Aunt Bessie Remembers

by Diana Xarissa

  Aunt Bessie Remembers

  An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery

  Diana Xarissa

  Text Copyright © 2018 Diana Xarissa

  Cover Photo Copyright © 2018 Kevin Moughtin

  All Rights Reserved

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Glossary of Terms

  Other Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Aunt Bessie Solves

  Also by Diana Xarissa

  About the Author

  For David and Catherine.

  Author’s Note

  I seem to be getting through the alphabet rather quickly now. For those of you who are new to the series, this is book eighteen, and the series is best read in order, alphabetically by the last word in the title. Each book is a complete story, but the characters do change and develop as the series progresses.

  Aunt Bessie first appeared in my romance Island Inheritance. Sadly, she’d just passed away in that book, so the cozy mysteries are set about fifteen years before the romance. (The first Bessie was set in April, 1998, and they have progressed monthly since then.)

  Those of you who read my Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy series will be familiar with Mona Kelly, the ghost who shares the main character’s apartment with her. I couldn’t resist having Mona make an appearance here, giving you a chance to see her when she was alive and well. I hope you enjoy her as much as I do.

  This is a work of fiction and the author has created all of the characters. Any resemblance that they may bear to real people, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The setting, the Isle of Man, is a real place, and the historical sites mentioned in this book are also real. The businesses within the story, however, are fictional and have been located where convenient for the story and not necessarily where any real businesses exist on the island. Any resemblance that they may bear to any real businesses is also coincidental.

  As the setting is the crown dependency of the Isle of Man, I use British English (and Manx) for spellings and terms throughout the book. I include a short glossary at the back for anyone who is unfamiliar with any of them. As I’ve lived in the US for many years now, I’m sure many Americanisms have snuck into my writing. I try to correct them if they are pointed out to me.

  I love hearing from readers. Please feel free to get in touch. All of my contact information is available at the back of the book.

  Chapter 1

  “You have to come and you have to convince John Rockwell to come as well,” Elizabeth Quayle said in a determined voice. “The party won’t be the same without you.”

  Bessie Cubbon frowned at the pretty blonde girl. “I don’t have to do anything,” she replied tartly, “and I have no intention of trying to make John do anything, either.”

  Elizabeth sighed dramatically. “I know you don’t have to, but I’d be ever so grateful. I planned the whole thing around your being there, you know. And John is meant to be the star of the whole show. I really need him there.”

  Bessie counted slowly to ten before she said anything further. She’d known Elizabeth for long enough to know that the girl was spoiled, capricious, and impulsive. She was also sweet and kind, and Bessie knew she was trying hard to establish her party planning business on the island. She’d already tried three or four different universities and had dropped out of all of them. Bessie knew Elizabeth’s mother, Mary, was really hoping that Elizabeth would actually stick to the new business and make a success of it. While Mary and her husband, George, had a great deal of money, they didn’t plan to support Elizabeth financially forever.

  “Start over,” Bessie said eventually. “I don’t really remember you even mentioning this party before today.”

  “I told you all about it last month,” Elizabeth protested. “Well, maybe not all about it, but I’m sure I mentioned it.”

  Bessie was far less certain of that. She was fairly sure she would remember any party invitations that had come her way. “As I said, I don’t recall discussing it. Tell me everything.”

  “The party is on Saturday,” Elizabeth began.

  “This Saturday? It’s already Thursday,” Bessie gasped.

  “I know. That’s why I came down to talk to you. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about the party.”

  “If we did discuss it, I don’t believe you ever gave me a date for the event,” Bessie replied. “I always put such things on the calendar in my kitchen and there’s nothing on it for this weekend.”

  “Well, anyway, it’s this Saturday,” Elizabeth continued, unconcerned. “It’s a murder mystery dinner party. The whole concept is simply huge in America, I understand. I thought it would be fun to try it here. I’ve arranged for someone from across to come over. She runs these events in London. Some of my friends have been to similar evenings and they’ve all raved about how much fun they are.”

  “A murder mystery dinner?” Bessie echoed.

  “Yes, exactly. Everyone gets a part to play and it’s meant to be really exciting. At some point during dinner, the lights all go out, and the person playing the murderer has to go and pretend to kill the victim. When the lights come back on, the detective is summoned and everyone is questioned. It’s meant to be great fun.”

  “It doesn’t sound fun at all,” Bessie said flatly. “I’ve been involved in far too many real murder investigations to think that a pretend one would be enjoyable in any way.”

  “But that’s just it. It’s fun because it’s all pretend. By the end of the evening, the murder is solved and the victim gets up and goes home. I’ve been tangled up in a real murder investigation, too, but this isn’t really anything like that.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but I don’t think it’s something I would enjoy,” Bessie said firmly.

  “Mum said you wouldn’t want to come,” Elizabeth replied sadly, “but I thought it would be so much more interesting with you there. After all of your experiences over the past eighteen months or so, I just know you’d solve our little pretend crime in no time at all.”

  Bessie almost smiled at the girl’s obvious attempt at flattering her. She had been caught up in a great many murder cases recently, that much was true, but through no fault of her own. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t think it’s for me,” she told Elizabeth.

  “I shall have to cancel the whole thing, I imagine,” Elizabeth sighed. “Everyone will be so disappointed. I’ve a dozen friends coming over from across, and Mum has invited several of her friends as well. She doesn’t have many friends, so she was really looking forward to getting them all together.”

  And now she’s trying to blackmail me into it, Bessie thought. “I can’t see why you’d have to cancel just because I don’t want to attend.”

  “As I said, it simply won’t be the same without you,” Elizabeth sighed.

  This discussion had not been in Bessie’s plans for this morning. She’d been woken at six by an internal alarm that was nearly always accurate. After a shower, she’d made her way out onto Laxey Beach, where the small cottage she’d purchased when she was eighteen was situated. For more years than she wanted to add up, Bessie had taken a walk on the beach every morning, and it was a habit she planned to continue for as long as she was able.

  As it was August, the holiday cottages that stretched along the beach beyond
Bessie’s cottage were full to capacity. Luckily for Bessie, very few of the occupants were awake at half six in the morning. Bessie had had the beach to herself as she’d strolled past the cottages and then past the stairs to Thie yn Traie, the huge mansion perched on the cliff above the beach. She’d kept walking for several more minutes, enjoying the peace and solitude as she’d meandered along the water’s edge.

  Now that the cottages were busy with holidaymakers, Bessie often preferred to walk before breakfast, to give herself extra time while the beach was still empty. When her stomach had begun to protest that decision, Bessie had turned back towards home. She’d been approaching the stairs to Thie yn Traie when Elizabeth had appeared, racing down the steps in an unsafe fashion.

  Now Bessie gave the girl a stern look. “You can’t order, flatter, or bribe me into coming,” she said firmly. “I’m sure it will be a lovely party, but it isn’t the sort of thing in which I have any interest in taking part. I will mention it to John Rockwell, if you’d like, but I can’t see him being interested either.”

  “Oh, but we have to have a proper police inspector,” Elizabeth wailed. “It simply won’t work without an inspector. I’ll pay him, if you think that would help.”

  “I don’t,” Bessie said.

  “I thought you wanted to help me with my business,” Elizabeth said. “This is just the sort of thing I need to do to get it off the ground.”

  “I’m not sure I understand that,” Bessie replied coolly. She felt as if she’d done quite a lot to support the girl’s new business already, actually.

  Elizabeth sighed and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrible. You’ve been incredibly helpful, and I wouldn’t be as far as I am without everything you’ve done. I’m just frustrated. I was sure I’d talked to you about the mystery evening, but now I think I must have imagined the entire conversation.”

  “Really?”

  “I do that a lot, actually,” Elizabeth said sheepishly. “I plan everything I want to say to someone and mentally rehearse exactly how the conversation is going to go, and by the time I’ve done that a dozen times, I start to think that I’ve had the conversation, even when I haven’t. I usually only do it with Mum, but sometimes I do it with other people as well.”

  Bessie hid a smile. “I am sorry that you didn’t talk to me about this earlier. I could have told you that I wasn’t interested in attending then, and saved you planning for my being there.”

  “The whole thing is just meant to be a trial event, anyway,” Elizabeth told her. “I’m paying the woman from across to come and teach me how to run murder mystery evenings, you see. That’s why it’s all going to be my friends and my mother’s friends at the event, rather than anyone else. I know my mother was really hoping you’d be there, though.”

  Bessie knew Mary well enough to know that Elizabeth was telling the truth about that, anyway. “I’m sorry, but I have been involved in too many real murders to want to spend an evening pretending to do the same. I suspect John will feel the same way. Murder is a sad and serious business; it isn’t a game.”

  “But you enjoy reading about fictional murders,” Elizabeth pointed out. “This is much the same thing. Instead of reading a book, you’re simply in the middle of it, like a play where the audience is involved.”

  While she did enjoy reading mystery novels a great deal, the event Elizabeth was proposing didn’t seem the same thing at all. “I’m sorry,” Bessie repeated herself, “but I’m not coming.”

  She said the same thing to Mary a few hours later when Mary rang her. They were the first words out of Bessie’s mouth when she recognised the other woman’s voice.

  Mary laughed. “I haven’t actually invited you anywhere yet,” she said.

  Bessie sighed. “I’m sorry. I simply assumed that you were ringing about this party that Elizabeth is having, the murder mystery evening. I told Elizabeth that I wasn’t coming, and I assumed she’d asked you to ring me and try to get me to change my mind.”

  “She did ask me to do just that,” Mary replied, “but I told her I wouldn’t. I think the whole thing is a ghastly idea, and I’d be much happier if she’d simply cancel it, but having been told that, now she’s even more determined to make it happen.”

  “Oh, dear,” Bessie sighed.

  “I was hoping you might be willing to come over to Thie yn Traie on Saturday evening to keep me company,” Mary continued. “I’ve told Elizabeth that I won’t be taking part in her little game, but I suspect most of the guests I’ve invited will be happy to join in. I thought you might come over and sit with me in the study or something while the others are playing detective.”

  “I’m quite sure Elizabeth will try to persuade us both to participate.”

  “She won’t,” Mary assured her. “I’ve had a long talk with her and she understands why we don’t want to take part. She’s promised to be on her best behaviour and let us simply enjoy the food and drinks before slipping away when the game begins.”

  “I don’t know,” Bessie said slowly.

  “Andy is doing the catering,” Mary told her. “I’m sure the food will be amazing.”

  Bessie grinned. Mary had just said the one thing that actually tempted her to agree. Andy Caine was only on the island for a short while on a break from culinary school. He was already an excellent chef and his puddings were the best Bessie had ever tasted. He’d stayed with Bessie for a few days recently and she’d been quite spoiled by his cooking and baking. A chance to eat his food again might make a trip to Thie yn Traie worthwhile, as long as she wasn’t expected to take part in Elizabeth’s event. “That’s tempting,” she admitted to Mary.

  “He’s been helping out here, as our regular chef has had some medical issues. He and Elizabeth are, well, I’m not sure what they are, but they seem to like one another. Anyway, he’s going to prepare a full sit-down dinner and an amazing pudding for Saturday night. He’s going to be taking part in the mystery evening as well, I understand.”

  “I don’t know,” Bessie said after a moment. “I still feel uncomfortable with the whole idea.”

  “I know. I do as well, but Elizabeth is convinced that these sorts of parties are going to be very popular, and this is her chance to be the first on the island to offer them. Apparently, they can be used by corporations for team-building exercises and they’re popular for stag and hen nights across, among other things. At least that’s what Elizabeth has been telling me.”

  “I still think it’s a very odd way to spend an evening, but I’ll give some thought to coming, just to spend some time with you.”

  When she put down the phone, Bessie frowned at it. She’d promised Elizabeth that she’d ring John Rockwell on her behalf, but she’d been putting it off. There was no time like the present, she told herself as she picked the phone back up again.

  “Laxey neighbourhood policing, this is Doona. How may I help you?” a familiar voice came down the line.

  “It’s Bessie. Is it possible that John is free?” Bessie asked her closest friend.

  “You know you can ring him on his direct line,” Doona replied.

  “Yes, but I don’t want to interrupt anything important.” This way, there was a chance she might not be able to speak to him, and if she were really lucky, he might be tied up until some time on Sunday, when it would be far too late.

  “He’s doing paperwork. I’m sure he’ll be grateful for the interruption,” Doona laughed. She put Bessie on hold. John answered only a moment later.

  “Good morning, Bessie. What can I do for you?” he asked in a cheerful voice.

  “Good morning. How are you?”

  “I’m doing well. The children and I had a wonderful time in Barcelona and now we’re trying to work out somewhere else we could go for a few days before the summer is over. We’re also trying to work out what’s going to happen in September, but that’s another story.”

  John and his wife, Sue, had recently divorced. Sue had moved back to Manchester with the
ir two children, Thomas and Amy. When she’d remarried in July, she and her new husband, Harvey, had gone to Africa for an extended trip. Harvey was a doctor, and the trip was designed to give him a chance to help people in a developing country. While it wasn’t the sort of honeymoon Bessie thought she’d fancy, it seemed a kind thing to do. While Sue and Harvey were away, John was looking after Thomas and Amy. Bessie was delighted that the children seemed to be enjoying the island and the time with their father. She knew that John had missed them terribly when they were in Manchester.

  “When does Sue get back?”

  “That’s a good question,” John sighed. “It was going to be late September, but when she rang the kids the other night she said something about the first week of October. She doesn’t seem to realise that the kids need to be settled into schools somewhere well before then. You didn’t ring to hear me complain about my ex-wife, though. What can I do for you?”

  “I promised Elizabeth Quayle that I would ask you about something, but I’m not trying to talk you into attending in any way,” Bessie prefaced her remarks.

  “That sounds interesting already,” John laughed.

  “She’s having a sort of murder mystery evening,” Bessie explained, “and she wants you to attend. Apparently, having a real police inspector there is desirable.”

  “When?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Saturday, as in the day after tomorrow? I’m sorry, but even if I wanted to go, it’s far too short notice. I’m actually working on Saturday morning and I’m on call for the evening. We’re a little short on staff at the moment, you see.”