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

by Diana Xarissa

  Bessie sat back and tried to think. “What does that mean?” she asked after a moment.

  “I’ve no idea, but we’re hoping that by releasing the dead man’s identity we might learn more,” John told her.

  Bessie put the phone down and looked at the others. “The two men were staying at a bed and breakfast in Port Erin on their own. Neither had a wife with them.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Janet said. “The wife was the whole reason they came to the island in the first place.”

  “No, the wife was the excuse for why they came to the island,” Joan said.

  “Why did they need an excuse?” Janet asked. “Why not just say they were on holiday or that one of the men themselves had been ill?”

  “Perhaps they thought that the sick wife excuse sounded more credible or would get them more sympathy,” Bessie suggested.

  “But it would have been so easy for Agnes or anyone else to check the story and find that they were lying,” Janet argued.

  “But no one did,” Doona pointed out. “If you’re trying to organise a large charity event and two people with fundraising experience turn up on your doorstep and offer to help, the last thing you’re going to do is ring around the entire island, trying to work out if they’re who they claim to be.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Janet said thoughtfully. “And having met them, if someone did question them, they’d probably have been able to come up with some sort of excuse for why she was staying somewhere else on the island. They were very good at getting people to trust them.”

  “I wonder if either of them was actually married,” Bessie said.

  “You should ask John the next time you talk to him,” Doona suggested.

  “That’s probably better than bothering him again,” Bessie replied.

  The foursome chatted about the men in Joan and Janet’s lives while they had second helpings of crumble with tea. Eventually Doona looked at the clock and sighed.

  “I’m working the early shift tomorrow,” she said. “I’d better get home and get some sleep.”

  “We were all up far too late last night. I think I’m going to head home now, too,” Bessie told the sisters.

  Janet nodded and yawned. “I won’t argue. We all need some sleep.”

  Janet let Doona out while Bessie helped Joan with the washing-up. It didn’t take long, and once it was done, the sisters walked Bessie home the short distance across the sand.

  “Shall we be at the House of Mannanan when it opens at ten?” Bessie asked on her doorstep. “That will give up plenty of time to do the tour before the meeting at one.”

  “That sounds good,” Janet agreed. “How long does it take to get to Peel?”

  “About half an hour or a little more,” Bessie said. “Why don’t you come over around half eight for your pancakes. We can head out once we’ve eaten, whatever time it is.”

  With the arrangements for the next day made, Bessie locked her door behind her friends. Her cottage felt odd, almost musty, after an entire day away. Bessie spent a moment tidying an already perfectly tidy kitchen before heading up the stairs. Feeling as if her mind was racing with thought of charity fundraisers and dead and missing men, Bessie climbed into bed convinced that she’d never get to sleep. She was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow and she slept soundly until six.

  CHAPTER 6

  Bessie felt frustrated as she headed out for her morning walk. Police tape still stopped her from walking past the last of the holiday cottages. She really wanted a long walk this morning, but had to settle for a short stroll. The sun was already making the day feel warmer than the month had been so far, and Bessie knew that it wouldn’t be long before the beach would be full of holidaymakers from the cottages. In spite of the police tape, from what she could tell, most, if not all, of the cottages were occupied at the moment.

  Back at home, Bessie made up enough pancake batter for herself and her friends. With that job out of the way, she curled up with a book until Joan and Janet knocked on her door. As the sisters took seats at the kitchen table, Bessie started frying the bacon and heating the pan for the pancakes. It wasn’t long before she had breakfast ready for everyone.

  “I love pancakes,” Janet sighed happily. “Especially with maple syrup. We should have them once in a while at home,” she told Joan.

  “I shall need your recipe,” Joan told Bessie. “These are much better than any pancakes I’ve ever made.”

  “They’re very simple,” Bessie replied. “I’ll write it down for you now before I forget.”

  Janet insisted on taking care of the washing-up as Bessie wrote down her recipe. Now full of pancakes and bacon, the trio walked to the sisters’ car and headed out to Peel.

  “Someone told me that this road cuts right across the very centre of the island,” Janet said as they went.

  “It does,” Bessie agreed. “And Tynwald Hill is meant to be more or less in the very centre. I’m sure it isn’t exactly, but it’s close.”

  “Can we stop at Tynwald Hill?” Janet asked. “We’ve driven past it before, but we’ve never stopped. Are you allowed to walk up to it and take a look?”

  “You’re allowed to climb up it, if you want to,” Bessie told her. “They just ask that you use the stairs that are built into it, rather than climbing up the hill itself.”

  When they reached St. John’s, Bessie directed Joan to a small car park. Janet made her way up the hill while Joan read the signs before making the climb.

  “How many people do they fit on here on Tywald Day?” Janet asked. “I mean, I thought it would be bigger somehow.”

  Bessie smiled. “You’d be surprised how many people they can fit on here,” she told them. “Although some do sit around the base as well.”

  The rest of the drive to Peel didn’t take long and Bessie guided Joan through the winding streets to the car park for the House of Mannanan.

  “I love how the Viking ship seems to be sailing right through the window,” Janet said.

  “It’s sitting in real water,” Bessie told her. “Inside and out.”

  The women took a good look at the ship from outside the building before they made their way inside.

  “Ah, Bessie, bringing friends around our museum today?” the woman behind the ticket desk asked.

  “Yes, they’re friends of mine from across,” Bessie told her. “We’re actually meeting Agnes later for the meeting about the fundraiser on Thursday, as well.”

  “You are a busy woman, aren’t you?” the woman replied. “You’re giving a paper on Sunday, I believe.”

  “I am,” Bessie nodded. “But I’m not thinking about that so that I don’t get nervous.”

  The woman laughed. “I can’t imagine you getting nervous, not when you’re such an expert on the island’s wills. No one else has spent anywhere near as much time and effort on them.”

  “I don’t feel as if I’m an expert,” Bessie told her. “But I do appreciate your suggesting that I am one.”

  With their tickets in hand, the women started their tour. The first room of the museum was a reconstructed Celtic roundhouse, where the women sat and listened to folk stories being told by life-sized animatronic figures in front of a fire.

  “I’ve never been in a museum like this before,” Janet commented a few rooms later after they’d listened to a recording of a Viking man and his island-born wife talking about the upcoming harvest.

  “There are lots of interactive exhibits as well,” Bessie told her. “I think it does a wonderful job of bringing history to life.”

  An hour later, they walked through a recreated quayside, listening to fishermen call back and forth to one another. When they’d finished the tour and found themselves back in the spacious foyer, Janet grinned at Bessie.

  “I wish we’d had something like this for school trips when I was teaching. I’m sure the kids would have loved it, or at least liked it better than the sorts of places we dragged them around,” she said
.

  “We took them to very educational sites,” Joan protested.

  “Educational, but boring,” Janet retorted. “I love a stately home as much as anyone, but primary school children usually aren’t as enamoured of rooms full of old paintings and old furniture, not even when it’s historically significant. This felt like living and breathing history.”

  “It was very well done,” Joan admitted. “If a little theatrical.”

  “There’s an excellent pub next door,” Bessie interrupted the discussion before Janet could argue. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  “I’m a little bit worried about helping out with this event,” Joan said after they’d ordered. “We don’t know anyone on the island, so I’m not sure how much help we’ll be.”

  “We’ll have to see what sort of help Agnes needs,” Bessie replied. “Knowing her, she’s probably far more organised than she thinks she is. The situation has just upset her, that’s all.”

  “I can understand why,” Janet said. “I’m still unhappy about what happened last month in Doveby Dale. At least this time the charity won’t end up being cheated out of the money.”

  The trio ate cottage pie and sipped tea. When the waitress asked about pudding, Bessie shook her head.

  “They’re meant to be providing biscuits at the meeting,” Bessie told the others. “And when Manx National Heritage does that, they’re usually very generous, both in quantity and quality.”

  “I ate too much lunch, anyway,” Joan said. “I’ve no room for pudding or for any biscuits.”

  “I always have room for biscuits,” Janet laughed.

  They made their way back to the House of Mannanan, only a few minutes early for the meeting.

  “Bessie, you know your way around the educational wing,” the girl at the ticket desk called as they entered. “The meeting is in the conference room.”

  Agnes was sitting at the long table in the conference room when they arrived.

  “Ah, Bessie, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, getting to her feet. She gave Bessie a hug and then smiled and nodded at Janet and Joan as Bessie reintroduced them.

  “I just hope we’ll be able to help in some way,” Bessie told the woman.

  “I’m sure you will,” Agnes said. “I’m still trying to work out what’s actually been done and what hasn’t. That’s my biggest problem. Jonathan and Nathan kept offering to take little jobs off my hands, and, well, I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was happy to get rid of them.”

  “You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Bessie said firmly. “You work incredibly hard for Mannanan’s Kids all year around without any help. Of course you’d want to take advantage of volunteers when you had them.”

  “I don’t do it all myself anymore,” Agnes said. “Nicola has taken over a lot of the workload over the past year or two.”

  “Except I know full well that you’ve added two more fundraisers and three more events for the children in the last two years,” Bessie said. “You may have more help, but you’re also doing more.”

  Agnes shrugged. “I still feel terrible about trusting those two men,” she said.

  “We did the same thing,” Janet told her. “Although in Doveby Dale they had a local resident who was in on the deception.”

  “Inspector Rockwell told me all about the way those men usually operated,” Agnes replied. “I simply can’t believe that anyone on my committee would have agreed to work with them to cheat the charity out of money.”

  “It’s worth giving the idea a lot of thought,” Bessie said. “If they did have a local accomplice, he or she might know something about the murder.”

  “I’ve worked with the committee members for months on this,” Agnes protested. “They’re all committed to helping us with our work.”

  Bessie nodded. “Let’s see how the meeting goes today. Will everyone be here?”

  “I don’t know if all three of the men are coming,” Agnes said. “Scott is especially difficult to pin down, because he often has last-minute meetings or whatever. Trevor and Anthony are both properly retired, so they usually make the effort.”

  “What about Jacqueline?” Bessie asked.

  “What about Jacqueline?” a voice said from behind her.

  Bessie turned around and smiled at the woman in question. Today Jacqueline’s too-tight and too-short dress was lime green, which Bessie thought looked odd with the woman’s platinum blonde hair. “I was just asking if you were going to be here or not,” she explained before she introduced Jacqueline to Janet and Joan.

  “It’s a pleasure,” Jacqueline said, giving each woman a chance to touch her fingertips in lieu of a proper handshake. “I was worried that we wouldn’t have enough help with our two friends from across no longer available, but clearly that won’t be a problem.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call them friends,” Agnes muttered.

  Jacqueline shrugged. “Of course not. But I have a meeting in an hour, so we really should get started.”

  Agnes looked around the nearly empty room and then nodded slowly. “Let’s get tea and then take our seats. I’m sure the others will turn up before too much longer.”

  A table had been set up along one wall, and Bessie was pleased to see that she’d been right about the biscuits. There were a huge number of them, in a dozen different varieties. In spite of her large lunch, she helped herself to several and was pleased to see that Janet and Joan did the same. Agnes took a few herself, but Jacqueline poured herself a cup of tea and then took a seat at the table.

  Mary rushed in before they’d all slid into chairs. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “I know I’m probably late. George was, oh, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here now.” She dropped into a chair across from Bessie, who was sitting between the Markham sisters.

  “You aren’t late,” Agnes assured her. “And anyone else who arrives in the next minute won’t be late, either. Help yourself to tea and biscuits.”

  Nicola and Anthony both arrived within that minute. Once they’d helped themselves to refreshments and were seated, Agnes began.

  “As you know, we’ve been planning this event for some time, but unfortunately, a great deal of the planning was being done by Jonathan and Nathan. We now have some ground to make up if this event is going to happen on Thursday.”

  “Maybe we should simply postpone it,” Mary suggested.

  “I suppose that’s one possibility,” Agnes said.

  “Except we’ve been selling tickets and acquiring auction items for months,” Jacqueline argued. “I personally have sold over fifty tickets and I don’t fancy having to try to ring everyone to tell them the date has changed.”

  “Ticket sales have been strong,” Agnes reported. “I’d rather not disappoint people who have been planning to attend for a while now.”

  “I don’t think we can cancel,” Anthony said. “I think it’s too late for that now. We’ll just have to do the best we can.”

  “So what needs doing?” Bessie asked.

  “Jonathan was going to get a friend to donate all of the food and drink,” Agnes said. “I don’t know who the friend was, or if he even actually had a friend, or what to think, but I’m worried that we don’t have any catering planned.”

  “Can Manx National Heritage do it?” Mary asked.

  “Not on such short notice,” Agnes replied. “The event is only two days away and we need catering for two hundred people. I don’t know if anyone will be able to do that.”

  “Let me ring a few people,” Bessie said. “What’s the budget for food?”

  Agnes shrugged. “We usually get everything donated by local businesses, but this year we told them we didn’t need them. There isn’t really a budget for food or for drinks.”

  Bessie frowned. She wanted to help, and she was even prepared to contribute financially, but she wasn’t going to pay for catering for two hundred people out of her own pocket.

  “Bessie, if you can find someone who can provide the food, I’ll take ca
re of paying for it,” Mary said quietly.

  “That’s very generous of you,” Agnes said.

  “I wish I could offer to have our staff make the food, but our cook just had a family emergency in the UK and her assistant is completely overwhelmed by the prospect of feeding me and George for the next week on her own,” Mary said.

  “If Bessie can find someone to take care of food and Mary will pay for it, we just have to worry about drinks,” Agnes said.

  “I can help there,” Trevor said as he walked into the room. “I’m sure Scott and Anthony will work with me as well.”

  Anthony nodded. “Happy to help,” he said.

  “The museum can provide what we need to make tea and coffee,” Agnes said. “It’s wine and mixed drinks that we need to provide.”

  “I’ll have one of my staff ring you,” Trevor said. “He’ll take all of the details and make sure that everything we need is here on Thursday.”

  “Thank you,” Agnes beamed, drawing a thick line through something in the notes in front of her. “We have about half the usual number of auction items. Nathan had my list of regular donors and he was going to ring them all, but I don’t know who he contacted or what anyone said.”

  “Do you have another copy of the list?” Bessie asked.

  “Yes,” Agnes replied, flipping through the pages in front of her. “I’ve marked off the people who we’ve received donations from, but I don’t know how many of the other people might have been asked and refused for some reason. I don’t want to annoy them by asking again.”

  Bessie took the list and glanced through it. “I know a lot of these people, the ones from the north of the island, anyway. I’m happy to ring them and ask them a second time. I’m sure Jonathan’s death is the talk of the island. No one should be surprised that things are a bit confused.”

  “I’ll take the Douglas area names, if you’d like,” Mary said. “I probably know them all anyway.”

  “Then we just need someone to do the south of the island,” Agnes said.

  Bessie looked over at Jacqueline. Her large estate was on the coast between Port Erin and Port St. Mary, which made her natural choice for talking to the businesses in the south. The woman was doodling on the pad of paper in front of her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone was staring at her. After a moment, she looked up.