Aunt Bessie Finds

by Diana Xarissa

  “Oh, I am sorry,” Bessie told her.

  “Not half as sorry as I am,” was Doona’s reply before she rang off.

  Bessie was certainly sleeping better in her new flat, but she still wasn’t used to the sounds of doors opening and closing in the night. On Wednesday morning she headed out for her walk and stopped. The mirror was gone and her welcome mat had been turned around again. Apparently the prankster was back. She fixed her mat and walked quickly up and down the corridor. The mirror was nowhere to be seen.

  She enjoyed her walk along the promenade, but her mind was racing. She thought about a spy novel she’d read recently. What she really needed was the sort of equipment the man in the book had had at his disposal. A tiny hidden camera that could record everything that happened in the corridor would quickly identify who was moving things around in the public spaces. Another one on the ground floor would let Bessie know who was using flat number five.

  Back at home, she stuck a new note on Bahey’s door, telling her about the mirror and the mat. On her way out to the museum, she took a detour down the ground floor corridor, but the mirror wasn’t anywhere visible there, either.

  Once she reached the museum, she put Seaside Terrace out of her mind and focussed on her job of indexing the box Marjorie had given her. Even though she only took a very short break for lunch, she wasn’t even halfway through the box at the end of the day.

  “I’ll be back on Friday,” she told Marjorie when she returned the box to her.

  “I’ll be getting spoiled,” Marjorie replied.

  Back at the building, Bessie checked her postbox. A flyer from the nearby Chinese restaurant addressed to “Occupant” was all she’d received. Bahey had left another note on her door.

  “I haven’t seen the mirror. My mat hasn’t moved since it came back.”

  Bessie let herself into her flat and fixed herself some dinner. She poured herself a glass of wine and nibbled her way through a couple of the chocolates from her box. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t actually baked anything in her new flat. Back in Laxey, she baked regularly and almost always had homemade goodies available.

  As such treats were primarily for the young visitors that used Bessie’s cottage as a hideaway from parents who didn’t seem to understand them, Bessie supposed she didn’t need to worry about baking here. While she was an honourary auntie to most of the school-aged children of Laxey, she was more or less unknown to the children of Douglas.

  That didn’t mean that she didn’t feel like a homemade treat, though. She dug through her cupboards, looking to see what ingredients she had available. There wasn’t much, but she found what she needed for flapjack. Not much over an hour later, she settled into her chair with a book, a cup of tea, and a freshly baked flapjack.

  It had begun to rain, a heavy soaking rain that had Bessie feeling grateful for her snug little flat. While it might not feel totally like home, she felt comfortable and settled. An hour later, she’d finished the book and was ready for bed. For the first time since she’d moved in, she didn’t wake up in the night.

  Thursday morning she walked to the nearest grocery store and did her weekly shop. Having filled her trolley, she took a taxi back to her flat. Perhaps she’d try the building’s service one of these days, but there was something about food shopping that felt almost too personal to trust to a stranger. Once everything was put away, she decided to take a short stroll on the beach. Again, she posted letters to herself, and others, from several different boxes.

  As she walked past one of the fish and chips shops along the promenade, Bessie impulsively bought herself some lunch. She sat on a bench, watching the families that were spread across the beach. Small children were building sandcastles and burying one another in the sand. Mothers were fussing and trying to feed their offspring, while fathers seemed to be mostly napping.

  For a moment Bessie wondered how different her life might have been if she’d married and had children of her own. A small screaming boy with a dirty face quickly distracted her from her reverie. She laughed at herself as she got back up and headed towards her flat. She passed the postman as he was leaving.

  When she opened her box, she was surprised to find letters inside. She tucked them into her bag and headed up to her flat. When she went through her post, she shook her head. All of the letters she’d received were the ones she’d posted on Wednesday. She still hadn’t received the ones she’d posted on Monday or Tuesday.

  Doona rang a short time later. “Just wanted to let you know that I got the note from you,” Doona said. “It says Wednesday at the top.”

  “Thanks,” Bessie replied. “You should get another one tomorrow, I think.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Doona promised.

  They agreed to do something together on Saturday, but left making the final arrangements until later. After a light tea and some reading, Bessie headed to bed with the building’s prankster on her mind. She dreamt of welcome mats that turned themselves around and around, the word welcome reflected back at her in a dozen mirrors. When six o’clock rolled around she still felt groggy and out of sorts.

  A cup of tea did wonders for her disquieted nerves and she got ready for her walk with her usual enthusiasm. Outside her flat, nothing seemed to have changed from the day before. The day was already warm, but overcast, and Bessie wondered if they were due rain again. She felt as if it had been a rather wet summer, but since she enjoyed being outdoors so much, she nearly always noticed the rain more than the sun.

  Back at her flat, she fixed herself some more tea and then packed up her notebooks and pencils, ready for another day at the museum. A knock on her door interrupted her.

  “Bahey, what’s wrong?” Bessie asked when she’d opened the door to her friend. Bahey was wearing a robe that appeared to have been pulled hastily over her pyjamas. Her hair hadn’t been combed, and she gave Bessie a desperate look.

  “It’s Howard,” she said. “He’s missing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you mean ‘missing’?” Bessie asked as she pulled her friend into her flat.

  “He doesn’t answer his door,” Bahey replied, wringing her hands together.

  “Maybe he’s asleep or busy,” Bessie suggested.

  Bahey flushed. “I have a key,” she told Bessie. “Just for emergencies, like. Anyway, I let myself in and he’s not there.”

  “And he didn’t tell you he was going anywhere?”

  “No, I know he’s been worried about his daughter, but he isn’t meant to be visiting her until October.”

  “Maybe he changed his mind and headed across early?”

  Bahey shrugged. “He would have left me a note,” she said. “I don’t want to ring his daughter to ask, because she’ll get upset if he isn’t there. She’s in the middle of a very difficult pregnancy, you see, and she isn’t meant to be upset.”

  “Did you try his mobile?”

  “He doesn’t have one,” Bahey told her. “He isn’t keen on modern gadgets like that.”

  “Is his car in the car park?”

  Bahey nodded. “I went out and looked before I came here. But he wouldn’t have taken it if he was going to the airport or the ferry terminal.”

  She sat down on Bessie’s couch. “I don’t know what to do,” she said softly. “He’s never disappeared before.”

  “Maybe you should ring the police?” Bessie suggested.

  “Oh, no, I can’t do that,” Bahey replied. “He’d be ever so embarrassed if there’s a simple explanation. He’s a grown man besides, the police will likely say he can do as he chooses.”

  Bessie was inclined to agree with her friend. There were many possible explanations for Howard’s disappearance and most of them were benign. “Were you suppose to get together this morning?” she asked.

  “We didn’t have formal plans,” Bahey answered. “But I usually knock on his door when I get up and we have breakfast together.”

  “Maybe he woke up early and w
ent for a walk or to do some shopping,” Bessie suggested. “Did he take anything with him, like a suitcase or anything?”

  Bahey shrugged. “I’m not about to start poking around in his bedroom to check,” she said. “At least not yet.”

  Bessie nodded. That made sense as well. She couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be for Bahey if she were going through his wardrobe and he walked in on her.

  “Don’t the police make you wait twenty-four hours before they’ll investigate a missing person, anyway?” Bahey asked. “I guess that’s what we should do. If he hasn’t turned up or called by tomorrow morning, I’ll go to the police.”

  “Actually, I don’t think you do have to wait,” Bessie said. “But I’m sure the first thing the police would do is ring Howard’s daughter. It might be better to wait until tomorrow for that, in case he is just at the shops or something.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Bahey said. “I guess I’ll go grab a shower and get dressed. I’m supposed to do my volunteer hours at Noble’s today, but I’m not sure I want to leave my flat. What if Howard rings?”

  “He knows your schedule, doesn’t he? I’m sure, if he got called away suddenly, he’ll ring later tonight,” Bessie said reassuringly. “It’s up to you, but I think you should go and do your volunteer work. There’s no point in sitting around worrying, and they need you at Noble’s.”

  “They do at that,” Bahey agreed. “I help out in the maternity ward, cuddling babies so mums can rest. It’s the best job I’ve ever had.”

  Bessie smiled. She’d never been overly fond of small babies, but as volunteer work went, it sounded quite nice.

  “I’m off to the museum for the day,” she told Bahey. “I’ll be there if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll come over when I get back this afternoon.”

  “Okay,” Bahey said. She left, seemingly reluctantly, leaving Bessie to puzzle over Howard’s unexplained absence.

  If only he had a mobile phone, Bessie thought to herself, and then laughed. She’d lived very happily for nearly her entire life without a mobile, and now, after having had one for six months or so, she was annoyed with others for not keeping up with the newest conveniences.

  Bessie took herself off to the museum, only slightly worried about Howard and Bahey. There she settled in with her box, working steadily until it was time to meet Mary for lunch.

  Mary was already seated in the small café, perusing the menu when Bessie arrived.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Bessie said as she joined her.

  “You aren’t,” Mary assured her. “I’m usually early, and today I was restless at home, so I was very early.”

  Bessie quickly looked over her menu and made her selection. As she ate at the café fairly regularly, it took only a moment for her to choose. The waiter knew her well and was very attentive. Bessie had her tea before she’d even had time to reply to Mary.

  “I hope everything’s okay,” she said, letting her concern show in her tone.

  “It’s fine,” Mary said with a sigh. “I’m just, well, things are just tense, that’s all. George is working more and more hours and I’m simply not sure why.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  Mary laughed flatly, “No, I haven’t,” she replied. “We don’t seem to talk anymore. I’m starting to regret ever moving here.”

  Bessie patted her friend’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “But I am sorry about George.”

  Mary shrugged. “One of these days I’m going to have words with Mr. Robertson about the hours George keeps.”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m just a little bit afraid of Grant, that’s all,” Mary confessed. “He seems to have some sort of hold over George, and I find him quite intimidating.”

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie exclaimed. “I didn’t much like him when I met him. I can see where you might find him intimidating.”

  “Never mind,” Mary said. “Let’s talk about something pleasant.”

  Bessie filled the lunch with all of the most interesting details from the box she was indexing. While she hadn’t found anything terribly exciting, she’d found a few documents that would add bits of knowledge to the island’s fascinating history. By the time their sweets arrived, Mary was looking more relaxed.

  “How are things in the new flat?” she asked Bessie as she dug into her sticky toffee pudding.

  “They’re fine, I suppose,” Bessie replied. “Do you remember Howard? He’s been dating Bahey.”

  “The very polite and handsome man who arrived with your friend? Yes, I remember him.”

  “Well, he seems to have disappeared, although I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

  Mary frowned. “When did this happen?” she asked.

  “I gather, from what Bahey said, that he was perfectly normal last night but gone this morning,” Bessie replied.

  “George got a phone call around midnight or even later last night,” Mary told her. “I only heard his side of it, but I heard him mention ‘Seaside Terrace’ and something about ‘sorting out that problem once and for all.’ I don’t know what it all meant, but it makes me worried for your friend.”

  Bessie sipped her tea, grateful that she’d finished her profiteroles before Mary had spoken. She felt as if she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

  “It might be nothing,” Mary said. “George went out for a short while after the call, but he was back this morning. He didn’t seem upset or worried, well, not any more than normal.”

  Bessie patted her friend’s hand. “I’m sure whatever George was dealing with had nothing to do with Howard, but I might just have a word with a friend, just in case.”

  “A friend like Inspector Rockwell,” Mary guessed.

  “Except he’s not on the island at the moment,” Bessie said. “I’ll have to settle for the next best thing.”

  After lunch, Bessie reluctantly returned her box of documents to Marjorie and headed out of the museum. The nearest police station was only a short walk away. Once there, she asked for Inspector Corkill.

  “He works out of the main station,” the girl behind the counter explained. “Would you like to go to him or should I ask him to come to you?”

  “As I don’t have a car, I’d rather he came to me, if it isn’t too much bother for him,” Bessie replied.

  “I’ll ring him and ask.”

  It seemed only a few minutes later, just as Bessie was getting absorbed in the paperback she had tucked in her handbag, that the inspector appeared.

  “Miss Cubbon, this is a pleasant surprise,” he greeted Bessie, his ever-present frown in place in spite of his words.

  “I just want a quick and informal word with you, if I may,” Bessie replied.

  The inspector showed her into a small room that was marked “Conference 1” on the door. An old and badly scratched wooden table sat in the middle of the room with five or six folding chairs arranged around it.

  “Sorry, this is about as luxurious as we get around here,” the inspector said, waving Bessie into a chair.

  “It’s fine,” Bessie replied. “I hope I won’t be here long.”

  “So what’s on your mind?” the man asked after he’d settled himself across the table from her.

  “Something strange has happened at Seaside Terrace. It may well be nothing, but I wanted to mention it to you in light of all of the other odd incidents.”

  Corkill frowned more deeply. “Go ahead.”

  “You remember meeting Howard Mayer, who lives in number twelve?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Well, he seems to have disappeared.”

  “How long has he been missing?”

  “I think I told you that he’s been dating my friend Bahey? She went to his flat this morning for breakfast and he wasn’t there.”

  Corkill glanced at his watch. “So about four or five hours?” he asked.

  Bessie shrugged. “About that,” she agreed. “But it’s out of character for him.”

>   “Have you tried ringing his mobile?”

  “He doesn’t have one,” Bessie said with a sigh.

  “Do you want to file a formal missing persons report?”

  “No,” Bessie said, shaking her head. “It’s possible he was just out somewhere or even that he’s gone across to see his daughter suddenly. Bahey doesn’t want to ring her and worry her in case he isn’t there.”

  “I can ring and have someone from the local force take a look, but I’d rather do that with an official report behind the request.”

  “Bahey wants to wait until tomorrow to do that,” Bessie explained. “She doesn’t want to embarrass Howard if there’s nothing wrong.”

  Corkill shrugged. “I’m not sure what you want me to do, then,” he said.

  Bessie sighed. “I don’t really want you to do anything,” she said, frustration evident in her tone. “I had lunch with Mary Quayle, and she said George had a weird phone call in the night and she thought it was something to do with Seaside Terrace. I guess I’m just a little bit worried, that’s all, and I wanted to talk to someone official, just in case.”

  To Bessie’s surprise, the inspector leaned over and patted her arm. “I understand your concerns,” he said. “And after everything that’s happened lately, I suspect there might be something going on at Seaside Terrace that could concern the police, but I don’t think your friend’s disappearance is part of that. I suspect he had a late-night call from his daughter and rushed off to see her without giving Bahey a thought, or something like that. I’ll stop by your flat tomorrow afternoon, and if he’s still missing, we can talk more.”

  “Thank you,” Bessie said, feeling foolish for having bothered the man. “As you say, it’s probably nothing.”

  On her walk home, though, she kept replaying his words about there being something happening at Seaside Terrace that might concern the police. Was he talking about the missing man or something else?

  Bessie checked her postbox when she got back to her flat and was surprised to find all of the letters from Monday and Tuesday had finally arrived. She shook her head. She hadn’t posted anything today, and now, with Howard’s disappearance, she wasn’t sure she cared very much about the delayed post.