Aunt Bessie Goes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 7)

by Diana Xarissa

  Aunt Bessie Goes

  An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery

  Diana Xarissa

  Text Copyright © 2015 Diana Xarissa

  Cover Photo Copyright © 2015 Kevin Moughtin

  All Rights Reserved

  For Stephen.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Glossary of Terms

  Other Notes

  Aunt Bessie’s Holiday

  By the same Author

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Welcome to the seventh book in the Isle of Man Cozy Mystery series. I hope you’ve enjoyed all of the “Aunt Bessie” books so far and are looking forward to this one. While the books can be read individually, reading the series in order allows you to watch the characters change and grow.

  There are a great many characters that reappear in each book and often references are made to events in previous books as well, so I suggest you read them all. (The titles run alphabetically, to help make it easier for you to keep track of the order.) This book in particular ties up a lot of loose ends from previous titles. I’ve tried hard to prevent too many spoilers sneaking in for those of you who haven’t yet read the earlier books, but in some cases things from previous books had to be mentioned in order for this one to make sense.

  This is a work of fiction and all of the characters are fictional creations. Any resemblance that they may share with any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The island businesses mentioned here are fictional as well, although they may resemble actual businesses on the island.

  The photo on the cover is of the mine washing floors in Laxey, the village where most of the action in this story takes place. The small water wheel, the Lady Evelyn, seen in the picture was refurbished and relocated from the Snaefell Mine. It was installed and set into motion in 2006, so it wasn’t actually in Laxey when the story takes place (September 1998). Had I known in 1998 that I was one day going to be writing this series, I would have taken a lot more pictures! As it is, I have a wonderful photographer on the island who takes the photos I need, but obviously he can’t time travel as well.

  As ever, there is a glossary in the back of the book for readers outside of the British Isles who might not be familiar with some of the English and Manx terms used. No doubt some Americanisms have slipped into the text as well, and I do apologise for those to my readers who are in the British Isles!

  I’d love to hear from you. My contact details are in the back of the book.

  Chapter One

  The telephone always rang at the worst possible moments, Bessie grumbled to herself. She slid a piece of scrap paper into the book she had been engrossed in, and set the book on the small table beside her chair. Crossing to the kitchen, Bessie answered her phone.

  “Bessie? I thought you’d probably let the machine pick up,” Doona’s voice came down the line to her.

  “I was at a really good part in my book,” Bessie replied, “and the phone broke my concentration. I figured I might as well answer it and get rid of whoever was ringing as quickly as possible.”

  Doona laughed. “Well, I guess I won’t talk for long, then,” she told her friend.

  “Oh, I do hope not,” Bessie answered, laughing to let her friend know she was mostly teasing. She knew that Doona totally understood how she felt about books, though. The pair were unlikely friends, but they somehow got along very well.

  Doona was somewhere in her early forties, a bubbly brunette with striking blonde highlights and bright green eyes, thanks to coloured contact lenses. She and Bessie had met at a Manx language class about two years earlier and had immediately become friends.

  At that time, Doona had been struggling to deal with a difficult second divorce and had only just moved to Laxey to take up a position at the front desk of the Laxey Constabulary. Bessie, roughly twice her age, never married and a nearly lifelong resident of the village, had given Doona just the right mix of a shoulder to cry on and tough love during the very difficult time. Doona had recently returned the favour by supporting Bessie as she stumbled through a string of murder investigations.

  “I was just ringing on John’s behalf,” Doona said. “He was hoping he might have dinner with you tonight.”

  “I suppose so,” Bessie replied, thinking quickly. “Just John, or are you coming as well?”

  “Just John,” Doona answered. “He said to tell you he’ll be there around six and he’ll bring both dinner and pudding.”

  “Right, I’d better get my book finished then,” Bessie said.

  Doona laughed again. “After he’s gone home, I hope you’ll ring me and tell me what he wanted,” she said.

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie replied. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Doona sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out quite like that,” she explained. “But John’s been very, um, quiet I guess is the right word, since he came back from his summer holidays. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’d love to know.”

  “It isn’t my place to tell you, though,” Bessie pointed out. “Even if John does tell me something.”

  “I know,” Doona sighed again. “I suppose I should let you get back to your book. Have fun tonight.”

  Doona hung up before Bessie could reply. Bessie couldn’t get back to her book quickly enough, settling in and rapidly finding her place. Unfortunately, her brain wouldn’t focus. Bessie sat back in her chair and sighed as she looked outside. It was overcast, but not actually raining. A quick walk along the beach and some fresh sea air were exactly what she needed to clear her head.

  Bessie had lived in the same little cottage on Laxey beach since she was eighteen. That had been many, many years ago. She credited her continued good health, at least in part, to the daily walks she took along that beach. She tried to take a long walk every morning, but she often took additional walks during the day as well. Now she headed out her back door and began a slow stroll towards the holiday cottages nearby.

  As it was the second week of September, school summer holidays were now finished, so the cottages were mostly occupied by young or elderly couples who could take advantage of lower prices when schools were in session. The beach felt almost quiet after the long hot months of summer.

  Bessie had stayed in Douglas for much of August, more to get away from upsetting memories than to escape the holidaying children. The time away had certainly had the desired effect, as she was feeling much more like her old self and couldn’t imagine ever leaving her beloved cottage again, except perhaps for short holidays.

  Now she walked slowly past a young couple who were giggling as they built a sandcastle together. Just past them a much older couple sat on matching beach chairs, both lost in their own books. Bessie smiled and nodded at anyone who caught her eye, but let her thoughts wander.

  The call from Doona had her wondering what John Rockwell wanted. It wasn’t like the man, the head of the Laxey Constabulary and a CID detective, to pay Bessie a casual visit. Of course, she’d come to know him well during the recent murder investigations, and she regarded him as a friend, so he was more than welcome to visit.


  She shook her head. There was no point in endlessly speculating. She’d find out what he wanted at six o’clock. Back at her cottage, she warmed some soup for lunch and then settled back down with her book again. Within minutes she was lost in the pages. An hour later, she closed the book and sighed. She loved a happy ending, even if she knew that it was only temporary. As the book was number seven in a series that had at least ten books in it, Bessie knew that there was more murder and mayhem in the main character’s future.

  She had the next book in the series already on her shelf, but she decided to save it for another day, choosing instead to spend the rest of the afternoon on a few chores around the house. By six o’clock she’d cleaned her bathrooms and dusted and vacuumed the ground floor of the cottage. The first floor could wait for another day, she decided as she put the vacuum away. Her company was due any minute.

  Bessie sat on the rock on the beach behind her cottage and watched for John’s car. She was a tiny figure on the large rock, being naturally slender and only a few inches over five feet tall. Her grey hair was short and it almost perfectly matched her eyes. While she’d earned her share of wrinkles and laugh lines over the years, they didn’t bother her in the slightest.

  When she saw John’s car turn into the small parking area in front of her cottage, she headed towards him.

  “John, how are you?” she asked as she gave the man a hug after he’d emerged from his car.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. He leaned back into the car and pulled out a large pizza box. “I hope pizza is okay?”

  “It’s fine,” Bessie assured him. She led the way back into her cottage, hoping that the man would be more honest with her as the evening wore on. He was clearly not fine.

  Rockwell was in his mid-forties, with dark brown hair and gorgeous green eyes that Bessie was fairly certain were natural, since his two children also had the brightly coloured irises. He was somewhere over six feet tall and worked out regularly to keep himself fit and trim. Today, however, he looked almost gaunt and his eyes looked tired and strained.

  They settled at Bessie’s kitchen table with the pizza and some cans of fizzy drink.

  “I feel as if I haven’t seen you in ages,” Bessie said after she’d finished her first slice of pizza.

  “August was a little bit, um, busy,” Rockwell muttered before taking a big drink from his can.

  “You were across for much of it,” Bessie said. “And I was in Douglas. It was certainly a strange month.”

  John had spent three weeks of August in Manchester, having a summer holiday with his wife and children.

  “Yes, well, yes,” John replied, looking everywhere but at Bessie.

  Bessie sighed inwardly and then grabbed another piece of pizza.

  “How are things down at the station?” she asked, hoping that might be a safer subject.

  “Things are good,” John told her. “Everyone seemed genuinely happy to have me back after my holiday, anyway.”

  Bessie laughed. “I understood from Doona that you were very much missed.”

  John nodded. “Inspector Kelly is a good guy,” he said. “But even though I’ve only been here for a few months, I feel like the station is mine now. I think the rest of the staff feel the same.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Bessie agreed. So it didn’t seem as if the inspector was upset about work matters. That just left his personal life to cautiously explore.

  “I left pudding in the car,” John said after he’d finished the last slice of pizza. “I’ll just go and grab it.”

  Bessie tidied up the pizza plates and got them both fresh drinks while she waited. He was back in less than a minute.

  “It’s a strawberry trifle from the new bakery in Ramsey,” he told her as he opened the large bakery box. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left it in the warm car, but at least it was in the shade.”

  The trifle seemed to have survived its short stay in the car just fine. Bessie pulled bowls from the cupboard and the inspector spooned out large servings.

  “This is really good,” Bessie said after a few mouthfuls.

  “I wanted something light and summery, even if it is nearly autumn,” John replied. “And I figured we could use some fruit after having pizza for dinner.”

  Bessie grinned. “Fruit is always good, especially when it’s buried in custard and sponge.”

  Rockwell insisted that Bessie tell him all about her stay in Douglas, especially the events that had led to an arrest. Bessie started by telling about the odd things that had been happening in the building where her friend, Bahey, had her flat. She told him about the badly beaten-up man that she’d discovered in an empty flat in the building and all about the strange building manager, Nigel Green.

  “It sounds like an exciting month,” Rockwell remarked after she’d finished. “I’m glad Pete Corkill was there to help you.”

  Inspector Corkill was a Douglas-based member of the island’s constabulary.

  “He was a great help,” Bessie said. She and Inspector Corkill had initially disliked one another when they’d met in May, but over the course of a murder investigation they had come to appreciate each other.

  “That’s good to know.”

  “So how are the kids?” Bessie asked as she scraped up the last of her trifle, feeling as if she’d been avoiding the subject for long enough.

  “The kids are great,” John replied, looking down at his bowl. He took a deep breath. “They’re, well, they’ve moved back to Manchester with Sue.”

  He kept his head down until Bessie put her hand on his arm. When he looked up, she patted his arm gently.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know your kids mean the world to you.”

  For a moment Bessie thought he might begin to cry, but then he drew another deep breath and managed a shaky smile.

  “They do indeed,” he said finally. “And, after much debate, well, Sue and I decided that they would be better off back in Manchester. They never felt settled over here and they both missed their friends and our extended families. If I had any doubts, they were squashed when I saw how happy they were in August when we were over there.”

  Bessie drew a deep breath of her own. “Where does that leave you?” she asked cautiously.

  “Feeling rather lonely, I suppose,” he replied. He took another long breath and then shrugged. “Sue and I have been having problems for years,” he explained. “The move over here was our last-ditch effort to save our marriage. If Sue had fallen in love with the island, we might have made it work, but she hated it here at least as much as the kids did.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bessie said again.

  “As I said, it’s been a long time coming. Sue and I had a whirlwind romance and got married only three months after we met. By the time Sue realised that she wasn’t really over her previous boyfriend, Thomas was on the way and we decided to try to make it work anyway. We’ve had our ups and downs over the years since, but the last couple of years have been more downs than ups, especially since her mother got sick.”

  “How is her mother?” Bessie asked.

  “She’d doing okay and she’s thrilled that Sue and the kids have moved back,” John replied. Bessie could hear a great deal of sadness in his voice. “You know that ex-boyfriend of Sue’s that I mentioned?”

  Bessie nodded.

  “Well, he’s one of the top oncologists in the country and he’s Sue’s mum’s doctor, so they see each other quite regularly.” John sighed again and then rubbed a hand across his face. “She never stopped loving him, and he’s never married. I don’t suppose it will be long before they start dating again.”

  Bessie bit her lip before she said the first thing that came into her mind. John must have read something in the look on her face, however, and he shook his head.

  “No, they haven’t been seeing each other behind my back,” he told Bessie. “Sue’s a really good person and she wouldn’t do that to me. He’s is a good guy, too, actually. I’m sure they’ve been te
mpted, but I know I can trust Sue to do what’s right. She always has, but she can’t help how she feels.”

  Bessie nodded slowly. “It must be difficult for her as well,” she said after a moment.

  “It is,” John acknowledged. “We both feel guilty about breaking up the family, and I feel like I should move back across so that I can at least be closer to them.” He shook his head. “For now anyway, we’ve decided that I’ll stay here, in the place I love, doing the job I also love. The children will come over for weekends and holidays when I can arrange my schedule to have time off.”

  He shrugged again. “It isn’t ideal, but we’re going to make it work. With the long and variable hours that the job requires, I didn’t see all that much of them or Sue anyway. I’m sure it will all work out, eventually.”

  Bessie nodded. “If I can do anything to help, please ask,” she said.

  Rockwell smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “I’d better make some tea,” Bessie suggested.

  “I hope I’m not asking for that much,” Rockwell protested. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a cuppa.”

  Bessie put fresh water in the kettle and switched it on. While she waited for it to boil, she found some fancy chocolate-covered biscuits in the cupboard and piled them onto a plate. Passing John a small plate, she set one out for herself as well before fixing the tea. Once they both had tea and biscuits, she sat back in her chair and smiled.

  “Okay, what can I do for you?” she asked.

  “Can you, I don’t know, talk to a few people in for me?” he asked. “I don’t want to discuss what’s going on, but there are a lot of people who probably want to know. I was hoping you might share the news with one or two people so that I don’t have to go over it all again.”

  Bessie nodded. “I assume you mean Doona, first of all,” she replied. “What about Hugh?” she asked, referring to Hugh Watterson, a young constable who had also become a friend.

  “Doona definitely, and Hugh,” Rockwell told her.