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

by Diana Xarissa

  “Was there anyone else?”

  Rockwell shrugged. “Not specifically,” he answered. “But there isn’t any reason to keep quiet, either. If anyone asks if you know anything, I’d rather you told them what was really going on, rather than have everyone speculating.”

  “On an island this small, you can bet there will be plenty of speculating anyway,” Bessie said with a chuckle.

  “I know, but at least this way I don’t have to say anything and I know that someone is telling the real story.”

  “That’s easy enough,” Bessie assured him. “Surely there’s more I can do?”

  “There was one other thing,” he said in an uncertain tone.

  “Which is?”

  “I need to find a little house here in Laxey,” he told her. “There’s no point in my living in Ramsey by myself, since I’m stationed here. Anyway, we’ve put the house in Ramsey on the market. I need something with at least three bedrooms for when the kids visit and I’d like to be fairly centrally located. I was wondering if you’d be willing to go house hunting with me?”

  Bessie sat back in her chair, surprised by the request. “Of course I can,” she said after a moment. “Although I’m not sure why you’d want me to.”

  Rockwell flushed. “I really just want a second opinion,” he explained. “And you’ll know more about the history of the houses here than I will, as well.”

  Bessie nodded. “That’s certainly true,” she said. “And there are a few places you’ll want to avoid, actually. Some of the builders over the years have cut corners here or there on various projects.”

  “That’s the sort of inside knowledge I need.”

  “And I’m happy to share it with you,” Bessie replied.

  “I’m supposed to be going around a few properties on Saturday,” John told her. “If you can come with me for the morning, I’ll buy you lunch at La Terrazza to thank you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Bessie replied. “But if you insist, I’m always happy to eat there.”

  The inspector left just before nine, looking slightly less miserable than he had on arrival. Bessie decided that she couldn’t do much more for him than that at the moment. He was going to pick her up on Saturday morning at nine for house hunting, which gave her several days to talk to Doona and let her know what was happening in John’s personal life.

  She didn’t wait, of course, ringing Doona as soon as John’s car’s lights disappeared up the road behind her house.

  “So what’s going on?” Doona demanded after they’d exchanged pleasantries.

  “John and Sue have split up,” Bessie told her.

  Doona gasped. “I thought as much,” she exclaimed. “But John wouldn’t discuss it with me.”

  “He doesn’t want to talk about it with anyone,” Bessie said. “That’s why he told me that I could tell you.”

  “The poor man,” Doona said. “Is she moving back to Manchester, then?”

  “I gather she already has.”

  “So what about John? Is he staying here, then, or moving back across?”

  “For now, at least, he’s staying here, thankfully,” Bessie assured her.

  “Indeed. I’m sure I’d have to find a new job if Inspector Kelly took back over at the station for good.”

  “Well, I gather that isn’t happening, at least not for now. John wants to stay here, but he wants to be able to spend time with his children as well. I hope they can make it all work.”

  “I don’t suppose you know any of the juicy details,” Doona remarked.

  “I….” was all that Bessie managed to say before Doona interrupted.

  “No, don’t say anything. Even if you do know all the details, I don’t want to hear them. John can tell me more if he wants me to know more. Not that you were going to tell me anyway.”

  Bessie laughed. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to know,” she said. “He’s suggested that I talk to Hugh as well,” she told her friend. “I suppose it’s too late to ring him tonight, though.”

  “I can talk to him tomorrow morning,” Doona offered. “We’re both working the early shift and John isn’t due in until ten, so we should have plenty of time to talk.”

  “That sounds good,” Bessie agreed.

  The rest of the week passed quickly. Bessie spent a few minutes one afternoon looking over the most recent brochures from the island’s three main estate agencies. There seemed to be very little available in Laxey at the moment and much of what was for sale seemed to need a great deal of work. Bessie couldn’t see the busy inspector finding time to do the work himself or even to supervise others who could be hired to do it for him. The prices were something of a shock as well, although she knew from her recent house hunting tour in Douglas that property prices on the island were going up rapidly.

  Friday night Doona came over for dinner. Bessie greeted her friend with a hug.

  “I feel as if I haven’t seen you in a long while,” Bessie said after Doona had settled in at the kitchen table.

  “We had brunch on Sunday,” Doona said. “But that does seem quite a long time ago, for some reason.”

  “How was your week?” Bessie asked as she pulled a cottage pie from the cooker.

  “It was busy,” Doona replied. “We’re still getting back into proper routines now that most of the staff have had their summer holidays.”

  “You never did take any time off,” Bessie said.

  “I might take a few days in October,” Doona said with a shrug. “I really love my job, so I don’t feel like I need a holiday all that badly.”

  “How’s John?” Bessie asked, feeling as if she were holding her breath to hear the answer.

  “He’s, well, I guess he’s better,” Doona said thoughtfully. “He was obviously miserable when he got back from his holiday, but he wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. Now that we all know what’s going on, he seems more relaxed. No one has had the nerve to ask him any questions yet, but the atmosphere at the station is a little lighter.”

  “That’s good news.”

  Bessie served generous helpings of cottage pie with roasted vegetables on the side. Doona jumped up and grabbed cold drinks for them both and then they settled in to enjoy the meal.

  “That was delicious,” Doona said as she finished her last mouthful. “I don’t even have room for pudding.”

  Bessie laughed. “I made brownies from that American recipe book I got a few months ago. I’m sure if you let things settle for a bit, you’ll find some room.”

  Doona groaned. “I love those brownies,” she said. “I’ll just have a small one with a cuppa, I guess.”

  Bessie made tea while Doona cleared the table and did the washing up. The pair sat back down with tea and brownies with vanilla ice cream.

  “I’m going house hunting with John tomorrow,” Bessie told her friend. “He wants to find a place here in Laxey.”

  Doona smiled “That’s good news. I noticed that they’d put the house in Ramsey on the market and I was worried he was just going to keep renting up here until he was sure he was staying. If he’s buying here, he must be pretty sure he wants to stay.”

  “Whether he’s staying or not, buying makes good sense. Prices are going up rapidly. If he waits a year or two he might not be able to afford anything.”

  “That’s true,” Doona said. “I’m really glad I bought my house when I did. I’m sure I couldn’t afford much of anything now. Of course now I’m starting to get tempted to remortgage and use some the equity to treat myself, but so far I’ve resisted.”

  Bessie laughed. “What would you treat yourself to?” she asked.

  Doona thought about that for a moment. “I’d love a holiday,” she said eventually. “I’ve always wanted to visit America.”

  “We should both start saving our pennies. We could go and visit my family there,” Bessie said, only half teasing.

  “And I’d like to make over my master bathroom,” Doona continued. “I want a big huge bat
htub with jets and a heater so I could take baths for hours.”

  Bessie wrinkled her nose. “I like a bath on rare occasions, but it’s never as enjoyable as it ought to be. The water gets cold too fast and it’s hard to read without getting your book wet. I end up getting bored and getting out rather quickly, usually.”

  “I just sink under the water and think about George Clooney,” Doona told Bessie. “He’s ever so wonderful in my imagination.”

  “If only real men were as wonderful as the imaginary sort,” Bessie said with a sigh. “I’m sure my Matthew was nowhere near as perfect as I remember him, but sometimes I do try to imagine how my life might have been if we’d married.”

  Bessie had spent most of her childhood in America and had fallen in love with Matthew Saunders at the age of seventeen. When her parents decided to return to the island, they insisted that she come with them and leave Matthew behind. Only a short time later, Matthew had attempted to follow her, but he had not survived the difficult sea journey.

  His legacy had enabled Bessie to buy her small cottage, and thanks to some very careful and clever investments by her advocate, the money he’d left her had supported her for her entire life. She’d always been extremely careful with money, but in the last few years she’d starting spending more on her favourite little luxuries, like books.

  “We’d never have met if you’ve married him, would we?” Doona asked.

  “Probably not,” Bessie said. “Matthew would have taken me back to America to live, I’m sure. That was the plan when he set sail for the island.”

  “You’d have had a very different life.”

  “Indeed. I’m sure we would have had children, possibly a great many children. My sister had ten, you know.”

  “Ten?” Doona nearly choked on her tea. “I didn’t realise that.”

  Bessie smiled. “It was a long time ago,” Bessie told her. “That’s what women did in those days. My sister loved her children and her letters were always full of their adventures.”

  “And you love children,” Doona said.

  “I do,” Bessie agreed. “But I think I’m rather happier being an honourary aunt to the children of Laxey than I would be as the mother of a large brood of my own. The children who spend the night here when they’re fighting with their parents go home in the morning, after all.”

  Doona laughed. “I’d have to agree with you on that,” she told her friend. “I’ve never felt the desire to have children of my own. Maybe if I were happily married, rather than twice divorced, I’d feel differently.”

  “Women are having children later in life now,” Bessie pointed out. “It isn’t too late for you to have a baby of your own.”

  “First I have to find a husband,” Doona said. “I’m a bit old-fashioned like that.”

  “As I am as well, I’m glad to hear that,” Bessie told her friend. “I know marriages fall apart for lots of reasons and many couples are better apart than together, but I do think it’s best for children if their parents are together.”

  “That’s the sad part of John’s breakup,” Doona said.

  “It is indeed.”

  An hour later, after a second pot of tea and a few more brownies, Doona headed for home.

  “I hope you don’t have to be up too early,” she told Bessie at the door. “I’ve stayed rather later than normal.”

  “John’s not going to be here until nine,” Bessie replied. “But I’ll probably be up at six, as usual, anyway.”

  “Well, I’m glad I don’t have to be up at six,” Doona laughed as she looked at the clock. “I probably won’t make it out of bed before nine.”

  Bessie locked up behind her friend and checked that the kitchen was tidy. Doona had insisted on taking care of the washing up, so Bessie simply tucked cups back into the cupboard and then headed for bed.

  Chapter Two

  By the time John pulled into the parking area outside her cottage the next morning, Bessie had been up for three hours. She’d showered and dressed, patting on the rose-scented dusting powder that had, for sixty-odd years, reminded her of Matthew. A long walk on the beach had left her feeling serene, and she had waited patiently with a cup of tea for him to arrive.

  “Hello, Bessie,” he’d called as he emerged from the car. “We’re meeting the estate agent at the first house, and I already need your help.”

  Bessie had locked the door to her cottage as John approached. Now he offered her his arm and escorted her down the short path to his car.

  “I have no idea where this is,” he confessed as he handed Bessie the sheet of particulars for the first property. “And I hate to admit it.”

  Bessie laughed when she saw the address. “I’m not surprised you don’t know where this is,” she told him. “They’ve only given you the name of the house, not the street name.”

  “I did wonder,” John said.

  “I suppose the listing agent just assumed everyone would know the house,” she said. “It’s sort of a landmark property.”

  “If it’s a landmark, why is it so affordable?” John asked as he turned his car around.

  Bessie gave him quick directions and then read through the details on the house. “I suspect it needs a lot of work,” she told him. “It’s not a very large property, either, it’s just been there for a long time.”

  “I hope it doesn’t need too much work,” John said. “I don’t really have the time or the skills to do much and I won’t have the budget to have much done, either.”

  Bessie read through the listing again. “I’m not sure this is going to be the place for you,” she told the man.

  “Well, it’s just the first of many,” John said with a sigh. “It would make life easier if the first place was perfect, but I suppose I’d still want to see a few other properties, anyway.”

  They chatted about the weather and the traffic on the short drive into the centre of Laxey. John found a convenient parking space and they walked the short distance to the property that was for sale. John rang the doorbell and after a moment the door swung open. Bessie’s heart sank.

  “Ah, Mrs. Cubbon, isn’t it? How wonderful to see you again. I didn’t realise you would be accompanying Mr. Rockwell on his tours,” Alan Collins beamed at Bessie. “I’m sure you remember that I don’t shake hands,” he added.

  Bessie did remember and she was grateful, as she had no interest in touching the man. He was wearing the same ugly brown suit that he’d worn when he’d shown Bessie around properties in Douglas. His meagre supply of hair was once again combed across his nearly bald head and plastered into place. His beady eyes moved from Bessie to John and back.

  “I’m sorry, how is it you two know each other?” he asked.

  “I’m sure that isn’t any of your business,” Bessie replied tartly.

  John chuckled softly. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see anything that needed a lot of work,” he said to Alan. “This place looks like it needs a complete remodel.”

  Bessie bit back a deep sigh as she looked into the house from the doorway. Even just the little bit she could see from there was discouraging. The carpets were badly stained and torn and the wall behind the estate agent clearly had water damage. She wrinkled her nose as a musty and mouldy smell reached her. She wasn’t sure if she would rather it was the house or Alan Collin’s cologne that smelled so awful.

  “Give it a chance,” the man said now. “It does need some work, but it’s below your budget and it has the right number of bedrooms.” He gave them both a cheery but fake-looking smile. “At least take a quick look.”

  John glanced at Bessie and then shrugged. “After you,” he told Bessie.

  The front door opened into a small foyer that led to a fairly large sitting room. Bessie walked into the sitting room and shook her head.

  “This is in a terrible state,” she said. “And there’s water damage on the ceiling. There’s no way you want to take on a project that’s this big.”

  Rockwell glanced around
the dark and dingy space. “I’m going to have to agree with Bessie on this one,” he told Alan. “This is far too much work for me.”

  Alan looked as if he wanted to argue, but Bessie gave him a stern look and he snapped his mouth shut.

  “It’s a shame the owners didn’t look after it,” Bessie said as they headed towards the door. “It was a lovely house in its day.”

  “Apparently there was some sort of issue with the owner’s will and that led to the house sitting empty for many years,” Alan said vaguely.

  Bessie shrugged. “I guess you could say that,” she replied.

  “I assume you know the whole story,” John said with a smile. “Do tell.”

  “Sam and Valerie Looney built the house in the nineteen-forties. They had seven children before Sam passed away suddenly about ten years after they’d built the house, when he was around fifty years old. Valerie was many years younger than Sam, and only a few months after his death she remarried. Her new husband, Gary Davison, was not only ten years younger than the widow, but he was from across and no one knew anything about his family. When Valerie died on holiday about a year later, everyone was convinced that Gary had murdered her.”

  “And had he?” Alan demanded excitedly.

  “It was officially ruled an accident,” Bessie told him. “Valerie had just given birth to a little girl who was very unwell, and there was some talk about her being quite depressed. Adding to that were hints that young Gary was cheating on her, as well. We didn’t know as much about post-natal depression in those days, of course, but the general feeling on the island was that, if it wasn’t murder, than Gary drove her to suicide.”

  “What happened to her exactly?” John asked.

  “She fell down a flight of stairs at an old castle that they were visiting,” Bessie replied, trying to remember more details from so long ago. “Gary admitted at the inquest that they’d been arguing. He said that he’d gone outside to walk around and calm down while Valerie had another look around. When she didn’t come back, he went to look for her and found her body.”

  “And there were no witnesses,” John guessed.