Aunt Bessie Believes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery)

by Diana Xarissa

  “Good afternoon,” Joe smiled at the ticket agent. “You’re holding a ticket for me. I’m Andrew Teare.”

  The agent flipped through a pile of tickets on the counter. “Ah, yes, Mr. Teare, here you are. The ferry sails in about twenty minutes. You’re welcome to board at any time.”

  “Ah, that’s great, but, well….” he lowered his voice and leaned in towards the other man. “I’ve got my granny here, you see,” he said softly. “I don’t want to leave her all alone. My sister is on her way. Is it possible for me to take her with me for now? I promise to get her off the boat before we sail.”

  The agent sighed. “Let me make a phone call.” Bessie and Joe stood silently as the agent stepped away to confer with another staff member and then make the call. After a moment he returned.

  “If you’d like to wait in the lobby for a moment,” he told Joe. “One of our staff will be down to help you find the best solution to your problem.”

  “Just go and don’t be silly,” Bessie hissed to Joe as they moved into the lobby. “I promise I won’t make any phone calls until the ship has sailed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You could promise me anything,” Joe shrugged. “But I have no reason to believe you.”

  Bessie sighed and looked around the terminal. There had to be someone there who knew her. She really didn’t want to cause a scene. After a moment another young man in a ferry company uniform approached them.

  “How can I help?” he asked Joe.

  Joe pulled him to one side and the two had a whispered conversation that Bessie couldn’t hear. Joe never took his eyes off Bessie. She thought about just walking away, but she didn’t know what the man might do. She knew he was desperate; it was better to let him get on the boat and then call Inspector Rockwell.

  “I’ve got to go now, Granny,” Joe said to Bessie when he returned to her side a moment later. “Sue will be here soon to look after you. You be good, you hear?”

  Bessie nodded her head and kept her mouth shut. Joe patted her arm and then turned and began to walk away. An announcement came over the tannoy.

  “Today’s afternoon sailing for Liverpool is now final boarding. If you are planning on sailing as a foot passenger on this sailing, please make your way through security and on board at this time.”

  Joe glanced back and waved at Bessie and then disappeared through a door marked “Security.”

  Bessie blew out a long sigh of relief. She’d never really felt like she was in any danger, but she was still glad to see the back of the man.

  “We’ve got to call the police,” she said to the uniformed man who was still standing beside her.

  “Yes, dear, why don’t I take care of that once your granddaughter arrives,” the man said soothingly.

  “I don’t have a granddaughter,” Bessie told him. “And the man who just left is a wanted criminal. We have to call Inspector Rockwell in Laxey, and quickly.”

  “Now, now, don’t get yourself all excited,” the man said in a soothing voice. “I’m sure your granddaughter can get everything straightened around when she gets here.”

  Bessie sighed. “Look, I don’t know what he told you,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. “But I’m not crazy or senile or any such thing. My name is Bessie Cubbon. I’ve lived in Laxey almost my entire life. I’ve never been married or had children and I couldn’t possibly have grandchildren. The man who just got on the ferry is wanted for murder and attempted murder and you standing there, being an idiot, is preventing him from being caught. If you want to wait here all afternoon for someone who doesn’t exist, that’s your business, but I’m calling the police and getting that ferry stopped.”

  The man blustered a bit more, until Bessie just turned and began to walk away. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to insist that you wait with me for your….”

  Bessie held up a hand. “Don’t say it, just don’t. Call the police; ask to be connected with Inspector Rockwell at the Laxey Constabulary. I guarantee he’ll vouch for me and….”

  The sound of the ferry’s horn cut her off.

  “Well, now you’ve done it,” she sighed. “He’s away. I just hope the inspector can find a way to get the boat turned around or catch him at the other end.”

  It took a few more minutes for Bessie to persuade the man that she really wasn’t senile or crazy and in the end, she wasn’t sure if he believed her or simply got tired of arguing. Inspector Rockwell didn’t seem to have any doubts when she finally reached him, however.

  By the time the inspector heard the entire story, stopping the ferry was deemed impractical. Instead, the inspector made sure that the boat would be met by a full contingent from the Liverpool Constabulary.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Time seemed to drag on endlessly as Bessie waited. First she had to wait while the police contacted the hire car company. Then she had to wait while they sent someone to the Sea Terminal to open up the boot of the hire car and return Bessie’s handbag to her. After that, she was ready to grab a taxi home, but she was asked by the Douglas police to please wait at the terminal for John Rockwell to arrive.

  Inspector Rockwell finally turned up with Hugh as Bessie nursed her third cup of tea and began to think seriously about getting some dinner from the small café.

  “Bessie,” Rockwell smiled and gave her a hug. “I hope you didn’t suffer too much in your ordeal?”

  Bessie shook her head. “It wasn’t an ordeal,” she told him. “Aside from the man’s driving, I felt perfectly safe. He wasn’t really dangerous and besides, he wanted me to talk to Doona for him. He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

  “He’s wanted for murder and attempted murder,” the inspector said seriously. “If I’d had any reason to believe that he was responsible for Moirrey’s death, I never would have had you meet with him yesterday.”

  “It’s fine,” Bessie told him. “But did they catch him at the other end?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Rockwell told her. “I’m going to have Hugh take you home and I’m flying across to see if I can help with the questioning. We’re assuming they’re going to get him.”

  Bessie nodded. Hugh drove her home, back along the coast road. “I assume the inspector called Doona and filled her in?” Bessie asked Hugh.

  “I’m not sure what all was said,” Hugh replied. “But I know he called Doona and they talked for a very long time.”

  Bessie nodded. She would call her friend as soon as she got home. She couldn’t begin to imagine how Doona must feel.

  Unfortunately for Bessie, she didn’t get to find out right away. Doona’s answering machine picked up Bessie’s call and Doona didn’t return her call. It was quite late when Inspector Rockwell finally called from Liverpool.

  “We’ve got him,” he told Bessie, sounding as tired as she felt.

  “We had to let the passengers off one at a time and it felt like we spent hours verifying everyone’s identity, but we finally found him.”

  “Was his disguise that good?” Bessie questioned.

  “I didn’t spot him and I was looking hard,” Rockwell admitted. “He cut his hair and dyed it black. He used green contact lenses to change his eye colour and he added a black moustache that was an excellent fake. He used makeup to add a few lines and wrinkles so that he looked significantly older and he changed his clothes from what you said he was wearing when he left.”

  “Well, you had to guess that he would do that,” Bessie replied.

  “We did, but your description of his suitcase was a big part of our finding him. I guess he didn’t even think about that while he was planning the rest.”

  “Thank goodness he made that small mistake.”

  “It made us pay him a bit more attention than some of the others,” the inspector told her. “And he pretty much collapsed under questioning. He kept asking me to tell Doona that he was sorry.”

  “I can’t reach Doona,” Bessie told him. “Do you think I should be worried about her? She isn’t an
swering her home phone or her mobile and she doesn’t return my calls when I leave messages.”

  “I’ll make sure I talk to her. I’m her boss, she has to talk to me,” Rockwell assured Bessie. “If I think she needs you, I’ll call you back.”

  He called her back anyway, just a few minutes later. “I talked to Doona and she’s pretty much okay,” he told Bessie. “I think she feels like she was an idiot to fall for the man and she’s more embarrassed than broken-hearted, but I could be wrong.”

  “That sounds like Doona,” Bessie remarked.

  “Anyway, I’m tied up here until some time tomorrow afternoon or early evening. I’ve suggested to Doona and Hugh that we have a dinner meeting at your cottage on Tuesday night and talk it all through.”

  “That sounds great,” Bessie consented eagerly, happily agreeing a menu that had her guests bringing the main course and the pudding. “I’ll supply a bottle of wine and tea and coffee,” she told Rockwell.

  The next day, she called Marjorie Stevens to check on the class that evening. She wasn’t sure if Doona would be up to attending and if she needed a taxi she wanted to get one sorted as early as possible.

  “Marjorie, it’s Bessie,” she said. “I just wanted to check whether there’s class tonight or not. I wondered if you’d heard anything from Doona?”

  “I was just going to call you,” Marjorie laughed. “Doona called a few minutes ago to say she wasn’t feeling well. She said she was going to call you later and let you know. Anyway, Liz has two kids with chicken pox and Henry was asked to work at a special evening event at the castle, so he can’t make it either. I was going to ask you if you mind if we reschedule tonight’s class. We can simply add it on to the end of the session, if that works for you.”

  “That’s absolutely fine,” Bessie assured her, feeling like a small child with an unexpected snow day like they’d had during her childhood in America. Learning Manx was often more like hard work than fun.

  Bessie felt slightly better later that day when Doona finally called. It was a short chat, just enough to confirm the cancelled lesson and their plans for the next day.

  “I’m fine, Bessie,” Doona insisted when Bessie asked. “I really am.”

  Bessie didn’t press her on the telephone. She would see for herself the next day how her best friend really was.

  Tuesday seemed to drag on endlessly as Bessie paced around her cottage, trying to fill in time. She usually loved her own company, but today she found herself bored and restless on her own. Just before lunchtime she finally walked up the hill to the little shop to buy herself a magazine or two. She was surprised to find Anne Caine behind the counter.

  “Anne? You got your old job back?” she asked.

  “I’m just helping out for a bit,” Anne replied. “Georgie, the new girl, has some sort of flu or something and my old boss called and asked if I could fill in for a few days.”

  “And you said yes?” Bessie asked incredulously. “After the way he treated you?”

  Anne laughed. “After being cooped up in hospital for so long, I wanted to get out and see people,” she told Bessie. “It’s only for today and tomorrow and then I won’t ever do it again.”

  The door buzzed as another customer walked in. Anne smiled and said “hello” to the man who grabbed a television listings magazine and a few bars of chocolate and was quickly out the door again.

  “Bessie, I need to talk to you,” Anne told Bessie as the door shut behind him. “We can’t talk here, there are too many people in and out. Can I stop by later, after I shut the store for the night?”

  “Inspector Rockwell, Hugh and Doona are coming around tonight,” Bessie told her. “I don’t know what time we’ll finish. Tomorrow night might be better if that’s okay with you.”

  Anne gave Bessie a thoughtful look. “Maybe I’ll stop tonight anyway,” she replied. “What I want to talk to you about will be all over the island by the weekend anyway. And it concerns Doona and the police as well.” She sighed. “I might as well get it over with in one telling.”

  “Suit yourself,” Bessie shrugged. “You’re more than welcome. If you hurry, you might even be in time for some pudding. I can’t promise, though, as Hugh has been known to finish off an entire cake on his own.”

  Anne laughed. “My Andy is much the same,” she told Bessie. “Which reminds me, he said if I saw you to tell you that he’ll be around one day very soon to make shortbread and talk.”

  Bessie grinned. “He’s one of my favourite people,” she told Anne. “He’s more than welcome any time.”

  The door buzzed again and Bessie was surprised to see her advocate, Doncan Quayle, walk in. “Doncan? What brings you here?” she asked.

  “We ran out of milk at the office,” he grinned at Bessie. “And I wanted a word with Ms. Caine, so I offered to come and get some. I can kill two birds with one stone this way.”

  Bessie smiled. “I’d better get out of the way,” she laughed. “I’d hate to be in the way of flying stones.” She gathered up her shopping bag, now full of the sort of gossipy “celebrity” magazines that she only ever read in dentists’ waiting rooms. They were perfect for her unsettled mind today, however. She could look through them and not worry about actually retaining anything that she read.

  During the walk home she puzzled over what Doncan Quayle wanted to talk with Anne about. It had to be something to do with Anne’s cottage and the Teare estate, Bessie decided. But what?

  She ate a light lunch and caught up with which second-rate soap opera actor was currently married to which page three model and where the minor royals were planning to spend their summer. A lavish multi-page spread covering the wedding of two people who had both appeared in television shows Bessie had never heard of amused her for several minutes. The guest list included a few names that Bessie recognised as having had their fifteen minutes of fame a good many years earlier. She had to assume that the rest were still wallowing in their artificial importance.

  By the time six o’clock rolled around, Bessie had had enough of modern celebrity weddings and had turned her attention back to Henry VIII and his brides. They were much more interesting and of more lasting import, after all.

  Her guests were prompt, and Bessie was relieved to see that Doona looked perfectly fine as she emerged from Inspector Rockwell’s car. They made their way into the cottage as a group.

  Doona gave Bessie a big hug. “I’m so sorry that I put you in danger again,” she told Bessie with a sigh.

  “I wasn’t in any danger,” Bessie insisted. “The man wanted me to tell you how much he cared about you. He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Doona replied.

  “I’m more worried about you than I ever was about me,” Bessie told her, studying her intently.

  “Bessie, I’m fine,” Doona laughed. “You can stop staring at me, really.”

  Bessie blushed. “I’m sorry, but I’m really worried about you.”

  Doona sighed. “I won’t say I’m not upset,” she told her friend. “But it was all starting to feel a little bit, um, strange, I guess. I was starting to think that there was something not quite right, but I didn’t know what it was.”

  “Bet you didn’t guess that he was a conman and a murderer,” Hugh interjected.

  “Hugh,” Bessie scolded.

  “It’s okay.” Doona gave what looked like a forced smile. “I know the whole island will be talking about how I fell for a man who turned out to be a conman. I’m ready to be laughed at.”

  “No one better laugh at you while I’m around,” Bessie said stoutly. “The man was charming and he had his story down pat. He fooled everyone.”

  “Not you and not Inspector Rockwell,” Doona argued.

  “But I’m naturally suspicious,” the inspector grinned. “And I’m starving.”

  Everyone laughed, and Bessie passed out plates while the inspector and Doona opened up container after container of the mouthwatering Indian food that th
ey had brought with them.

  Bessie was relieved to see Doona eat her fair share of the feast as everyone focussed on food and let the conversation drop. Once Hugh had sliced generous helpings of the treacle sponge pudding he’d brought and passed them around to everyone, the conversation resumed.

  “This is delicious,” Bessie sighed as she spooned up a mouthful with hot custard.

  “Me mum made it,” Hugh told her. “I asked her to make me something nice to bring for pudding.”

  “You need to learn to make it yourself,” Bessie told him. “Men should be able to look after themselves.”

  “Oh, aye,” Hugh agreed. “And I would have had a go myself, only I thought it might not come out right and I didn’t want to disappoint everyone.”

  Bessie smiled at him. “Next time, make it yourself,” she told him. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Hugh blushed and ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

  “So if the inspector is naturally suspicious,” Doona said, “what made you distrustful of the man who claimed he was Andrew Teare?” she asked Bessie.

  Bessie shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “There was just something about him that seemed not quite right. And Anne Caine had a strange reaction to him as well.”

  “Anne Caine could have put us all out of our misery a lot earlier if she’d just told us what she knew,” Rockwell told the others. “To make matters worse, she still isn’t talking.”

  “Well, she’s meant to be coming over here after she shuts down the shop up the road,” Bessie told him. “She said she had a lot to tell me and that it concerned Doona and the police as well. Maybe you’ll finally get your answers.”

  “That would be nice,” Rockwell replied.

  “And Joe confessed to everything once you caught him?” Bessie asked.

  “Well, he admitted to being Moirrey’s boyfriend, although he denied deliberately switching her tablets. To hear him tell it, they were, um, spending nights together. He’s claiming that somehow she must have picked up some of his medication and mixed it up with hers,” Rockwell replied.