by telling me what Constance said when she was interviewed today?” Bessie replied.

  “I would if I could, but you know I can’t repeat what I’m told in interviews. Let’s just say it was an interesting conversation, but I’m not sure we’re any closer to finding Walter’s killer as a result.”

  “That’s disappointing,” Bessie sighed. “I was hoping you’d have the case wrapped up soon. I think I’ll feel better when Brandon and his friends are off the island.”

  “We’re still processing the evidence from your cottage, but at this point we haven’t found anything that points to Brandon or anyone else involved in the murder investigation.”

  “I still think it was Brandon,” Bessie said firmly.

  “All I can tell you is that I’m looking at him very closely,” John said. “Along with several other people.”

  “It’s getting late. We can talk about all of this tomorrow night,” Bessie suggested.

  “Great. See you tomorrow.”

  Bessie put the phone down and turned to look at Doona. Part of her wanted to send her friend home so that they could both get some sleep, but part of her didn’t want to be alone in the cottage. She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, when someone knocked on the door.

  Doona was on her feet and at the door before Bessie could even stand up.

  “I assume you aren’t expecting anyone,” she said to Bessie.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Maybe we should ring John back.”

  “It’s probably another friend who wants to help with the cleaning,” Bessie suggested. “Or someone who just wants to check on me. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  She walked over to join Doona at the door. When she reached for the knob, Doona stopped her hand.

  “Take a step back,” she told Bessie, “and be ready to ring 999.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m sure it’s fine,” Bessie replied with more confidence than she actually felt.

  The visitor knocked again. Doona sighed and then slowly opened the door. Bessie stared at the man on the doorstep. He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, with short grey hair and thick bifocals. He was wearing a pair of dark grey trousers with a lighter grey polo shirt and black leather loafers. As he smiled, Bessie noted that he wasn’t much taller than her own five feet three.

  “Ah, good evening,” he said in a pleasant voice. “I’m sorry for visiting so late, but your lights were still on. I hope I’m not imposing.”

  “Not at all,” Bessie replied, wondering who the man was and why he was calling on her at all.

  “That’s very kind of you,” the man said. “I was told that if I wanted to know anything about Laxey or the island that I should visit Aunt Bessie at Treoghe Bwaane.”

  Bessie flushed at the unexpected compliment. “You did well with the Manx,” she told her visitor. “I’m Elizabeth Cubbon. Everyone calls me Aunt Bessie.”

  The man gave her a small bow. “And I am Reverend William Doyle,” he replied.

  Bessie and Doona both gasped.

  The man grinned at them. “I’ve been getting that reaction a lot over here,” he said.

  Bessie nodded. “That’s hardly surprising,” she said, “but please come in.”

  Doona shot Bessie a worried look, but Bessie ignored it. The man was a priest, after all, or so Bessie hoped.

  “I can put the kettle on,” she offered.

  “Oh, no, I don’t want to be any bother,” the man said quickly. “I really just wanted a few minutes of your time.”

  “Certainly, have a seat,” Bessie suggested, gesturing towards the kitchen table.

  Reverend Doyle sat down and Bessie joined him at the table. Doona remained standing near the door. Bessie noticed that her friend had her mobile in her hand as she watched the guest closely.

  “What can I help you with, then, Reverend Doyle?” Bessie asked.

  “Do call me William,” he replied. “You see, it came as something of a shock to me when the police turned up at my home to question me about the man who’d recently died on the island. I had no idea that he’d, well, let’s say borrowed, my identity.”

  “I’m sure it must have been a huge shock,” Bessie said.

  “Yes, it was, actually. I’ve been more or less retired for a few years now. I suffered from some ill health and couldn’t continue to carry out my duties at my last church, you see. I live very simply and quietly on my own. It suits me.”

  “I’m in a similar position,” Bessie told him.

  “Living alone is very peaceful,” the man told her. “After the demands of running a vicarage for many years, well, I really enjoy the peace.”

  “I’m sure,” Bessie murmured.

  “As I said, I was completely unaware that my name, and indeed, my credentials, were being used elsewhere. It seems that Mr. Gray managed to get his hands on a copy of my CV, which he then copied and used as his own.”

  “Do you know how he managed that?” Bessie asked.

  “The police asked me that as well. I suspect he may have been the person who advertised for a position for which I once applied. It would have been some years ago now, before I fell ill, but it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to find out where I’d been since,” William explained.

  “So he started using your identity years ago?” Bessie wondered.

  “I don’t believe so, but he may have done,” the man sighed. “I believe he simply kept the CV so that he had it ready when he decided to use it.”

  “That’s a lot of advance planning,” Bessie said.

  “The police inspector with whom I spoke said that such advance planning would not have been out of character for the man. Apparently he was very good at hiding who he was and at building new identities slowly and carefully.”

  Bessie nodded. “So he had your CV and he used an updated copy of it to apply for the job here?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen the CV he sent in to the bishop here. It’s an exact copy of mine, with a few changes to bring it up to date. The bishop rang a few of my former parishes, as you would expect, but they all thought he was asking about me and gave me adequate references.”

  “I’ve been told that the man was very good at what he did,” Bessie sighed. “It sounds as if he planned very carefully for his move over here.”

  “It’s a lovely island, actually. I’ve never been before and the scenery is stunning. If my health were better, I’d be tempted to talk to the bishop about the position that’s available.”

  Bessie nearly shuddered at the thought of the man taking Walter’s place. It would be odd having Reverend Doyle replace the imposter. “Perhaps you should consider spending some time on the island as you recover,” she suggested. “I’m sure the sea air would do you good.”

  “I’m staying with the bishop for a few days. He offered that when he rang to talk to me about what had happened here. I’ve only been here a few hours, actually, and I am already thinking that I’d like to stay longer. I’m not sure that I’ll want to stay with the bishop for any length of time, however.”

  Bessie grinned. “There are hotels, bed and breakfasts, and holiday cottages all over the island. I’m sure, if you try, you’ll be able to find somewhere to stay, even during the busy summer months.
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br />   “We shall see. Tomorrow I plan to do some sightseeing. I studied history at university and I understand you have many interesting historical sites.”

  “If I start talking about those, we’ll need tea,” Bessie laughed. “I’m an amateur historian with a deep love of the subject.”

  William glanced at the clock and shook his head. “I mustn’t stay much longer. I’ve promised the bishop that I’ll be back before ten.”

  “But you have some questions for me?” Bessie asked.

  “As I said, I was told you know Laxey better than anyone. I suppose I’m simply curious as to how this Walter Gray performed as vicar. It’s odd, but I feel as if his behaviour reflects on me in some way. I’m hoping you’ll tell me that he was doing his job well before he died.”

  “I didn’t have any complaints about him,” Bessie replied. “Some parishioners felt that he went through the service too quickly, or that his sermons were too short, but neither of those things bothered me.”

  William chuckled. “I must say, no one has ever accused me of giving a sermon that was too short. I think I’d like to meet some of the parishioners in Laxey.”

  “Perhaps the bishop would let you officiate at a service while you’re here,” Bessie said. “If your health would permit.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” the man said thoughtfully. “I’m sure he’d appreciate the help and I’m just about capable of handling a service or two over a weekend. It’s the day-to-day demands of being a parish vicar that I’m not able to manage at the moment.”

  The pair chatted for a few more minutes about Laxey and the island. Doona remained at the door, watching the man closely. After a while, he glanced at the clock again.

  “I really must go,” he said. “I’m not sure that I asked you everything that I wanted to ask, but I feel better for having spoken to you. I truly appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Bessie told him. “You know where to find me if you have more questions.”

  “Mostly, at this point, I’d like to know who killed Walter Gray. I’m only slightly worried that I might have been the intended target.”