Aunt Bessie Invites (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 9)

by Diana Xarissa

“I am, a bit,” Doona admitted. “But I’m also hungry.” Doona opened her boot and handed Bessie a large bag, the contents of which smelled delicious.

  “You put the food in your boot?” Bessie questioned.

  “If I hadn’t, there wouldn’t be any chips left to go with the fish,” Doona told her.

  Inside the cottage, Bessie got down plates and the pair quickly filled them with the battered fish and thick and salty chips. Bessie handed Doona a fizzy drink and then sat down with one for herself. They ate in silence for several minutes.

  “That was gorgeous,” Bessie said when her plate was empty.

  “It was very nice,” Doona agreed. “But I didn’t bring a pudding.”

  “How about an apple?” Bessie suggested. “After that meal, we should have something healthy.”

  Doona made a face and then laughed. “You’re right, and I agree, as long as I can have a few biscuits with it.”

  Bessie handed her friend an apple and then put chocolate biscuits on a plate. She switched the kettle on and then sat back down with her own piece of fruit.

  “So I met with my solicitor,” Doona said after a moment. “Things are still in a state of confusion, really. The accounts of the company that Charles was a partner in are being very closely examined. It’s clear that Lawrence Jenkins was manipulating the books, but no one is certain who knew about it. Charles isn’t around to defend himself, of course. Anyway, there is a lot of money tied up in the company, but no one can touch it until the police and the inland revenue finish their investigation.”

  “What a mess,” Bessie said, shaking her head. “Do you have enough money to pay the solicitor? I can always help you out…” she trailed off when Doona held up a hand.

  “I’m fine,” she told Bessie. “In fact, I’m more than fine. Charles had several life insurance policies and he had me listed as the beneficiary on all of them. Only one has paid out so far, but the solicitor brought me a cheque for almost fifty thousand pounds.”

  “Well, my goodness,” Bessie exclaimed.

  “Exactly,” Doona said. “I don’t really feel as if I should accept the money, as we were only together for such a short time.”

  “Of course you should take the money,” Bessie said firmly. “If you don’t take it, where would it go?”

  “I suppose to his relatives in New Zealand that he’d never met,” Doona said.

  “Well, there you are. You knew him and even loved him, if only for a short time.”

  “I loved for a long time,” Doona said sadly. “It was only recently that I started feeling like I wasn’t still in love with him.”

  “So the money is yours. What will you do with your sudden windfall?”

  “I think I’ll pay down my mortgage, at least a little bit,” Doona said. “And maybe do up the house some, as well. I don’t really know. It isn’t enough that I can quit my job and just go travelling or anything, although if the solicitor is to be believed, I might be in line for considerably more once everything is settled.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Bessie said. “But I think you’re sensible to not count on it.”

  “I’m definitely not counting on it,” Doona replied. “But I will admit to indulging in the odd fantasy about it now and then.”

  Bessie laughed. Doona was looking better and sounding happier than she had in some time. “Nothing wrong with a good fantasy or two,” she said.

  The pair tidied up the kitchen and then took a long walk on the beach. It was chilly and dark, but they each took a torch and enjoyed the peacefulness as they walked along listening to the waves splashing onto the shore.

  “There are lights on in Thie yn Traie,” Bessie said when they’d reached the stairs to the mansion above them.

  “When Doncan and I were chatting tonight before the solicitor arrived, he mentioned that someone was seriously considering purchasing the place,” Doona told her. “He said something about them staying there for the weekend to see how they liked it.”

  “That’s interesting,” Bessie said thoughtfully. “I do hope they like it enough to buy it.”

  “I’d better get home,” Doona said when they returned to the cottage. “Are you going to the auction tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bessie said. “I’ve given the auction company my maximum bid for the painting. I’m not sure I could stand it, sitting there and watching it get sold. If my bid is the highest, I’ll be thrilled, but if it isn’t, I’ll just have to be happy with having the view.”

  Doona nodded. “I might go,” she told her friend. “I understand there are a lot of different items going under the hammer, including televisions, jewellery, furniture and appliances. Now I have some unexpected money to spend, maybe I can get something special.”

  Bessie bit back all the words of caution and warning that sprang to her lips. “I hope you find something perfect,” she told her friend.

  “Me, too,” Doona said.

  Bessie locked the door behind her and then did a final check of the kitchen. She was just about to switch off the ringer on her phone when the phone rang.

  “Hello?” she said, curious who would be ringing so late and hoping it wasn’t an insurance salesman.

  “Bessie? It’s Fenella Faragher. We’ve been so busy with the police and everything that Eoin and I forgot all about your turkeys. Or rather, we forgot to have you back to see them. I don’t suppose you’d be free tomorrow? Only we need to get them ready, you understand, so tomorrow is about the deadline if you want to see them, well, while they’re still alive.”

  “I can come up tomorrow,” Bessie agreed. “What time?”

  They settled on two o’clock and Bessie headed up to bed with her mind racing. She hoped she would get to see both Eoin and Fenella; she had a great many questions for both of them.

  Chapter Eight

  Bessie woke up at six as normal. She took a shower and then, once dressed, headed out for her usual walk. Thie yn Traie was dark as she walked towards it. On the way back home, she saw Thomas Shimmin unpacking his car for another day of painting.

  “How is it all coming along?” she asked, having walked up the beach to greet him in the small car park for the holiday cottages.

  “It’s fine,” he replied. “I’ve finished a couple of the cottages, but it seems to be taking longer this year than it has in the past. I suppose I’m just getting slower as I get older.”

  “Maybe you should get someone in to help you out,” Bessie suggested.

  Thomas shrugged. “It isn’t like I’m in a hurry,” he said. “I’d like to have them all done before Christmas, but really, as long as they’re ready for our first bookings in the spring, I’ll be good.”

  “Just giving them all a coat of beige?” Bessie asked.

  “It isn’t beige,” he protested. “It’s ‘Soft Ivory Mist,’ or that’s what is says on the tins, anyway.”

  “So beige,” Bessie said with a laugh.

  “Yep, and don’t you start, too,” he told her.

  Bessie gave him a questioning look.

  “Oh, Maggie has been saying that we ought to paint the cottages with brighter and more interesting colours. She’s been watching some show on the telly where they change rooms all around and make them hideous, and now she wants to give each cottage a theme, whatever that means.”

  “Oh, my,” Bessie said. “Yet again, I don’t think I’m missing anything by not having a telly.”

  “I’d miss watching the football,” Thomas said. “But everything else just seems to put ideas in Maggie’s head. Fancy having one of the cottages all decorated in animal prints. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “Beige is lovely,” Bessie said with a laugh. “And you don’t have to worry about anyone complaining about it, either.”

  “Exactly,” Thomas replied. “Now if you could just convince Maggie of that, I’d be a happy man.”

  “I can try to have a chat with her at Thanksgiving,” Bessie suggested. “Although it’s going to be
an awfully busy day.”

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Thomas assured her. “Maggie can have all the crazy ideas she likes; it isn’t as if she’s going to actually do any of the work around here. Maybe, if I get the painting done early enough, I’ll let her redecorate one cottage and we’ll see how it goes. But I can promise you it won’t be filled with animal prints, that’s for sure.”

  “It will be interesting to see what Maggie comes up with,” Bessie said.

  “I’m not sure interesting is the right word,” Thomas replied.

  He headed into one of the cottages while Bessie continued on her way home. Once inside, she looked around her overcrowded kitchen. Every room in the cottage was the same, full of things she’d accumulated over an entire life lived within the same space. It would feel much more spacious if she’d cleared out most of the books, but that was something Bessie wasn’t prepared to even consider. She looked around again and then sighed. Her heirs would have quite a job to do to clear the place out after she’d gone.

  Her morning post brought a few photocopied sheets from Marjorie Stevens at the Manx Museum library. Bessie read the note that accompanied them.

  Bessie, I thought you might like to see what you could make of these copies of some of the oldest wills we have at the museum now that you’ve taken the course in reading old handwriting. There are four here and hundreds more at the museum if you enjoy the work. Let me know. Marjorie.

  Sitting down at her desk, Bessie looked over the copied sheets. At first glance they were completely indecipherable, but when she started to focus on one page, she began to pick out a few words here and there. Of course wills generally follow a standard format, which meant the first words of the documents should all be the same. Feeling as if she was working on a particularly complex puzzle, Bessie worked her way through the document, word by word, sometimes letter by letter, until she had a very rough transcription. She sat back with a happy sigh. When she glanced at the clock, she was shocked to find that it was past midday.

  “I haven’t had lunch,” she exclaimed. Her tummy rumbled back at her, and laughing to herself, she headed to the kitchen to remedy the situation. By the time she’d eaten and tidied up, she needed to get ready to go the Clague farm. Her taxi arrived right on time for the journey and she chatted easily with Dave as they made their way north.

  “I’ll have to ring when I’ve finished,” she told him when he dropped her off at the farmhouse. “I’ve no idea how long this will take.”

  Bessie walked to the door and knocked loudly. She was conscious that Dave was watching her, waiting until he was certain that someone was home before he drove away. That was just one of the reasons he was her favourite driver. After a few moments, the door swung open.

  “Fenella, how are you?” Bessie asked as she waved to Dave and entered the house.

  “Oh, fine,” Fenella muttered.

  Bessie looked hard at the woman. It didn’t look as if Fenella had slept since the last time Bessie had seen her. Her hair was pulled back into a messy plait and Bessie could see half a dozen pins sticking out of it at various angles. Bessie couldn’t resist giving the woman a quick hug. Fenella went rigid under the contact.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered as Bessie pulled back quickly. “I’m just not dealing very well with any of this.”

  “I’m sure finding the body was upsetting,” Bessie said in a soothing tone. “I do hope nothing else is bothering you.”

  Fenella shrugged. “I just hate not knowing what happened,” she said. Bessie could hear tears in the woman’s voice.

  “Did you know Jacob Conover?” Bessie asked.

  “Ah, Bessie, there you are,” Eoin’s voice boomed through the small entryway where they were still standing. “Sorry that you’ve had to come back. That dead man is causing no end of trouble.”

  Bessie smiled at the man as he joined them. “Hello, Eoin,” she said. He, too, looked tired, but Bessie wondered if he had more serious health problems than she’d realised. He was tall and he’d always been a somewhat imposing figure as he strode around the farm, but now he seemed to have shrunk somehow. His grey hair had thinned dramatically as well since Bessie had seen him last, only a year earlier.

  “I know,” he barked at her. “I look awful. Oh, you’re too polite to say it to my face, but I have a mirror, not that I spend any time looking in it, you know. Still, the doctors keep giving me medicines and saying they’ll fix me. I’m sure I felt better before they got their hands on me, but now I’m stuck with them.” He shook his head. “I know I can’t live forever, no matter what them doctors say.”

  “I hope you haven’t been too upset by the discovery of the body,” Bessie said.

  “Oh, I have enough of my own things to worry about without fretting over that,” Eoin told her. “But let’s go and see the birds, shall we?”

  “I’d love a quick chat with Fenella when we’re done,” Bessie said, glancing at the woman, even though she’d addressed the comment to Eoin.

  “Come on back up and we’ll have a cuppa,” Fenella offered. “It’s chilly out in the barns. You’ll want a hot drink anyway.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Eoin said. “I have to see to the cows next. Nothing gets done when I’m not there.”

  Bessie followed the man out the front door and down the short path to the road. He opened the door to the car that was parked there, and then when Bessie was safely tucked up inside, he walked around and climbed in the driver’s side.

  “Is this a new car?” Bessie asked as they drove slowly towards one of the barns.

  “Aye, it’s new for us, anyway,” Eoin replied. “I wanted something that would get me around in a bit more comfort. I’m getting too old for riding tractors everywhere.”

  Bessie nodded, remembering previous visits where Eoin, and before him Niall, would boost Bessie into a tractor for a scary and bumpy ride across the farm. In the last few years, Eoin had taken to driving small cars that struggled to get around the unpaved farm roads. This vehicle was much larger and far more comfortable, at least as far as Bessie was concerned.

  “Is Fenella very upset about the dead man?” Bessie asked as they waited for several sheep to move across the road.

  Eoin shrugged. “I don’t reckon either of us knew the man they think it was,” he told her. “I suppose that the body has been there for so long it feels sort of unreal or something.”

  “You don’t remember Jacob Conover?” Bessie asked.

  “Nope,” he replied. “I was working on the farm in those days, just as an assistant farmhand. I was far too busy up here working to socialise. I didn’t get into Laxey village more than once a month, and that was usually when I took things to the market. Really, I don’t remember much from those days. It was a long time ago, of course.”

  “I understand he was looking to buy a farm in the area,” Bessie said. “I thought maybe you met him when he came to look at the farm.”

  Eoin chuckled. “If he did have any idea of buying the farm, Niall would have set him straight pretty quick. There was no way Niall was ever going to sell the Clague farm to any one from across, that’s for sure.”

  “I wonder if Niall would remember him,” Bessie said thoughtfully.

  “He doesn’t remember his own name, most days,” Eoin told her. “As much as I hate being sick, I’d rather deal with my problems than his. His body is holding out much better than his mind. He can’t even remember how to feed himself some days. It’s a shame, really.”

  “It is,” Bessie agreed. “Perhaps I should pay him a visit. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

  “Don’t expect him to remember you,” Eoin warned her. “Although, you never know, he might. Or he might think you are your mother, if you look like her. He gets confused a lot.”

  Bessie pressed her lips together and sat back in her seat. She knew she did resemble her mother, but the thought wasn’t a pleasant one. Bessie had never forgiven her parents, blaming them for Matthew’s untimely death. Whe
n first her father and then her mother had died many years later, Bessie hadn’t spoken to either of them since the day she’d been told of Matthew’s passing. Now, after many more years had flown by, Bessie deeply regretted her behaviour, but, of course, she could do nothing to change the past.

  The last sheep finally decided to meander out of the way and Eoin pressed the accelerator. “Maybe we can get through before any of the others decide to take a walk,” he muttered as they crossed the large field.

  After another minute, he stopped in front of a large barn. “Careful of the mud,” he warned Bessie as he helped her from the car.

  Bessie took his arm and let him lead her into the barn. Inside, what looked like dozens or even hundreds of turkeys were busily eating and chasing one another around large pens.

  “I have your lot down here,” Eoin told Bessie. He led to the corner of the barn where five large birds were on their own in a small enclosure.

  “I thought I only asked for four,” Bessie said.

  “Aye, but I had a fifth that I thought would be ready early as well,” Eoin told her. “If you don’t want it, I’ll keep it for myself.”

  “I probably could use five,” Bessie replied. “There seem to be an awful lot of people coming to my dinner.”

  “And you’re happy with them all?” he asked.

  Bessie looked at the five birds and wondered what she was meant to be considering. They all looked fine to her, but then they always did. “I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” she said after a moment.

  Eoin nodded. “I’ll get you back up to the house, then, so you can have some tea with Fen.”

  They were nearly back to the farmhouse before Eoin spoke again. “I hope you won’t be talking to Fen about the body,” he said.

  Bessie opened her mouth and then closed it again. She had no idea how she wanted to respond. After a moment, Eoin continued.

  “She’s pretty upset, you see,” he told her. “I think she’s worried that her father, well, I suppose he had to know about it, didn’t he?”

  Bessie nodded slowly. “I suppose Niall may have known something about it,” she said. “But it’s also possible that he didn’t. Maybe Jacob, if that is who it is, got into a fight with one of the farmhands or something. He could have been killed accidently and the farmhand might have buried the body in the back of the barn.”