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

by Diana Xarissa

  “I remember this part,” she told him. “If you keep going straight, you’ll eventually come to the storage units.”

  “That’s good to know, because right now it looks like there’s nothing but fields out here.”

  A few moments later, Bessie could see the large garage-like structures in the distance. It took them several minutes to cover that distance.

  “I remember Mary’s units are over there,” Bessie directed John.

  He pulled up next to the row of units that Bessie remembered as belonging to the Quayles. They appeared to be the only people there.

  “We’re a little bit early,” John remarked.

  “I think I’ll stretch my legs,” Bessie said. The long drive had left her feeling stiff. John helped her from the car and she took a few cautious steps, before walking more purposefully past the row of storage units. At the far end, she spun around and marched back to John, who was checking his mobile.

  “I just have to ring someone back,” he told Bessie, frowning at the tiny screen. He took a few steps away from Bessie, who turned and walked back down the row. She made several circuits of the row of units while he was busy on his phone.

  “I hope nothing’s wrong,” she said politely when he’d finished.

  “No, just a few little things back at the office,” John replied. He glanced at his watch. “It’s nine now. Is Mary usually late?”

  “No, actually, she’s nearly always early,” Bessie told him.

  She turned to make another circuit, and this time John fell into step beside her. They reached the end of the strip of six units and turned back around. After a few steps, John stopped.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked, frowning.

  Bessie sniffed the air. “It certainly isn’t pleasant,” she replied. “I figured it was something from one of the farms nearby.”

  “I suppose that could be it,” John said. They walked back to his car and then turned and walked the row another time. This time, John walked over to the garage-style door at the last unit.

  “The smell seems stronger here,” he told Bessie.

  She joined him, reluctantly. “You’re right, it does,” she told him. “I hope some poor creature hasn’t made his or her way into the unit and died. That would be a nightmare for poor Mary.”

  The sound of a car approaching interrupted their conversation. They made their way back to where John’s car was parked. Bessie recognised Mary’s car as it came into view. A second car that was following hers had a sticker on the front bumper identifying it as coming from one of the island’s hire car companies.

  “I’m so sorry we’re late,” Mary began as soon as she was out of her car. “Fiona was following me and then she took a wrong turning and I had to go back to find her,” she explained in a rush. “I still don’t understand how it happened.”

  Bessie took an instant dislike to the woman who now joined them. Her blonde hair was piled on her head in a complicated-looking twist. Every single hair was perfectly in place and her heavy makeup was expertly applied. She looked to be around thirty and her black business suit was perfectly tailored to her slender figure. She was frowning as she joined them.

  “Where are we again?” she asked in cultured tones, waving a manicured hand in the air. “I feel like we’ve driven right off the end of the island.”

  “I told you the storage units were some distance away,” Mary said patiently. “I did offer to drive so you didn’t have to.”

  “I thought I might want to slip away for some lunch or something,” the woman replied. “I didn’t realise there wouldn’t be anywhere to go.”

  Mary introduced Fiona Partridge to the others. Fiona’s eyes lit up when they settled on the handsome police inspector.

  “Well, well, aren’t you gorgeous,” she cooed. “Maybe you’ll be able to help me find somewhere to get some lunch later,” she suggested.

  “Unfortunately, I have to have a quick look around and then get to work,” John told her.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a police inspector,” John replied.

  “Ooooh, how interesting,” Fiona burbled. “I’d love to hear all about it, maybe over dinner tonight?”

  “I’m sorry, but I have plans for tonight,” John said, shooting Bessie a desperate look.

  “I thought you said the auction people were coming up later,” Bessie said to Mary.

  “That was the original plan,” Mary said with a sigh. “We had to, well, rearrange things slightly.”

  “You really didn’t expect me to find this place by myself, did you?” Fiona demanded. “I barely found it anyway, and I was following you.”

  Mary opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. Bessie could almost see her counting to ten before she spoke.

  “Thank you again for lunch last week,” Bessie said, changing the subject to give Mary time to gather her thoughts.

  “I really enjoyed it,” Mary replied, giving Bessie a smile. “Anyway, shall we get started?”

  “I’d like to start at the far end,” John told her. “There’s a peculiar smell coming from the last unit and I think we should check and make sure that everything is okay in there.”

  Mary frowned. “I hope nothing furry has crawled in there and died,” she said.

  “You are kidding, right?” Fiona drawled. “I mean we aren’t going to open the door and find a dead rabbit or something, are we?”

  “At the moment I don’t know what we’re going to find,” John told her. “I’m hoping it’s just a rabbit.”

  He muttered the last sentence as they walked and Bessie was pretty sure she was the only one who heard it. As soon as the words registered, her heart skipped a beat. She hoped she’d misunderstood the man, but the look on his face when they reached the unit suggested otherwise.

  “I have the key here somewhere,” Mary said. “You’re right, that is a terrible smell.”

  “I feel quite ill,” Fiona said, stepping backwards quickly. “I can’t possibly work in that unit.”

  “Why don’t you go back to your car and wait there?” John suggested quietly.

  “Maybe I’ll just do that,” Fiona answered. She took a couple of steps away and then turned back. Bessie could see curiosity burning in her eyes. Fiona was too nosy to wait in the car, Bessie thought.

  Mary found the key that was labelled as being for unit six and she inserted it into the padlock. She twisted it and frowned. “It doesn’t seem to be working,” she said softly.

  John took the key from her and tried himself, but it was no use. While they struggled with the door, Bessie walked to the next unit and back.

  “That lock is different,” she pointed out.

  “What do you mean?” John asked.

  “The lock on this unit is different to all the others in the row,” Bessie explained.

  “It shouldn’t be,” Mary told them. “We bought a set of six padlocks when we reserved the first unit. I figured we’d need them all eventually.”

  John walked quickly along the entire row and then back again. “It’s definitely not the same lock as the other five,” he told Mary. “I have bolt cutters in my car that should be able to cut through the lock. Do I have your permission to do so?”

  “Of course you do,” Mary replied. “I’ll ring someone and have them bring up a new lock right away.”

  John jogged back to his car and returned a moment later with cutters. It took him a moment, but eventually he managed to cut through the hasp of the padlock. He took it off the door carefully, placing the pieces into a plastic bag. He wrote something on the bag and then dropped it in a pocket.

  “What’s he doing?” Fiona hissed loudly.

  Bessie exchanged glances with Mary, but they were both far too focussed on John to answer the girl.

  John pushed up on the rolling door, but nothing happened. He pushed again and then frowned. “It seems to be stuck,” he said. “I’m not sure I want to force it, as I’m not sure what’s behind it.”


  “If you’re worried about breaking some of the furniture, don’t be,” Mary told him. “I promise I won’t hold you responsible for any damages.”

  John nodded and then gave the door a strong shove upwards. It rose, slowly at first and then quite quickly once it was free of obstructions. A large wardrobe that had apparently fallen against the door now toppled out towards them.

  Bessie and Mary both jumped backwards, although they were nowhere near enough to actually need to do so. Fiona gasped and then pointed.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her finger shaking.

  Bessie looked at the ground where the wardrobe had ended up. The doors had swung open as it fell, so that it was lying propped up on what were now partially broken doors. What looked like a person’s leg was sticking out from between the doors, bent at an impossible angle. Fiona began to scream as John pulled out his mobile and began to bark out orders.

  Chapter Nine

  Bessie took Mary’s arm and pulled her backwards, away from the unit. Fiona kept screaming where she was standing until Bessie grabbed her arm, somewhat less gently than she had Mary’s.

  “Shut up,” she barked at the woman. “That isn’t helping in any possible way.”

  Fiona looked at her, and after a moment, shut her mouth. Now Bessie could hear the low buzz of John’s voice as he spoke on his mobile. He ended a call and looked over at the three women.

  “I suggest you all go and sit in one of the cars,” he told them. “You’re going to be here for a while.”

  “I’m not,” Fiona announced. “I’m going back to London right now.”

  She marched over to her hire car. Bessie watched as it took the woman three attempts to actually get the key into the lock on the door because she was shaking so badly. Eventually, she managed it and pulled the door open. She threw herself into the driver’s seat, glancing back towards them and giving them an angry look before started her engine. She floored the accelerator and the car weaved back and forth along the road, narrowly missing a lamp post as it went.

  “She’s too upset to drive,” Bessie said to John. He held up a hand and she realised he was on his phone again.

  “There are local police on their way,” he told her when he disconnected. “They’ll stop her before she even makes it to the main road. I’ve suggested that they take her down to the station for questioning. I’d rather not have to see her again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mary said quietly. “George hired the firm and she was who they sent. I thought she was just terrible, but apparently she’s very good at what she does.”

  “Well, they’ll have to send someone else,” John said. “I can’t imagine she’s going to come back.”

  “No, I guess not,” Mary replied.

  “But you don’t need to apologise,” Bessie said. “It isn’t your fault she’s horrible.”

  “No, but I, that is, well, I don’t know.” Mary threw up her hands and then walked a few steps away. Bessie started to follow but stopped when she heard sirens. A few minutes later a police car, lights flashing, turned into the storage facility. Behind the first car was Fiona Partridge’s car with a second police vehicle behind that.

  John walked over and met the officers, who spent several minutes gesturing towards Fiona’s car. John shook his head and walked back to Bessie and Mary.

  “When she saw the police car, apparently your Ms. Partridge stopped her car and ran away. She left her car in the middle of the road, so they’ve brought it back up here. Two men are following her now, but she got a good head start because they were so shocked by her behaviour that it took them a minute to start the chase.” John sighed deeply. “Like a dead body wasn’t enough bother,” he muttered, heading back to greet the next set of arrivals.

  Bessie looked over at Mary and saw that her friend was looking very pale. “Let’s go and sit in your car,” she suggested. “We’ll be out of the way and far more comfortable.”

  Mary nodded but didn’t speak. She and Bessie crossed to the car and Mary unlocked it. Bessie sank down into the comfortable leather seat and sighed. “What a mess,” she murmured.

  “Do you think it’s really a body?” Mary asked nervously.

  “I have no idea, but John seemed to think so and he’s something of an expert.”

  “But how did a body end up in a wardrobe in my storage unit?” Mary demanded.

  “When was the last time you opened that unit?” Bessie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mary replied. “I’m sure it hasn’t been for months. We never got that far when we were looking for furniture for you, did we?”

  Bessie thought back to their visit the previous month. “I don’t think we did,” she said after a moment.

  “So it was probably in May, when we remodelled the sunroom and changed all the furniture. I came up with the movers to supervise their putting all of the old furniture in that last unit.”

  “And that wardrobe came from the sunroom?” Bessie asked.

  Mary shook her head. “I didn’t get a good look at it, but the wardrobe didn’t look familiar. I’m not sure where it came from. As far as I can remember, all that was in that unit was a load of old dining room furniture and boxes of kitchen things, before we added the sunroom pieces. There weren’t any wardrobes in there at all.”

  “But there were plenty in the other units,” Bessie remarked.

  “There were some, certainly,” Mary said. “But that one had a thin pressboard panel back and all of ours are solid wood. I really don’t think it came from one of our units.”

  Bessie was surprised that the woman had noticed that much, but now that Mary had mentioned it, the wardrobe that had fallen out of the unit did look to be of rather poor quality. It really didn’t look like the sort of furniture that Mary would have ever bought.

  Another police car pulled up now. The man behind the wheel climbed out, and then opened the back of the car. Bessie and Mary watched as a very disheveled Fiona Partridge was helped from the car. She was led over to Inspector Rockwell and then, after a short conversation, another officer was called over. He took Fiona’s arm and led her to a different car. After helping her into the back of it, the officer drove away.

  “I wonder where they’re taking her,” Mary said, sounding not even a little bit curious.

  “John was pretty angry when she ran off like that,” Bessie said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s having her taken to the local station for questioning.”

  “She’s frighteningly efficient and quite annoying,” Mary said.

  “I’ve no doubt you won’t have to deal with her again,” Bessie remarked.

  Mary frowned. “It isn’t like me to be critical of anyone,” she told Bessie. “I have a great deal of respect for successful women, especially those that work in male-dominated fields. But Fiona is an awful mix of high-powered businesswoman and flirty teenager. She actually suggested that she and George should meet privately to discuss things, right in front of me.”

  “I’m too old to have ever tried flirting,” Bessie said. “Nice women simply didn’t behave like that in my day. I don’t think I missed out on anything.”

  Mary laughed. “I don’t object to a bit of flirting among single people, but women who flirt with married men are something else altogether.”

  “George has a rather expansive personality. A lot of women must see that as encouragement.”

  “George is a flirt, you mean,” Mary said. “He’s very friendly with everyone he meets, but he does pour on the charm when he meets young women. It can be quite uncomfortable to watch, although he does try to rein it in when I’m with him. It all comes from his years in sales, of course, but that isn’t really any excuse.”

  The pair settled in and watched the comings and goings of the various officers for a while. A CID van arrived with a crime scene team, dressed all in white. The team members seemed to scatter in every direction, some taking pictures, others seemingly studying the ground for clues.

  Where they were parked,
Bessie and Mary couldn’t see exactly what was happening at the unit, but when the ambulance arrived and a stretcher was removed from it, Mary sighed.

  “I was really hoping it was just an old Guy Fawkes effigy or something,” she told Bessie.

  “I guess not,” Bessie said.

  They watched in silence as the ambulance men stood by, waiting for the crime scene team to finish processing the scene. After a few minutes Inspector Rockwell walked to Mary’s car.

  “Bessie, can I have a quick word?” he asked after Mary opened a window.

  Bessie climbed out of the car and joined him a few steps away from it. The foul smell seemed stronger now, although that might have been Bessie’s overactive imagination.

  “They’re going to load the body up and take it into Douglas for an autopsy,” John told her. “I’m sorry to ask this, but could you take a quick look at it and see if you recognise him?”

  “I’d rather not,” Bessie said frankly. “But if you think it might help, of course I will.”

  “I don’t want to ask Mrs. Quayle,” John said. “She’s of a rather delicate nature and I can’t afford a lawsuit if her husband decides he doesn’t like the way I handled things.”

  “Do you want me to ask her for you?” Bessie asked.

  “For now I’ll settle for you having a quick look,” John replied. “Hugh is back in Laxey going through all the missing persons reports for the entire island. He’s going to fax the list through to the station here in Jurby when he’s sorted out all of the possibilities. It’s a small island. It shouldn’t take long to figure out who we’ve found.”

  Bessie opened her mouth and then closed it again. She knew she was jumping to conclusions and that John couldn’t afford to do the same.

  “You can wait in the car again, if you want,” John said. “It will probably be a few minutes.”

  Bessie nodded and climbed back into Mary’s car. With the windows up, the smell was far less noticeable. Bessie inhaled the scent of expensive leather and sighed.

  “Is everything okay?” Mary asked.

  “John wants me to take a peek at the body to see if I can identify it,” Bessie told her.