Feeling well fueled by her oatmeal that she’d improved by adding apple slices and cinnamon, Bessie set out to take a longer walk than normal. She breathed in fresh sea air and strode happily past the holiday cottages and down the sand. The sun was doing its best to shine and Bessie knew that it wouldn’t be long before the holidaymakers took over the beach and made walking difficult. With that in mind, she strode past Thie yn Traie and kept going.
It felt like only moments later that she was walking past the new houses on their stretch of beach. She looked curiously at the house that the unpleasant couple from across had been moving into during her last walk this far, but all of their curtains were closed and the house was dark. Two of the other houses, however, now appeared to be lived in. Bessie grinned as she realised that they were the houses on either side of the one occupied by the unpleasant couple. While she walked even further, Bessie tried to remember what the wife had called the man.
“Stanley,” she said out loud as she remembered the woman’s voice shrieking across the beach. He was called Stanley and their solicitor was called Neville. Happy that her memory was still in good working order, Bessie walked a little bit further and then turned back towards home. This time, when she reached the new houses, there were signs of life in all three occupied homes.
A little girl, maybe five or six years old, was skipping rope on the patio behind one property. Next door to her, Stanley was standing in front of his sliding doors, frowning out at the sea. Behind the final occupied property, a small dog was jumping across the sand and barking excitedly at the waves under the watchful eye of a man who looked to be in his thirties.
Bessie smiled and waved to the little girl, who dropped her jump rope to wave back happily. Bessie also waved to Stanley, who scowled at her before turning away and pulling his curtains shut again. The man and the dog were now racing one another up and down the beach, but the man stopped suddenly when he saw Bessie.
“Good morning,” he called. “I didn’t think very many people were up and about at this hour.”
“I’m always up at six,” Bessie told him. “I like to get my morning walk in before the beach gets too crowded.”
“Yes, that’s going to be the interesting part of owning property here,” the man said. “My wife and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to live right on the water, but the trade-off is having to share access to that water with all and sundry.”
Bessie nodded. “I’ve lived on the water for my entire adult life,” she told him. “Summers can be, well, difficult, but for most of the year you’ll probably have the beach to yourself.”
“Aside from all of the immediate neighbours,” the man said, nodding at the row of houses.
“Well, yes, you do have rather a lot of close neighbours,” Bessie agreed.
“You must be Elizabeth Cubbon,” the man said. “I’m Jack Lawson. My wife and I are from Peel, but even we’ve heard of you and your little cottage on the beach.”
Bessie grinned. “I am. Please call me Bessie.”
The man offered a hand and then, after glancing at it, pulled it back before Bessie could react. “Sorry, I’m covered in sand,” he said, wiping his hand on his jeans.
“I suspect you’ll find that sand gets everywhere,” Bessie told him. “You soon get used to it.”
“I do think we might have been better off without the dog,” the man said. Bessie looked over to see the animal in question wading into the sea. As he jumped over a small wave, Bessie could see that sand was clinging to just about every inch of his fur.
“You’re going to have a job keeping him clean,” she said.
“Yeah, but he loves it,” the man said indulgently.
The pair chatted for a few more minutes about the weather and life on the beach before the man glanced at his watch and frowned. “It’s getting late,” he exclaimed. “I need to wake my wife and we both need to get to work. Come on, Spot,” he shouted at the dog, who was still playing in the sea.
“Spot?” Bessie repeated, looking at the dog, who appeared to be a uniform brown all over.
“It started out as a joke,” the man said. “But it stuck and now he’s Spot, even though he isn’t the least little bit spotty.”
Bessie laughed and then continued on her way as the man chased the dog back into their new home. At least some of her new neighbours were pleasant, Bessie thought, wondering if Stanley and his wife were actually going to be staying on the island or not. As she didn’t walk as far as the new houses very often, it didn’t really matter to her either way, but she did feel that life would be more pleasant for Jack and Spot if the grumpy couple moved away.
As Bessie walked past the holiday cottages, she found herself glancing in each as she went. It was obvious that they were all occupied, and Bessie grinned at the piles of children’s toys that seemed to cover the floor in nearly every cottage. It seemed to her that if you were bringing children to the beach for a holiday that the beach itself should provide the entertainment, but from what she could see in the various cottages, today’s parents were taking no chances that their children might get bored. Only the last cottage, the one closest to her own, was neat and tidy.
A pretty brunette, probably somewhere over forty, was making breakfast in the cottage’s kitchen. Bessie frowned as her shoelace managed to work itself loose. Although tempted to simply leave it, as she was nearly home, Bessie stopped and retied the laces. The last thing she wanted to do was trip and fall only feet from her door. When she stood back up, she saw that the woman in the last cottage wasn’t eating alone. A dark-haired man had joined her, and Bessie gasped as she recognised him. She hurried on her way, glancing back just in time to see Sidney Harris pulling the brunette into an embrace.
Chapter 13
As soon as she was back in her cottage, Bessie rang John. Of course, he was out of the office.
“I’ll have him ring you back,” Doona promised. “Or you can ring his mobile.”
“I’ll ring Pete,” Bessie told her. “It’s probably more his concern anyway.”
“Now I am curious,” Doona said.
“I’ll ring you back later and tell you everything,” Bessie said before she disconnected. While it was unlikely that Pete or John would want to confront Sidney at the holiday cottage, she wanted to make sure that they knew what was happening as soon as possible. Doona could wait a short while.
“Pete Corkill,” the man said when she was put through.
“It’s Bessie,” she began. “I was just walking on the beach and I saw Sidney Harris with a woman.”
“A woman?”
“I don’t know who she is,” Bessie said. “She was making breakfast in one of the holiday cottages, and then Sidney walked in and, well, gave her a hug.”
“A hug? Was it a friendly hug or more?”
“It looked more than just friendly from what I could see,” Bessie said. “But I didn’t want to stand and stare.”
“You’re suggesting that he’s having an affair with someone and using the holiday cottages as a meeting place?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know,” Bessie said. “The cottages are usually booked up, so maybe she’s come over from across to see him or something.”
“I suppose that’s possible. Or maybe she’s his sister or an old friend,” Pete added.
“I could be wrong, but I don’t think they’re siblings,” Bessie said. “There was something in the way he pulled her into his arms that suggested something else entirely.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Pete said. “In the meantime, I suggest you stay away from him.”
Bessie put down the phone and frowned at it. She’d just returned from a much longer walk than normal. Really, she ought to have wanted nothing more than to sit down with a cup of tea and a good book. But having been told not to walk on the beach, perversely that was the only thing that she felt like doing.
Chiding herself for her foolishness, Bessie made herself some tea and then picked out a novel from her
pile of unread books. It took her three attempts to read and understand the first paragraph, but at least she enjoyed the tea. When it was gone, she rang Doona back, something that had completely slipped her mind earlier.
“I was walking along the beach and I saw Sidney Harris in one of the cottages with a woman who was most definitely not his wife,” Bessie told Doona.
“Poor Stephanie,” Doona said. “But if he’s having an affair with some mystery woman, why did Julie get killed?”
“That’s a very good question. Surely he wasn’t having two affairs.”
“Midlife crisis,” Doona suggested. “Maybe he’s having multiple affairs and Stephanie is trying to get rid of the women one after another.”
“Someone ought to warn the poor woman I saw him with, then,” Bessie suggested.
“I’m sure Pete told you to stay well away from her, didn’t he?”
Bessie sighed. “Yes, he did.”
“And he’s right. There could be a perfectly innocent reason why she was with Sidney this morning.”
“Or maybe she found out he was seeing Julie, too, and she killed Julie,” Bessie suggested.
“All the more reason for you to stay away from her,” Doona said.
“I’ll stay home and read a book,” Bessie grumbled. “What time are you coming over?”
“I’ll be there not long after five,” Doona said. “We’ll have reheated Chinese before we go to class.”
“Don’t plan on having the fairy cakes,” Bessie warned her. “If I’m stuck in all day, the two that we have leftover from last night won’t make it through lunch.”
Doona laughed. “I’ll bring something for pudding,” she said.
Bessie put the phone down and paced anxiously around her kitchen. I should have sat on the beach for a few minutes and watched the couple, she thought. Or at least taken my time tying up my shoe. That would have been smarter than rushing home only knowing part of the story.
When she found herself trying to find excuses for going back out on the beach, Bessie took herself up to her office and shut the door. Even though her mind was elsewhere, she did some work on the paper she was going to be giving the next month. Luckily for her, it was nearly finished, as all she managed to do over the next few hours was move things around and then return them to their original places.
She made herself a light lunch, wishing she could just eat the Chinese food that smelled so tempting every time she opened her refrigerator. At least she had the last two fairy cakes to indulge in. She washed them down with an entire pot of tea and began to feel a little bit better. John rang as she was doing the washing-up.
“I just spoke with Pete about this morning,” he said. “We’re doing some discreet investigating. Pete was planning to speak with Sidney again, anyway, and now he has something else to discuss with the man.”
“And you can’t tell me anything more than that, can you?”
“I’m sorry. We really appreciate the information you’ve passed along, but no, I can’t tell you anything. If it helps, at this point I don’t know anything, anyway. Pete has an appointment with Sidney this afternoon at his office. He’s hoping to talk to Stephanie later today as well. I might be able to tell you more at class tonight, but I doubt it.”
“Thank you for letting me know that much, at least,” Bessie said. “I’ll see you later.”
When she grabbed her book again, she found that she had less trouble concentrating. By the time Doona arrived, Bessie was happily lost in a fictional world where private detectives were smarter than police officers and criminals didn’t have a chance.
“How are you?” Doona asked as she gave Bessie a hug.
“Eager to get out of the house,” Bessie replied. “Knowing that I wasn’t supposed to go back out on the beach has meant that going back out on the beach is all that I can think about.”
Doona laughed. “So let’s have a short walk before dinner,” she suggested.
“Really?”
Doona nodded. “I cleared it with John,” she said. “Apparently whatever is going on in that holiday cottage, it won’t be going on at the moment.”
Bessie was disappointed, but that didn’t stop her from wanting another walk. She slid on her shoes and she and Doona began a rapid stroll to Thie yn Traie. There were a few families scattered around the sand, but the tide was out far enough to allow Bessie and Doona plenty of room to walk. They turned around when they reached the stairs to the mansion on the cliff above them.
“Did you look at the cottage as we came past?” Doona asked.
“No,” Bessie replied. “Because of the way it’s situated on the beach, I would have had to turn my head and I didn’t want to look as if I was looking.”
“But maybe we’ll be able to see something on the way back,” Doona said.
“I thought you said John told you there was nothing to see?”
“He could be wrong,” Doona said hopefully.
He wasn’t wrong, though. As they strolled slowly past the last cottage, Bessie frowned. “All of the curtains are shut,” she complained. “Even the ones on the ground floor.”
“I suppose they want privacy,” Doona said.
“I wonder if Sidney’s car is in the car park for the cottages,” Bessie said.
“Do you know what sort of car he drives?”
“No, so I suppose there’s no point in looking.”
Doona chuckled. “It was a good idea, almost.”
“John said that Pete was meeting with the man in his office this afternoon,” Bessie said. “So he probably isn’t here anyway.”
Back at her cottage, Bessie reheated the Chinese leftovers while Doona went out to her car for the pudding she’d forgotten she’d brought.
“It shouldn’t be any worse for wear,” Doona said as she put the bakery box on Bessie’s counter. “It’s just caramel shortcake squares.”
“Which will be perfect after spicy Chinese food,” Bessie said happily. The pair ate dinner and pudding quickly, conscious that they didn’t want to be late for class. As usual, they were the first to arrive at the parish centre.
“Good evening, Bessie,” James, the caretaker, said as they walked into the community room. “How’s the class going, then?”
“Very well, thank you,” Bessie said, feeling as if she was only exaggerating slightly.
“That’s good to hear,” he said.
The rest of the class trickled in slowly, and everyone did their best to greet one another in Manx. John arrived a few minutes after Marjorie and Liz and he did little more than nod at Bessie before he took his seat. Henry and Laura arrived as Marjorie asked everyone to take their seats.
For an hour, Bessie took notes, but her mind was elsewhere. When Marjorie asked her a question in Manx, she had no idea of the proper reply. By the time the tea break arrived, Bessie was more than ready to stop.
Wanting to talk to both John and Laura, Bessie headed for the tea table, hoping to get a few minutes with at least one of them before the class resumed. Grace was already pouring cups of tea when Bessie approached.
“How are you?” Grace asked, helping herself to a handful of biscuits.
“I’m fine,” Bessie replied automatically. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” Grace told her. “We’re working on a Manx language project at school with our classes, so I’ve been getting lots of extra practice in.”
“Lucky you,” Bessie said.
“Bessie, may I have a word?” John asked.
Excusing herself from Grace and the others, Bessie followed John to a quiet corner in the back of the room. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing, really,” John said. “Pete spoke to Sidney today about a number of different things. During the conversation, he casually mentioned that the man had been seen in Laxey this morning. Sidney denied outright being in Laxey today. In fact, he told Pete that he hasn’t been in Laxey in months or even years.”
Bessie felt stunned. She replayed the scene
in the beach cottage in her head. “I was sure it was him,” she muttered. “Unless he has a double, like Laura does.”
“I suppose that’s always possible,” John said. “But it seems unlikely. I’m not doubting what you saw, but obviously there’s nothing Pete can do if the man insists he wasn’t there.”
“Have you tracked down the woman?” Bessie asked. “Or rung Thomas Shimmin to find out who is renting that cottage at the moment?”
“I have both of those things on my list for tomorrow,” John told her. “But even if it was Sidney Harris in the cottage, we’ve no reason to believe that the woman has done anything criminal. I’ll be treading very lightly if I speak to her.”
Bessie opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by Marjorie.
“Let’s get back to work, shall we?” the woman said brightly.
Feeling tired and out of sorts, Bessie headed back towards her seat. On her way past Laura, she stopped. “I want a quick word with you after class,” she told the woman.
“Is everything okay?” Laura asked, looking surprised.
“It’s fine,” Bessie replied. “That came out a little abruptly. I’m just very tired tonight.”
“Maybe we should talk tomorrow instead, then,” Laura suggested. “I’m at the museum all day. Why don’t you meet me for tea at two?”
Bessie wanted to argue, but perhaps Laura was right. Maybe it would be better to talk after she’d had time to think about the latest developments. As she was increasingly convinced that Julie’s death had nothing to do with Laura, Bessie agreed to tea the next day and then slid into her seat next to Doona. She barely noticed as another hour of Manx washed over her.
“You weren’t paying attention tonight,” Doona said in the car on the way to Bessie’s cottage.
“I can’t stop thinking about Julie Randall,” Bessie admitted. “And Sidney Harris.”
“Do you think they were having an affair?”
“I was thinking that, but then where does the mystery brunette from this morning fit in?” Bessie asked. “Although apparently Sidney denies having been in Laxey today.”
Aunt Bessie Needs Page 20
