Aunt Bessie Observes (An Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Book 15)

by Diana Xarissa

  Joan frowned and pressed her lips together, but didn’t speak. The threesome walked a bit further before Joan glanced at her watch.

  “I think we should turn around,” she said, obviously reluctantly. “I don’t want the shortbread to burn.”

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone is home in the last holiday cottage,” Janet said as they made their way back down the beach.

  “So?” Joan asked.

  “So maybe I can peek in the window,” Janet giggled. “I really want to see the bedroom the man was complaining about.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Joan snapped. “Someone could be in there, fast asleep.”

  “None of the curtains are shut, except the ones in the last bedroom,” Janet pointed out.

  “That’s the Las Vegas room,” Bessie told her.

  “There’s a gap in them,” Janet said. “A big enough gap for me to get a little peek, anyway.”

  “There’s a blinking neon sign that says ‘Las Vegas’ on the wall,” Bessie told her. “That appears to be on, anyway.”

  Janet laughed. “I really can’t wait to see this,” she said. She crossed the beach in just a few steps and then tiptoed up to the window. Bessie and Joan watched as she peered in through the gap in the curtains. A moment later she rejoined the others, her face devoid of colour.

  “What’s wrong?” Joan demanded. “There was someone in there, wasn’t there?”

  Janet nodded and then swallowed hard. “And I think he might be dead,” she whispered.

  Joan sighed. “No doubt the poor man is trying to sleep. I’m surprised he didn’t shout at you when you stuck your head in his window.”

  “He doesn’t look as if he’s trying to sleep,” Janet said quietly.

  Bessie looked at Janet’s face and swallowed a deep sigh. Janet looked far too unsettled by what she’d seen. “I’m going to have a look,” she told the sisters. Although she felt as if she was dragging her feet as she crossed the beach, Bessie arrived at the window much more quickly than she wanted to. Plucking up her courage, she peered through the small gap in the curtains.

  The gaudy neon light flashed off and on continually, garishly illuminating the man on the bed. At first glance, he did appear to be sleeping, but the longer Bessie studied him the more obvious it became that he was dead, although Bessie wasn’t sure why she was so certain about that. Perhaps it had something to do with the odd positions of his legs. Bessie shook her head. It didn’t matter why she knew he was dead. She needed to ring the police.

  “I’m going back to my cottage to ring John Rockwell,” she told Janet and Joan. “He’s a CID inspector with the local constabulary and the very best person to handle this.”

  “He’s really dead?” Janet asked.

  “I believe so,” Bessie replied. “You two should stay here and make sure that no one goes into that cottage,” she instructed them.

  “I don’t think…” Janet began, but Joan interrupted.

  “That’s fine. We’ll stand guard. You go and ring your inspector friend.”

  “I wish I’d brought my mobile with us to dinner,” Bessie added. “I think I left it on the counter in my cottage.”

  Bessie hurried back to Treoghe Bwaane and quickly found John’s mobile number.

  “Hello?”

  “John, it’s Bessie. I was walking on the beach and, well, I think my friend has found a dead body.”

  “On the beach?”

  “No, in one of the holiday cottages.”

  “One of the holiday cottages? I’ll have the nearest constable there in five minutes and I’ll be as close behind him as I can be. Don’t let anyone into the cottage in question. Which one is it?”

  “The very last one, closest to Thie yn Traie,” Bessie told him.

  “I’ll see you there in ten minutes or less,” John promised. “If you think you’re in any danger, stay in your cottage until the constable arrives.”

  “My friends are still out on the beach,” Bessie said. “I’ll go and wait with them.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  As Bessie started back towards her friends, she could hear someone shouting in the distance. She picked up her pace and pulled out her mobile phone, which she’d grabbed off the counter. She was ready to ring 999 if she needed to, but as she got closer to the Markhams, she relaxed. It was just Maggie Shimmin who was shouting at them.

  “It’s my cottage and I’ve every right to go inside if I want to,” Maggie said loudly.

  “I’m sorry, but Bessie said we mustn’t let anyone in,” Joan said in a firm but calm voice.

  “Bessie isn’t in charge of this beach, no matter what she might think,” Maggie shouted back.

  “Bessie has rung the police,” Bessie interjected. “You can fight with John Rockwell about access to the cottage.”

  Maggie spun around and glared at Bessie. “I don’t know what’s going on here. Why have you rung for the police? This is my cottage.”

  Bessie glanced at Joan, who shrugged. “She was walking up towards the cottage and I stopped her and said she couldn’t go in. She didn’t ask for an explanation, she just started shouting at us.”

  Janet, her face still unnaturally pale, nodded. “We would have explained if she’d let us,” she added.

  “Bessie, what is going on?” Maggie demanded.

  “We were out for a stroll and when we walked past this cottage, I told my friends about how it had an international theme. Janet wanted a peek at the décor, so she had a look through the window there.” Bessie pointed to the window where the neon light was still casting its eerie flickering glow.

  “It’s a good thing the guests in that cottage moved to a different one, then,” Maggie said. “I can’t imagine they’d have appreciated having someone staring in their window.”

  “The guests from that cottage moved?” Bessie asked.

  “Yes, er, I mean, they weren’t fans of the theme,” Maggie said defensively. “Some people don’t appreciate the finer things in life. Anyway, as they didn’t care for this cottage, we moved them to another one where we’d had a last-minute cancellation. They were lucky to get that, although they didn’t seem the least bit grateful.”

  Bessie nodded. “Well, there’s someone in this cottage,” she told Maggie. “He’s lying on the bed in the Las Vegas bedroom and he looks as if he might be dead.”

  “Dead? In my cottage? What was he doing in there? The cottage is meant to be empty. Don’t tell me someone broke into the cottage and had a heart attack or something. I need Thomas. He’s meant to deal with this sort of thing. Dead? Are you quite sure?”

  “I’ve rung John to come and have a look,” Bessie told her. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  Maggie pulled her mobile phone out of her bag and walked a few steps away from Bessie and the others. She quickly began shouting down the phone at Thomas. Bessie took a few steps away from the woman and then sighed with relief as she spotted a uniformed police constable making his way down the beach towards them.

  “Bessie? What’s going on?” Hugh Watterson asked.

  Bessie gave the tall, dark-haired man a hug before she replied. Now that he was there, she felt much better. “Hugh, I didn’t know you were working nights,” she exclaimed.

  “The pay is better for nights,” he explained. “We’ve just about saved enough for the deposit on the house we want, but every extra penny will help.”

  Bessie nodded. She knew that the newly married man and his schoolteacher bride were doing everything they could to save money to buy their first home together. Now she introduced him to Janet and Joan.

  “Even though he only looks fifteen,” Bessie told the sisters, “Hugh is an excellent police constable and a dear friend.”

  Hugh blushed at her words. “I’m learning all the time,” he told the sisters. “Inspector Rockwell spends a lot of his time and effort training all of us in investigative techniques.”

  “He should be here any minute now,” Bessie said.

 
“The dispatcher said that you thought you’d found a body,” Hugh said.

  “There’s someone in the bedroom of that cottage,” Bessie explained. “He’s lying in a very odd position, and Maggie said that the cottage is meant to be unoccupied, anyway.”

  Hugh nodded and then walked over to the cottage window and looked inside. After a moment he rejoined Bessie and the sisters. “I’m not sure I understand why the walls are red and the only lighting is that flashing neon sign, but you’re right, the man on the bed does appear to be dead.”

  Maggie stopped shouting and dropped her phone into her bag. “I’m going to have a look,” she announced loudly. She stomped across the sand with Hugh on her heels.

  “Don’t touch anything,” he told her as she reached the window.

  “Humph,” Maggie said. Bessie watched as the woman stared for a considerable amount of time through the window. When she stepped backwards, Maggie looked stunned.

  “He’s dead,” she gasped. “In my cottage. In the bed we just bought. In the room we just decorated. He’s dead.”

  Hugh led her away from the window. “Just take a few deep breaths,” he said soothingly. “The inspector will be here soon. He’ll want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Maggie said shrilly. “I want to go home and go to bed.”

  “I’m sorry, but as the owner of the property, I’m going to have to ask you to stay,” Hugh replied.

  “I won’t,” Maggie snapped. “I won’t. I can’t. I just…” she trailed off and burst into tears.

  Bessie dug around in her handbag for a packet of tissues. Joan beat her to it.

  “Here, now,” Joan said, handing Maggie a tissue. “You’ve had a shock, that’s all. As soon as we’ve all spoken to the police, you should come back to our cottage for tea and shortbread.”

  “Tea? I need something considerably stronger than tea,” Maggie told her.

  “The shortbread,” Joan exclaimed. “It will be burnt to a crisp. I need to go and get it out of the oven.”

  Hugh frowned. “I’m not meant to let anyone leave.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Joan told him. “I’m just going to go and pull the tray of shortbread out of the oven. I’ll come right back. Surely that’s better than having to deal with the fire that will start if I don’t get that tray out of the oven soon.”

  After a moment, Hugh nodded. “Which cottage are you in?”

  “The last one in the row,” Joan told him.

  “I’ll let you go, as we really don’t want to deal with a fire tonight as well, but you must come straight back and you mustn’t ring anyone while you’re gone,” Hugh said.

  “Fine, fine,” Joan agreed. She headed off down the beach at a rapid pace.

  “I don’t think she’s burned anything in the last fifty years,” Janet said softly. “She’ll be terribly upset if the shortbread is ruined.”

  “Hopefully, the oven was on a low enough temperature that the shortbread was able to tolerate some extra time,” Bessie said. She baked shortbread regularly and had been known to leave it in well past its proper time. She hadn’t burned anything in many years either, although many times that was more down to luck than anything else.

  With nothing else to do, everyone on the beach watched Joan as she made her way back to the sisters’ cottage. She was on her way back when Bessie spotted John Rockwell walking towards them. John was tall as well, with brown hair and stunning green eyes. He’d lost some weight during the stress of a recent divorce, but Bessie thought, as she watched him approach, that he was looking less gaunt lately. He was a handsome man, and Bessie knew he was kind, smart, and clever as well.

  John caught up to Joan and the pair had a short conversation before they continued back to the others.

  “Good evening,” John said when he stopped in front of Bessie. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m John Rockwell, Laxey CID.” He looked over at Hugh. “Do we need an ambulance?” he asked.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t believe so,” Hugh replied. John frowned and looked at Bessie.

  She quickly introduced the man to Janet and Joan. “Bessie told me how much she’s been looking forward to your visit,” John said. “It’s had an unfortunate beginning, though, hasn’t it?”

  Janet nodded. “I just wanted to see what the themed cottage was like inside,” she said quietly.

  John turned and studied the cottage. “All of the curtains are shut,” he said. “Mrs. Shimmin, what can you tell me about the guests currently staying in this cottage?”

  “That’s just it,” Maggie replied. “No one is staying in this cottage. We had guests booked in here, but when they arrived, they, well, they didn’t like the themed décor, so we moved them to another cottage.”

  “What time was that?” John asked.

  Maggie frowned. “Thomas took care of it all himself. It was before he came home for dinner, though, I know that much. He’s on his way. You can ask him yourself.”

  John nodded. “I’ll just take a look, then, and see what we have.”

  Bessie felt as if she was holding her breath as the man crossed to the cottage. Even though she was certain the man in the bedroom was dead, there was still a part of her that was hoping that they were all wrong and that John would find the man simply sleeping. When he turned back from the window, Bessie felt her heart sink. Clearly he’d reached the same conclusion that she had when he saw the man on the bed.

  John rang someone before rejoining the others. “I have a crime scene team on the way,” he said. “At this point, I’ve no idea what happened to the man in that room, but I’m going to treat the cottage as a crime scene until I’m told otherwise.”

  “But we have guests arriving in the morning who are expecting to stay there,” Maggie said. “I have to get in and make sure the cottage is ready for them.”

  “No one is going to be staying there tomorrow,” John said firmly. “I suspect that cottage will be off-limits for at least three or four days.”

  “Three or four days?” Maggie snapped. “What are we going to tell our guests? And will the Isle of Man Constabulary reimburse us for lost income? Do you know how much these cottages rent for, Inspector? This is going to cost us a great deal in lost income, and potentially a good deal more in damage to our reputation if we have to turn guests away.”

  “I’m very sorry,” John said.

  “Sorry doesn’t pay our bills,” Maggie shrieked. “Or placate angry guests. What are we meant to do about that?”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” Thomas Shimmin said smoothly, taking Maggie’s hand as he joined the group on the beach. “Whatever has happened to the poor man in the cottage, Maggie and I will do everything we can to assist the police in their investigation.”

  “But we have guests arriving tomorrow who’ve booked this cottage,” Maggie snapped.

  “Yes, and we’ll have to help them make alternative arrangements,” Thomas said. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find somewhere else for them to stay. The island isn’t full to capacity at the moment.”

  “But…” Maggie began, but Thomas gently covered her lips with his hand.

  “I know you’re upset,” he said softly. “But we can’t change the situation. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

  Maggie frowned and didn’t reply. A moment later, Bessie could see a man walking down from the car park. John walked up the beach to meet him. After a short conversation, John returned.

  “We’re going to have to try bringing one of the police vans down to the beach,” he told Thomas. “Do you know if there is any better access than down from the car park for the cottages?”

  “There’s an access road between this cottage and Thie yn Traie,” Thomas told him. “I can show someone.”

  John had Hugh walk Thomas to the car park to direct the crime scene team to the road. Bessie, Janet, Joan, and Maggie all stood back and watched as a van and several cars made their way down from the access road.

 
“It isn’t too bad for driving on,” Maggie told the others. “We used it a lot when we were redecorating this cottage. It’s far enough from the water that it doesn’t get covered in fresh sand unless there’s a storm.”

  When everyone was in place, John had Thomas walk with him to the cottage’s front door. Thomas had a key in his hand, but when John pushed on the door, it swung open.

  “Those people who complained didn’t lock up properly when they left,” Maggie said angrily.

  “Pardon me, but what the devil is going on?” a voice said suddenly.

  Bessie jumped and then turned to look at the young man who was standing there, staring curiously at the cottage that John had just entered.

  “We aren’t entirely sure,” Maggie said quickly. “It appears that the cottage may have been left unlocked, or perhaps it was broken into. It’s meant to be empty, you see, but there’s someone in there. That’s why the police are here.”

  The man frowned. “Broken into? That’s a worrying thought. I just assumed the island was a safe place for a holiday. Are these cottages broken into regularly?”

  “Not at all,” Maggie said quickly. “In fact, this is the first time we’ve had to have the police down here, ever. I’m sure it will turn out to be nothing at all.”

  “Seems like a lot of police for just a simple break-in,” the man said.

  “As I said, there’s someone in the cottage,” Maggie replied. “And he may be hurt or something.”

  “Or something?” the man echoed.

  “Hopefully, it will turn out to be nothing,” Maggie said. “We will try to keep everything out here as quiet as possible. I’m sure most of our guests are trying to sleep now.”

  “Yes, we were,” the man said. “With the windows open so that we could enjoy the sea air. I’m not sure that I want the windows open, not if people are breaking into the cottages.”

  “No one will be breaking in tonight,” Bessie said. “Not with a dozen police constables on the beach.”

  The man looked at the crowd gathered around the cottage again and then nodded. “We should be safe for tonight,” he agreed. “Maybe tomorrow we should look for alternate accommodations.”

  “I live just down the beach from here,” Bessie told him. “I’ve lived in my cottage since I was eighteen and I’ve never worried about my safety.” Except when I’ve been in the middle of murder investigations, she added to herself.